by A K Shattock
“That sounds like it must be very frustrating,” sympathised Diane. “What do you call yourself?” “Agnes,” she said triumphantly.
“Agnes,” Diane rolled the word slowly. “How many of you are there?”
“Just me. And Mary.”
“Nice to meet you. I think it’s important that we bring you two together. Mary needs your help desperately. You are aware of what is going on?”
“Mary is up for the murder of our husband,” Agnes said bitterly. “The idiot admitted to it. I can’t believe it. I am so furious with her.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, we didn’t do it, genius! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to. That bastard deserved it. After what he did to us…”
“Do you know what happened then? How did Greg die?”
Agnes sat forward in her chair. “All I know is that someone slashed his throat and is trying to pin it on Mary. Whoever did it, is very clever. And I also think that whoever did it, knows about me. They know Mary doesn’t trust me. They’ve tried to make her think I killed Greg.”
“I see,” Diane couldn’t believe this was happening. Out of context, this conversation made absolutely no sense whatsoever. She would have thought they were talking about two, separate individuals. “And who else knows about you?”
“It could be anyone. Greg might have put all the pieces together all these years. He could’ve told someone. He was scared of me, you know. I scared the shit out of him, and I took great pleasure in it. It humiliated him as well. He was so, so proud of himself. He hated it when I fought back. Mary didn’t know what went on. He never spoke about the fights. The fights that I won for her.”
“These fights… did they ever turn physical?” “Barely. It wasn’t anything that I couldn’t handle.” “Is there anyone else who knows... that you exist?” Agnes shrugged. “Elizabeth, our sister knows. I used to come out to speak to the kids too. My nephews, friend’s young ones, the neighbour’s little girl. I love children, just as much as Mary does. I used to tell them about me. They took it rather well. They thought it was just a game. I used to make them keep it a secret. Mary knew nothing of it.” Agnes flashed a glare at Diane’s worried face. “I never hurt them! I didn’t just come out when Mary was angry, when she needed me. Sometimes I needed some time to myself as well.”
“Agnes… who is in charge? Are you able to communicate to Mary?”
She sighed. “Mary is in charge. But she doesn’t know what she is doing. She needs my help all the time, not just when she gets scared. She lets me through when she needs me. When she’s too upset to cope with a situation, she lets herself go. And I take over. And it’s not easy to talk to her. I try everything, I leave notes, I try to infiltrate her thoughts, but she always blocks me. She’s in denial of my existence. And it frustrates me. I think we would be a great team if we could work together. But it won’t matter anymore. We’re going to be locked away in prison at this rate.” Agnes made a face.
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” said Diane uncomfortably. She wasn’t the pessimistic type, but she knew it didn’t look good for them, unless Agnes could shed any light on the situation. “Though the confession certainly won’t help. However, if you and Mary are happy to consent, I can give this recording to the lawyers which could help you in court. They may consider and allow a more appropriate place for you to go.”
“You mean a loony bin,” interjected Agnes bitterly. “I suppose the only difference with that and prison would be the type of company that you have. There has to be another way? Aren’t the police investigating anyone else?”
“I am not involved with the detective’s investigation,” said Diane. “But if there is anything that you can think of that might help, please say. I can show the recording to them too.”
“The bottom line is, someone is trying to frame Mary. They must know about me. They are taking advantage of the fact that she's vulnerable and afraid. Greg used her for tax avoidance. They’d lost a lot of money. His partner was in on it too. Stanley Hudson. Make sure the police are checking him. There were also men that used to wait around outside our house, calling us up. They were after Stan, I knew it. Probably related to the fake paintings that Stan used to sell. Maybe they murdered Greg to scare him?” “I will mention it to them,” promised Diane. “Is there anything else you want to say? Anything I can do at all to help you and Mary work together?”
Agnes hesitated, her features softening. “Can you tell her… I’m not her enemy. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, especially her. I’ve only tried to protect her. Please… can she let me in?”
“I’ll tell her,” Diane vowed. Before she could ask anymore; Mrs Fielding’s eyes closed again and she made a sudden movement, as if she was convulsing. And then she was still. Her eyes opened slowly. They were afraid. Mary was back.
“Did you speak to her?” she whispered.
Diane nodded. She took out the recorder, stopped it and re-winded. She pressed play. Mary listened to the conversation, absolutely astounded.
She was still silent when the tape finished.
“Mary?” Diane said gently. “Are you alright? This must be a huge shock for you.” Diane, herself was also having trouble taking this all in.
Mary’s grey eyes darted up to meet hers. “She’s not evil,” she breathed. “She’s… just another person… inside of me. She didn’t kill him.” She thought hard, as if she was making the revelation of the century. She suddenly sat up straight, filled with confidence. She now looked, Diane realised, more like her other identity.
“I didn’t kill him! I’m innocent!”
TOBIAS
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was the next morning and Tobias decided that he needed to be more organised.
Usually, he would jump up and drive immediately to wherever he needed to go - that was what usually got a case moving quickly. But that only worked if you had one case on your plate at a time. This time, he needed to factor them all in.
Within about two hours, Tobias had drawn himself a huge map of London on four sheets of A4 paper messily taped together at the back. He had borrowed Simmonds’ coloured pens; a pack of which she was going to give to one of her kids for their birthday. Each colour was a separate case. He’d annotated areas where the crimes had happened, where suspects and potential witnesses lived. The idea was that he was to visit one area in London and to cover all bases of each of the cases at once. The final result Tobias was almost ashamed to admit - could easily be mistaken for a half-arsed attempt at some sort of geography homework by a failing primary school student. In hindsight, he should’ve made a bit more of an effort and troubled himself with a trip to a stationary shop; but at the end of the day, this map will do the job. He just had to make sure that neither Harris or Fowler laid eyes on his precious map, otherwise he’d never hear the end of it.
There was a flaw in this plan. He was most likely going to get confused between the cases; especially when it came to distinguishing between names. For that very reason, Tobias had upgraded his coffee travel flask to one of those industrial canisters which held enough to serve six people. Then, he slyly sloped over to Natalie’s desk.
“Natalie…” he said sweetly, putting on his best grin. “Are you free for the next couple of hours? I just need a hand questioning various people, suspects, witnesses. Would you help me? Pretty please? I have coffee!”
Natalie laughed, closing a massive file, bursting full of notes. She still looked tired, but also clearly bored after hours of scouring through poorly handwritten notes. “Alright, I’ll come with you! You’ve persuaded me.”
Firstly, they were going to Fulham. A rape had happened two nights ago in one of the parks around there. So far, the CCTV had been sourced and was now being analysed, the victim - a shaken, teenage girl - had been formally interviewed, but more information regarding the rapist was needed. Tobias hoped that if he approached the victim at home in a calm, familiar environment; perhaps she would be able to
recall what happened more effectively. Plus, if needed, he could let Natalie take over. The girl was more likely to open up to a female.
Tobias explained everything he knew about the case so far to Natalie; his eyes focusing on the traffic ahead. In his peripheral vision, he could see his partner listening in interest.
“I thought we were going to search for Hudson?” Natalie replied when he had finished, confused. Tobias nodded over at his colourful map laid across the back seat. Natalie responded with a childish giggle.
“That is why I need your help,” he said, taking a drag out of his huge flask; the massive mental canister temporarily obscuring his vision of the road. “I’m a man. I can’t multitask.”
They parked outside the victim's house. It was a pleasant neighbourhood. The street was long, lined with identical, tiny terraced houses. It was as if all the residents had only been happy to follow the Council’s rules; all the doors were painted beautifully, neat front yards and straightened bins. It was peaceful outside; the distant buzz of the remaining city was almost inaudible. They effortlessly managed to track down the right house; but to Tobias’s dismay they had to turn back to find a suitable place to park - the next street over. Eventually, after the long walk, they finally stumbled to the right house and were graciously invited in.
It was a particularly difficult incident. The victim was only fifteen years old. She had been playing in the park with her friends and once they had all parted at dusk, she was grabbed and attacked in a backside alleyway. It was one of those horribly, frustrating cases. The chances of finding the perpetrator was low… unless they attacked again and left a trail. The biggest difficulty with the case was the lack of evidence. Unfortunately, the girl had not said a word to anyone about it; had showered and gone straight to bed. It was only the next morning when her mother could see something had clearly happened, that the police had been called. The only luck they had on their side was the CCTV footage; however it had been very dark and the images were extremely blurry. It was now being analysed and blown up. Aided with a more thorough description of the rapist; they may have a chance at getting him.
Natalie listened patiently alongside Tobias as he went through his list of questions. The young teenage girl was very pale, thin and absolutely terrified. She jumped at loud noises and frequently shot petrified looks at her devastated mother across from her after each question; as if she was unsure whether to answer fully or not. She could only remember a few extra details; but it was hard to tell if it would be helpful or not. Tobias hoped that Natalie would jump in and take over; the girl would feel more at ease being questioned by a woman. But she didn’t. He handed her and her mother several leaflets - thankfully he had remembered to grab them that morning - regarding information about sexual trauma, how to contact counselors and how to contact them if she remembered anything more. Before he left, Tobias made sure to tell the girl how brave she was to talk to them. How heroic it was to report what had happened to the police; most chose, for whatever reason, not to say anything at all. That they would do everything they could to catch him. The girl nodded feebly as a reply. Tobias had said the same thing to many young girls countless times before; and each time, unsurprisingly his words did not appear to make them feel anymore reassured. Tobias experienced his usual, recurring feeling of emptiness as he thanked the girl and her mother and said goodbye.
Back in the car, Tobias turned to Natalie in the passenger seat to explain what he had wanted her to do back in the house. It was his fault. He thought that she would’ve instinctively known what to do. Sometimes, he forgot that she was newer than he was, and perhaps wouldn’t pick up on sensitive cues as swiftly as him yet. But to his surprise, Natalie had teared up. She was on the verge of crying.
“Oh Natalie…” Tobias said uncomfortably. He always forgot that some people weren’t easily able to switch off their feelings at work. It was actually a relief to know she wasn’t an emotionless robot; unlike the one that Tobias had become over the years. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you in there. I feel awful…”
“No, no, it’s me,” Natalie said wistfully, dabbing at her face with the sleeve of her jumper. “I need to get over it. I just need more of a thick skin for cases like this.”
Tobias was quiet for a few moments and thought carefully before he spoke. “Look, you don’t need to force yourself to be able to cope with everything. You’re only human. The things we have to see… it’s not normal to be able to handle it all. And it’s definitely okay to cry about it later. To be honest, I didn’t realise that you felt uncomfortable in there and I’m very proud that you managed to stay professional during that exchange. It’s the little hurdles that are the biggest.”
Natalie smiled at him. She was one of the few women he had met that actually looked pretty when they cried. “You’re so... kind Tobias. I don’t think anyone else would be so understanding. I’m very... glad that I get to work with you.”
Tobias shuffled in the driver’s seat awkwardly. “I’m only doing what any decent human would do. Listen, if there are any cases in the future that you get that you feel uncomfortable with, just let me know and I’ll take them. Don’t feel ashamed by it. It doesn’t mean you’re not a great detective.”
Natalie smiled gratefully at him and a few minutes later after she had cleaned herself up; they set off to the next location in Fulham. It was the address of the elderly man that had been murdered two weeks before. Jacob Huntley.
After finding a parking space rather easily this time, they both clambered out of the patrol car and looked up at the dilapidated, run down, grimy apartment block. They were there to question the neighbour that had discovered the body.
Fortunately, she was in. A frail, elderly lady answered the door, with striking white hair and watery, green eyes. “Mrs Skinner?” Tobias inquired.
“That’s right.” The woman had to take a huge breath before speaking each sentence. In a panicky afterthought, Tobias wondered if he’d have to call an ambulance. He hoped he wouldn’t have to before they finished questioning her. Time was ticking. “Who are you? More coppers I suspect.”
“You’d be right Ma’am,” Tobias held up his badge. “DI Mitchell and DS Phillips. May we come in?” The little old lady stepped aside and rasped her way around the tiny flat, summoning up cups of tea for the both of them, whilst her breathing became faster and more haggard. Tobias almost wanted to decline the refreshment in fear for this lady’s life.
“And how can I help you?” she wheezed once she collapsed into her sunken settee.
Tobias explained that they were there to ask more questions regarding her neighbour’s death and lightly touched upon how Mr Huntley’s murder was potentially linked to another. “We want to know if you can think of any additional information. Did Mr Huntley have any visitors? Any family?”
“None that I knew of. Never saw him have any company. He had told me that he had no family. He was a very funny man. Very isolated. Drank a lot.” Mrs Skinner wrinkled her nose.
“Did he ever mention owning any valuables to you? Did you ever see anything particularly... expensive or high value in his flat?” asked Natalie.
“Well that’s the thing,” Mrs Skinner said. “As I said to the police before, I can’t get my head around a robber coming to steal off Jacob. He got nothing as far as I could tell. If he had, would he be living here?” Her eyes twinkled. “That robber must’ve been properly disappointed, I can tell yer. There was that painting though. For some reason, the robber took that.” Tobias and Natalie exchanged looks.
“What sort of painting?” Natalie asked seriously. “Oh, it was such a morbid, ugly thing. A fox hunt with loads of beagles ripping into a poor creature. Doubt it was worth a penny. Jacob never acknowledged it was in the room. Probably was already there when he rented the place.”
Tobias’ thoughts were churning. A painting had been taken. That hadn’t been mentioned before. Could that mean that the robbery wasn’t random after all? Was this a pote
ntial link to Hudson?
“Is there a picture of it anywhere? Do you know if it was a replica or an original?”
Mrs Skinner laughed. “It was so ugly, I daren’t think anyone took a picture of it and I daren’t think anyone would want to sell copies of it either. I would be able to point it out though.”
Tobias was disappointed. They were truly grasping at straws here. But he wasn’t going to give up. He brought out a mugshot photo of Mrs Fielding and a profile picture of Mr Hudson that they had extracted from the gallery website. “Do you recognise either of these two?”
Mrs Skinner squinted at the photo. “Nope, never seen them in my life.”
“Anything else you’d like to add?” pleaded Natalie. “Any other robberies around here recently?” Mrs Skinner chuckled. “Other robberies? Are you joking? Have you seen where I live? Everyday somebody gets robbed, mugged, scammed. Why, the other day I had some fellas pretending to be Jehovah’s witnesses trying to sneak a look into my flat. It’s disgusting.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Tobias. “I hope we haven’t troubled you.”
There were no further leads inside Mr Huntley’s flat either. Mrs Skinner had helpfully let them borrow the spare key that she had, so they could take a look. As far as they could tell, there were no photographs or keepsakes of any family, any friends. Just copious amounts of half-empty whiskey bottles. There was also an obvious clean square of wallpaper where the painting must’ve hung before it was taken.
Back in the car, Tobias wondered if it was simply a coincidence that a painting had been taken. Would it be too bold to assume there might be a connection to Hudson and the murder of Mr Huntley? Or was Mr Fielding’s death a copy-cat killing after all?
The next place on Tobias’s map where he wanted to go wasn’t far from where they were - a fancy new build a lot closer towards Fulham town centre. He turned to Natalie, his hand hovering over the keys in the ignition. “Just to let you know, I’m going to head over to Rose Bennet’s place to question her, as she lives near here. I would understand if you don’t want to come, or don’t want to get involved…”