Family Reunion

by Robert F Barker

  ‘Why do you keep looking in your mirror Papa? Is something wrong?’

  He glanced at her reflection. ‘No daughter. It is just that…. I keep thinking I see….’

  In the passenger seat, Eric knew enough about his father’s business to turn round for a better look. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Radi said. ‘Do you see a silver car? A Corolla I think.’

  Eric looked. ‘There is much traffic, but I cannot see one.’

  Radi relaxed a little. ‘It must be my imagination.’ He smiled up at his daughter. ‘Nothing to worry about, Nadia. It is just your old father’s mind playing tricks.’

  Nadia shook her head and gave him the sort of scolding look she knew her mother would have done. ‘Too much work and not enough rest, Papa.’

  Radi chuckled. The beautiful young girl he had sired was, without doubt, her mother’s daughter.

  But after a few minutes had passed, the edgy feeling returned and as he drove through the evening traffic – still checking his mirror every now and then – he thought about the afternoon’s events. He still wasn’t certain what was going on, but things were becoming complicated. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up stuck in the middle of it.

  The rest of the way he reflected on his options. By the time he turned into the leafy avenue where home lay, he had made his decision. ‘Yes,’ he muttered to himself. ‘That is what I must do.’

  But as he glanced up to check behind one last time, he saw Nadia’s worried face staring at him. She must have been watching as he ruminated. She would have seen the conflict reflected in his features. He tried throwing her another smile, but he knew it didn’t work.

  CHAPTER 33

  Standing next to the hearth, Rosanna’s eyes blazed, though no fire was lit in the grate. Carver reminded himself to be careful.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ros. I don’t have any choice.’

  ‘Of course you have a choice.’ She all but spat the words out. ‘It is not even your job. Just because this man from some Armenian prison-.’

  ‘He’s a psychiatrist.’

  ‘…Fills your head with stupid ideas, why do you have to get involved in something that is nothing to do with you?’

  ‘They’re not so stupid. And besides, there’s more to it than that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like me sitting here with my finger up my arse when I should be helping to catch this nutcase. It’s like Mikayel said. If I don’t do something and someone dies, what’ll I feel like then?’

  She folded her arms and glared harder, one foot tapping against the reclaimed Welsh Slate fire-surround Alun had finally got round to fitting the weekend before. As he took in her thunderous expression, Carver thought that had a fire been raging, it wouldn’t match the heat coming from her.

  ‘And what will happen if you become ill again?’ she said.

  ‘I was never ill,’ he countered.

  Her eyebrows arched at his denial. And as he took in the haughty look, he tried to banish the familiar, conflicted feeling. For all that he hated arguing, especially about work, there was something compelling about her when she was angry.

  ‘If you were not ill, why did you have to see that counsellor?’

  It was a cutting blow and Carver winced. ‘You know why. After what happened, I was- was….’

  ‘Ill?’

  ‘No. I was close to… giving up.’

  ‘On us?’

  ‘Of course not on us. On work.’

  ‘So why are you ready to give up on us now?’

  ‘I’m not. My getting involved isn’t giving up on us. Just the opposite. It’s because of us that I’m doing it. If I don’t, I’ll be giving up on myself. You wouldn’t want me to do that, I’m sure.’

  She waved her hands in the air, exasperated, eyes glistening.

  ‘How do you know what I want? Do you ever ask?’

  ‘That’s not fair, Ros, and you know it.’

  ‘Not fair? Did you ask me when you moved us up here?’

  ‘I didn’t, ‘move us up here’. We discussed it, remember? It was a joint decision.’

  ‘Only after you had already spoken to the estate agent. And the building society.’

  ‘That’s not true. If I’d thought you were against it, I would have stayed in the city.’

  She gave a sceptical look. ‘I think you remember how you like to remember. We moved because you did not like to live there anymore.’

  About to remind her of certain events, what he’d gone through, he thought better of it. ‘We moved here for a fresh start.’

  ‘For you maybe.’

  ‘Jeez, Ros, you make it sound like I dragged you up here kicking and screaming.’

  She gave him a look that made him wonder if it wasn’t exactly what she thought. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure of himself. Up to now, he had always thought of it as a joint decision. That they both needed to get away from the memories that seemed to be around every corner. Had he been deluding himself? But, recognising that if he went into it any deeper he risked opening up a whole new bag of worms, he decided it best to leave it for another time. She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, as if maybe thinking the same thing. Having been down this route before, they both knew where it might lead. And it wouldn’t be much fun for Sarah and the kids if he and Rosanna weren’t speaking.

  On cue, there was the noise of the back door opening, children’s voices. Sarah called through.

  ‘We’re back.’

  As Carver listened to his sister reminding Patsy and Jack about their boots – it was amazing how just two days in Rosanna’s company seemed to have wrought a change in her – he and Rosanna stared at each other. Then, with a final shake of her head she turned and went through the connecting door to the kitchen. She had mentioned earlier about the number of times already she’d had to mop the floor.

  As the door closed behind her, Carver let out a long sigh.

  After a beans-on-toast supper – Patsy and Jack had badgered Rosanna all day until she finally agreed to try her hand at their favourite – the children disappeared outside again and Rosanna took herself off upstairs. For the first time since she’d arrived, Carver found himself alone with his sister. Tidying away some of the children’s things – another first, of sorts - she turned to him.

  ‘I just want you to know, Jamie, I’m really grateful to you and Rosanna for having us.’ He waved it away but she persisted. ‘No, I mean it. I know things aren’t too good with you two at the moment.’ His ears pricked up. ‘And I know I’m not always the easiest person to live with-’ An understatement. ‘But if there’s anything I can do that would help, you only have to ask.’

  ‘Thanks, Sis. I’ll let you know.’ But as he looked at her he saw the doubtful look in her eyes.

  ‘If it’s me…. Or the kids, then we’ll-.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with you. And despite how she sometimes seems, Rosanna loves having the children around. It’s just my work. We’ll sort it out.’

  ‘This Armenian thing?’

  He showed surprise. ‘What?’

  ‘You mentioned the other day about some Armenian bloke and his family that you’re looking for. Is that what she’s not happy about?’

  He gave a weary sigh. He hadn’t realised he’d mentioned it. ‘Partly. But not all of it.’ To his surprise, she nodded as if she understood.

  ‘Rosanna told me she’s just worried about you getting hurt again.’ Carver started. They’d been talking? ‘And after last time, I suppose that’s understandable.’ He gave her a wary look. He couldn’t remember ever talking to her about what happened, not in detail at any rate. She had enough problems of her own.

  ‘Maybe so, but if I don’t do something, someone could end up dead.’

  ‘This bloke’s family?’ He nodded. ‘Do they live around Manchester?’

  ‘We think so. But we’re struggling to find them. They may be illegals.’

  ‘Have you got a name?’
/>   ‘Danelian, but they’ve probably changed it to something else.’

  ‘When did they come here?’

  ‘About ten years ago.’ He looked at her. ‘Why the interest?’

  ‘I once worked with someone from Armenia. But her name wasn’t Danelian.’

  He nodded. ‘There’s a big Armenian community around Manchester. I’ve put out some feelers.’

  ‘And that’s why Rosanna’s upset?’

  ‘More to do with where it might lead if I get too involved, I think.’

  Sarah nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well you know how mum mixes her metaphors.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘May as well get hung for a penny as a pound?’

  ‘Thanks Sis.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  His phone rang. It was Padma.

  ‘Radi’s just rung. He says there’s something he needs to tell us. He wants to see us first thing tomorrow.’

  He asked what time Radi opened up.

  ‘Seven-Thirty.’

  ‘I’ll meet you at your office at seven.’

  As he hung up, Carver was starting to feel the familiar tingle, when a noise at the top of the stairs made him look up. Rosanna was standing there, looking down at him. But before he could say anything she turned on her heel and headed back to the bedroom.

  He looked across at his sister and gave a shrug. What can I do?

  Sarah shook her head and went back to her tidying.

  The next morning Carver was up and out early for his meet with Padma, leaving no time for anything between him and Rosanna other than a strained, ‘We’ll talk later.’ Then he was away along the coast road, deploying the camera-avoidance techniques that would continue all the way into Manchester.

  Padma was waiting and they wasted no time heading for Radi’s. The rush hour traffic was as bad as ever and it was past eight by the time they rolled up outside the shop. It was closed, the steel shutters still locked in place.

  ‘That’s not like Radi,’ Padma said, digging out her mobile.

  It was a while before someone answered and when they did, Carver saw Padma’s expression change.

  ‘Hello? Is Radi there? This is Padma Skelton, I’m a Community Police Officer at Harpurhey. No, a friend of the family. Who is this?’ As the reply came she threw Carver a concerned look. ‘What has happened?’ Some of the colour drained from her face. ‘Oh my God. Oh my God.’ Her face twisted in anguish and she thrust the phone into Carver’s hand as tears started to flow.

  ‘This is DCI Carver. Who is this?’

  ‘Jamie? It’s Tom Sullivan.’ Carver recognised the Cheadle Hulme DI’s voice at once. ‘I’m sorry if I upset the young lady. We’ve got a Number One here.’

  ‘Ahh, Jesus.’ Carver glanced across at Padma. She was distraught. ‘Who is it Tom? The father?’

  There was a moment’s hesitation before the DI replied, and when he did the words hit Carver like an express train.

  ‘Not just him. All of them.’

  CHAPTER 34

  During his years of service, Carver had come across many sights for which the word ‘horrific’ barely did justice, some in the flesh, many more on video or in photographs. But the scene in the Maleeva family’s gaudy lounge was of a different scale to anything he had seen before. Even the pictures of the Durzlans, and those Mikayel had brought with him showing Vahrig Danelian’s exploits in his home country hadn’t prepared Carver for the experience of encountering, first hand, something human eyes were never meant to witness.

  Jess was standing to his left. He checked her out. Like him, she was wearing a white scene-suit and protective mask. Blood was everywhere; floor, walls, ceiling. Her eyes were wide and the face above the mask flushed. But though Carver could see she was horrified by the sheer depravity of the tableau before them, her breathing was steady and she seemed to be holding it together. Of course her experience had widened, considerably, since the first murder scene they’d attended together. On that occasion she had hidden everything so well it wasn’t until during an evening of drink-fuelled reflection almost a year later that he became aware of how hard she’d found it. But despite her involvement in several murder investigations since, he was certain she would never come across anything remotely like this.

  Apart from Jess and himself, two others were present. Across the other side of the room, Terry West was playing the dispassionate SIO, face set firm, hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets. It was a method Carver knew well. Whilst giving the appearance of complying with the old adage – ‘At a murder-scene stay HIP - Hands In Pockets;’ it also lessened the chances of anyone noticing the fists, clenching and unclenching.

  West was watching the stocky, bearded figure crouching before the bodies. Andy Gibson was the on-call Home Office Pathologist and he was going about his business with a grim determination. Nevertheless, Carver couldn’t but be aware of the incongruity of his presence at such a scene. Under the white suit and mask, Gibson, white-haired and full-bearded, bore more than a passing resemblance to Santa Claus.

  But even as Carver turned his attention to the pathologist – he was examining that part of the tableau comprising Radi’s wife and their son - he stood up. The cracking from his knees broke the cloying silence. He turned to look at the detectives, meeting their gazes one by one, starting with West and finishing with Carver. He lifted his mask for a moment, to let in some cooler air.

  ‘I hope to God you’re going to tell me you know who did this.’

  Carver had never worked a job with Gibson, but they had met. He had a deserved reputation for gallows humour, though on this occasion, he was keeping the trait firmly in check.

  ‘We think so,’ Carver said, evenly. He nodded towards Jess and West. ‘My colleagues are on the case.’

  Gibson eyed them warily. ‘In that case do me a favour. Catch the bastard before I have to see another like this.’

  Given that pathologists usually affect immunity from the angsts some murder scenes invoke in the uninitiated, Carver thought it a telling remark. He was aware that Gibson had children, probably about the same age as Eric and Nadia. The scene would cause many a parent to suffer sleepless nights for a long time to come.

  ‘That’s exactly what I intend to do,’ West said, answering the pathologist’s appeal. ‘But before we get on it, can you give me an interim cause of death? It would help.’

  The pathologist turned back to the entwined, bloody bodies.

  ‘Most likely as it appears, I’d say. Blood loss caused by severing of the carotid arteries. Father and son also show signs of head trauma which I suspect were disabling injuries. Mother has bruising around the mouth. Probably the same thing.’ He demonstrated by raising a hand to his face, mimicking the assault on her. ‘She must have put up a hell of a struggle.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t under the circumstances?’ Jess said.

  Carver looked across at West. Prior to the temporary head of SMIU’s arrival, he’d had time to check out the rest of the house.

  ‘It fits with his MO, Terry, taking out the members of the family one by one and restraining them before bringing them back together.’ The reference took their eyes back to the bodies in front of the hearth before Carver continued. ‘The blood in the hallway will be where he hit whoever answered the door, the son probably. There’s more in the downstairs study. That’ll be where he got Dad and there’re signs of a struggle in the kitchen where he surprised mother.’ He lowered his tone even more. ‘And judging from the state of the daughter’s bedroom… it looks like he found her there.’

  West caught the hint. ‘Raped?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Carver turned his gaze on Gibson who nodded back.

  ‘I’ll start with her when I get them back to the mortuary. I’ll let you know.’

  Jess moved around the large sofa to get a closer look but had to stop where the blood stain was still spreading through the carpet’s thick pile. ‘I still find it hard to believe that one man can arrange four people on his own like this
.’

  ‘If they’re properly restrained and you are ruthless enough, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem,’ Gibson said. He leaned towards where Nadia’s tied body knelt before that of her father – held upright by the web of ropes strung between wall-light fixings and anchored to the mantlepiece. They were both naked. Using his little finger, the pathologist tracked the secondary cuts and livid-blue grazing to her throat, seemingly oblivious to the depraved act she was forced into committing as she died. ‘I would imagine this is where he held the knife. To ensure compliance from the others.’

  Carver saw Jess give a shudder.

  ‘My God. What must have been going through their minds?’

  As they all lapsed into silence once more, Carver read the signs. He had seen enough. ‘I need some air.’

  ‘Me too,’ Jess said.

  West said nothing but didn’t take long to follow.

  Out on the driveway at the front of the house, West lit up a cigarette, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs. The banging of van doors and the sounds of cars pulling up heralded more elements of the circus arriving. Jess offered Carver a stick of spearmint gum. As he popped it in his mouth, Alec Duncan came up the drive together with Mikayel Kahramanyan. The psychiatrist was due to fly home that morning. Alec must have rung in on his way to the airport. Ashen, Mikayel could barely wait to ask Carver.

  ‘Is it…? Was it… him?’

  Carver looked at West who stared back at him, then nodded.

  ‘Father, mother, son and daughter.’

  ‘So he is here.’

  Carver regarded the psychiatrist with surprise. He sounded almost like he’d been harbouring hope that their theory about Vahrig Danelian making his way to England was mistaken. For his part, he’d never doubted it.

  ‘Oh he’s here alright,’ West said, forcefully, as if to remind them all who was in charge. ‘What we don’t know is how he came to target this family.’ Slowly and deliberately, he turned his gaze on Carver. Carver readied himself.

  But Jess seemed to sense what was coming. ‘Come on Alec,’ she said. ‘We’d better check where Forensic are. You come along as well Mikayel. I can fill you in.’ Looking slightly bemused, Kahramanyan let her lead him back down the drive towards the gate.