‘Did Theo hear about the incident?’
‘Oh, yes. I told him that night. He’s at a private hospital, but the health community is a gossip web. Word got round so his colleagues were discussing it too. Sometimes I’m not sure how we got through it, but we did. Probably because we’re devoted to each other.’
‘Did you ever see Lyn again?’
‘No, and I didn’t want to. That one time was enough.’ Barnwell had a habit of twisting his neck, as if scanning the area. He did it again now, flexing his heavy shoulders and giving another huge yawn.
Ali was a bit sleepy himself, full as he was of lemon chicken. It was warm in the café, that dry, intense hospital heat. He took a drink of water. ‘You seem very pragmatic about what happened.’
Barnwell straightened up. ‘The cops at the time said something like that, as if they were implying that my calmness was a front. I’ll tell you what I told them. When you’re gay, you’re used to having shit shovelled in your direction, and you can never tell where it might come from. You have to pick your battles, or you’d spend your life exhausted. What Lyn did to me and Theo was nasty and cruel, but I understood that she was suffering and lashing out. We accepted it was going to be hard for a while and that there’d be family fallout. The AIDS accusation wounded us both, but there was nothing we could do except get on with our lives. And that’s what we did. We believed that eventually, Lyn would run out of steam and get on with hers.’
Except she didn’t. She was removed from her life and, handily, Theo and Monty had a comfortable wee home to share, and Theo reclaimed one of his children. ‘Was there fallout in your own family?’
Barnwell frowned. ‘What’s that got to do with Lyn’s death?’
‘No idea. Just getting a picture.’
‘My family are in London. I told them I was gay when I was sixteen. They were happy for me when I met Theo.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘We both attended a conference here at the hospital. We got chatting on a coffee break and it developed from there. It was so good to meet and fall in love with someone without having to go online or hang around in bars. We were seeing each other for almost two years before Theo was ready to tell Lyn. I hated the skulking around, but I understood that he was worried about how it would affect his children. In the end, I believe that Lyn caused the children more damage with her reaction than Theo did by leaving.’
‘It seems that your relationship stood no chance of acceptance by Lily, Pearce and her grandfather.’
‘That’s right.’
‘How do you manage their hostility?’
‘I don’t. I don’t need to. They’re homophobic and it’s their problem, so I leave it with them. I don’t see them.’
Barnwell spoke calmly, but Ali could tell he was agitated. He was turning away again, his eyes scanning the café.
‘What about Theo and Adam — how do they cope with the family hostility?’
Barnwell clasped his hands on the table. ‘You’re being intrusive now. I don’t see what current family relationships have to do with an investigation into a murder that happened six years ago. If you want to hear Theo and Adam’s opinions, ask them.’
Ali decided to let that go for now. The guv reckoned it was best to just let things roll sometimes. There was a bead of sweat trickling down Barnwell’s nose. Was it the heat in the café, or nerves? ‘Talk me through the night that Lyn went missing. How did you find out?’
‘I was at home in my flat with Theo. We’d been in together all evening, from 6 p.m. It was Lily’s prom night, a big occasion for her. I could see how much Theo wanted to call her and wish her well, but of course, he couldn’t. He talked about driving to the school, just to watch her going in, but I told him it wouldn’t be a good idea. It was her night and if he turned up, she’d see it as an intrusion.’ He cleared his throat. ‘We were watching football and Theo’s phone rang. It was Jeff Downey, telling him Lyn hadn’t come home and wasn’t answering her phone. Theo headed straight round to the house to be with Adam and try to find out where Lyn was.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I stayed at home and waited for Theo to call. I wanted to help but, given the situation, my presence at the house wouldn’t have gone down too well. Theo rang me around three the next morning to say that the police were investigating, and that he’d have to stay at the house. I took some of his clothes and stuff there the next evening, once Adam was in bed and Lily had gone to Pearce’s.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I’ve said all of this before. Can we leave it there for now? I’m dog-tired and I’d like to get home to Theo and Adam. We need to be together at a time like this.’
Ali watched him walk away. He stopped to speak to a colleague who was on her way in. There were more people in the café now, staff who’d come off shift or on a break. They sat wearily at tables, drooping over snacks, checking phones. Ali went up to the counter, bought a slice of key lime pie and took it back to the table. The meringue was soft and wobbly, just as it should be. He eyed the clambering monkeys as he tucked in, recalling the proverb his gran was keen on, Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. All well and good, but Barnwell had presented an unusually reasonable and understanding front when it came to Lyn’s damaging personal attacks.
* * *
Monty Barnwell didn’t leave the hospital immediately. He took the lift to an orthopaedic ward on the second floor, and found Justin Desmond in his tiny office near the nurses’ station, staring at a computer screen and entering figures on a spreadsheet.
‘How did it go?’ Justin sounded anxious.
‘Fine. All the questions I expected, pretty much the same as last time. Just sit tight, Justin. No need to worry.’
‘It’s hard, after six years.’
‘It’s hard for all of us.’ This is all much bloody harder than I ever bargained for.
‘I haven’t been sleeping since you told me. I fooled myself that I’d been able to put the past behind me. I can’t concentrate here.’
‘Just try to focus. We’d better cancel dinner on Saturday night, given the circumstances. We all need breathing space.’
There was silence as they both considered the circumstances, past and present. The past was barging back, like an unwanted guest. Monty recalled the panic and fear in Justin’s eyes that July night. His pulse had been racing when Monty had placed his fingers on his wrist.
‘Sure, okay.’ Justin said thickly. ‘How’s Theo coping?’
‘He’s distracted. There’s a lot to absorb.’
‘And Adam?’
‘He’s not saying much. Trying to take it in. Eating for England.’
‘Well, if there’s anything . . .’
‘I’ll keep you posted. How are things with Scott?’
Justin pulled a face. ‘He keeps contacting me. It’s like stalking. I’m not responding, but he’s not going away. I’ve managed to avoid him around the hospital, but I keep expecting to see him on the ward.’
‘Give it time. Hopefully he’ll get fed up. He’s always been high maintenance and clingy, which is why you wanted out.’
It started raining as Monty drove home, fat drops smearing the greasy windscreen. He hoped that Adam would be in bed when he got back, so that he and Theo could have some time together. They hardly ever did, unless they went out. He couldn’t warm to Adam, especially as the boy was always there. When Monty was a teenager, he’d always been busy, hanging out with mates, messing about in youth clubs and getting home late. Adam was a homebird, forever squatting in the nest, with no instinct to spread his wings. He had no interests and apparently no friends. Once he came home from school, he was in for the night, sitting in the living room or sometimes the kitchen, snacking constantly and always gravitating to where there was company. Weren’t teenagers supposed to spend hours ignoring their parents and hibernating in their bedrooms? Not Adam, whose ample backside had worn a dent in the sofa. It was as if he was stuck in that evening when his mother vanished, glued to the same
spot on the cushion with a sandwich and watching TV, waiting for her key in the door. It was sad but it was also bloody exasperating.
Monty would have liked to sell the house and refresh their lives. He and Theo could afford something bigger and detached, and it would benefit them all to be under a roof where there were no lingering memories of Lyn. They needed a clean start, maybe even in another town or one of the pretty villages nearby. But whenever he raised the subject, Theo demurred, saying that Adam needed stability and moving would disrupt his life and schooling. Theo didn’t want to cause him any upset, or risk the chance that the upheaval would damage his son’s frail emotional state. Monty had to bite his tongue. He longed to say that Adam didn’t have any life to disrupt.
Adam. Everything came back to Adam.
Monty was sorry for the boy, but it was as if Adam had decided to make mourning his mother’s loss into a career. A dull rage came over him whenever he walked in and saw Adam’s lethargic, lolling shape. It was baffling how Theo had ever expected that his son would summon the energy to jump out of a helicopter. Theo worried about Adam’s lack of friends, but he indulged him and never pushed him to socialise. Monty understood that a lot of this was down to Theo’s guilt about leaving the family, and of course, he was always trying to compensate for the deep chasm caused by Lyn’s absence.
Monty switched the fan on to clear condensation on the windscreen. Bloody Lyn. She’d been a pain in the arse when she was alive, and she’d been a constant source of anxiety for the last six years, like a low-grade headache that wouldn’t shift. Now she was causing even more turmoil, bringing the police back into their lives. So far, the sergeant had covered the same territory but there might be new questions next time.
When he let himself into the house, he could hear Theo and Adam talking over the TV in the living room. He sighed, hung his coat up and went through. Adam was sitting next to his dad on the sofa, eating cheese on toast, his legs stretched across Theo’s lap.
Theo sipped at a glass of red wine. ‘Want one of these? I uncorked it a couple of hours ago.’
‘In a minute.’ He sat in an armchair. The cheese smelled sweaty, like the hospital canteen. ‘More late-night calories, Adam? Never a good idea.’
Adam took another huge bite of toast.
‘I spoke to a Sergeant Carlin earlier,’ he told Theo.
Theo lifted Adam’s legs down and sat forward. ‘How did it go?’
‘Okay. I popped in to see Justin afterwards.’ He gave Theo a meaningful nod.
‘That’s good. Did you cancel Saturday?’
‘Yep. He understood.’
There was a silence while they watched Tom Cruise abseil down a building.
Monty glanced at his watch. ‘Must be time for bed, Adam.’
‘Dad said I can stay up to the end of this.’
Theo ruffled his son’s head fondly. Sometimes, Monty worried that Adam would never leave home, that if he could fast-forward twenty years they’d be sitting like this, a cosy threesome. He and Theo would drift into senility with a middle-aged man-child on their hands. He leaned his head back, exhausted. Next thing, Theo was nudging him awake.
‘You’ll get a stiff neck. Time for bed, it’s half eleven. Is Justin very worried?’
‘Yes, but he’ll be okay as long as we support him. Grim times ahead.’
‘I’m sorry. I realise that this is a lot for you to carry and I am grateful.’ Theo waved his hand in a helpless gesture. ‘The grim times will end.’
Monty flexed his shoulders. ‘Will they? Sometimes I wonder. If I believed in malevolent spirits, I’d think that Lyn was pursuing us and making sure we can never be at peace.’
‘Don’t. Don’t talk like that. You’re tired, that’s all.’
‘Maybe. Theo, it would help if Adam was a bit less babyish and dependent, so that we got more time to ourselves. Sometimes, it’s as if we’re two childminders rather than a couple. And he really needs to change his diet and get more exercise.’ He saw Theo flinch. He hadn’t meant to sound so cold and cutting, but he couldn’t regret saying what was on his mind.
Theo stepped back. ‘Monty, he’s just found out that his mum was murdered. This isn’t a time to be critical or tough on him. He needs comfort and understanding.’
He’s been getting that in spades for six years. ‘I can’t see that there’s ever going to be a time when Adam is independent, the way you carry on with him, treating him as if he’s still an infant. He needs to stop stuffing his face, get a grip and start doing something with his life instead of hanging around here piling on the pounds.’
There was a profound silence but Theo’s turned back spoke volumes. Monty watched while he cleared away Adam’s litter of crisp packets and toast crumbs and was seized by a sudden, overwhelming surge of resentment and self-pity.
Chapter 8
Adam was halfway down the stairs, sixth step down, perched on what he’d named the sentry step, listening. He did this often. He’d got into the habit when he’d first heard his parents rowing. He’d listened with a lurching stomach when his mother had phoned everyone she knew, informing them that Dad was diseased, when Papu had shouted at Dad that he was no longer fit to be his son, and when Lily had raved at him about how he’d destroyed their lives. He regularly monitored his father’s conversations with Monty, slipping out of bed late at night. The adult world was unpredictable, treacherous and confusing. Eavesdropping gave him a sense of control. If he kept an eye on what was going on, what grown-ups were planning, he could head off any surprises. A while ago, he’d listened to Monty’s urgings that they should move house, and made sure that he’d chatted to Dad subsequently about how much he loved where they lived. He’d been relieved to hear Dad standing firm when Monty had broached the subject again.
He leaned his head against the wall and huddled into his dressing gown. He heard Monty call his mum malevolent and dug his nails into his palms.
He’d been okay, living here alone with Dad after Mum vanished. At times, he’d almost felt content. Dad had been easy-going and coming home from school was like putting on comfy old slippers. Adam didn’t miss his sister. She’d always hogged the limelight, and he’d been frightened of her sharp tongue and waspish comments. He was relieved that he didn’t see much of her.
Then Monty had arrived, and the atmosphere had grown spiky and uncertain and Dad was somehow different, tenser. Adam had heard Monty come out with all the comments before, the criticisms and nitpicking about him, and had been relieved to hear Dad defending him. He’d see Monty giving him evils when he helped himself to more pudding, or decided to make pancakes late at night. He hated everything about the guy, and especially Monty’s snarky comments from the sidelines about his appetite, weight gain and lack of social activity. He was always having a dig, especially if Dad wasn’t around, his teasing voice snaking through the house: Having another snack, Adam? Still wearing that dent in the sofa? That’s unusual, you staying in tonight. How about adding some tea to all that sugar?
Monty was the enemy and always had been. Mum had realised that too. He wanted Dad to himself, and tried hard to drive a wedge between father and son. So far, Dad had resisted but Monty was forceful and Adam worried that one day, soon, Dad might buckle and start laying down rules that would make life uncertain.
No matter how many times he’d heard the harsh words, they still upset him and brought tears to his eyes. Babyish . . . dependent . . . stuffing his face . . . It was as if Monty was cutting into his skin, probing deeper and deeper with his scalpel. Still, he’d be sorry for his horrible words. He had no idea of the powers being deployed against him.
Adam hoped that Chimera would be online tonight. He needed her calm wisdom and encouragement.
He crept back to his bedroom, took an empty herb jar from the back of his wardrobe and started his preparations. He had feasted on Harry Potter’s adventures for many years. He’d read the books numerous times and had seen all the films. He’d learned the spells, charms, hexes, curse
s, jinxes and enchantments by heart. When Papu heard of his grandson’s fascination with the world of wizardry and magic, he’d told him how archaeologists had found Ancient Greek curse tablets, called katares in Kolossi, where the Dimas family came from. Katares meant ‘curses that bind tight’ and were often used to gain advantage in sporting competitions. The curser engraved the intended victim’s name on a lead tablet, sometimes pierced it with a nail and then placed it in a grave so that the spirit world could enhance the curse. He could still hear Papu’s low, thrilling voice as he described how some of the contestants in the first Olympics were terrible cheats, and would try to place hexes on their opponents. It was one of the few occasions when his grandfather had paid him any attention.
Some months after Monty had moved in and started throwing his weight and his mean comments around, Adam had been filled with a growing desire to torment him in return, repay the misery he caused and force him out of their lives. He’d turned to the Harry Potter books for help at first. He’d tried to do Slugulus Eructo, but Monty failed to vomit up slugs. None of the other incantations worked either. When Adam went for the big forbidden one, which was murder, Monty stayed annoyingly alive, despite repeated efforts.
Adam had abandoned Harry Potter magic and researched curses online. He’d found numerous blogs and websites dedicated to witchcraft, and forums where he could talk to witches. He’d had no idea that there was such a cornucopia of information about the occult out there, and spent hours absorbing its history and practices.
For some time now, he’d been chatting to Chimera, a witch in Idaho and had told her all about his mother and his troubles with Monty. Chimera had rescued him. She understood him and was in his corner. He didn’t always comprehend what she said, but he wouldn’t have survived without her help. He looked forward to talking to her and whenever he did, he was bathed in a glow of reassurance. He sensed that she was watching over him, and he loved the way she signed off each time with Merry Meet Again. She’d been wise and compassionate when he’d first explained his situation.
NEVER CAME HOME an addictive crime thriller with a twist you won't see coming (Detective Inspector Siv Drummond Book 2) Page 10