Gaslighting (DP, DIC03)

by Will Patching

  ‘There is one other thing.’ Jack paused as he blew on his drink to cool it, then tentatively placed his lips on the foam, sensing the coffee beneath was still too hot to sip, even for his asbestos tongue. ‘Charlie said they’ve enhanced their best still image taken from a CCTV camera at the back of a warehouse in south Reading overlooking the Kennet, and she’s gonna send a copy to my mobile phone as soon as she gets a chance.’

  ‘Smith?’

  ‘Even with computer magic, the image is still grainy, so there’s not enough detail to confirm it’s him… Especially as the rider’s wearing a parka… With the hood up.’

  ‘Rider?’

  ‘Yup. Pedalling along the towpath… On a fancy looking pushbike.’

  ***

  ‘How are you feeling, now, Mum?’ After the shock of hearing about the Caduceus Clinic, Suzie had recovered her composure sufficiently to make lunch for her mother, but had not felt like eating, and had decided her son could make his own food today. The evil sod was still in his room, so at least she didn’t have to tolerate more of his lies. And her mother was looking decidedly peaky today, too. ‘You haven’t eaten much.’

  Nana continued staring out of her bedroom window, wrapped in her dressing gown, exactly as she had been when Suzie came in first thing this morning. Had she slept at all?

  Probably not, Suzie decided. Nana was still distressed, thanks to Billy’s outburst the night before. Was it just another lie, his claim that her father had said such dreadful things about living with them, before he killed himself?

  She went to lift the tray with Nana’s untouched lunch, a bowl of congealed spaghetti carbonara, when a cold, bony hand clutched her wrist.

  ‘I want to visit him. Today.’ Like an owl on a perch, her mother’s body remained motionless as she swivelled her head to face Suzie. Sad eyes, dribbling tears, tugged at Suzie’s heart, and she cursed her son for doing this. Her mother had been so much better over the last two days, more like her old self, but had regressed overnight. All thanks to him. ‘Take me to the cemetery. Please.’

  ‘I will. Tomorrow, Mum. We’ll make a day of it, if you promise to eat something before we leave.’

  Her mother was crestfallen. ‘Can’t we go now, love?’

  ‘Sorry… I have someone coming to visit this afternoon. A psychiatrist.’

  ‘No!’ Nana’s vigorous head shaking made her voice joggle. ‘I don’t need one!’

  ‘No, Mum. I want to discuss Billy with him. I’m very worried about my son.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Honestly, he’s been saying things just to upset us, telling us both a lot of lies… And I’m sure those things he said about Dad weren’t true.’

  ‘You really think so?’ Her mother’s expression became hopeful, and Suzie wondered if the poor woman had been brooding on Billy’s comments all night.

  ‘Yes. I’m positive. Now, can I have my arm back?’ Her mum released her fingers, clearly surprised that she had been holding on for so long. ‘Now you just relax, get some rest. I’ll bring you more food later. Something light, like scrambled eggs. And I promise we’ll visit Dad’s grave. Okay?’

  Her mother’s watery smile appeared, then faded, before she turned back to her view from the window without another word.

  Suzie went to the kitchen and pottered in there to keep busy. Having barely recovered from the shock of the news from this morning, she could not bring herself to read more of Billy’s journal. The awful book was with the forged papers, stuffed into a kitchen drawer with the envelope of photographs she had found. Sickening images of Smith molesting her boy.

  And where is he today?

  The tutor had not arrived at ten this morning. Unusual, as he never normally missed a scheduled day – only Sunday was completely devoid of lessons. Suzie assumed Billy had tipped him off that she was on the warpath after finding out about their – what? Affair was the wrong term for an abusive relationship. Even if her son was infatuated with the man.

  The thought of that monster pawing her lad made her blood curdle. She would raise it all with Doctor Powers and that policeman when they arrived, no matter what Billy threatened. He wouldn’t be running off anywhere with anyone, and Smith would be behind bars, where he belonged.

  The doorbell rang and Suzie glanced at the clock. Right on time. She snapped off her rubber gloves, dumped them on the draining board, took a few seconds to centre herself, ready for the upcoming meeting, then opened the door.

  Both men were smartly dressed, in dark jacket and trousers, white shirts and black ties. The impression was more intimidating than she expected, although she immediately recognised them. Doctor Powers spoke, his voice reassuring.

  ‘This is my friend, Jack Carver, Mrs Leech. Although he’s a policeman, he’s off duty. This is an informal visit, so please don’t be alarmed.’

  Had she looked alarmed? Suzie guessed so – just one of many unwelcome emotions flooding through her today.

  She invited them in, trying hard to stay composed. They followed her to the lounge, the two men taking seats either end of the sofa, while she sat in one of the two armchairs by the fireplace.

  Her father’s seat.

  ‘My dad died in this chair.’ Both men looked taken aback by the comment, apparently irrelevant, but Suzie wanted to explain and directed her attention to Doctor Powers. ‘That morning, my mother was screaming his name. The noise woke me, and I came down to find the three of them in here. Billy was sitting there.’ She pointed to the armchair opposite. ‘He was so… calm. Serene. My mother was in a right state. She found them both sitting like that.’

  ‘Billy was just sitting in here? With your father, already dead in the seat opposite.’

  ‘Yes… He claimed he’d been sitting with him all night. Had watched him die.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ The detective sat back as he cursed, astounded, while the psychiatrist leaned forward, hands clasped between his legs, his elbows on his thighs, face questioning as he spoke.

  ‘And how did your father die, Mrs Leech?’

  ‘Insulin. He was a diabetic. He overdosed.’

  ‘Deliberately?’

  ‘Yes… He told Billy he couldn’t face life as an invalid. There was a note from the hospital beside him, on that coffee table. It confirmed his appointment…’

  Even when my dad was suffering, I was too busy thinking about myself. My medical problems.

  She would weep for him again, pray for his forgiveness, later. She continued explaining. ‘The consultant had called him in to discuss a possible treatment plan. His feet were ulcerated, necrotic. He thought they would have to amputate.’ It was only after the event that she discovered the extent of his ailments. She should have been there for her dad, but it was her son who had sat with him, barely thirteen years old.

  ‘No suicide note?’

  ‘Billy was his suicide note.’ She would not share what he had told her last night, and hoped the two men could not tell she was holding back. Then she realised her hand was over her mouth, and pulled it away as she added, ‘My father’s final confession. That’s what he told him. My son sat up with him. Watched him inject himself, then drink a glass of scotch… Chatted together until my father went unconscious, then died. They’d become very close since we came to live here.’

  ‘When was this? The suicide?’

  ‘Almost three years ago.’ About the same time everything started to go desperately wrong in this household. She thought it, but chose not to tell them. Was this yet another factor explaining why her son was so disturbed? His latest revelation about what her father had said had made her wonder – had that night somehow poisoned her son’s mind against her and her mother? ‘Please understand, gentlemen… My boy has been through a great deal of trauma.’

  ‘I think we both appreciate that, Mrs Leech. Don’t we, Jack?’ The doctor glanced at the policeman, then smiled at her, a genuine warmth in his face. ‘That’s why we’re here. To help.’

  Suzie was not at all sure about t
he detective, but she still felt certain she could trust this man.

  ‘I think you might be too late.’ Tears began to well, so Suzie eased herself off the armchair and stood. ‘There’s something I need to show you.’

  Some things.

  She went to the kitchen and pulled open the drawer, hesitating as she lifted out the contents. It felt like a betrayal, but she needed to share the burden with someone, and who better than the two men who seemed to understand her son’s problems? She thought about Billy’s gym bag, but decided to show them these items first.

  With the small bundle placed on the coffee table between them, Suzie explained. ‘My son has been in an abusive relationship. I discovered the truth only yesterday.’ She slipped the photographs from the envelope and tried not to look at the graphic images as she passed them across to the detective’s outstretched hand. ‘His tutor. The man I trusted to educate my son.’

  Suzie expected them to be shocked, but their reaction confounded her.

  ‘Jesus Christ, look Doc! It’s him.’ Both men studied the photographs, heads shaking in amazement. ‘Smith. The paedophile teacher…’

  ***

  With Jack outside, lighting a cigarette while trying to get hold of Charlie by phone, Doc gently probed Mrs Leech for more information on the tutor. She had little to add, only that the man had not shown up since she had confronted her son with the evidence, so they had to assume Smith was in hiding for this, too – not just the attack on the clinic.

  Before Jack had excused himself to feed this latest piece of information to his colleagues – via Charlie to ensure his disapproving boss was kept in the dark about his involvement in their inquiries – Mrs Leech had explained how Billy had been brainwashed and planned to run away with the man. She had told them:

  ‘He was deadly serious. I found tickets for them both, dated tomorrow night. Billy’s sixteenth birthday. They were going to fly to Thailand together…’

  No wonder she looked so devastated when they arrived. Doc had thought she was looking grief-stricken the night before, but now, she seemed almost zombie-like. He could see her experiences had all become too much to bear, and he still had the impression that she had many more secrets to share about her son.

  Doc could hear her clattering about in the kitchen, making tea, while he read through the journal she had given him to peruse. Billy’s explanation for the contents was beyond fantastic. There were many instances logged that matched the unexplained events recorded by Charlie’s sergeant – animal mutilations and burnt properties in the vicinity.

  When Mrs Leech passed over the book to Doc, she had opened it at a page that she said described how her son had been manipulating her and her mother. She offered to explain more after she had made them tea.

  That was just her excuse to leave the room. And the clattering was probably to disguise the sound of her crying.

  Poor woman.

  Doc had read enough of the book to understand what Billy had been doing, but the most troubling aspect was the boy’s underlying objective. Doc needed to think this through – especially with the bombshell of Smith’s illegal seduction of the lad. For whatever reason, Doc was struggling to square the circle.

  The manipulative student, being manipulated by his tutor…

  He parked the thought, would tackle Billy himself, once Jack and Mrs Leech returned. Doc fingered the sheets of paper she had left on the coffee table – legal documents and letters to their lawyers. It seemed she was a trustee responsible for investments held in Billy’s name.

  ‘He inherited millions from his uncle…’ Mrs Leech placed a tray between them as Doc bundled the papers aside. ‘That odious creature died intestate.’

  ‘Billy was his only blood relative?’

  ‘Yes… My father dealt with everything, then when he died, I became the trustee for the small fortune my son inherited. Dad handled it, said I needed to do nothing until Billy reached his eighteenth birthday. Asset management was all set up through our lawyers.’

  ‘And these?’ Doc riffled through the letters, then queried her with a look as she hesitated to answer.

  Blood flushed her throat pink as she replied. ‘My son has been forging my signature.’

  ‘Really?’ Doc inflected the word with some disbelief, although he was sure it was true.

  ‘Yes… Billy decided to access his funds without bothering to ask me. That’s how he bought two first class tickets to Thailand. Among other things. I only found all of this out this morning…’

  No surprise that she looked so deathly grey, then. Doc took her hand the moment she finished pouring his tea, and held it until she looked down at him.

  ‘I’d like to help you too, Mrs Leech. You can call me any time. To talk about anything.’ He gave her his most empathetic smile to reassure her. He genuinely wanted to help. ‘Really.’

  She brushed a tremulous finger at her damp lower eyelashes, nodded, biting her bottom lip as she sat.

  ‘Thank you. I will.’

  Jack returned, and Doc could smell the odour of cigarette smoke on his clothes.

  My clothes.

  Jack had not yet bothered to fetch any suitable work wear from his London apartment, borrowing things from Doc’s wardrobe to save time, instead.

  ‘A nice cuppa.’ Jack dropped to the sofa beside Doc. ‘Thank you Mrs Leech. There’s an alert out for Smith. We’ll get him, soon enough.’

  Doc passed him the journal with a brief explanation of what Billy had claimed it was, and Jack flipped through the pages while Doc turned his attention back to Mrs Leech.

  ‘I’d like to speak to Billy, if he’s here.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Doc could see her having an internal monologue, debating with herself what to tell them. Then, ‘But there’s more, I’m afraid, Doctor Powers.’

  Doc and Jack listened for fully five minutes as she described the things she had discovered about her son in the last few days, relating some of it to how she had been duped. Drugged.

  Gaslit.

  Everything she described made the supposed love story between the paedophile tutor and the manipulative boy seem less and less plausible in Doc’s mind. A paedophile tutor who had been chemically castrated…

  Jack remained quiet – largely thanks to Doc telling him beforehand that he would handle the woman, as that would be best, given that she’d already started to open up to him the night before. Then, when she described the contents of the drawer in the annex, he could sit in silence no longer.

  ‘You’ve got them? Trophies he’s taken? From the dead animals?’

  ‘Yes…’ Doc thought she would start crying again, from the look in her eyes and her trembling lips, but she stood and said, ‘I’ll get them. And Billy. You can deal with him, Detective.’

  Mrs Leech left them, her footsteps heavy as she climbed the stairs.

  ‘Blimey, Doc. I can’t get me head round it all.’

  ‘Me too… Let’s see what the boy has to say for himself.’

  Billy already had plenty to say from the sound of it. His voice boomed down the stairs, drowning out the querulous tone of his mother, her words indecipherable.

  ‘You’re a fucking mad woman… What gym bag? I don’t know what you’re on about… I’ll happily talk to the police. I’ll tell them exactly what’s been going on. Now get out of my way.’

  Billy, face clouded with anger, stormed into the room, but stopped in his tracks, hitting an invisible brick wall the moment he saw Doc sitting in his lounge.

  Doc knew then. Billy looked like he had seen a ghost.

  Or rather, seen a living, breathing human – one he clearly believed was already dead.

  ***

  His mother had barged into his room, her hideous twisted mug gurning more than usual. Billy had laughed inside at the sight of her as she ranted at him about the missing gym bag. Then told him the police were downstairs and wanted to talk to him.

  He’d enjoy that.

  That’s what he thought, until he walked
into the lounge and saw that bloody psychiatrist staring at him. Billy, distressed beyond words, still managed to assess the man’s reaction and tried to recover his own composure as best he could.

  It took a mammoth effort.

  The bastard should be dead. But here he was, in their home. Sitting beside that copper from the other night. This had not been in the script, and Billy experienced a disorienting sensation, that made him question whether he was still dreaming.

  Sadly, he was not.

  This was a situation outside of his control, but he reminded himself of his innate superiority, his significant genetic advantage over these two plebs. He announced his terms as his mother entered the room behind him.

  ‘Doctor Powers. I’ll talk to you and the detective, but I want her out of here. She’s crazy. Always lying about me.’

  ‘Shut up, Billy! Just you shut your mouth.’

  Powers went to her, spoke to her in a low murmur, then guided her from the room by her elbow. Much to Billy’s satisfaction.

  He sat in Gramps’ chair, glared at the detective and said, ‘I saw you. At Powers’ place the other night. Is that why you’re here? To arrest me for kicking that Bentley driver?’

  The detective slid his warrant card across the coffee table for Billy to read. ‘No, son. I’m here about two murders. Along with multiple other offences.’

  ‘Woo-hoo. A homicide detective. How impressive.’ Billy smiled, more comfortable with the witch out of the room. He could do this. ‘Sounds exciting.’

  Powers returned and sat again. ‘Your mother has agreed to allow us to talk to you without her presence.’

  ‘So, you’re the responsible adult then, Doctor? Looking out for my interests? Fair enough.’

  ‘Not at all. You don’t need one, unless you want to invite your mother back in… This is not an official police investigation. Just a chat.’

  ‘This detective says you’re here about a couple of murders.’

  ‘In part.’ Powers smiled, but Billy sensed animosity from the man. Hostility, hidden beneath the false veneer of charm. As a master of the art himself, Billy always found it easy to spot the trait in others.