Beyond Evidence

by Emma L. Clapperton

  Billy had been seeing a councillor for his state of mind and his time in prison had made him believe he was now a changed man. All Billy wanted was to at least explain what had made him the man he was back then and if Ross would let him he would try to amend his mistakes.

  Billy knew fine well that Ross wasn't going to speak to him, never mind let him in his home, but he didn't want the what if, question running through his mind until his dying day. He rang the buzzer again. No answer.

  He pushed the door, on the off chance that it would open. It didn't. He turned his back to the door to face Dumbarton Road in Partick. The street was still busy for eight o'clock at night. The sun was still shining and the roads still hummed with cars and double deck buses. He looked out at the street in front of him and Billy knew that he had to walk away. There were no second chances for men like him, changed or not.

  He turned to face the door at the sound of it opening and much to his disbelief, standing in the doorway was Ross.

  Eighteen

  A convenient accident

  "You've got ten minutes," Ross said.

  "OK."

  As they climbed the stairs of the close, Ross wondered what on earth Billy was going to say that he thought would make things better.

  Nothing could make things better between us, he thought to himself.

  The close was lit with dim bulbs which looked as though they were from the war years, and the stench of bleach was overwhelming. As they climbed higher, the smell became stronger, and there came a clanging sound from above them.

  "What's with the smell and the noise?" Billy hoped to break the silence as they climbed the stairs.

  "One of the neighbours is mopping the floors of the close," Ross answered bluntly.

  "It's nice that someone looks after the close isn't it?"

  Ross blocked out Billy’s voice and opened his front door. He wanted to jam Billy's head between the door and the door frame as he entered but thought better of it.

  He followed Ross into the living room and stood by the window. Ross looked at him expectantly, but Billy said nothing. He looked around and saw the picture of Maria, his late wife and felt a wave of guilt flow through him. When he looked up and saw Ross staring into his eyes, he felt frozen, like he had forgotten everything he had planned to say.

  "Well, aren't you going to tell me how sorry you are? How sorry you are about Mum, about how you treated us?" Ross taunted him.

  "Would it make a difference? You wouldn't listen to me anyway."

  "You owe me some sort of fucking explanation. My Mum killed herself and left me and you drove her to it." Ross spoke through gritted teeth. "Oh, and while we are on the subject of driving her to do things that were not necessary, you should know that she made sure I found out about him."

  Billy's face changed from self pity and regret to confusion. "Him, who?"

  "Jeffery? You remember him don't you Dad? Your first born son?" Ross continued taunting him.

  "How do you know about that?" Billy asked quietly.

  "Mum left me a note. And she made sure that I would find it. I know all about how you made her give him up for adoption. How she felt like she had no other choice but to get rid of him."

  "I..." Billy did not have anything to say regarding Jeffery. He knew that it was there and then that Ross did not regard him as anything else but a monster.

  "You what?"

  "Nothing, all I was going to say was what I have already said. But there would be no point, my words will not provide any comfort."

  "Do you know what? I don't even know this Jeffery person and I am already jealous of him. In fact, I actually quite dislike him." Ross took a step closer to Billy, now standing so close that Billy could feel his son's breath on his face.

  "Why is that?" Billy asked.

  "Because the lucky bastard is free from you, he didn't have to live his life watching you beat his Mother like she was some kind of wild animal. He didn't have to grow up with you as a Dad. He got the get out of jail free card... and I got a fucking life sentence!"

  A few moments passed where silence was the only thing that filled the room.

  "I wasn't a well man Ross. I was an alcoholic and off my face on coke most of the time. It wasn't...."

  "Wasn't, what? Wasn't your fault? You're so full of it. I don't give a shit what you were on, she was my Mum, your wife. What man treats his wife and family the way you did? You beat her black and blue for years and shagged anything you could get your filthy hands on, and you subjected us both to it!" Ross's rage had gone past boiling point and he slammed Billy up against the wall.

  All sorts of thoughts raced through his mind, his Mum, his childhood. He felt like he couldn't breathe, his throat felt like it was closing up slowly and his vision became blurred.

  "Go on then, if it makes you feel better!" Billy shouted in his face. "Punch me, slam my head off the wall. Do what you will but it will never change what I did, it will never bring her back!"

  Ross let go of Billy and turned his back on him. He tried to calm himself, he didn't want his neighbours hearing anything. He couldn't risk it. He took a few deep breathes as Billy looked on, wondering what was coming next.

  "All I wanted was to tell you how sorry I am and if I could take it all back I would."

  "But you can't, so what's the point of coming here and causing me more misery?" he turned to Billy, his face expressionless.

  "I didn't want to go through the rest of my life wondering, what if?"

  They stood in silence for a few moments more, both thinking about what life would have been like if Billy hadn't done what he did for all those years.

  "I think you should leave before I do something that I will regret!" Ross looked straight through Billy, knowing that if pushed far enough, he would break his neck and that would be it done!

  "OK, I'll leave, but I am truly sorry."

  He walked to the front door and as he left he didn't look back. Billy knew his bridges were well and truly burnt.

  I've ruined him, he thought to himself as he descended the stairs of the close.

  He passed the woman who was mopping the floor and the smell of bleach was once again overwhelming. She smiled at him as he passed her on the stairs and he smiled back. She was an older lady, in her seventies with short white hair and an apron over her clothes.

  "Watch your step there sir, it's awfully slippery," she warned him with a gentle voice.

  "Thanks," Billy replied.

  She watched him go down the next flight until he was no longer in her sight. She carried on mopping the cold granite flooring until she was interrupted by an echoing racket coming from below her and a male scream. The bumping and banging continued for a few more seconds as she made her way down. She guessed what had happened but what she found was not what she had expected.

  She stood above him, half way down the set of stairs where he had met his maker. A broken neck, ankle twisted and facing the completely wrong way and an expression of terror as he lay there dead, eyes open facing the woman who had inevitably caused his death.

  She began to scream uncontrollably until she found a young man stood next to her, Ross.

  "Oh dear, call an ambulance," the woman held onto Ross as she spoke.

  "Look's like he is dead," Ross replied.

  "Oh my God, it's my fault. Please call an ambulance!"

  Ross ran up to his flat to use the phone. He was in disbelief and also he felt like he was dreaming. He had wished his Father dead all this time and it had finally happened without him having to lay a finger on him.

  That's karma for you, he thought to himself.

  He dialled...

  "Ambulance please, a man has fallen down the stairs in my building. I think he is dead," he smiled as he spoke.

  Nineteen

  A medium's proof

  The church hall was beginning to fill up fast. Patrick and Jodie had laid out the seats for their guests and made sure that the room was set up for the evening demonstrations.r />
  Preston and Lang had arrived a little before eight o'clock so as to blend in with the crowd and they came dressed as normal people would, not police officers.

  "I cannot believe that I am even attempting this," Lang sniggered.

  "Why?" Preston asked.

  "Well, I'm one hundred percent not into all this nonsense and I think it's a waste of time."

  "Well in that case why don't you ask the boss if he could transfer you on to another case because lets face it, right now this is all we have," Preston sounded aggravated.

  "I'm not saying I want out of this case, I just don't trust Patrick."

  "Yeah, you've made that pretty clear. Just go with it eh? I wouldn't have put my neck on the line with the boss if I didn't think that Patrick was capable of helping us in this alright?"

  Both officers stayed quiet whilst more hopeful people poured through the doors of West End Spiritualist Church. Lang looked at the individual faces of those who had turned up at the church, hoping to get a message from a loved one from the other side. People took their seats as Patrick and Jodie took their places on the stage of the hall.

  The hall was very large with high ceilings and a large chandelier in the middle. One bulb was out and there were nine others dimly lit.

  Suppose that's to set the eerie mood then? Lang sniggered to himself. He looked around as he and Preston took their seats in the audience and saw that everyone had become silent and were now facing the stage.

  "Good evening everyone. As some of you may or may not know my name is Patrick McLaughlin and this is my fellow medium, Jodie Jenkins. Tonight we will be trying our very best to get the messages to you that you wish to hear."

  Lang sat back in his seat and listened.

  "If Jodie or I come to you with a message, please answer in a clear voice yes or no. The spirits will link with your voice so we need you to be loud and as clear as you can."

  Patrick looked at Jodie.

  "If you have not been to anything like this before could you raise your hand?" Jodie spoke.

  Lang suddenly saw Preston's hand raise along with a few others and realised that he himself had never been to anything like this before. He unwillingly raised his hand.

  "OK, can I ask you Sir," she pointed to Lang. "What you hope to take away with you from this evening?"

  Lang felt a little intimidated, like he was the only sceptical character in the hall. He looked at Preston who was suppressing a smile. Now he felt incredibly irritated.

  "Hmm, I'd like some proof of the living dead I suppose," he said trying to disguise the irritable tone.

  "You're not a believer in spirits Sir?" Jodie asked.

  "I've yet to be convinced."

  Jodie smiled at him and said, "OK sir, let’s see if we can then."

  Jodie continued talking to the crowd as Preston failed to hide his grin. He turned to Lang and said, "I think she did that on purpose."

  "You're damn right she did. She's obviously been talking to Patrick about my scepticism and decided to take the piss right out of me."

  "Oh shut up. Just listen to them and let's hope that we get something to work with from it." Preston turned to face the stage again.

  The room was silent and Jodie stood utterly still as she and Patrick opened their minds to let the spirits channel their energies. Patrick looked straight ahead, without making eye contact with any member of the audience. He began to speak.

  "Alright, I'm picking up on a baby in spirit," Patrick said.

  The silence already within the room felt like it had turned to a still picture as everyone listened intently.

  "I'm seeing an older man in spirit, claiming to have the spirit of a baby who passed only three days after touching the earth plane. Can anyone take the name George?" Patrick asked.

  Then suddenly he shot a look at Lang, whose face had gone a whiter shade of pale.

  Lang cleared his throat before he spoke. "I think I can."

  "I have George here Sir. I want to place him as your father?" Patrick continued.

  "Yes that's correct," he said loudly.

  Preston was in disbelief now, he stared back and forth at Patrick and Lang as they both spoke.

  "I'm forced to believe that the baby your father is claiming to have is your son, Sir?"

  Lang contemplated this for a few seconds. This is bloody ridiculous, why am I even answering these stupid questions? he thought to himself.

  "Can you take that Sir?" Patrick pressed.

  "I don't know, maybe." Lang sounded uncertain but in the pit of his stomach he knew exactly what was coming next.

  "Sir, I'm being shown two hospital rooms here," Patrick paused for a few seconds and paced the stage as he took the message, "I am seeing a car accident, your wife and father?"

  Lang suddenly felt sick. Patrick was touching a nerve that hadn't been touched for a long time. He thought back to that fateful day when his Father's car collided with a truck on the M8 motorway, the car that carried his Wife, unborn child and his Father.

  "Yes, there was a car accident involving them," he said. He thought to himself, but you're telling me this, I am not telling you. You're getting the minimum out of me.

  "I also have the name James, can you take that?" Patrick asked.

  "Yes."

  "Your baby son James is with your father George. He has given you this message. He wants you to know that they are both ok and that he is very sorry for what happened."

  Lang thought about this for a few moments. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat. "Any chance you could go into more detail?"

  "Are you sure you want me to open it up in a public meeting?" Patrick asked him.

  "Well if you can, then why not?" Lang tried to keep his scepticism at the surface. He didn't want Patrick thinking he had broken him down already.

  "OK, if you wish. I'm being told that fifteen years ago, your Father and your Wife were going to visit some family. You couldn't be there as you had to work. It was a very sunny morning and the sun glare was overwhelming. Your father was driving and the sun had interfered with his ability to see the road ahead. He swerved slightly, but enough to collide with the truck coming up the right side of him. Your father slammed on the breaks and a car went into the back end of his. This caused your wife's waters to break and your father was left unconscious from his head being hit off the side window then the steering wheel. They were rushed to hospital where your Father died shortly afterwards and your wife gave birth to a baby boy, James, after you. Three days later your baby died in hospital, related to the car accident," Patrick stopped. He knew that he had said enough.

  Preston looked at Lang. One tear dropped from his left eye and he wiped it away with his sleeve.

  "Jim, you ok?" Preston put a hand on his shoulder.

  "I need air," Lang got up and walked out of the hall.

  Patrick nodded at Preston to go after him. He watched as Preston left the hall and motioned at Jodie to take over the demonstrations.

  "OK ladies and gentlemen I'm going to take over whilst Patrick has a break."

  Patrick followed Preston outside to the front of the church. He watched as Lang lit a cigarette and held the smoke in his lungs for what seemed like forever.

  "Are you ok?" Patrick asked.

  "How the hell did you know all that?" Lang asked angrily "Did you do some kind of research on my family or something? I mean, seriously what the hell..."

  "You know how I do it. You just don't want to believe it."

  "Patrick I think we'll call it a night, I think we got what we came for," Preston said.

  "Did you get what you came for?" Patrick asked Lang.

  Lang considered this for a moment. Had he got what he came for? To be reminded of his son and father’s tragic deaths? The message had frightened him to say the least, but if anything else it convinced him that there was something else out there.

  "Well, I think I got more than I needed. I'll hold my hands up Patrick, you've left me feeling rather a
mazed," he held his hand out to Patrick. "Looks like you're a legit part of our team now Mr McLaughlin."

  "So you're converted then Jim?" Preston asked.

  "Well wouldn't you be after experiencing that? Oh and by the way, I still want to see this automatic writing you were going on about! That would be interesting to see."

  "Why not now?" Patrick asked.

  Lang looked at Preston then back to Patrick. "Not tonight, I've seen enough. But definitely tomorrow at some point."

  Preston smiled and felt a sense of relief as Lang and Patrick shook hands.

  Twenty

  Dreams of fire

  Back in their home at Glasgow Harbour, Patrick and Jodie had settled down for the night and were on the couch watching the television. Jodie stared at the screen and could hear Patrick gently laughing, but as she watched her brain did not absorb the information coming from the characters in front of her. Instead her thoughts were overloaded with what seemed like fog and the thickness clouded her consciousness.

  She had zoned out from reality and not realised it. She was in a small room, it was dull outside. She looked out of the window and could see that the sky had clouded over. The clouds were thick and looked heavy, like they were dropping down from the sky. The room was cool and the walls were grey, but not due to the decor. She tried to see what was on the walls of the small room but she couldn't, her vision seemed to be blurred.

  Why?

  There was a small desk across from her in the far corner and there was a computer lamp on it. She stood up and walked slowly over to the desk and switched on the lamp to see if this would help her to see. As she switched on the lamp she understood why her vision was blurry, the room was filled with smoke.

  But I can't smell it, she thought to herself. She turned to see the rest of the room and walked to the window. As she looked out she couldn't see anything, just a blackness of nothing. She felt a wave of panic wash over her whole body. All of a sudden she felt hot and the heat crept from her toes all the way up her body. Not just the kind of hot you might feel on a sticky summers day as you make your way through crowds of people when shopping in town or in rush hour first thing in the morning on your way to work. No, this was different, like oven hot! It was as though she had opened one of those industrial ovens in kitchens that cater for hundreds of people every night in hotels and restaurants and the heat instantly fills the room and you immediately start to sweat.