I approach the final door and there’s the tip of a shoe visible underneath it. It’s the type of footwear that looks out of place here. I nudge the door open slowly with one finger.
Lavinia is fully clothed on the toilet. She’s sitting peacefully with her eyes closed. There is a large pool of blood beneath her, and the handle of a red screwdriver sticking out of her neck. I remember Tara’s exact words: ‘If you’re angry and you can get your hands on a weapon, you’re going to use it.’
74
Sheraton arrives next to me. He inhales sharply.
‘Bloody hell. Is she dead?’ he asks.
I know from experience that liquid spreads fast, but this is a huge puddle. There’s no chest movement. I pick up a wrist and can’t find a pulse. She’s cold and strangely firm to touch. It’s obviously a crime scene, so I don’t want to move anything else, but I have to make sure. I tread in the blood and put my fingers against her neck. The skin is cool and lifeless.
‘I’m afraid so, let’s back out of here.’
It’s obvious who did it. When we step outside, MacStravick has turned up ahead of two nurses. They all look at me hopefully, but I shake my head. They cautiously walk through the toilet door. MacStravick comes out shortly after and takes some deep breaths.
‘What happened?’ he asks me.
‘I don’t know. We’re First Response. Thrapston was on duty here. That body sitting in there has been dead a little while. Long enough to cool. Judging by the shock, Thrapston must have gone in to see if anyone was in the toilet, or maybe a con or teacher told her someone was missing. You need to ask her.’
We find her in the office and on a seat with her head between her legs. She’s been sick again. MacStravick crouches next to her.
‘Talk to me,’ he says.
She tries to explain, but through a lot of tears and dribbling, so she is impossible to understand. I tap MacStravick on the shoulder.
‘Are all the prisoners on Main Street still?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll get a piece of paper and take their names and locations. We’ll need to speak to them before they return to the houseblocks. Or at least escort them back and lock them in their cells until we have time to interview them.’ I point to the camera at the far end. ‘Ask Security to look over the recording straight away. It’s a bit of a distance, but you’ll be able to see who went in that toilet this afternoon after the deceased did. Whoever killed her will be on there.’
He nods at me and gives me a cautious smile. I’m not telling him how to do his job. Even if you’ve been doing this for decades, you never lose the shock of a violent death and your brain still needs time to adjust. Sheraton’s face tells me his stomach hasn’t had time to adjust.
‘Come on, Sheraton. Let’s get the last few inmates outside and start organising them.’
At that point, Victor One, who oversees the Oscar One level of management in the prison and is basically in charge of the whole place, arrives. She has two managers with her. They rapidly take control.
Three hours later, it’s time to go home. All the officers sit in the hub staring at Victor One. She stares grimly at us.
‘We’ve identified twenty prisoners who visited that toilet after Lavinia Burford went in there. However, only five entered within ten minutes of the victim going in. They are the prime suspects. Their names are Goshawk, Shaw, James, Prestwick and Bragan. I need volunteers to stay and ferry the inmates backwards and forwards to the police interviews, which will be taking place up in Legal Visits.’
Half of the officers put their hands up; mostly the youngsters who don’t have children to get back to.
Victor One stares at me.
‘How about you, Dalton? You were the first on the scene.’
‘I was second after Thrapston. All I saw was a cooling body. Whatever happened did so long before I showed up. I’d stay, but a friend has the kids and I need to pick them up on the way home.’
‘Fair enough. Good work organising the prisoners afterwards. All of you have done well with what must still be an incredible shock. A murder within these walls is rare. However, the pathologist mentioned something we hadn’t considered.’
She waits until she has our attention.
‘He said the angle of insertion of the screwdriver is unusual for an attack. It was probably a left-handed person, perhaps a strong individual, because the weapon might have been pushed into the neck. There was little room to swing it due to the side wall of the toilet. He also mentioned just now that it could have been a self-inflicted wound. That would be a grim way to commit suicide, but not impossible. What was she in for?’
‘Hang on, sir. I’ll check,’ says Sheraton.
While he taps away, I frown. What happened to clever Tara? Why do something so stupid and so serious? Lavinia’s game was up, but now so is Tara’s. There will be no Birdies salon now. Not for about fifteen years, anyway. She might get that as a minimum if she mentions the abuse she suffered at the hands of Lavinia.
But it’s not just Tara’s dreams going up in smoke. Kitty and Billie will lose an ally and possibly the only consistent positive influence that they’ve ever had. All for revenge. Kitty must have kept that screwdriver and given it to Tara. If I’d reported the attack as I should have done, that weapon might have been found. At the least, they’d have transferred Kitty and Zelda out of here. Then nobody would have died today.
I stoked them up too, by saying they should have reported Lavinia’s crimes at the time. By not doing so, she was free to stay out there and abuse other children all over again. In some ways, I put that screwdriver in Tara’s hand.
‘Rape of a child under thirteen,’ says Sheraton.
There’s a sharp intake of breath.
‘Okay,’ says Victor One. ‘It’s possible that she’d kill herself. Many have suicidal thoughts after being caught for a crime like that and can’t handle the shame of being exposed. Is anybody aware of anything that might confirm or deny that? Who spoke to her? What was her state of mind when she came in? Does anyone know a reason why any of those five women mentioned earlier might want to kill Lavinia Burford?’
A heavy silence fills the room. Officers shuffle their feet; others stare around as though waiting for someone to reveal a secret. I raise my hand. My voice is quiet.
‘There’s something I should tell you.’
75
All heads in the hub swivel towards me. My brain is scrambled with the events of the last few months, but my conscience demands I say it.
‘Go on, Dalton,’ says Victor One.
‘I was here the evening she came in and I put her away. She was in shock. Lavinia was a posh, reserved woman who couldn’t begin to comprehend this place, and she was guilty of crimes against children. She was furtive on the wing, looking for dangers she knew would eventually come. I reckon it was suicide.’
‘What makes you think she might take her own life?’
‘Well, as I was shutting her in, she said that she wouldn’t be able to stand it here.’
There’s another murmur of surprise.
‘I hope you documented the conversation,’ she says.
‘Yes, she’d have had first night observations anyway, but I had a word with the night officer and told him to look in on her much more frequently than once an hour.’
‘Did you put it on the handover sheet?’ she asks.
‘Of course, ma’am. I’m a professional.’
There are a few chuckles. To her credit, Victor One knows where the file is for the handover sheets. She pulls it out and finds the most recent entry.
‘Yes, Dalton, your comments are here. The officer on duty last night has noted the inmate told him she would pull his tongue out if he didn’t stop turning her light on. Actually, that doesn’t sound like a defeated person.’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘But if she’d decided to kill herself, she may have felt it was okay to be as rude as possible. What was the worst that could happen? With a hefty sentence,
she may well have died in here anyway.’
I’m in too far to reveal that Lavinia used to look after Tara many years ago. If they search back that far, then so be it, but I won’t point them in that direction.
‘Fair point. Right, Dalton and the rest of you who aren’t staying, off you go. We’ll be busy in the morning, too, so if you’re in, be prompt.’
Already, I can feel the pressure of tomorrow. As I walk towards the exit, my lies stalk me like a physical presence. Driving home, they will box me in like a too-big passenger, and later, they will be pressed against my side in bed. As Comms clears me through the sterile area door, I find MacStravick and the security SO waiting for my arrival at the gatehouse.
‘Quick word, Dalton.’
I follow him to the chill-out room. He gives me another of his cool looks.
‘I just wanted to check that jewellery after all,’ he says.
Handing him my bag, I decide this moment sums up life. It’s a game of half-chances, where coin tosses can mean death and incarceration, or they lead to a lucky escape. I could have given the locket to Billie, but I didn’t. MacStravick smiles when he sees everything is as it should be and disappears, leaving me to put my stuff back inside the rucksack.
I think of what kind of birthday I’ve had. My prison life has taken a body blow as my home life has dragged itself from the canvas. It’d be nice if they were both great at the same time. I consider my decision to muddy the water around Lavinia’s death. I suspect Kitty, Tara and Billie felt jail wasn’t an appropriate punishment for the lifetimes of suffering that Lavinia had caused. Instead, the girls passed judgement and Tara carried out the sentence. That can’t be right, but some people are evil. They’ll never stop.
Will Tara keep quiet when they question her? I can’t help smiling as I pull up outside my house. It doesn’t do to underestimate clever Tara. She’s ruthless. I feel daft for doubting her intelligence and stupid for dismissing her conviction. Of those five who went in that toilet after Lavinia, little Tara is the last person they will suspect. If Billie or Kitty had been in the frame, they’d have been arrested by now.
The girls’ failure to report Lavinia all those years ago may have meant she could continue with her sick ways, but the fact they didn’t raise their hands back then also gives Tara a way out. The police will look for motive, but they might not delve too deeply to see the connection because of who she was, especially if they suspect suicide.
I hope Tara gets out soon. I reckon, given half a chance, her business will be a success, and Billie and Kitty can be part of it too. Then they might actually find some peace. Perhaps Lavinia’s death can be the end of that chapter, maybe even the book. It’s time they started a new one where the past is forgotten. But we will all have secrets to keep.
76
I’m woken up at 5 a.m. by Ivan poking my forehead.
‘Daddy, me cold,’ he says.
Without thinking, I hold open my covers. He’s only ever got in once before and he didn’t stay long. This time, he snuggles in and his breathing settles. Mine does the same. A flash of light wakes me. It’s Abi, taking a photo of Ivan and me cuddled up. Abi shows me the picture and a slow wave of deep satisfaction comes over me.
‘Sleeping in late again, eh?’ she says. ‘Take the car and fill it up with petrol on your way home. We should head to the countryside tomorrow for a picnic. Have a family day out. It’s supposed to be warm this afternoon and glorious tomorrow. Can you get a message to Wyatt to come and see me the moment he gets out? I need to apologise for not visiting or supporting him.’
I am tempted to say it’s him that needs to do the apologising, but I don’t mention it and instead just nod. I slide away from Ivan so he doesn’t wake up and sneak out of bed. It’s funny how little has changed, but how everything seems different since Abi came home. Maybe the world can be a better place if we try to be kinder and more thoughtful to each other.
I only have an eight-to-five shift, so I get in early. The detail says I’m GD for the day, which means I won’t be able to dodge Billie on a wing if she sneaks downstairs. I could go upstairs and say goodbye to Tara, but, with suspicion hanging over her, I’d better not. That only leaves Kitty, who is brushing the floor around the hub when I open the houseblock door. It looks like she’s trying to dig a trench, rather than collecting dust.
There’s only Nasima present when I step inside the hub. She appears to wish her shift were finishing as opposed to just starting.
‘Morning, ma’am. Am I GD?’
‘I’m not sure—we’ve had two personal alarms go off on the male side, both on Charlie wing. The ambulance has been called. Can’t you hear it on the radio?’
‘I don’t start until eight, so it’s still off.’
‘It’s just what we need after all that shit yesterday.’
‘By shit, do you mean murder or suicide?’
‘Between you and me, Dalton, they haven’t got a clue. The police questioned the five prime suspects, but they more or less shrugged and said it wasn’t them. The other fifteen said they saw nothing. Nobody knew who she was, but apparently Lavinia appeared on the local news yesterday morning. Perhaps that triggered her to end it. She had very little to look forward to.’
‘I suppose they’ll investigate the crime scene for prints and DNA, which might help.’
Nasima laughed. ‘I pity the poor folk who have to investigate in there, because they’ll find evidence of about three hundred women. I heard there were partial prints on the weapon, so I’m guessing that if they are the victim’s it’s suicide, if they aren’t hers, then murder.’
‘Maybe someone else gave Lavinia the weapon and said use it, or we will.’
Nasima sat on her seat and drummed her fingers on the table.
‘It’s your last day today, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d like your opinion on a few of the inmates, if you don’t mind.’
I get the feeling that whether I mind or not is irrelevant, so I’m relieved when her phone rings.
‘Saved by the bell,’ she says with a wry smile.
‘I’m going to collect my bits and bobs from the wing office.’
Nasima nods and answers the phone.
‘Shit,’ she states. ‘How many?’
I scoot out of the hub. It’s probably best I keep out of the way in case they’re searching for volunteers for something nasty. Tex is in the office with Sheraton. She beams when I knock on the open door.
‘Ah, Dalton. Last day for me as well. I’m back to Mother and Baby. A whole load of newbies started their officer careers today, so things will be back to normal for us. We’ve got four of them on this afternoon.’
She steps around Sheraton and we hug like old friends, even though I still know very little about her. I shake Sheraton’s hand, but he’s distracted by his radio. I still haven’t turned mine on.
‘What’s happening?’ I ask him.
‘Barricade on Charlie wing. The command centre has been opened.’
‘Who’s barricaded?’
‘Two guys who are being transferred up north. They’ve taken another prisoner hostage. Said they’re going to execute him.’
Even though it sounds terrible, it doesn’t shock me. It’s all I’ve known since I started this job. The prisoners won’t really kill him, they just don’t want a transfer miles from their families. Compared to HMP Peterborough, some of the Geordie and Scouse prisons are madhouses, so I can’t blame them.
‘You should volunteer,’ I say to Sheraton. ‘Get your ears wet. They’ll be looking for a team of men to go in.’
‘No, thanks. The ringleader is Bart Langley.’
‘Ah!’
Langley is reputed to be a professional cage fighter, even though I couldn’t find any sign of a public record online when I looked. He was padded up with his brother when I left the male side and Bart was actually the smaller, more reasonable one of the pair.
I open the drawer of the cupboard and
clear the few belongings that I have in there. It’s just a few pens, a mug with Toy Story’s ‘Woody’ on it that Lennox gave me for my last birthday, saying that I looked like him, and my black notebook. When I pick the latter up, a small piece of paper drops out. There’s a drawing on it. BiRDies is written in black writing, and in a line below each capital is Broken, Ruined and Damaged. The big letters have been highlighted in pink with exclamation marks around them and reminds me of the film Cocktail. How the hell did they get that in here?
I stroll off the wing, looking up and down the landings. It has never felt like a prison on this side, even though the building is virtually identical. Perhaps that’s a reflection of the people who are forced to live here. The women might be prisoners, but most try to pretend they aren’t. I lock the gate and walk towards the hub, where Nasima is gesticulating on the phone.
‘You off today, sir?’
I turn around to see a sheepish-looking Kitty.
‘Yes, last shift. Will you miss me?’
‘We all will, sir.’
She’s clearly got something on her mind as she stands there with her head bobbing from side to side.
‘Spit it out, Kitty.’
‘Do they know what happened to that woman?’
I contemplate doing the right thing and saying who knows, but I’m already in way too deep.
‘They think it could be a suicide. As long as nobody’s prints turn up on the screwdriver, whoever did it might get away with it. But whoever did it should consider themselves very lucky and change their lives accordingly. Their friends should also feel grateful.’
Kitty beams at me. She’s not quite ready for a hug, though. I think of Ivan. Kitty sticks her fist out and we do a little bump.
Prisoner Page 26
