by L M Krier
‘What sort of phrases?’
‘Something about men lying with men as they do with women.’
Trev gave a harsh, hollow laugh.
‘Oh yes, Leviticus 20:13. I know it well. “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.” It’s one of the things my father threw at me just before he kicked me out of the family home and told me never to darken his doors again.’
Chapter Three
‘Right, everyone, listen up, please.’
It was Ted’s familiar call to order for morning briefing. On a Saturday morning, there was only a skeleton staff on duty, himself, DS Hallam, DCs Maurice Brown and Steve Ellis.
‘You’ll notice there’s nothing on the board yet. That’s because we don’t have much detail at present, and still no name for our victim.’
He brought Maurice and Steve up to date on what he and Mike had found out the night before, then added, ‘So today’s priority is to identify the victim and find out where he came from. Steve, that’s one for you. Get on to all the Missing Persons’ alerts. All we know so far is that he’s a young man, probably somewhere between mid and late teens. And before you say it, I know that’s not a lot to go on.
‘Maurice, you go to the hospital. Sit with him. See what, if anything, he says. He’s going to take very careful handling, that’s why this is going to be one for you. If he’ll talk to anyone, it will probably be you. Record anything he does say. So far, all he’s said to anyone is a passage from the Bible. I’m told it’s Leviticus 20:13. Something about homosexuality. Steve, can we have a printout of that for the board, please?’
Steve’s fingers flew over his keyboard, then the nearby printer whirred into life, spitting out the document requested, which he handed to the boss.
Ted put on his reading glasses and read the first part of the quotation to them, before looking at them over the top of his specs.
‘If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.
‘We don’t at the moment know what the significance of it is, but it appears to be important to our victim because so far that seems to be all he’s said to anyone.’
‘Sir?’ Steve’s voice was always hesitant, although he had become less self-conscious about speaking up than when he’d first joined the team. ‘Could we call him something other than the victim? It seems a bit impersonal. Just give him a name until we know what his real name is? Like Tina always used to do.’
He was referring to a former team member who had been killed. Tina had always given names, claiming it dehumanised people to refer to them as ‘the victim’ when their name was unknown.
‘All right, I don’t have a problem with that. What would you suggest?’
‘Leviticus?’ Mike Hallam proposed.
‘That’s a bit of a bloody mouthful, Sarge. Couldn’t we just call him Levi for now?’ Maurice grunted.
‘Fair enough. Right, Maurice, you go and sit with Levi and keep us posted. The consultant did warn me that he might still be very agitated and you might be asked to leave the room. But see if you can work your usual magic, and please keep me posted at all times.
‘Mike, can you carry on trying to find out about any institutions, or whatever they’re called these days, which might have lost a patient. They should be obliged to report it but I suppose that if there’s any question of abuse having gone on, they might try to keep it quiet. But he must have come from somewhere, so we need to find out where and get Levi back where he belongs. Can you also liaise with Uniform about some more door-to-door. Widen the area slightly. I’ll leave you in charge of that.
‘A point to bear in mind, for all of us. Sgt McCluskey raised it last night. Because he’s only been heard reciting that one passage, we can’t be sure at this stage whether English is his native language. If he’s been taught to parrot a phrase, it might be all he can say in English. So, Steve, don’t dismiss anyone as unlikely on grounds of ethnicity. And with that in mind, perhaps check any contacts with the refugee or immigrant communities. Either official channels, or under the radar. Anyone who might know of a young man who’s gone missing. Although I know that’s going to be another very long shot.
‘Can you also see if you can find any reports of similar cases anywhere else. Just in case this isn’t a one-off.
‘Let’s make it our goal for today to at least find out who he is and let his family, if he has one, know where he is now. I suppose it’s possible that they’re responsible for what happened to him, but I’m hoping not.’
Detective Constable Maurice Brown was the first to admit he was not the best copper in the force. He was the oldest member of Ted’s team and the longest serving. He’d been a DC for years and had no ambition to go any further. His ex-wife had always complained he was nothing but a big kid at heart and it was true, to a degree. He didn’t want responsibility. He left that to the boss. He was happy keeping his head down and jogging along, doing the minimum possible to keep his job and never missing any chance to skive.
But Maurice had a gift. The boss knew it, and it had earned and kept him his place on the team. He was one of the most kind-hearted people it was possible to meet and he was brilliant with anyone who was hurt or in trouble.
He’d done various courses on Victim Support and interviewing vulnerable witnesses. He wasn’t good in an academic setting so he’d never excelled in course work or classroom stuff. Once he sat down in a one-to-one situation, even fellow officers and course tutors found he inspired such trust in them they were happy to tell him things they wouldn’t dream of mentioning in normal circumstances, not even to close friends or family.
He would do anything to help anyone in need. Several of the team, and even the formidable Ice Queen herself, had found what a comfort he could be when necessary.
When he got to the hospital, he followed the directions he’d been given to find the room where their latest victim, Levi, was being kept. A nurse was checking him when he got there. Maurice introduced himself and showed his warrant card.
‘How’s he doing?’
‘He woke up a couple of times during the night, still very agitated, so we had to give him more sedation. He’s had some not long ago so he’s likely to stay asleep for a bit. You can sit here with him, but if he gets disturbed again, just press that red button and someone will come.
‘We’ve got him in here because he was so distressed and also, as you’ll notice, he’s not very fragrant at the moment. We’ve been more concerned with getting him rehydrated and stabilised than dealing with his personal hygiene issues.’
Maurice looked at the bruised and battered figure in the bed. He looked younger than he had imagined, nothing more than a boy.
‘Eh, bonny lad, what have they done to you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Has he said anything? Given any indication of who he might be?’
‘He just keeps repeating the same thing over and over, from the scriptures. We’ve not heard him say anything else at all yet. We’re not even sure if he understands what’s said to him.’
‘I’ll just sit here with him, then, see if he wakes up again. Would it be all right to touch him? To hold his hand, perhaps? It might be reassuring, if he’s very frightened.’
The nurse looked unsure.
‘I don’t know about that. He seems to panic when he’s touched. That’s why we’ve had to keep him sedated.’
‘I’m a dad. I have twin girls. I’m good with kids. I operate on their level. I’ll see how I get on, but I’ll just sit here quietly for now.’
‘I’ll let Mr Khan’s registrar know you’re here and if he gets a moment he can perhaps come and have a word with you about him. We’re busy and short-staffed, as usual, but if I get chance, I’ll try to find someone to bring you a cup of tea at some point, if you’d like? Or coffee?’
Ma
urice pulled up a chair and put it next to the bed.
‘Tea would be marvellous, thank you. No sugar.’ He patted his waistline self-consciously. ‘I’m meant to be losing weight.’
The nurse left them. Maurice sat down next to the bed, one of his big hands on top of the covers, next to one of Levi’s. The young man was asleep, twitching slightly, his head occasionally moving from side to side. Close up, Maurice could see more of his injuries. His mouth and lips looked cracked and burnt. And the nurse hadn’t been exaggerating about the smell. He clearly hadn’t been cleaned up in some time.
Time passed slowly. There was nothing Maurice could do except wait. He was a patient man. As he saw the young man slowly seemed to be moving into a lighter phase of sleep, he spoke quietly to him, meaningless words, soothing.
Levi’s eyelids were fluttering but not opening, not really making any attempt to. It was almost as if he’d found a safe place to take himself to and wasn’t ready to come back from it. Not just yet, anyway.
Slowly, Maurice moved his hand nearer, until it was just short of touching Levi’s. The weight of it on the covers made the young man’s hand slide slightly closer. Softly, almost under his breath, Maurice began to sing as he had so often to his girls when they were little.
‘Come here, maw little Jacky
Now aw’ve smoked me baccy
Let’s hev a bit o’cracky
Till the boat comes in
Dance ti’ thy daddy, sing ti’ thy mammy,
Dance ti’ thy daddy, ti’ thy mammy sing;
Thou shall hev a fishy on a little dishy,
Thou shall hev a fishy when the boat comes in.’
When the nurse came back in some time later, with the promised cup of tea, she stopped in her tracks just inside the door.
‘Good gracious, that’s amazing,’ she said, keeping her voice down.
The young man was sleeping, seemingly peacefully. The finger and thumb of his hand were wrapped round Maurice’s little finger, holding on tightly.
Maurice turned his head and smiled at her, keeping his voice quiet.
‘I told you I was good with kids. And this poor young man looks no more than a kid, lying there like that. He must have been to hell and back.’
Drinking his tea was tricky, being held as he was. He kept singing, in between mouthfuls, and was still doing so when the registrar came into the room and introduced himself.
‘It’s nice to see him sleeping calmly. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave for a moment. I need to run some more tests, to see how he’s doing, and we should give him some privacy for that. Some of his injuries aren’t very pleasant.’
‘I’m a policeman, doctor. There’s not a lot I haven’t seen. And I do need to know details of his injuries, for my report.’
‘I appreciate that, and I will give you all the details. But I do think he needs a moment of privacy while I see to him. I’ll be as quick as I can. Especially as you already seem to be doing such a good job of calming him down.’
Maurice took the chance of a leg stretch, a visit to the gents and another cup of tea from the vending machine. He called the boss, while he was waiting outside the door of Levi’s room.
‘Just checking in, boss. There’s nothing much to report yet. He’s mostly sleeping, still under sedation, but I’ve been talking to him, and singing, so he gets used to my voice.’
‘We’ve nothing to report here, yet, either. Steve’s still trawling MissPers to see if we can find a match. I’ll let you know as soon as we do.’
The door opened and the registrar came out.
‘You can go back in now, officer. I’ve lightened his sedation so he may start to wake up shortly. We’ve had the toxicology results and there’s nothing concerning there. I know Mr Khan was worried about what he might have swallowed to cause the burns to his mouth. But whatever it was hasn’t shown up on the tests so he might not have swallowed it. Or he perhaps vomited it back up.
‘One thing which is currently causing him some pain and distress is the amount of bruising and swelling to the testicles.’
Maurice couldn’t retain the involuntary wince, nor the need to shift his weight slightly as he stood listening.
‘From what I can see, it looks almost as if they’ve been clamped in something, partly crushed. It would certainly explain his level of discomfort and agitation. I imagine either of us would react in pretty much the same way if anyone did that to us.’
It was mid-afternoon when there was a quiet knock on Ted’s door and Steve’s head appeared in the gap as he opened it slightly when instructed to. Just a short time before, the two of them and Mike had been sitting together companionably, having a drink and a sandwich in the nearby pub, The Grapes. Yet in the work setting, Steve always seemed to be in awe of the boss.
‘Come in, Steve. Have you got something for me?’ Ted asked, seeing the printed sheet in Steve’s hand.
‘A possible ID, sir. It’s a young man, Darren Lee, who went missing in Preston six months ago, and no reported sightings of him since.’
Ted nodded to him to sit down as he took the sheet of paper and studied the details and the photograph.
‘You’ll need to get this over to Maurice to see if he recognises him.’
‘Already done, sir. Maurice says it could be but it’s hard to tell. Levi’s very bruised and battered and also thin. But the age would fit, just seventeen. There’s something else which makes me think it could be our Levi.’
He hesitated. It was always a bit like pulling teeth, getting Steve to say what was on his mind, although he was an astute and intelligent officer who was often right. Ted encouraged him to go on.
‘Darren went missing after going out with friends. He was last seen going to a gay bar.’
He hesitated again.
‘It’s fine, Steve, you can say gay bar. It’s not politically incorrect.’
‘Yes, sir. It just got me thinking, though. Levi is reciting biblical text relating to homosexuality. Darren Lee disappeared after visiting a gay bar. Levi appears to have been tortured, possibly electric shocks, maybe having to drink something corrosive. Or wash his mouth out with it. Do you think this is someone’s idea of the so-called gay conversion therapy?’
Ted leaned back in his chair to consider his answer.
‘Firstly, good work in finding this. Secondly, your theory is interesting, but we need to be cautious about getting ahead of ourselves. It is one possible explanation, but it might take us off in the wrong direction, if we’re not careful.
‘Right, what I’d like you to do now is first to check with someone at Preston that there’s no update on this Darren Lee. We don’t want to be approaching his next of kin if he’s been found alive or, even worse, if there’s not been a good outcome. You know sometimes these things don’t get updated as soon as they should so check first, please.
‘After that, speak to the next of kin, as tactfully as possible. Warn them that it might not be Darren, then see about getting them here, as soon as they can come. If they’re not mobile, get Preston to arrange a car. And yes, they will tell you they don’t have the resources. Be as assertive as you can, but if you get nowhere, let me know and I’ll sort it.’
The young man in the bed was starting to stir again. He was once again holding on to Maurice’s finger as if his life depended on it. Maurice had been talking and singing to him quietly the whole time as he sat beside the bed. Now instead of the platitudes he’d been repeating, he started telling him, ‘You’re fine, bonny lad. You’re safe. You’re in hospital and I’m here to protect you. My name’s Maurice. I’m a policeman. No one can hurt you now. I won’t let them. You’re safe. You can wake up whenever you want to. Nothing bad’s going to happen to you, not now. Not while I’m with you.’
He tried using the name Steve had given him, to see if that had any effect.
‘Darren? Is it Darren? Are you from Preston? Preston? Does that mean anything to you? You’re in Stockport now. In Stepping Hi
ll Hospital. And you’re quite safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you now. Do you want to tell me who you are, where you come from? Tell me what’s happened to you?’
The grip on Maurice’s finger tightened in a spasm. The youth’s eyelids suddenly snapped open revealing staring mid-brown eyes, which immediately filled with tears.
‘Dal,’ he said, his voice weak and cracked. ‘Dal. Dal, Dal, Dal,’
It was going up in tone now, starting to sound hysterical again.
‘It’s all right, lad, it’s all right. I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen now.’
‘Daaaaaal!’
It was almost a scream. Reluctantly, Maurice reached across and pressed the red call button. He desperately wanted to talk to the young man, to find out more. But he couldn’t let him get as distressed as he was doing. He also hadn’t a clue what ‘Dal’ meant, or even what language it was in. He’d have to let the medics sedate him again for his own good and then try again later.
For once, Maurice the skiver wasn’t looking for an excuse to take an early dart and sneak home before his usual time. He felt he’d been making some progress with the young man, whoever he turned out to be, and he wanted to build on that.
Chapter Four
‘And you’re sure the word is Dal? You’ve no idea what it means?’
‘Not a Scooby, boss,’ Maurice replied cheerfully. He’d called the boss with the latest update. ‘I don’t even know if it’s an English word. But it clearly means something important to our lad. He was most insistent, trying to make me understand.’
‘Steve’s had no luck trying to trace the mother of this Darren Lee yet. Local officers know her. They say she’s likely to be on a pub crawl somewhere so they’re trying to find her. Darren Lee is English, though. Stay with him for now, see if he says anything else and I’ll let you know if we find out any more at this end.
‘I’ll get Steve to see if he can find what Dal might mean. I’ll ask Trev, too. See if it means something in any of the languages he speaks. How’s the lad doing, other than that?’