Hard Truth

by Jay Gill

  “I’m so sorry, James. Of course. Your shoes are downstairs. You always leave them downstairs. Let me help you.”

  The drive to the hospital was a blur. I was filled with emotions and thoughts of what I might find when I got to the hospital. All I knew was I should have visited more often. I should have been there. I hated the thought Dad might have been without family when it happened again. Had Mum been with him?

  I ran across the car park and in through the emergency doors. I took the stairs two at a time and reached the ward.

  Nurse Gillespie was on the phone and waved me in. I tried to read her face to understand the situation.

  The ward seemed too calm and too quiet. This wasn’t what I was expecting. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t calmness.

  I started to conclude Dad must be okay. Was it a false alarm? If he’d suffered another heart attack, he was in a hospital and in the safest hands.

  Perhaps I’d built the whole emergency up in my mind to be more than it was? I suddenly felt sure he was okay. He was probably sat up in bed with a big smile on his face, joking with the nurses and apologising for being a troublesome patient.

  I walked over to Nurse Gillespie’s desk as she began to hang up the phone. As I approached, Mum came round the corner.

  I smiled at her as I looked for reassurance that everything was okay.

  Mum looked up at me and burst into tears. She threw out her arms and held onto me, she said, “He’s gone, Jamie. I’m sorry. Your dad has gone.”

  This must be a nightmare, and I had to wake up.

  I wanted to break away from her hold on me. I didn’t believe her. I needed to see Dad. But Mum was holding me so tight I was unwilling to leave her. I stayed and held her. She needed me now, and I needed her.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Dad was meant to have had a routine operation and be coming home. This couldn’t be happening.

  I sat with Mum for a time, and we talked about Dad and how strong he was. We convinced ourselves that if he had to go, then it was better this way than after some drawn-out and lengthy illness. I guess it was a way to make ourselves feel better when, in truth, all we could feel was the injustice of him being taken away so soon.

  After a couple of hours’ talking with nurses and doctors, then summoning the courage to leave, Mum and I were ready to go home.

  I drove Mum back to her empty house.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us? I think it would be better if you were with us right now.”

  Mum squeezed my hand and said, “Thank you, Jamie. I have things to do. You have your family, and they need you. Just now, I need my own space. You understand?”

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” I said. “I’ll come over first thing.”

  “Okay. Night, night.”

  I watched Mum walk up the path to her front door and enter the house they had shared. Never again would she hear Dad’s voice call her and ask how she was. Where she’d been and if she was okay.

  I waited until she turned and waved and switched on the house lights. I drove away with tears streaming down my face.

  Chapter Sixty

  Lyle opened the fridge and felt the rush of cold air on her legs. After examining each shelf, she took out a punnet of strawberries. Gazing out of the kitchen window, she ran them under the kitchen tap. She turned off the water and then, carrying the punnet with her, began to stroll through the house. Occasionally she popped a strawberry into her mouth.

  The house, with all its unique smells, looked and felt homely. Lyle looked at the children’s drawings and paintings and certificates that plastered one wall of the kitchen.

  Walking from room to room, she felt at home and at ease. There was something about the place that made it feel how she imagined a family home should.

  In the hallway sat a hairy, partly chewed dog’s bed. There was no dog in it. Kelly had made sure the house was empty of people and animals. In fact, she’d sat for several hours waiting for everyone to leave.

  The daughters were at school. Monica and the dog were visiting the grieving mother, again. Hardy was out looking for clues that didn’t exist.

  Lyle stepped past the dog’s bed and went into the sitting room. On the coffee table were children’s colouring books and an iPad. A doll’s house sat on a low table beside the television, along with a pushchair that was crammed full of dolls. Lyle straightened a long-legged doll.

  She went over to the fireplace and looked at the photos. Smiling faces of children, grandparents and mum and dad. She picked up the photo frame of the two girls and removed the picture. She tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans and popped another large strawberry into her mouth.

  Lyle made her way upstairs, finishing off the last few strawberries as she went.

  Peering into each of the rooms, she decided to go into Faith’s room first. The room was light and airy, and the walls were painted a very pale pink. There were fairy lights along one wall and around a large mirror. The lampshade hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room was multicoloured glass, and the bedspread and pillow were fairy themed. Lyle picked up the pillow and hugged it.

  A small white desk caught her eye. She read through the homework, writing and drawings. Picking up a brightly coloured pen, she drew a heart on the corner of one of the pictures.

  She picked up a little glass jar filled with a mixture of sweets, the sort that used to cost a penny. She gave it a shake to see all the different varieties.

  Alice’s room was decorated maturely; it was undoubtedly a young girl’s room, but certain things, like an alarm clock, the floral bedding and curtains – not fairy themed like Faith’s – and the creamy-white walls, made it feel more grown up.

  A few teddies and dolls at the end of the bed hinted that this was still a child’s room, though they appeared more ornamental than used as toys.

  Monica and Hardy’s bedroom had very little in it. It looked as though it was being prepared for decorating. There were no carpets, and clothes were packed in boxes. There were no wardrobes. The bedside table, with an alarm clock and the cable from a phone charger, was a dining chair that had been brought up from downstairs. Lyle was a little disappointed there was no chest of drawers to go through or wardrobe to peer into.

  She stuck her head into the bathroom, then stepped in and ran her hand along the edge of the bath. She squeezed a green rubber bath toy and laughed out loud as it croaked. She smelled the soap, shampoo, body lotion and moisturisers.

  Next, she opened a tall floor-standing cabinet and went through the shelves one by one.

  Back downstairs in the sitting room, she went to a row of family photographs. Picking them up one by one, she studied them. At the end of the collection stood a school photograph of the two girls standing side by side in their school uniforms, Alice with her hair plaited and Faith with her ponytail slightly askew. Such pretty girls, Lyle said to herself. Happy, pretty girls.

  Lyle folded the photograph, still in its cardboard photo frame, and slid it into an inside pocket of her jacket. Okay, girls. You can come with me.

  She heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveaway, followed by the sound of car doors slamming and children’s voices. Monica and the girls were home from school, already.

  As Monica opened the front door, allowing the children and dog to rush noisily into the house, Lyle slipped out through the back.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Emma was back at the prison for the second time in a month. This time, she was visiting the man Hardy and his partner Rayner had been pursuing at the time of Helena’s death.

  On her arrival, governor Lloyd Trent had not mentioned the death of Tony Horn. Instead, it hung in the air unspoken, as neither one of them felt any inclination to discuss it.

  “You could say I was a little surprised to hear you were coming back so soon. And to see one of my star prisoners this time. You must have friends in high places to get visitation with Edward Richter so quickl
y.”

  Emma was puzzled by the governor’s tone. “Well, I don’t know about that. I just put in a request, through normal channels.”

  “Really? It doesn’t matter now, though, does it? You’re here.”

  There were a few moments of silence as the governor read through the visitation request. Emma felt sure he would have already done so.

  Eventually, he said, “Edward Richter is a special prisoner. You will not be in the same room as him. He will remain in his cell for the entire interview. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No, no problem at all,” answered Emma.

  The governor sat back in his chair and played with his tie. He patted it and stroked it flat. He deliberately let his eyes wander over her as he said, “He’s kept apart from other prisoners. It’s better that way.”

  “For his safety. I understand.” Emma kicked herself for making an assumption.

  Governor Trent shook his head and said, “For their safety. I deemed it necessary to put Richter in solitary confinement after he killed three fellow inmates within his first week of being here. When asked why he killed them, he told me he was bored. I therefore deemed it necessary to remove him from the rest of the prison population. He’s been in isolation ever since.”

  “I was informed that I will be allowed only one interview, and I wondered why that might be. It’s likely I’ll need to come back and ask Richter more questions. Is that going to be a problem?”

  The governor’s expression changed. He looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

  “The powers that be, Detective Inspector, have decided that Richter should be moved. It would appear the facilities in another prison will more closely suit his particular needs. So, you see, I cannot make any assurances.”

  Emma wondered whether Richter’s move was a result of Tony Horn’s death.

  “When is he moving?” asked Emma

  “I don’t have a date for the move yet.”

  “Do you know which prison he is being moved to?”

  “Emma – I hope you don’t mind me calling you Emma. Security surrounding a prisoner move is critical and not something we broadcast.” The governor rocked back and forth in his chair. “I’m sure you’re keen to get today’s visitation underway. Would you let me accompany you? As I’ve explained, Richter can be rather hostile at times. It might be a good idea if you are accompanied by somebody who understands his state of mind. I’ve spent a lot of time alongside men like him. There are ways that we can approach your questioning that will appeal to him and increase his willingness to cooperate.”

  “That is very kind of you,” said Emma. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course, you will. Well, you know the drill. Stick to the questions that we have approved. Do not deviate. We will monitor the conversation at all times. If you deviate from the script you’ve provided, the interview ends. If his manner towards you becomes coercive, distasteful, inappropriate or threatening, the interview ends. If there is a prison emergency, the interview ends. If we decide the interview is over, the interview ends.

  “Remember, for Richter, this interview is a privilege. He is kept in isolation twenty-three hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Richter and prisoners like him are unpredictable. We don’t know how he will behave towards you. Do you still wish to proceed?”

  Emma nodded. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and said more loudly, “Yes, I do. And I understand.”

  “Very well. Off you trot,” said the governor. He picked up his desk phone and began punching in a number. Then he decided he hadn’t finished with Emma and added, “Inspector, I’m sorry about your fiancé. What happened must be quite painful for you.”

  “Thank you,” said Emma.

  “I would remind you, Inspector, never to give any of these prisoners, Richter in particular, personal information. Do not think for one second that you can appeal to his humanity. He can be quite charming, and that can be disarming. Never for one moment forget what he is.”

  “And what is that?” asked Emma.

  “Why, a predatory animal, of course. He lacks compassion and will not think twice about using your female nature to his advantage. Under this roof, the feminine allure a woman might wield on the outside to advance her position will be twisted and used against her. Richter will smell your manipulation before you open your sweet little mouth. Tread carefully, Inspector.”

  The governor didn’t wait for a response. He turned his back and continued with his phone call.

  Emma stared at Trent for a moment before deciding she had nothing to say.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Edward Richter sat on the edge of his bunk as Emma and Prison Officer Terry Farley approached. By the time Emma was stood behind the red line, one metre from the cell door, Richter was on his feet and looking out at her in anticipation.

  Emma looked down at her toes, which were just behind the line. She looked up to find Richter smiling broadly. The muscles in his tattooed arms flexed as he leaned against the bars of his cell.

  Introductions over, Richter whistled and said, “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. I’ll be dreaming about you for nights on end, mm-hmm.”

  Over a speaker came the voice of a prison guard. “Any more of that, Richter, and the interview is over. You hear me?”

  Richter shouted back, “Oh, come on, Officer Pearson, I’m just playing. Don’t be such an old grump. Don’t you know nothing about manners? I’m just paying the lady a compliment. You know what one of them is?”

  Richter nodded his head towards the chair against the wall behind Emma and said, “Why don’t you take the weight off those pretty little legs of yours?”

  Emma declined. Having considered how it would feel to have Richter standing over her, she said, “I’ll stand, thank you.”

  “I would offer you tea and biscuits, but I’m all out at the moment,” quipped Richter. He smiled and showed his nicotine-stained teeth. “Now, what brings a little darling like you to these palatial surroundings?”

  “I’ve been told I’m wasting my time speaking to you, Mr Richter.”

  “Mr Richter? My bank manager used to call me Mr Richter, and I buried him in several shallow graves in a wood near Watford. If you don’t call me Edward, or better still, Eddie, then we can’t be friends, and I only have conversations with friends.” He winked at her.

  “Eddie, do you know a prisoner by the name of Tony Horn?

  “Straight to the point, I’m liking you.” He turned his head and shouted up the corridor, “I like her, Officer Pearson. She can move in.” Turning back to Emma, he spoke in hushed tones, “You know Officer Pearson’s wife just left him. He’s very sad. I do my best to cheer him up. I heard she had an affair with her Italian dentist. Do dentists have to abide by a code of ethics, like doctors? If they do, I reckon Officer Pearson could get that playboy dentist struck off. I mean, there’s drilling your patients, and then there’s drilling your patients.”

  Richter made a clicking sound out of the side of his mouth then said, “It won’t bring his wife back. I mean, he’s a dentist; he’s going to be loaded. Nice house, nice car, nice holidays. She’d be stupid to walk away from all that.

  “But getting one over on il dentista di Casanova has got to make Officer Pearson feel better. I reckon he’d appreciate me bringing my thoughts to his attention later. What do you think? I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

  “Tony Horn. Do you know a prisoner by that name?”

  “I heard what happened to Tony. God rest his soul. In a place like this, a death like his is an all-too-common occurrence. Tony had a big stupid mouth, you see. A big stupid mouth gets you trouble quicker than you can say ‘I ain’t said nothing.’ So, someone shut him up. It happens. It had nothing to do with me. Look around. I’m not getting close to no one.”

  Emma paid close attention to Richter as she quickly moved on to the next question. “Do you know Kelly Lyle?”

  Richter’s express
ion didn’t change. He pressed his face to the bars and said, “Should I?”

  “It seems as though she knows you. I imagine your paths have crossed at some point.” Emma was taking a gamble here. She had no idea whether Richter knew Kelly Lyle. All she knew was that Lyle had directed her towards Horn and Horn had steered her towards Richter.

  Richter narrowed his eyes, clearly re-evaluating her. At length, he straightened his back and stepped away from the bars. Emma noted a curious and more respectful attitude as he said, “Is that right? And what makes you think that?”

  Emma decided to use Horn’s death to her advantage. “Tony Horn told me.”

  “Is that right? You’re a smart woman. I can see that. Let me ask you a question: What made you want to become a detective? I’m sure you could have been anything you wanted – an accountant, a doctor, dentist, teacher, or even a bloody lawyer. What made you want to be a detective? It’s not the pay, and it’s not the hours.”

  “Let’s stick to the questions. Do you know Kelly Lyle?”

  Richter paced back and forth like a caged tiger. “Was Daddy a policeman? Did you want to be like your brothers? What were you hoping being a detective would give you? Respect? Power? Were you powerless in some way as a child? Is that it, Detective Inspector Cotton? Why are you really here? Is there someone you’re hoping to impress? Whose respect are you looking for now?”

  “You’re avoiding my question. Do you know Kelly Lyle?” repeated Emma.

  Richter looked down the corridor and said, “I’m calling Pearson. This meeting is over. If you’re not willing to converse, Inspector, then you should leave. I’m finding you dull. You want to know about Lyle and me, then tell me about you. That’s my price.”

  Richter turned his back, walked to end of his cell and became silent.

  Emma picked up the chair, brought it closer to the bars and sat facing the cell. She put away her questions and said, “When I was twelve years old, a classmate disappeared. She vanished while walking home from school. She used to cut across fields to get home. She did it every day, until one day she never arrived.