DEAD GONE

by Luca Veste

  Rossi and around fifty coppers had turned up five minutes after Murphy had pinned Tom to the floor. Five minutes where he’d concentrated only on not letting him go.

  He motioned to Rossi to move with him, before going back inside and entering the room. He could see the psychologist on the floor.

  ‘What’s going on? I don’t understand. Someone has to tell me what’s happening. Where are you going to take me?’ Tom Davies said from the floor, his voice squealing and high pitched. Murphy winced as Tom let out a yell, as one of the officers subduing him knelt on him a little more.

  ‘Thomas Davies?’ Murphy asked.

  The man being held down attempted to lift his head, but the gloved hand pressing it down wouldn’t allow it.

  ‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Donna McMahon, Stephanie Dunning, Colin Woodland, and Robert Barker.’ The names came easily to Murphy, burned on his memory. ‘You do not have to say anything …’ as he reeled off the rest of the caution, Murphy watched as Tom’s expression turned to one of horror.

  ‘No, no. This can’t be happening. I haven’t finished,’ he said from the floor.

  Murphy looked over at Rossi, who had her notepad out, writing down every word. Murphy turned and nodded at the officers holding Tom. They lifted him to his feet, pulling him out of the room. Murphy watched from the doorway as they placed him in a van, parked on the kerb. He looked over to the houses opposite, a wry smile on his face as he saw the curtains twitching. Human theatre. Never fails to attract attention.

  ‘Are we staying behind for a while sir?’ Rossi said, standing behind him.

  ‘No, we’ll let the SOCOs do their stuff. We’ll go down the station, let him stew for a bit and then start. If anything turns up we’ll hear about it,’ Murphy replied, stepping out of the house. They had him.

  He scratched at his beard, wondering if anyone else was sharing his fears of the scene not being right, seeing only pats on the back for a job well done.

  Murphy couldn’t share in it. The gnawing feeling of being controlled playing on his mind.

  ‘I wasn’t finished.’

  Murphy sat impassively opposite Tom Davies, as he cried the same words repeatedly to himself.

  His blonde spiky hair now looked untidy rather than stylish, as Tom’s hands passed through it.

  ‘We can sort this out quickly Tom,’ Murphy said, trying to use a soothing voice, but it coming out rougher than he’d wanted. ‘We just need to go over a few things, that’s all. Now, are you sure you don’t want anyone representing you for this?’

  ‘No,’ Tom replied, sniffing loudly in the interview room. ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Okay. Can you tell us what you do for a living.’

  ‘I’m a senior lecturer in behavioural psychology at the City of Liverpool University.’ Tom sighed, his head in his hands.

  ‘And how long have you been there?’

  ‘I finished my PHD eight years ago. I’ve been in the department ever since.’

  ‘Why did you choose psychology?’

  Tom shrugged, ‘it’s the best subject to do what I wanted to.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Experiment. Find out more about things.’

  ‘What kind of things?’

  ‘Life, how we interact, the way people work.’

  Murphy looked over at Rossi who was making notes. ‘Can you tell us how this started?’

  Tom sniffed. ‘How what started?’

  Murphy slid a photograph across the table. Tom looked at it quickly. ‘Number three.’

  ‘Donna McMahon.’

  Tom pursed his lips. ‘I forget their names.’

  ‘Okay. Do you remember them all, Tom? How you left them?’

  Tom put his head back in his hands. ‘Of course I do. They were magnificent. Did you read the letters?’

  ‘Yes we did. Take us through each of them.’

  Tom looked between Murphy and Rossi, his eyes settling on Murphy, ‘Number three, LSD experiments. To see what would happen to someone with no inhibitions.’

  ‘How did you find her?’

  ‘She was working at the library one night. She seemed … interesting. Young, a bit naïve of course, but there was something about her. Intriguing. You can learn so much about someone by just watching them. She never knew I studied her for weeks. One night, I took the cab. Picked her up just outside campus.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I got the dose wrong the first time. Just made her ill. By the fourth day she was flying. I watched her constantly, listened to her. She wanted to die. Wanted to meet God and shake him by the hand for creating such beauty. She could see things we’ll never experience. ‘I just helped her on the path to what she desired.’

  Murphy swallowed, his mouth watering. He produced another photograph. Tom’s face changed from the obvious delight he’d had talking about Donna McMahon to one of disgust.

  ‘Number four.’

  ‘Stephanie Dunning,’ Rossi said, her voice steady and controlled.

  ‘Number four, didn’t work. Couldn’t get her to stay still. She scratched at me, spat, kicked, fought the whole time. I needed to sedate her so I could properly prepare her for what I wanted to do. She just screamed about her children, her husband. She had to go.’

  ‘Did you pick her up at the university as well?’

  ‘Yes. Same method. They are so trusting sometimes.’

  ‘What about him,’ Murphy said, pointing at the photograph of Colin Woodland. ‘Tell me about Colin.’

  ‘Number five, bystander theory. How long did it take for someone to find him? I never did find out.’

  ‘Just under twelve hours.’

  He smiled at that. Murphy had to grip the table edge.

  ‘Awful. To think of all the people that walked past him. Two bodies found in the previous week, and they still left him there.’

  ‘How did you get him?’

  ‘I’d seen him at the library a few times. I knew it was only a matter of time before he said something about me spending the evenings there. He had eyes like a hawk for the women. I followed him as he walked from the university. He never took a cab or a bus, so I took him off a side street. They really should check the amounts of streetlights they have out there. Anyone could be out there in the darkness. He became number five. I found his heart. Watched as I made it stop.’

  ‘And finally … Robert Barker.’

  ‘Ah, number six, Unit 731 experiment. I was finally able to perform this one.’

  ‘You chose him.’

  ‘Yes. Wasn’t difficult. I wanted to see how much he’d been affected by the last year. He was broken before I got to him. I anticipated he’d accept death easier. More willing to give up and accept his fate. He fought only when he thought he could rescue his girlfriend. Even then, he was easy to dispose of.’

  ‘You cut him up.’

  ‘That was my favourite. Intermittent blood loss. Cut off a hand, a foot, a leg … see how long you can keep them alive. Didn’t take that long.’

  ‘What happened to numbers one and two, Tom?’ Murphy said.

  ‘Not ready yet.’

  ‘Who’s not ready?’

  He got silence in return.

  ‘Are Experiments One and Two still alive, Tom?’

  Tom raised his right hand in mid-air, waved it back and forth. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. Experiment Two looks highly doubtful though. It’s been a while.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  Murphy sighed, ran a hand over his beard. ‘Did you murder four people, Tom?’

  Tom ran a hand through his hair again. ‘Yes. Did you ever understand why?’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me.’

  Tom smiled slightly. Murphy gripped the table harder. ‘To see what happened.’

  ‘Is one of the experiments Jemma Barnes?’

  The smile vanished, replaced with a frown. ‘I know the name …’

  Rossi interrupted, ‘She
was Rob Barker’s partner. The one you cut up into pieces.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well? Is she Experiment Two, Tom?’ Murphy said.

  ‘Rob and I knew each other in passing. He was Dan’s friend though. Had no time for me really. I’d go to the pub whilst they were at lunch. Sit away from them, where they couldn’t see me watching. They never invited me. He was always complaining about something or other. He was one of those people who never embrace life. He’d tell Dan everything, and I would sit and listen.’

  ‘Did you take Jemma? Are you holding her still?’

  Tom paused. Stared at Murphy in the silence, only the scratching of Rossi’s pen on her notepad breaking it. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I think you do,’ Murphy said, standing up. ‘And you’re going to tell us exactly where she is.’

  ‘She ran off. I heard Rob and Dan talking about it loads. Constantly moaning about it. It was obvious she’d done one. I would have as well.’

  ‘You might as well tell us, Tom. It’s over.’

  ‘Let’s talk about how you killed your parents instead. I’d love to know more about that.’

  Murphy looked towards Rossi, who had put her notepad down. Looked down at his hands, clenched together as he leaned on the table which separated him from Tom. ‘I didn’t kill my parents.’ Stared at Tom, hoping to kill the conversation before it went any further.

  ‘Oh, I know you weren’t holding the hammer, but it was your fault, was it not?’ Tom replied, a sarcastic tone to his voice.

  ‘I can’t control what other people do,’ Murphy said, looking past Tom at the concrete wall behind him.

  ‘No one can, but we can lead them to do things, don’t you agree?’

  Murphy shifted on the chair. ‘I certainly didn’t lead him to kill my parents,’ Murphy replied after a few moments. ‘He was just a pathetic little man who couldn’t take rejection. So he took something else instead.’

  ‘Not so pathetic that he can destroy your life though?’ Tom grinned, his teeth brilliant white.

  Murphy’s shoulders slumped a little more. ‘This has nothing to do with what we’re here for, Tom.’

  ‘I disagree. Don’t you see? There’s only one type of person who could understand what I’ve done here. I think they are easily explainable to someone like you, David. You’ve experienced death, unexpected, unimaginable. Whilst not by your hand, you carry that feeling of guilt with you forever. You should understand what I’ve done in the last week.’

  Murphy lifted his head to find Tom staring at him, a questioning gaze fixed upon his face. ‘I never will. You killed people. Good people, innocent.’

  Tom laughed, his cackles filling the room with noise. ‘Innocent?’ he said, once his laughter died down a little. ‘Don’t give me that. Not one person is innocent. And that’s a pointless way to think anyway. What makes them any better than anyone else? What makes them any more worthy of our regret or remorse than the thousands of people who die every day?’

  ‘Because you stole their lives.’

  Tom’s eyes danced. ‘And you don’t hear the same thing said about anyone who is deemed to have died sooner than they supposedly should have?’ His voice became mocking. ‘Oh poor Jeff, he was only fifty. Had so much more to give before the bus hit him.’

  ‘People mourn, are you suggesting they shouldn’t?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s completely natural to die, it’s a fact of life. We live to die. Why do we treat death the way we do?’ Tom paused, looking around the room as if it held the answers. ‘You know who the worst are? The religious ones. All sad at their funerals, when they’re supposed to believe in a heaven, a better place than here.’ His voice raised at the end, saliva flew from his mouth and landed on Murphy’s shoulder.

  ‘So, you’re just making us see that death is natural, by killing people?’

  ‘Can you think of a better way, David? What does it all mean to you?’

  Murphy sighed, his arms beginning to ache as they bore his weight. ‘I think it’s all been meaningless. People know they’re going to die, they just don’t want to face it. We’re taught to fear it, because if you’re so preoccupied with death you forget to live.’ He ignored the snort which came from Tom before continuing. ‘You think anyone will care that you’ve had this huge philosophical reason why you’ve killed four people? They won’t. They’ll call you evil and be done with it. You think you’re original? Professor Garner told us Freud’s view on death. It’s the aim of all life. You’re just trying to prove him right, to yourself more than us.’

  Tom stared at him, his face blank, devoid of any emotion. ‘Professor Garner says a lot of things.’

  Silence filled the room, as both men stared at each other.

  ‘Well, that’s okay I guess. I don’t expect everyone to think as I do.’

  ‘Who died, Tom?’

  Tom looked away. ‘What’s that?’ he replied, his voice wavering almost imperceptibly. Murphy noticed it.

  ‘Who died? Someone you were close to, I imagine.’

  Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘No one.’

  ‘Oh, come on. We know that’s the case. Parents? Girlfriend? Sibling? I don’t know … maybe it was your favourite dog when you were growing up. I don’t care really. I can see it was someone though. Best get it out early. I know you’ll go for a psycho defence.’

  ‘And you think that explains why I’m like this? Is that it?’

  It was Murphy’s turn to snort. ‘Oh, nothing like that. You’re this way because you choose to be. I’m just interested, that’s all. You’re obviously a psychopath, all that shite they spout about your types. “Didn’t get enough cuddles as a kid so he started pulling the wings off flies”.’

  Tom lifted a cuffed hand to his face, drumming fingers on his clean-shaven cheek, before slapping his hand on the table. ‘No one, David. No one of importance anyway. I’m sorry to disappoint. This was only about experimentation. I wanted to find out the answer to death. Why we treat it the way society does. But I think I’d still be this way even if I’d lost my parents at an early age or watched a sibling die. They’re fine by the way. Mum and Dad live in the lakes, early retirement. Grandparents died at a good age, leaving a nice pot of money behind for the four of us. The fourth is my older sister. She’s an accountant in Manchester.’

  Murphy sat down in his chair. ‘Why then?’

  ‘I’m just not wired like all of you. I believe in progress, in learning more about ourselves through testing us to our limits. This is the ultimate experimentation of modern man. And I’m privileged to be … leading it.’

  Murphy sensed something unsaid. ‘Leading it?’

  A slight shift, almost unseen if Murphy hadn’t been paying attention. ‘Yes. The leader of the experimentation.’

  ‘No help from others then?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Murphy unclasped his hands, picked up his pen and chewed the cap. ‘I think you’re more like us than you realise.’

  Tom scoffed, back on an even keel. ‘I don’t know of many people who kill four people in the space of a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Away from that,’ Murphy said. ‘You’re like everyone. You fear death as much as anyone else. I know you do. You just think you can control it. You think if you show how worthless it all is, it’ll make you feel better about your own fear. So you kill. You wanted to kill people for your own sick gratification. You couldn’t deal with just killing them though, you had to dress it up as something else. All this bollocks about experimenting, it was all designed to clear your conscience.’ Murphy could feel sweat rolling down the back of his neck, worried that he’d gone too far and maybe goaded Tom into silence. They still needed information on the other two experiments.

  Tom just stared at him. The blank emotionless expression returned. ‘Interesting theory,’ he said after what seemed like minutes had passed. ‘I guess I’ll have to give that some thought.’

  ‘
Is this just a game to you?’ Murphy said.

  ‘Oh no, David. This is important work. Much needed in these times.’

  ‘You know you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison, don’t you? No way of doing your little experiments in there.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Tom leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Murphy’s. ‘Despite what you say, I don’t fear death.’

  ‘Tell me about Experiment, One and Two, Tom. Where are they?’

  Tom rolled his eyes. ‘You tell me something first. Did you get to your parents before they died, David? What was it like at the end?’

  ‘Shut your mouth.’

  ‘Did you see their last breath? Tell me about it, I’d like to hear. Did they bleed to death?’

  Too many questions. Murphy felt himself rise up off his chair. ‘Don’t …’

  Tom was shouting now. ‘Do you think they died at the same time, David? Looked into each other’s eyes and cursed the day they ever brought you into the world, just so you could be the reason to end theirs? You and your junkie whore of a wife?’

  Murphy had him by the throat against the wall in one single swift movement. Tom’s handcuffed hands tried to push back at him, but he was too strong. ‘I said keep your fucking mouth shut, you psycho.’

  Rossi came around, tried to pull him off Tom. He wasn’t letting go.

  ‘I’ll choke the life out of you, see what happens at the end for you, hey? Would you like that?’

  ‘Let go of him, sir … sir, let go.’

  Rossi’s hands left his shoulders, and he heard the door open in the background. His eyes never left Tom’s.

  ‘Me …’ The voice came out as a whisper.

  ‘What?’ Murphy loosened his grip a little.

  ‘It was me. I was experiment one. I was the first.’ It came out in choked gasps.

  Then, there were hands on Murphy’s shoulders.

  He was already letting go of Tom.

  Experiment Two

  She breathed in, the singing continuing from the corner. She resisted the urge to ask for quiet, knowing it was important she didn’t. She was Jemma. She could do this. It didn’t matter something was crawling across her bare foot. That the walls were closing in on her again.