by Kristen Rose
A double story, cream panelled house glides into view. Peter O’Connell begins to slow, parking his white Volvo outside the front of the house. He admires the garden, smiling to himself. Miniature fields of colourful poppies and daisies wave in the breeze, exuding health. A fountain similar to the Trevi in Rome trickles along the far left fence separating this house from its neighbour.
O’Connell gets out of his car and walks fast and tall past the watch dog mail box and down a grey cobble stone path towards the front door. He turns his head to the left and stops to admire the fountain for a brief moment. He smiles to himself once more before turning towards his right, observing a gold Camry parked in the driveway. The black number plate reads ‘IBARNS’.
He continues down the path and stops when he reaches the glossy white door. His eyes linger on the elephant shaped hedge growing towards his left. Another smile. Turning towards the door, he rings the bell; the opening bar of Mozart’s Für Elise fills the air. After a long minute, the door opens carefully.
A woman squeezes out from behind the door; her eyes bulging out of thick glasses; her dyed blonde hair bobbing neatly around her ears. A narrow, tailored beige pant suit adds to her overall tidiness.
‘Peter, my goodness,’ her eyes bulge further still, as though about to break through her glasses. ‘I haven’t seen you in a while.’ She pauses. ‘What can I do for you?’ She taps the hand that is not resting on the door knob on the side of her pants in uneven movements.
‘Mrs Barns.’ He nods. ‘How about a friendly hello and a nice cup of tea?’ The suggestion accompanied with a seamless smile.
‘Of course, I’m sorry.’ She fumbles with the door. ‘I didn’t mean to seem rude… It’s just ... well ... I didn’t imagine I would be seeing you again ... uh ... I mean, any time soon.’ A nervous flutter of laughter ensues.
‘Don’t worry about it. Although, I should warn you this is not purely a social visit.’ He looks down.
‘I didn’t think it would be.’ She pauses once more. ‘Come in,’ eyeing him slightly, she steps back before opening the door wider.
O’Connell walks past her and into the foyer; footsteps echoing off the shining marble tiles. He stops and glances around the room, waiting for Mrs Barns to close the door. Every surface is clean and polished. China plates with floral patterns decorate white walls. Opaque lighting fixtures hang from the ceiling. Mrs Barns overtakes him and leads him out of the foyer and down an empty corridor, their footsteps continuing to echo around them. They enter the kitchen. He sits down at a freshly polished wood table in the centre of the room without permission.
‘A cup of tea you said?’ Mrs Barns asks, quickly walking over to the stone counter towards the left of the door.
‘Yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Black with one sugar.’ He smiles.
‘I know.’ She glances at him. ‘I remember.’
O’Connell stares around the room while Mrs Barns fusses around with the kettle and cupboards, admiring the many trinkets on display. Vases with floral patterns of bright gerberas and daisies, an abundance of animal figurines. O’Connell catches sight of a figurine of a dog riding in a London taxi resting on one of the shelves attached to the wall at the back of the room.
‘That’s quite a nice little figurine up there.’ He remarks, pointing towards the dog. ‘It’s new.’
‘Yes, it’s lovely isn’t it.’ She glances at him. ‘Ian and I just came back from a tour around England. I saw it in a gorgeous little shop in Windsor and I simply had to have it.’ She spoke quickly, as though trying to speed the conversation along. ‘It was a nightmare carting it back here but I think it was worth it, don’t you?’ She says, carefully churning a silver spoon inside a teacup decorated with a daisy pattern.
‘Oh, absolutely.’ He grins.
‘So ... I’m guessing Jennifer is the reason you’re here.’ She changes the subject abruptly, walking over to the table, cup in hand.
‘Yes.’ He takes in a long breath. ‘Is Ian in? I’d like to speak to both of you.’
‘You know he is.’ She frowns down at him. ‘I’ll go and get him.’ She hands O’Connell his cup of tea and walks quickly out of the kitchen.
A few minutes later she is back again with her husband, walking behind her with conscious effort. The small portion of hair covering the back of his head is silver; his stomach protrudes out whilst his shoulders drape down, shrinking his frame.
O’Connell stands up when Ian Barns enters the room and walks the few metres from the table to the door, extending his hand. Mr Barns shakes it enthusiastically with a toothless smile.
‘Peter, good to see you again. I hope you’re staying out of trouble.’ He winks.
‘I always stay out of trouble Mr Barns. I think I should be the one making sure you’re staying out of trouble.’ He smiles.
‘Yeah, you probably should.’ Mr Barns lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Sit down, sit down, no need to stand up on my account, I’m not royalty.’ O’Connell returns to his seat, the Barns’ joins him, sitting on the opposite side of the overly polished table.
‘So, Carol says you’re here to talk about Jennifer again.’ His wife stares at him, thin lipped and furious. ‘Oh, don’t be such a grump.’ Mr Barns responds to her stare.
‘Well, yes. You see, last time I spoke to you there was something I didn’t mention because ... well ... I didn’t want to alarm you. But ... circumstances have changed slightly. I know you received a visit from Marcus Verdad a little while back.’ O’Connell begins.
‘Yes that’s right.’ Mrs Barns’ face lights up. ‘It was so nice to get a visit from him. He’s become quite a nice young man, hasn’t he Ian.’ She faces her husband and waits for him to agree.
‘A nice young man? More like a nice young suck up if you ask me.’ Mr Barns scorns. ‘“Can I help you out of your chair Mr Barns? I can find someone to help you with your gardening if you like Mr Barns. Would you like me to treat you and you lovely wife to a night out on the town Mr Barns?” Toss head.’ He crosses his arms.
‘Ian, don’t be so rude! Marcus is a lovely man and he would’ve been our son in law if Jennifer hadn’t of run off!’ Her lips crinkle as though she were chewing on a bitter apple.
‘Not if I had anything to do with it.’ Mr Barns replies out of the corner of his mouth.
‘What does Marcus paying us a visit have to do with you Peter?’ Mrs Barns snaps at O’Connell.
‘Everything.’ He says. ‘As a detective I hear and see a lot of things and I work on a lot of different cases that no one even gets the opportunity to hear about. When I came and asked you about Jennifer earlier this year it wasn’t just because I was concerned about her and wanted to try to find her. It was because I need her help to prosecute a criminal.’ He takes a sip of his tea once finishing.
‘A criminal?’ Mrs Barns stares at him, eyes ballooning. ‘How can Jennifer help you catch a criminal? You two were both as smart as each other. I would have thought you could figure out how to catch the bad guys all by yourself.’ Mrs Barns patronises.
‘It’s not figuring out how to catch the bad guy that I have a problem with.’ O’Connell lectures. ‘I already know how. The problem I have is getting hold of the evidence I need to catch him with.’
‘How hard could that be? These days they just do everything with forensics don’t they? That stuffs pretty fool proof.’ She waves away the importance of the topic with her naivety.
‘The evidence I need is not forensic. Jennifer is my evidence.’ O’Connell stares at her, blue eyes unflinching.
‘Jennifer?’ Mrs Barns’ forehead creases.
‘Yes. I’m pretty sure she witnessed something important and her statement would be more than enough to sentence this person to life imprisonment.’
‘What did she witness?’ Mrs Barns’ eyes flood with panic, Mr Barns watches in silence, arms still folded.
‘Well ... I don’t exactly know. She never really said.’ O’Connell’s face flushes.
‘So you’re just
guessing?’ She laughs.
Mr Barns coughs. ‘What if you … did find Jennifer and she told you she doesn’t know … anything?’ He asks unexpectedly in a slow drawl.
‘Then the criminal continues to walk free, destroying more innocent lives. Mr Barns, trust me, she knows something.’ O’Connell stares into his green eyes, pleading.
‘Hold on, what does all this have to do with Marcus? Why did you bring him up?’ Mrs Barns asks again in an attempt to divert her husband from continuing.
‘Marcus ...’ O’Connell returns his gaze to Mrs Barns. ‘He’s the criminal.’
Mrs Barns lets out an outraged laugh. ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, he’s a perfectly honest, kind and genuine young man.’ She says, holding back more laughter.
‘Like I said, I hear and see a lot of things that most people don’t. I know you told me you don’t know where Jennifer is and I’m sorry to say I don’t believe you. I didn’t come here to argue that point however, I came here because I want to know what Verdad wanted and I want to know everything you told him.’ O’Connell stares at the couple, seriously, hands cupped gently on the table.
‘He wanted the same thing you want right now. To find Jennifer.’ Mr Barns says, uncrossing his arms.
‘And what were his reasons for wanting to find her?’
‘He still loves her!’ Mrs Barns, smiles. ‘He was hoping we could reunite them, if she was still single of course. He said he hasn’t been able to find any woman that has made him feel as happy as he felt when he was with Jenny. So sweet.’ She smiles. ‘He started to cry you know.
‘Criminals don’t cry.’ She stared at O’Connell. ‘I felt terrible for him after we told him Jennifer was missing.’ Her expression saddens.
‘You didn’t tell him where she is?’
‘We don’t know where she is.’ Mrs Barns says sternly, crossing her arms. ‘She’s missing.’
‘What sort of crime has Marcus done?’ Mr Barns asks, eyes creased and lips thin.
‘Murder. In fact, I should say multiple murders. The current investigation is based on the assumption that he is involved in some kind of assassination business. Personally, I think it is more than that…’ He stops. ‘But like I said, I can’t get hold of the evidence.’
Mr Barns sits in silence. ‘You’re serious Peter aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
He nods. ‘You never were a kidder. And I’ve got it in my mind that you’re a half decent cop too...’ He pauses, staring at the table.
‘Ian! Peter, we don’t know where she is.’ Mrs Barns interjects, facing him with fiery eyes.
‘Carol, didn’t you hear him? Murder. If we keep our mouths shut it could just do more harm. I don’t give a stuff about our reputation anymore, I’m too old for that nonsense. Anyway, Peter can’t divulge this to anyone outside of the police, not unless it turns out to be something big, right? ‘He looks at O’Connell who answers his question with a big nod. Mrs Barns turns her furious look away from her husband and directs it towards O’Connell.
‘If Marcus is a murderer and Jennifer saw him do something then why would he want to contact her? Wouldn’t he want to distance himself from her, pretend nothing happened?’ She spits.
‘Mrs Barns, I know Verdad told you he’s still in love with your daughter and he wants to reunite but I can assure you it’s a lie.’ He scoffs. ‘If he wants to find her it’s because he wants to silence her before I get there, not so he can romance her.’ O’Connell explains.
‘You mean, you actually believe that Marcus would hurt her?’ She asks in disbelief.
‘Yes, which is why I want to make sure you didn’t say anything to him about her whereabouts.’
‘Don’t worry Peter,’ Mr Barns interjects. ‘We told him the same thing we told you before, that we haven’t heard from Jennifer in years.’
O’Connell examines Mr Barns’ aged, honest face. ‘I’m very relieved to hear you say that.
‘Now,’ he takes a huge gulp of tea, ‘it’s obvious that you don’t want me to know where she is and I’m not going to force you into telling me, but, just keep in mind that as long as Verdad is free, innocent people are being targeted. If I know where Jennifer is, I can put Verdad in gaol.
‘Did it ever occur to you that the reason Jennifer is supposedly missing is possibly because she’s scared of what Verdad might do to her?’ He continued. ‘I can help protect her and once Verdad is in gaol she’ll be free to live a normal life again.’
Mr Barns shifts his gaze to his wife and then to O’Connell. He nods stiffly.
‘Ian, there’s no point telling him where she is. She won’t be any help in her state; no one will believe what she says. You’ll just embarrass us.’ Mrs Barns spits at him.
‘What do you mean “in her state”?’ O’Connell asks, his calm face changes.
‘She’s not missing… she’s sick.’ Mr Barns blurts out.
‘Ian!’ Mr Barns shushes his wife before she can add anything else to her objection.
‘Sick? In what way?’ O’Connell leans back.
‘I suppose you could say she’s got a screw loose, if you can understand that.’ Mr Barns’ voice is strangely casual. Mrs Barns slowly begins to turn red.
‘A screw loose?’ The question sounds strange with O’Connell’s accent. ‘I hope you don’t mean what I think you do.’ He finishes.
‘Yep. She’s mental, nutty, loopy, insane, crazy, up the pond or whatever else you fancy calling it. She’s in a mental institution, under a different name though so no one can easily find her. That’s where she’s been all this time and that’s where she’s going to stay by the looks of things.’
‘A mental institution? Right ... so ... she’s not herself?’ He pauses. ‘Are
you sure?’ O’Connell’s face is wide, his heart skips a beat.
‘Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t be paying thousands of dollars for my daughter to have a lifetime holiday in a mental hospital. Some of the best psychologists have seen her, and they’ve all said the same thing.’ Mr Barns’ tone is bitter.
‘I see. So, what exactly is wrong with her?’ O’Connell’s curiosity drives him to continue.
‘She’s not herself anymore, her personality, it’s different..’ Mrs Barns says suddenly.
‘Her personality, so a personality disorder?’ O’Connell scoffs, a slight grin forms on his face. ‘Well, that’s nothing terribly serious now is it? I thought you were going to say she was schizophrenic or bi-polar or something like that.’ He sighs relieved.
‘You think it’s funny?’ Mrs Barns interject. ‘You have no idea.’ She pulls back.
‘It’s not a laughing matter Peter, trust me. Her case is serious.’
O’Connell squints, confusion spreading.
‘I really don’t know if telling you where she is will be helpful.’ Mr Barns continues. ‘The stuff that comes out of her mouth is either made up or exaggerated. No one, not a judge or a jury or whoever else is involved in murder trials will believe anything she says, especially since she has been committed for so long now. It’s probably going to be a waste your time Peter. There won’t be any incriminating evidence in it.’
Mrs Barns’ tears up. ‘Excuse me,’ she says. She pushes herself out of her chair and hastily leaves the room.
‘As you can see, she’s not taken it well at all.’ Mr Barns shakes his head. ‘I know it’s hard to believe. You knew Jennifer, you were friends with her and it’s hard to grasp the fact that someone you’ve gotten to know well is, well, no longer well, no longer themselves anymore.
‘I’ll tell you where she is and you can go see her if you insist upon it. But, I’m warning you, you won’t like what you see.’ He shakes his head. ‘We haven’t visited her. Actually, she’s put us down on some list that says we can’t, but it doesn’t really matter, Carol can’t stand seeing her that way.’ He stops briefly. ‘I can’t prepare you for what she’ll be like now. We get an occasional progress report via email, and they always say the s
ame thing; “no obvious improvement”.’ This time Mr Barns becomes teary.
‘Can you give me a bit of an idea as to what I can expect, based on what she was like the last time you saw her?’ The words stumble out of O’Connell’s mouth.
‘She might not acknowledge that she knows you. She’ll probably insult you, hurt your feelings.’ O’Connell lets out a laugh of disbelief. ‘Don’t! I’m serious! The rot that came out of her mouth when we sent her there ...’ He puts his head in his hands. ‘Try not to take it to heart like Carol did. She’s just ... a completely different person. Makes things up. Self-delusions, they said. Carol’s probably right, no one will believe anything she’s says.’ Mr Barns’ voice is faint.
‘Well, I guess I’ll just have to take your word on that until I see her for myself.’ O’Connell stares at him with ardency.
He takes a notepad and a pen out of his tattered jacket pocket and hands them to Mr Barns who shakily writes down an address. With an unsteady hand he gives the book and pen back to O’Connell slowly.
‘They may not let you see her. It’s usually only family allowed in such a high security place.’ He says, once O’Connell’s takes hold of the pad and slips it back into his pocket.
‘Don’t worry about that, as a police detective I get special privileges.’ O’Connell grins.
‘Well, good luck.’ Mr Barns returns to his toothless smile.
O’Connell drains the remainder of his tea and stands up, towering over the table. ‘Thank you Ian, you’ve no idea how grateful I am.’
Mr Barns responds with a simple nod and slowly rises out of his chair. ‘I just hope something good comes out of this, I really do.’ He sighs.
‘Apologise to Carol for me will you, I didn’t mean to upset her.’ O’Connell purses his lips. The two of them exit the kitchen and head to the front door.
‘Of course, I know you didn’t mean any harm. It’s just a touchy subject. Carol misses her so much.’ Mr Barns looks down at his feet.
‘She’s not the only one.’ O’Connell says.
‘Maybe you can come back and see us sometime, you know, when you’re off duty?’
‘I’m rarely off duty, but thank you. I would love to come by and catch up. Perhaps when all of this mess is sorted out?’
‘Yes.’ He gives a stiff nod.
‘Have a nice afternoon Ian. Thanks again.’ O’Connell stops and smiles politely as they reach the door.
‘See you when this is all over.’ Mr Barns puts on a smile and raises his hand once more for O’Connell to shake. He opens the door and O’Connell steps out lightly.
O’Connell turns and walks back along the stone foot path with a grim smile. He enters his car slowly and meticulously fastens his seatbelt. As he turns the ignition on and drives away from the quiet house, a confused expression forms on his face. His eyebrows crease and within an instant his eyes flicker with realisation, he becomes elated. He smiles to himself wildly and fails to control a sudden burst of comprehensive laughter.
#6 The Henry Jennings Ward
