by Liz Mistry
I shoogle my hand in my pocket, hoping it’ll wipe the blood away and when I take it out, I open it palm up towards Bernie. He places the trowel on my hand and slaps me once on the shoulder. ‘Good, lad. The weeds have been growing with the rain we’ve been having.’
As he walks away, I grasp the trowel and although Bernie’s grin didn’t disappear, I still feel weird. Like nothing is ever going to be right ever again. I look towards the doors. Maybe he’ll come today. Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. But, the photo of me and her together, with the eyes poked out comes to mind and I know I should be worried.
I open my mouth, swallow, and stop. Then, ‘Bernie?’
He turns, his smile still in place.
It’s now or never. I wave the trowel in the air and try to make my normal smile come on my lips. ‘Thanks, Bernie.’
And, just like that, my chance to save the world slips past like the rainclouds gathering in the sky above.
Chapter 36
Bradford
Back at The Fort waiting for Professor Carlton to join them, Gus was drawn once more to the sketches that had been sent to his mum and the two that had accompanied the bodies of the two hanging victims; Miranda Brooks and Beatrice Flateau. They’d sent images of the nursery rhyme and the sketch as well as the foetal scan to Compo, who had printed them out and was now jumping about like a rogue space hopper on speed.
Every time Gus’s eyes were drawn to the one of his mum, the vile rhyme her mum sang popped back into his head.
‘Coco the nig nog gollywog,
Ugly little dog.
Coco nig nog Gollywog,
Flush you down the bog.’
Her eyes had been sad when she’d recited it, but her tone was … well he wasn’t entirely sure how to describe her tone. It hadn’t been acceptance, but it certainly wasn’t the fiery indignation he was used to hearing from his mum when racism reared its ugly head. He would give anything to erase her memory of that and wondered where she learnt to store up so much love, when that had been the first example she’d ever seen.
He grieved for that little girl. The one with the frightened tortured face, hearing that song, having her head flushed down a loo. It was despicable. He’d asked her where her mother was now, but she’d shook her head. So, against his better judgement, Gus had done the very thing he knew she would have hated. He’d enlisted Compo to find out about his grandmother. Gus wasn’t sure what he would do if she were still alive, however, despite his mum not wanting to know anything about her, he was compelled – he had to see this woman who had made his own mother’s childhood so miserable.
‘Gus … Gus? You with us?’
He stirred himself and moved over to sit down, ignoring the questioning look that accompanied Alice’s irritated words. ‘Sorry. I’m all yours.’
Compo beaming and rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet, seemingly not understanding the memo about the change of SIO, directed his excited words to Gus. ‘Got a link … Boss.’
Alice tutted and rolled her eyes.
Misinterpreting her actions, Compo slapped her on the shoulder, nodding vociferously. ‘It’s brill innit? We needed a break, didn’t we? Prof Carlton’s gonna be chuffed to bits.’
Gus smothered his grin as Alice muttered under her breath. ‘I’m SIO, but I’m still bumped down to third place in terms of order of command.’ She paused, rolled her eyes, and continued, ‘And a bloody civilian’s beaten me too.’
Uncertainty lined Compo’s face. ‘Don’t know what you’re on about, Al.’
Resigned, Alice wafted her hand indicating he should continue.
The PC geek’s face transformed, all confusion thrust to the back of his mind, forgotten already. Like that fish in that bloody film, Mo’s youngest was addicted to. Dory, that was its name. Compo reminded Gus of a more intelligent, yet simple Dory from Finding Nemo. Arms crossed over his chest, one leg bent and resting on the opposite knee, Gus averted his gaze, reckoning that if he avoided eye contact, Compo would address his findings to Alice and she would be mollified.
‘Both women had fertility treatment.’
Resisting the desire to look up, Gus closed his eyes and said ‘Thank God’ under his breath. Not that he was religious, but the second victim gave them something concrete to work with – lines of investigation to follow and he was glad they’d got something so quickly. He bit his tongue, aware that Alice would ask any necessary questions in her own time. No way did he want to step on her toes again and end up having her reconsider his position on the edges of the team. Not at this crucial stage.
‘Please tell me it was the same clinic?’ Alice’s eyes sparked with excitement too and she nudged Gus in the ribs none too gently.
Obligingly Compo nodded and repeated Alice’s words. ‘Yes, it was the same clinic. The Hudson Fertility Treatment Clinic in Leeds.’
‘Bloody brill, Comps, you’ve outdone yourself!’ Alice jumped to her feet and slapped him on the shoulder – just a little harder than he’d slapped her earlier, judging by the way Compo rubbed his shoulder and pouted.
‘What else do you have on this clinic?’
Compo consulted his tablet but edged away from Alice as if anticipating another shoulder slap if she was pleased with his findings. ‘Established in 2002, CEO is Gerard Hamelyn. The clinic makes around 6.5 million per year and is flourishing.’
‘Not sure how this ties into my mum or Rory Robertson, but it’s certainly a lead we have to follow – maybe they have a clinic in Scotland. Maybe an employee who’s moved south?’
But Compo was shaking his head. ‘No, no Scottish links that I can ascertain.’
Alice looked at Gus. ‘You fancy taking Compo to have a chat with the CEO? Maybe one of his employees or even he himself are responsible. Maybe they know an employee who has gone rogue.’ She paused, frowned, and tapped her finger against her lower lip. ‘Don’t let him go all warranty on us. The victims are dead, so we need any info he can give. Also, Compo, while you’re there, can you ascertain how stringent the clinic’s data security is and who has access? We can’t rule out a security breach at this stage … in fact we can’t rule out anything. This bloody killer’s invisible so far.’
As Alice spoke, Compo’s face fell. He raised his hand like a kid at school dancing about like he was in urgent need of a loo break, Gus smirked. He suspected what the lad was going to say before he uttered the words.
‘Al. Boss, I mean, DS Cooper. You mean after Professor Carlton comes back, don’t you? He may have something for me to do, you know?’
Alice sighed heavily and moved closer to Compo. Compo, for once sensing Alice’s mood correctly edged away. ‘Compo, I’m your SIO.’
She prodded one finger on his shoulder. ‘Not Gus…’ She repeated the gesture. ‘Not Professor damn Carlton.’
Her final prod landed as the door thrust open and Professor Carlton breezed in. ‘Hi all, I’m back, did you miss me?’
Compo once again rubbing his shoulder, smiled, and pointedly turned away from Alice as she turned towards Carlton.
‘You got anything from the crime scene, Prof?’
The little man pushed his glasses up his nose, sniffed, and shook his head. ‘Nothing new really. He’s one away from being a serial killer and I’m working on the ritual which didn’t change.’ He marched over to the wall where the sketches were stuck, ‘Such a shame that your mum’s real brother is dead, really – he’d be the ideal suspect.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘Well, perhaps not. He’d be almost as old as Rory Robertson, so scratch that. Talking of Rory though, maybe we need to head up north and question him ourselves, eh, Gus? That little road trip I was talking about…’
Alice opened her mouth, presumably to say that she would decide that, but Carlton spoke over her. ‘The officer from Police Scotland couldn’t get much out of him. Her report says he gets no visitors, does nothing but draw, and doesn’t appear to have the wherewithal to co-ordinate anything very complex. He might know the killer – in fa
ct he must know the killer, but she suspects he’s oblivious. Still, it’s a job Gus and I could do, and he wouldn’t compromise the investigation by going there, as I’d take the lead.’
He winked at Gus before turning to Alice with a huge grin. ‘How does that seem to you, boss?’
Chapter 37
Bellbrax Psychiatric Facility, Scotland
The girl with the dark hair and brown eyes hasn’t been back for a few days. I don’t miss her. Course I don’t. But the voices keep coming telling me I do and then they shout at me. I’ve hidden all the drawings of her under the bed, in a folder. She took my other sketches, I know she did, and so that shows she can’t be trusted, doesn’t it?
I bend over and pick up one of my pencils that’s on the carpet. It’s gone blunt so I take out my sharpener and sharpen it. The sharpener’s the best I’ve had because I don’t have to go over to the bin to sharpen. It’s got a little case and I just empty it when it’s full. I love it.
Jimmy’s outside at the raised beds with a trowel in his hand.
The voices tell me not to look at him. Don’t look, Rory, don’t look! So, I shut my eyes and then when I open them, I’m drawing her again. I give her a smile, but I don’t put the lines on her brow. I don’t like them, so I don’t have to draw them. At university my tutor told me I can use creative license and that’s what I’m doing. Creative license, that’s what it is when you draw things a little bit different from what you see. The experts say it can make a drawing better, more personal. She told me we should draw the things that affect us. The things that engage with our emotions. That’s what I do. Lots of things engage with my emotions, but I’m not drawing them again. Not if the girl with the black hair and brown eyes comes back and steals them again. They’re not hers. They’re mine. I count them. I know how many she’s taken. I know she’s got them, but they’re not hers. They’re not her emotions.
I scribble over her face and realise that I’m cross. I don’t like being cross. I don’t like being sad. I don’t like thinking about Helen and I don’t like thinking about Coco.
Jimmy’s sad too. I start to draw him. He’s lonely. He doesn’t speak much but I can tell. He wants his visitor to come. That’s why his shoulders are hunched over and why he was yelling last night until they gave him the medicine. Poor Jimmy. I wonder where his visitor is. Sometimes I think they don’t like each other very much at all. Sometimes when we played dominoes they argued. Jimmy would say, ‘Haven’t you done enough?’ And his visitor would laugh. I don’t like the laugh. I don’t like playing dominoes with them but I’m too scared to say no. I’m glad he’s not visiting any more. But I won’t tell Jimmy that.
I’ll give him this picture. I’ll draw in flowers that aren’t there because that will make the sketch better. It’s OK to give my drawings. I can do that if I want, but it’s not OK to steal them. It’s not OK to steal and it’s not OK to take my friends away either. And, it’s not OK to kill.
Chapter 38
Leeds
The minute he walked through the door of Gerald Hamelyn’s overly white minimalist office that stank of some overpriced cologne or other, Gus could tell he was a bit of a dick. Waving his hand extensively to the two chairs positioned in front to his massive desk, Gus was well aware it was all a power play and it irked. However, he wasn’t there to be irked. He and Compo were there to work out if the fact that their two victims had both received fertility treatment from this clinic was significant.
Hamelyn leant forwards, his immaculately cut dyed hair flopping over onto his forehead in a foppish manner. He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, arrogance in every movement, and with his lips twitching in amusement, he looked from Compo to Gus and then back again. Gus was aware of Compo fidgeting in the chair beside him, but he kept his eyes on Hamelyn. ‘We’re here to find out what we can about two women who received fertility treatment here: Miranda Brookes and Beatrice Flateau.’
Hamelyn’s smile widened and he inclined his head in mock regret. ‘I’m afraid I can’t talk to anyone, not even the police about my clients. Confidentiality – but you know that of course.’
‘That doesn’t apply if the clients are dead, Mr Hamelyn. Of course, I’m sure you know that.’
Hamelyn blinked rapidly, his face paled a little and a slight tightening of his brow indicated that his Botox was wearing off. ‘They’re dead? Both of them?’
‘Murdered.’ The word shot from Gus’s mouth and hung in the air between them.
Hamelyn gave a reasonable show of being shocked – within the confines of his chemically smoothed face, that is. ‘Murdered? But what’s that got to do with my clinic?’
‘Well, so far it’s one of the avenues of investigation that we’re following because it links the two women with you.’
Hamelyn got to his feet spluttering and Gus was pleased to have discombobulated the man. He couldn’t stand superior arseholes and had no time for the niceties with those sorts of folk.
‘You can’t possibly think I have anything…’
Gus waved his hand in much the same way Hamelyn had earlier. ‘Sit down, Mr Hamelyn. We’ve got a lot to discuss – unless of course you’d prefer to accompany us to the station?’
‘No, no. No. Of course, I’m still confined by confidentiality and would need a waiver from the sperm donors – the partners or husbands to give you any information.’
Gus tossed two sheets of paper on the desk. ‘One from each of the murdered women’s partners – although, it appears that in Mr Brookes’ case he wasn’t the actual donor – you used an anonymous donor from your bank.’ Gus smiled. ‘And we all know that donors waive their rights as parents when they donate. I got the necessary papers signed on the way here as I thought you might pull the confidentiality card.’
‘I’m not pulling any card I can assure you, DI McGuire. I have legal obligations to fulfil.’
Gus nodded. ‘I need copies of these two women’s files and I need all your staff profiles emailed to this address, complete with the security checks you did on each – of course that will be confidential – we are the police after all – upholders of the law and all that.’
Thinking he’d got off lightly, Hamelyn nodded, desperate to get them out of his office, but Gus wasn’t done. ‘Then, I need you to talk through’ – Gus gestured toward Compo – ‘with my IT expert DC Compton, the legally obligated security that you have in place in terms of data storage for all your records.’
Exhaling, Hamelyn placed a phone call requesting the information and then faced a half hour interview being grilled by Compo regarding the clinic’s data security, while Gus watched on in amusement as Compo tripped up the CEO repeatedly and finally declared the firm’s security unfit for purpose.’
Gus nodded and smiled. ‘I think we’ll need to revisit another time, once you’ve had a chance to update the security as my partner has advised.’
Standing, the two of them nodded and left Hamelyn’s office without shaking hands – that was one good thing about Covid 19, Gus didn’t need to shake hands with dick-heads and snobs.
Once back in the car, Compo turned to Gus, beaming. ‘Loved that, Boss. Loved bringing that tosser down a peg or two.’
Gus grinned. He’d enjoyed himself too and seeing Compo shine had made his day. ‘That’s great, Comps, just one thing. I’m not the boss on this one. Alice is – try to remember.’
He chortled. ‘For the sake of your shoulder, if for no other reason.’
Nodding, Compo rubbed his shoulder. ‘Her fingers are bloody sharp and pointy. She’s stronger than she looks.’
‘Yep, Comps. In more ways than one, our Alice is one strong woman.’
‘GuuuuuS …?’
The way Compo had elongated his name told Gus the lad had something important to ask.
‘YeeeeS?’ Gus imitated Compo’s inflection.
‘I could do a check and see just how easy it would be for someone to crack into the clinic’s patient files. Might even be able to tell who’
s been accessing those particular women’s files and if it’s someone different from their named medical practitioners, it might tell us something.’
Gus thought for a second. He should really run it past Alice. She’d say yes, he was sure of that, but then that would leave her liable if the proverbial shit hit the fan. Whereas if he sanctioned it and it went awry, he’d be the one to face the music and Alice could deny all knowledge. Decision made, he nodded. ‘Yep, do. But don’t tell Al.’
They were nearly back at The Fort before Gus asked the question that had been on his mind for most of the journey. ‘You any further forward with that little job I set you?’
‘I’ve put the wheels in motion, Gus. Your grandmother doesn’t appear to be recorded as being in the prison system in Scotland. Which seems unlikely if she killed her child. Maybe she’s in the psychiatric system – I’m working on it. I’ll let you know as soon as I know owt.’
Gus wasn’t sure how to handle the tension that overtook him at Compo’s innocent use of the word grandmother. Somehow he wanted to distance himself from her, but she was his bloodline and that made it hard. If not for her, he wouldn’t have his lovely wee mum, on the other hand, if not for the way she behaved, they probably wouldn’t be in the situation they were in right now. And his mum would, hopefully, have had a much better childhood. Not for the first time, Gus wished he had a better way of dealing with shit!
Chapter 39
Bradford
Leaving Compo to report back on their interview with the fertility clinic CEO, Gus decided he needed to stretch his legs and, as he was hungry, chose to walk down Oak Lane from The Fort to his friend Mo’s café. In a world of his own, thinking about his mum and the current investigation, he was startled by a sharp hoot of a car horn followed by a door flicking open, nearly knee capping him. For F…
