by Kit Tinsley
'I thought you were the psychic?‘Julia asked
Wendy scowled at her, as though she was being difficult. Helga patted Julia's hand.
'Every living thing on Earth is psychic,' Helga explained. 'Me, you, even the animals and plants. Psychic powers come from the primitive part of your brain. It senses danger around the corner, a skill that animals still use today, but we have for the most part forgotten. I will draw on your energy to make it easier for me to enter the trance state.'
Julia nodded, though she still did not fully understand what Helga was saying. This was all so new. Since moving into this house she felt like she was Pandora, watching herself aghast as the box opened and the nightmares began to spew out.
'What happens once you're in the trance state?' she asked.
'I will open myself up to the spirit,' Helga said. 'Every time is different. Some will speak in my ear. Others will show me images, and some will speak through me.'
Julia felt a little nervous about the whole thing. If she accepted this was all true, then surely opening herself up to the spirit world like that must be dangerous. Who could tell what may come through?
She had to put her faith in Helga's ability to control the situation though. Wendy swore by the woman, and if she was good enough for Wendy, she was good enough for her.
'All right, let's do this.'
Helga took both of their hands in her own, and in an instinctive reaction Julia and Wendy grabbed hold of each other’s free hand. Helga closed her eyes and sat perfectly still. She began to breathe deeply, and slowly. Watching her, Julia felt herself relaxing and realised her own breathing pattern was changing to keep pace with that of the psychic. With each deep breath she took, Julia felt her anxiety seeping away. Time seemed to slow down. The ticking of the clock appeared to stretch into a rhythm that matched the slow and steady beat of her heart.
'Spirits of the dead, forces of nature, vessels of God, come to me,' Helga began to mutter under her breath. She kept repeating the mantra over and over, each time the volume and speed with which she said it increased.
Julia looked to Wendy, who was watching Helga with wide-eyed wonder.
Julia felt a chill down her back, and noticed the flicker of the candlelight start to increase. Wendy had obviously felt it too, for her eyes left Helga and fixed on the candles, as their dance increased.
The temperature in the room plummeted in an instant, and Julia became aware of the fact that it was cold enough that all three of their breaths were visible, coming out in plumes of mist that swirled above them.
All the time, Helga kept repeating the same thing over and over, her eyes shut tight and her expression blank.
'Spirits of the dead, forces of nature, vessels of God, come to me.'
The draught became a breeze. The candles flickered violently upon the table. Julia saw that Wendy's hair was moving in the breeze. Wendy looked amazed and frightened by the experience. Strangely, Julia felt no fear. All she could feel was an adrenaline-surging rush of excitement.
'Spirits of the dead, forces of nature, vessels of God, come to me.'
Julia felt her own hair, still tied in a ponytail, whip over her shoulder. The breeze had turned into a strong wind. Though the candles did not blow out, the flames shot from side to side rapidly, their colour darkening from yellow to red to purple.
A thin trail of purple smoke began to emanate from each dancing flame. They spiraled upward until they met and formed a wispy cloud of purple above their heads. The cloud twisted and turned above them. Julia watched it and saw it was emitting flashes of light, like a stormy sky rolling above them. The more she gazed at it, the more its shape seemed to change. She was certain that several times it was trying to form a face.
Helga stopped muttering and lifted her head slightly. Though her eyes were closed, it was clear she was looking at someone stood at the other side of the table to her. Both Julia and Wendy followed her non gaze, but saw nothing.
'Welcome, Helen,' Helga said.
There was a pause, as if she was waiting for a reply, then Helga turned her head towards Julia, then back to the centre.
'Yes, she is here,' she said. 'Of course, you may show me anything you want.'
Again she paused. Julia felt uncomfortable. Hearing only one side of the conversation, it was like Helga was talking on the phone.
'Yes, you may channel through me.’
Helga dropped her head, and her hold on the other two women's hands loosened. She began to breathe even deeper, with an audible wheeze. Julia looked to Wendy and raised her eyebrow as if to ask a question. Her friend looked back at her shaking her head. It was evident that Wendy had no idea what was happening either.
It seemed to last forever. Julia saw that the candles had stopped flickering as much, and the cloud above their heads seemed to be dissipating.
Helga grabbed hold of both of their hands hard and squeezed tightly. She looked up, her eyes open and bulging. Her face contorted into a grimace of pain.
'Fucking hell!' Wendy shouted in shock.
Still holding their hands, Helga rose to her feet. Julia saw that as her facial muscles began to relax, she looked changed. Younger somehow, almost like another woman entirely.
'Rob, no he wouldn't...' the words came from Helga's mouth, but it was not her voice. 'Philip, oh my God.'
She drew back her head and screamed. The sound echoed through the quiet house. Helga seemed to faint and fell backwards into her chair, her head slumped to the side.
Julia and Wendy jumped out of their seat and went to the psychic’s side.
'Helga,' Julia said, patting the woman's hand. 'Helga, are you all right?'
Helga's eyes began to flutter, like she was having some kind of seizure, but she spoke in her own voice.
'Sam Fluting,' she said. 'Right away. Of course. He can stop it all.'
Then she passed out once more.
Helga sat drinking the sugary tea she had requested after coming round. When she had passed out, Julia and Wendy had each got under one of her shoulders and carried her to the living room. They had placed her on the sofa with a cushion behind her head.
It had only taken a few minutes for her to come back round. In a hoarse voice she had asked them for tea with five sugars. This seemed excessive, but Julia knew that it was a common treatment for shock and exhaustion. Wendy had run to the kitchen and made tea.
When she returned, Helga managed to sit up and take the first few sips.
'Well, that was terrifying,' Wendy said.
Helga nodded wearily
'It certainly took a lot more out of me than they usually do.'
Julia was sitting on the coffee table in front of Helga.
'Was it Helen Swanson?' she asked.
Helga nodded, and then took another sip of her tea.
'What did she show you?' Julia asked.
Helga frowned.
'I can't remember. It's all just distorted images when I try.'
Julia sighed. She had hoped for answers, but it was looking like they would not be forthcoming. She needed to find out something.
'Did you see the killer?' Julia asked.
'I don't know,' Helga told her. She sounded a little embarrassed by how few answers she could give.
'Who were Rob and Philip?' Julia asked. 'You said those names. Well, she did, through you.'
Helga took another sip of her tea and then rubbed her eyes.
'I think Rob was her husband, and Philip her brother,' Helga said.
Wendy nodded.
'Yes, I met her husband, Rob. I think she said she had a brother.'
Julia turned back to Helga.
'Did one of them kill her?' she asked.
'I don't know,' Helga said. 'But she definitely learnt some shocking news about both of them just before she died.'
'What news?' Julia asked.
Helga shook her head.
'I'm sorry, but I don't know. It is all such a jumble.'
Julia patted Helga's leg as
a gesture that it was okay. Then she got up and crossed the room to get her glass of wine.
Wendy looked deep in thought.
'What is it?' Julia asked her.
Wendy looked at Helga.
'Who is Sam Fluting?' she asked. 'You said his name, in your voice.'
Helga looked at the floor.
'I don't remember. Look, I don't feel very well. Please excuse me and we shall meet again tomorrow.'
She got to her feet and picked up her handbag. Julia didn’t know why, but she got the sense that the psychic was hiding something from them.
'Certainly,' Julia said. 'What time are you coming round?'
Helga turned to her abruptly.
'No!' she said, then her eyes darted around the room before coming back to Julia. 'Come to my office please. I don't think I can come back here again.'
Julia felt a twinge of fear at Helga's reaction. There was definitely something that she was keeping to herself.
'What time?' Wendy asked.
'I have appointments until three,' Helga said.
'Three then,' Julia said. 'You'll take me, won't you, Wendy?'
'Of course,' Wendy said.
'I will see you then,' Helga said, before promptly leaving the room.
Wendy followed her and showed her out. Julia went over to the table in the corner of the room and recovered the camera she had used earlier that day. She loaded a new roll of film. Wendy re-entered the room, looking nervous.
'Shall we stay at my place tonight?' she asked.
'Yeah,' Julia said. 'I want to try something first though.'
Wendy looked puzzled.
'What?' she asked.
Julia threw the camera over to her. Wendy just managed to catch it. She looked at it then back to Julia.
'Take my picture,' Julia said.
Sam had returned to the small flat he had called home ever since the divorce. It was cramped and cluttered due to the fact that he had still not unpacked all of his boxes. Partly this was due to how busy he was with the Ripper case, but mainly it was because to make the place comfortable would mean accepting that this was his life now. Though he doubted his marriage could be saved, he still liked to cling onto that last piece of hope.
He pulled a microwave meal from the freezer, not even looking what it was as they all tasted pretty much the same, and cooked it. It sat half-eaten on the work top in the poky kitchenette.
He was not hungry. He was exhausted. The remnants of his hangover still lingered on, and he decided that sleep was his best option.
He had been asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The ringing of the phone on his bedside table woke him while it was still dark. He looked at the clock and saw that it wasn't even midnight. He had only managed a few hours’ sleep before being interrupted. He picked up the phone and brought it to his ear, still lying down.
'Fluting,' he said in to the receiver.
'Oh, sorry to disturb you at home, sir,' a female voice said on the other end of the line. 'This is PC Branning at the station. We have a woman who would like to speak with you. Urgently. She claims to have some information on your case.'
The words made Sam sit bolt upright in bed. Was this finally the break he needed?
'Information on my case?' he repeated. 'The Ripper case?'
'Yes, sir,' Branning replied.
Sam looked at the clock once more.
'I can be there in twenty minutes. Can she wait that long?'
He heard Branning asking the woman, and heard her muffled reply.
'Yes, sir,' Branning said. 'She can wait.'
'Great, take her to an interview room and make her comfortable. Give her anything she wants.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Okay. Bye,' Sam said. He put the phone back in its cradle and jumped out of bed.
His mind raced with possibilities. Was this someone who knew the identity of the Ripper? He imagined himself bringing the bastard into the station as the reporters flocked around.
He quickly got dressed and grabbed his wallet and keys. As he moved towards the door he passed the long mirror on the wall. He stopped and stared at his own reflection. He looked like he had lost weight. He looked a little too gaunt. His skin was paler than usual. He had dark circles under each eye, and he had to shave. Thick black stubble was running amok on his face. If he didn't do something about it, he would have a full beard in a few days.
'Jesus Christ, Sam,' he said to his reflection. 'You had better catch this guy soon, because it looks like he's killing you.'
He laughed to himself, and headed for the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As Sam entered the police station he saw a young female PC he assumed was Branning. He realised what a daze he must have been in lately to have not noticed her before. She was a petite blonde, with sparkling blue eyes. He wondered what the hell she was doing on the front desk. That was usually a sergeant's job. He let himself through the security doors with his keycard and walked behind the desk.
'Where's the desk sergeant?' he asked.
'Sergeant Drake called in sick, and there was no one available to cover him, so I volunteered. Keeps me off the streets.'
She chuckled to herself and, despite the stress and the rude awakening, Sam offered her a smile.
'Who is this mystery informant on my case, PC Branning?' Sam asked.
Branning picked up a piece of paper from the desk and started to read.
'Her name is Helga Cranston. To be honest with you though, sir, I think she could just be a nutter.'
'What makes you say that?' he asked.
'She claims to be a psychic.'
Sam thought about this. He could understand why that would lead the young constable to assume that she was crazy. Sam, on the other hand, was a little more open minded. At this late stage in the game, he was open to all possibilities.
'An awful lot of police forces around the world have had great results from using psychics,' he said. 'And to be quite frank with you, Branning, I'm desperate for a break in this case.'
'I hope she's useful then, sir. She's in Interview Room Three.'
'Thanks.’
He wandered down the corridor, past the canteen and toward the interview room. When he reached it he took a deep breath, saying a silent prayer to himself that this would lead to something. He needed some sort of break in the case, something tangible that might convince Reed to give him more time. He opened the door and saw the woman sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee.
'Mrs Cranston,' he said, extending his hand. 'I'm Detective Chief Inspector Fluting. You asked to speak with me.'
She took his hand and shook it politely. He noticed the way she held on a little too long. Whatever information she had for him, she was nervous, something was scaring her. She was staring at him as if deep in thought, then let go.
'Yes, I have some information for you regarding your case.'
Sam took off his jacket and put it on the back of the chair before sitting down opposite her. He tried not to give anything away. Despite how desperate he was for a break, he didn't want her to know that. Though he was open-minded to the idea of using a psychic, Branning could have been right. The woman could just be another attention-seeking oddball wasting police time.
'You're referring to the serial murderer the press has dubbed 'The Lincoln Ripper'?'
She nodded.
'Any information you have on that case is gratefully received, Mrs Cranston.'
'Please, call me Helga.’
'All right, Helga, what information do you have for me?'
'I know who the next victim will be,' she said matter-of-factly.
'Who gave you this information? The killer?' Sam asked.
Helga shook her head.
'No, it was the first victim that told me.’
'What?' Sam asked.
'Helen Swanson told me who he would kill next at a séance this evening.'
Wendy felt nervous standing alone in the at
tic studio of her friend's house. When Julia had brought her up here, the window had been wide open. Julia had shut it, but as soon as their backs were turned there was a creaking sound and Wendy felt the cool, autumn breeze stroke the hairs on the back of her neck. It was like a chilly caress from someone who makes your skin crawl. Looking back at the window, Wendy had gasped on seeing it wide open.
'See! I told you!' Julia said before going into the darkroom.
That was true. Julia had told her that the window kept opening of its own accord, but seeing it for herself made her even more uneasy.
Julia had of course offered to let Wendy go in the darkroom with her so that she was not alone. The prospect of entering a completely blacked out room, after what she had just witnessed, was even more frightening than waiting in the well-lit studio alone. Luckily Julia had said she could smoke up there. She had already got through five cigarettes while waiting. She stubbed each one out on the sole of her shoe, and then placed it in her pocket to be disposed of later. She felt like she had been waiting for an eternity.
She knocked on the door to the darkroom.
'Will you please hurry up?' her tone more desperate than demanding. 'I don't like this place and I want to go back to mine.'
Julia's voice came from inside the darkroom.
'We will, as soon as I've finished this,' she said, then added, 'Besides, I did say you could come in here with me.'
Wendy laughed, though it was more a laugh of nerves than humour.
'In the dark? Are you kidding? How long will this take?'
'I don't know,' Julia replied. 'I'm not a fucking expert.'
'You did those other photos.'
Julia laughed inside the darkroom.
'Actually, I have a confession to make. Boots did them, on the one hour photo service.'
'You cheeky bitch,' Wendy said, laughing. 'You made out like you did them.'
'I never said that. If that's what you thought then that's your...' She trailed off and Wendy felt nervous again. For a split second, in her imagination, she saw a skeletal hand reaching over and covering Julia's mouth. It dragged her friend off into the unending darkness.
'Hang on. I'm starting to see it,' Julia continued, the sound of her voice filling Wendy with relief. 'There's something on it… Fuck me.'
