The Death Pictures

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The Death Pictures Page 35

by Simon Hall


  Dan flopped back on the sofa, his heart pumping and pounding. He reached up a hand to his chest to soothe it. He hardly dared believe it. He’d got it. He’d cracked the riddle. He’d got it.

  He calmed himself again. Check once more, twice more, before you make a fool of yourself. But he knew it was right, knew it. He forced himself to go through the same process again. He checked it, came to the same conclusion, did it again.

  He’d got it. He’d bloody got it. After all this time, all this thought and searching, all these humiliations, Advent, manhole covers, digging up people’s gardens, he’d finally bloody solved bloody Joseph bloody McCluskey’s bloody riddle.

  He couldn’t help himself. ‘Yeeaahhhhhhhh!!!!!’ Dan shouted, making Rutherford jump up in alarm. ‘Sorry, old friend, sorry,’ he laughed, giving the baffled dog a reassuring cuddle. ‘See that space over there?’ he said, pointing to the wall. ‘I think we might have a very nice new painting coming there.’

  He walked unsteadily to the kitchen and poured himself a generous glass of VSOP cognac, special occasions only. His hands were shaking so much he had to put the bottle down, try again.

  He took a couple of gulps and calmed himself, leaned against the fridge and stared out of the window. The orange street lamps were lit, the road quiet, even the trees still tonight. He didn’t see any of it. His mind was spinning around what he’d found, as if in a reckless orbit.

  When the glass was empty and he’d relaxed a little, he realised his discovery meant much more than just a new and fine painting for his wall. Very much more.

  Dan poured himself another cognac, resolved to take this slower, actually taste it. He popped a couple of ice cubes out of the tray, slid them slowly into the glass, didn’t want the waste of any splashes. He swirled the liquid, took another deep sip, let his racing mind settle.

  What he’d found was going to have profound implications for the murder trial tomorrow. How the hell was he going to explain it to Adam? Let alone Judge Lawless? And what would Lizzie say? Not to mention the hundreds of thousands of people who’d been captivated for months by the riddle of the Death Pictures. He could scarcely believe what he’d discovered.

  There was no escaping it Dan thought, but he didn’t know whether to feel anger or the awe of admiration. Joseph McCluskey has made fools of us all.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  ‘This is extraordinarily irregular,’ hissed the court clerk over the top of her half-moon spectacles. ‘Extraordinarily. I have never heard of anything like it. I can’t just grant you an audience with the judge in the middle of a murder trial. It could be highly prejudicial. It could bring the whole system into disrepute. I simply cannot allow it.’

  Dan and Adam stood in the empty courtroom facing her. He’d slept fitfully, called Adam first thing in the morning, as early as he dared. They’d met outside court and Dan had told his story. Adam had gone from being scornful, to interested, to reluctantly convinced. Now they both had to see the judge, to explain it to him and see what action he decided to take. That was, thought Dan, if they could get past the clerk.

  He swallowed his annoyance and tried again. ‘Look, I can’t tell you what it’s about. I can only tell the judge. It’s that sensitive. But I can promise you it’s something he must hear, and he must hear it before the trial resumes this morning. It’s very important indeed.’

  She still didn’t look convinced, shook her head vigorously making her black robe flap waves around her. ‘No, I can’t allow it.’

  ‘OK then,’ growled Dan. ‘If we can’t see the judge in person, I’ll make him aware by putting it out on the radio and TV. Then, when all hell breaks loose and he issues a warrant for my arrest and has me rushed here in a police car, sirens screaming, I’ll tell him I did originally want to see him but you wouldn’t allow me to. And I assure you, that’s what will happen. It’s that serious.’

  They held each other’s glares for a long moment, then she huffed. ‘Oh very well then, I’ll go and ask if he’s prepared to see you. But I can’t guarantee he will.’

  ‘Nice bluff,’ said Adam, as the door closed behind her.

  ‘I wasn’t bluffing. I hate jobsworths like that. The only way to deal with petty officialdom is to scare them with trouble from their seniors.’

  Dan leaned back against the witness box, stared at the empty dock where Kid had sat. What would happen today, he wondered? If his solution was right, it could turn out to be the most extraordinary day of his life. He noticed his hands were still shaking. They hadn’t stopped since last night. He looked over at Adam. The detective was gazing down at his polished black shoes. Going through similar thoughts about what the day would bring, no doubt.

  The door opened and the clerk beckoned testily.

  ‘He will see you,’ she said, her face set and stony. ‘But he says it had better be very, very good indeed.’

  ‘It is,’ said Dan grimly.

  Judge Lawless’s chambers were effectively a grand office. Thick red pile carpet caressed Dan’s shoes as he stepped hesitantly in. Dark stained wood panelling on the walls shrunk the space and created an air of intimidating magnificence. By the lead-paned stone window stood a large and antique looking wooden desk, and behind that the glowering judge.

  His wig rested on a corner of the desk, facing the door, as if it too waited to meet them. It was the first time Dan had seen the judge’s hair. Tightly cropped and silvery, it seemed to say the man beneath it would tolerate no prevarication. Small wonder journalists called here talked about how they shuddered. Dan suddenly began to have doubts about what he was going to say, and imagined the judge bawling him out for wasting his valuable time. Come on, pull yourself together, he thought. You’re sure of your story and you’re here to help.

  The judge studied them for a moment, then spoke. His voice was quieter than in the courtroom, but just as acidic.

  ‘My clerk says you have something extremely important to tell me. I sincerely hope it is. It is most irregular and, probably, highly inadvisable for a judge to have a private audience with a journalist in the middle of a high-profile murder trial.’

  He didn’t invite them to sit down on the stern-looking red leather armchairs, and he spat out the word ‘journalist’ as though it tasted rank. Not good omens, thought Dan. He slipped his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking, then thought the judge might find that disrespectful so put them behind his back.

  ‘Judge Lawless, thank you for your time,’ Dan began, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘I think I can guarantee you will find what I have to tell you very important and that it will have a significant impact on the case.’

  ‘I will be the judge of that.’

  Dan took a deep breath. Thanks for making me feel so at ease, he wanted to say. Thanks for telling me to go ahead, do what I think is my duty, the right and just thing. He had no difficulty stopping himself saying it.

  ‘Your honour, you’re aware of the riddle of the Death Pictures, that Joseph McCluskey set before his death?’ A slow nod from the judge, but a glance at the clock too. It was almost ten, the scheduled restart time for the case. ‘Well, I’ve been trying to solve it, and last night I think I did,’ Dan continued. ‘I believe I’ve found the secret message contained in the pictures. If I’m right, it has grave implications for this trial.’

  Judge Lawless studied him with that icy gaze. ‘Go on,’ he said slowly.

  A hint of interest now, Dan thought, just a hint. ‘Your honour, it would help if I could show you how I came to the solution.’ He fumbled in his satchel for his notes and the prints. ‘May I?’

  Judge Lawless rose from his chair. He was taller than Dan expected. ‘I’ll come around there and you can spread your props out on the table,’ he said.

  Dan did, laid out the ten Death Picture prints in order. Adam stood back and watched, silent, arms folded. He’d seen it a
lready.

  Dan put a finger on the first picture. ‘I worked through them many times without getting anywhere,’ he said. ‘But the key to cracking the puzzle came to me last night, when I was sending a text message on my mobile phone. You use a mobile?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said coolly. ‘Just because I’m a judge, it doesn’t mean I’m entirely out of touch with the world. Don’t believe everything you people write.’

  Dan didn’t know what to say. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  ‘Well, your honour, you’ll see that a mobile features prominently in Picture One. It’s that which I believe is the key to solving the riddle. In the pictures there are lots of places and people and numbers, which could seem to be a clue, but I think they’re all false leads. They’re what magicians call misdirection, distractions from where you should really be looking. I believe the only clue you actually need is the prints. The numbers of the prints in fact. You can see them in the corners of this set of reproductions.’

  Judge Lawless leaned over, peered down at the pictures.

  In the cells below the courthouse, Lewis Kiddey was growing increasingly nervous. There wasn’t a fingernail left he hadn’t bitten down. It was well past ten o’clock. He should have been taken up to the court by now, should be in the witness box telling his story.

  The police, warders, security guards, his fellow remand prisoners, no one had believed him. Over the past six months of torment, no one had believed a word. They’d all smiled and nodded understandingly. Yes, yes, that’s right, you’re innocent. We’re all innocent in here mate. We’re all wrongly accused, the victims of evil and intricate conspiracies.

  The difference though was he truly was such a victim. Six months of his life, rotting away in prison, accused of the most serious crime in the land. The only compensation was that they’d allowed him to carry on painting, and his incarceration had freed something in his spirit, made his work more vibrant, poignant, filled with despair. The colours and shapes beseeched. It had given his pictures a soul.

  If he ever got out of here, his prison paintings would cause a sensation amongst the critics. He knew it. That was how he consoled himself, lying in his wrongful cell at night. The thoughts of the exhibition he would stage, full of the pictures he’d painted in jail, the admiring faces, the acclaim, the telling and re-telling of his story. Interviews, papers, television and radio, all would flock to him when he was freed. If he was freed...

  What was he talking about? He would get out, of course he would. He was an innocent man. He wanted to be there in court, in the witness box, telling the jury he was innocent. It was down to them, twelve of his peers, his fate in their hands. If no one else had believed him, surely they would. Surely. They had to.

  Dan stood back and watched as Judge Lawless used his mobile phone to work through the code. It was way past ten now, but on the couple of occasions the officious clerk had knocked on the door to remind him, the Judge had waved her dismissively away. Dan couldn’t resist turning a smile on her.

  The Judge had almost finished, and Dan stood silently by. It was the only way to convince him, to let him see it for himself. He checked the penultimate picture, print 3/4, three presses of the number four key, wrote down an ‘I’. Then the final picture, print 1/3, one press of number three. Judge Lawless wrote down the last letter, a ‘D’. Then he stood back and read the words he’d written. All in capitals, as if to emphasise their importance, it was as though they shouted out from the paper.

  I FRAMED KID

  Lawless stared at the words for a moment, then stalked slowly back to his desk and sat down. He looked up at Dan and Adam as they stood, waiting silently, expectant. Dan felt his heart pounding again, was sure the judge could hear it in the quiet of his chambers. What would he say? Did he believe it? Did he think it was significant? How could he possibly not? He shifted his feet on the thick carpet, waited. Beside him, Adam waited too.

  ‘I am going to adjourn the trial until this afternoon,’ said Lawless calmly. Not a word of thanks, Dan noted. ‘Mr Breen, I trust that will give you enough time to re-interview Mrs McCluskey? That would seem the most obvious way forward.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ replied Adam. ‘She’s in court. I’ll go and see her now.’

  ‘Will you rejoin me here to tell me what you find, please? Then I will decide how we shall proceed.’ He paused, stared at both of them. ‘If indeed we proceed at all.’

  Dan thought he saw it in Abi’s face when they walked up to her in the court’s waiting area and Adam asked for a chat in one of the private rooms. He thought he could see the realisation. No fear, just understanding, and was there some relief? He thought he could see her let something go, as if breathing out a secret that she’d held uncomfortably inside for long months. She followed them without a word.

  Dan closed the door behind them. She sat down at the table, Adam opposite her. He stayed standing at the door, was only watching now. This part was up to Adam. But it was to him she turned and asked her question.

  ‘You’ve got it, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dan said gently. ‘I’ve got it.’

  ‘And he knows?’ Abi asked, turning her head towards Adam.

  ‘Yes, he knows. He knows everything.’

  ‘Then it’s all over, isn’t it? The trial, the riddle, all of it. All over.’

  ‘I think so.’

  She studied him for a minute and Dan wondered what she would do. Then she released an unexpected smile.

  ‘I’m glad in a way, I think,’ Abi said, her voice faltering. ‘I was never comfortable with it. It was Joseph’s idea and he made me promise to follow it all through. It was his last wish and I had to be loyal to him for that. I hope you’ll understand.’ She gazed at him, her eyes misty. She was somewhere else, Dan thought. With Joseph perhaps? ‘I’m glad it’s all over now,’ she added. ‘Really, I am glad.’

  He nodded, felt for her, returned the smile.

  ‘I thought so. That was what I suspected.’

  ‘Yes.’ Another pause as she sat, looking at him. ‘Joseph said he thought you might get it. He reckoned your mind worked in a similar way to his and you might understand what he was trying to do. But he hoped the riddle would run for a while. He liked you very much you know.’

  ‘I didn’t, but thank you.’ Dan suddenly felt flushed with an inexplicable pride. ‘I thought he was a remarkable man too. And it did run, didn’t it? I have to say, it was brilliant. The riddle, the whole plan. Whatever anyone might think of the morals involved, it was brilliant and almost perfect. And it ran for nearly the whole of the course you had planned, I think? Just a couple of days short?’

  There were tears forming in her eyes now, a tightening of her face, but she was still in control. Just, Dan thought, only just. He could almost see the memories of Joseph surrounding her.

  Abi’s voice trembled. ‘You guessed that too? About the verdict and what would happen afterwards?’

  Dan nodded. ‘Yes, I think so. Were you going to reveal the whole story a day or two after the verdict? That would be my guess.’

  She flicked at a stray hair, rubbed her eyes. ‘Yes, you’re quite right. When the jury came back with their guilty verdict, I was to give Kid one night in prison. To think and despair, to feel his loss. Joseph said it would be just the same feeling he’d inflicted on Joanna. I was to tell the police the next day. And I would have.’

  She nodded hard to emphasise the point, dislodging a tear from her eye. It slid a silvery trail down her flushed cheek. ‘I would have. He’s suffered enough. I hope he’s learnt the lesson Joseph wanted to teach him now. That it’s a terrible thing to take something precious away from someone, particularly someone you’ve cared about.’

  Adam had been watching, listening carefully. ‘Take it from the beginning,’ he said gently, making Abi turn to him. ‘I’m only a policema
n and not privy to the leaps of creative insight that you and Joseph and Dan seem to go in for. Just tell me all that’s happened.’

  She took a deep breath, tried to compose herself. But the tears were gathering force and she struggled to find the words.

  ‘Joseph never forgave Kid, did he?’ prompted Dan. ‘He saw Kid and Joanna as the son and daughter he never had. Despite Kid’s faults… even to the extent of him sometimes hitting Joanna…’

  Abi said nothing, just shut her eyes as though trying to hide from the words.

  ‘Don’t worry, we don’t need to go back over that,’ Dan continued. ‘So, Joseph doted on them, and when Kid broke Joanna’s heart – and I’m guessing possibly even worse, destroyed her creative spirit – I’d say he was enraged and inconsolable. A dangerous mix. I know you both helped Joanna as much as you could. I imagine that time with her, seeing her suffering, ingrained Joseph’s bitterness and feeling of betrayal about Kid. It made him more determined still to teach him a lesson?’

  Abi nodded again. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Joseph couldn’t have children. It was just one of those things. He used to say it was the way of the world. That he’d been given some great gifts, so it was only fair there was something he shouldn’t be able to do. I think it was his way of coping. He managed to hide the pain, but I knew it was there.’

  Adam checked his watch. Time was slipping on. Dan knew what he was thinking. He could sense Judge Lawless waiting, no doubt impatiently.

  ‘What happened when Kid left Joanna?’ asked Dan.

  ‘I’ve never seen Joseph so angry, so hell-bent on revenge. It was frightening. He was never a violent man, but he raged about it for months. He felt betrayed by Kid, and he hurt for Jo. He was determined to teach Kid a lesson.’

 

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