Mirror Man

by Jacques Von Kat

  Monday morning arrived, and I staggered downstairs after another restless night. I had to open up the shop so the people I’d called up could collect their watches.

  ‘Morning, son,’ Mum said from the kitchen table.

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ I said, ending on a yawn.

  ‘Aren’t you sleeping?’ she asked.

  I looked in the mirror. Her face was etched with concern.

  ‘No. Bad dreams.’

  She hummed. ‘If you ever want some of my pills, let me know. And I’m sorry I gave you them before without your knowledge; that was wrong of me.’

  ‘It’s okay, thanks, Mum,’ I said, forcing a smile on my face.

  ‘Tea and toast?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  I sat down, and Mum busied herself preparing my breakfast.

  ‘So, it’s the first day opening up on your own…’ she started, her voice light.

  I nodded, my jaw tight. I couldn’t decide whether the prospect made me excited, sad, or scared. There was so much to think about; the responsibility, the customers, the watches, Mr Phillips’s memory, The Suit coming back for me…

  When I didn’t reply, Mum continued, ‘Say, I was thinking, why don’t I come work in the shop with you?’

  I stared at the back of her head in the mirror. ‘You really want to help me?’ I asked.

  ‘Sure, I do,’ she said, turning around. ‘I can be up front with the customers, and you can carry on repairing the watches.’

  ‘But you don’t know anything about antiques,’ I said in an attempt to put her off.

  ‘Do you?’ she said, returning with my tea and toast.

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘Then we’ll learn together, won’t we?’

  I relented. I couldn’t say no, especially since we were starting to bond and rebuild our relationship.

  ‘Okay, Mum. I’d really like it if you helped me.’

  ‘Great, get that down ya. You’ll need a good breakfast to start each day. You’ll be working six days a week now, John-Michael.’

  I’d only worked three days a week until now. But I didn’t mind. It meant I could provide for the family—as long as the customers returned.

  Mum and I jumped in the car after breakfast and went to open up. She chatted to me excitedly all the way there. I smiled at her enthusiasm, but deep down I was worried that The Suit would return. I would not only have to protect myself but Mum too.

  Mum took the route to the front of the shop.

  ‘Mum, don’t you think we should park around the back?’

  ‘Oh… yeah, maybe.’ Her fingers tapped the steering wheel nervously. ‘I’m a little excited; I wasn’t thinking. I’ll turn round at the bottom of the street.’

  ‘Okay—’

  ‘What the—’ I watched in the reflection on the passenger-side window as she sat right up against the wheel. ‘Is that—?’

  I followed the direction she seemed to be looking. Claude’s Antiques had just come into view down the street, and there was something on the shutters.

  She muttered something I couldn’t hear and brought the car to a halt opposite Claude’s Antiques. Someone had spray-painted ‘Murderer’ in black across the front.

  ‘Should we go home?’ I asked.

  ‘What on earth for? From now, we will hold our heads up high and be brave. Why should we skulk off like wounded animals?’

  ‘What are we going to do, then?’

  The driver of a car behind us pipped its horn, and she drove off.

  ‘I’m going to turn this car around, and we’re going to open the shop, alright?’

  ‘Okay, Mum.’

  After parking round the back, Mum didn’t bat an eyelid as she got to work on scrubbing the paint from the shutters. When she finished, she came in and made us both cups of tea as though nothing had happened.

  ‘Thanks for taking care of that, Mum,’ I said as she handed me my tea.

  ‘Don’t mention it, son. We’ve got this. I’ll never let anyone say a bad word to your face, and if they spray it on the shop… Well, I’ll clean it right off.’

  Throughout the morning, customers arrived to collect their watches and offer their condolences for Mr Phillips’s death with promises to return, which I was thankful for.

  By the afternoon, Mum and I were sat behind the counter on two wooden stools we’d dug out from the storage room, having cups of tea. I had no new watches to repair, and I thought I’d keep her company. We were chatting about Tina’s baby when two figures appeared behind the glass of the shopfront.

  The two detectives, Lightman and Green, came in wearing the same brown suits I’d seen them in the first time we met, but this time I could see their faces properly in the various mirrors around the shop.

  Detective Lightman was a head taller than Detective Green. He had thick, curly brown hair and a weird goatee. It looked like his moustache had fallen off and landed underneath his lips. Detective Green was all blond hair and blue eyes. He wouldn’t have looked out of place on the television. They walked in slowly, pretending to browse items and running their fingers over the inventory. I didn’t know what they expected to find; everything had been cleaned by me after the crime scene team been in. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on anything.

  ‘Afternoon,’ Mum said. ‘Can we help you?’

  ‘Yes, we’d like to take another look around,’ said Detective Green. ‘Perhaps in Mr Phillips’s flat and check out the contents of his safes. It turns out the crime scene team were unable to find the keys and get access. We thought young John-Michael might know where the keys are and let us in.’

  I frowned. I didn’t want them looking in the safes or moseying around Mr Phillips’s flat when we hadn’t even been in there yet.

  ‘Don’t you need some kind of permission for that?’ she said, eyeing the two men suspiciously. ‘What’s it called? Umm…’ She started drumming her fingers on the counter.

  ‘A warrant?’ Detective Lightman offered.

  ‘That’s it, don’t you need a warrant to snoop around?’

  ‘Mrs Chester, we aren’t snooping. This is a murder investigation, if you’d forgotten.’

  ‘How could I? It’s me who got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the floors where Mr Phillips died,’ she said, crossing her arms.

  ‘We were hoping you would open the safes, John-Michael. If you have the keys, that is?’ asked Detective Green, ignoring Mum’s comment.

  ‘I’m not so sure I should let you do that without permission,’ I mumbled, ‘like my mum said.’

  ‘That’s your right, John-Michael, see’n as you’re the owner, so we’ve been told, but it would be much easier if you let us look now. You are the only witness to this, and we could really use your help,’ he said.

  Mum stepped in. ‘Don’t you try to manipulate my son. If he says no, that’s it. Come back when you have a warrant—then you can search to your heart’s content.’

  ‘Alright, Mrs Chester,’ said Lightman. ‘Oh, and John-Michael, we want you down the station tomorrow afternoon to make your written statement and go over a few things, see’n as we’ve been unable to locate this “Suit” fella.’

  ‘Don’t forget your warrant next time,’ Mum huffed as they left.

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ I smiled at her.

  ‘No thanks necessary; I’m your mam, and it’s about time I stuck my neck out for you,’ she said, then pulled her lips to the side. ‘Where’s the number for that fancy solicitor Pete gave you? He’ll know what to do. We can’t have them bizzies snooping around like they own the place. You’ve told them who did it. They should be out looking for him, not bothering us.’

  ‘It’s in my wallet,’ I said, standing up and pulling my wallet from my back pocket.

  She examined the card when I handed it to her and went to the phone tucked in the corner behind the counter.

  ‘Umm, hello, yes. Can I speak to David Mercier, please?’

  ‘Yes, it’s Mrs Chester, Pete Newman’s mother-
in-law…’

  She pulled her head from the handset and turned her attention to me. ‘They’ve put me on hold; there’s a weird beeping sound. Do you want to listen in?’

  ‘No, you do it.’

  She started tapping her foot, then suddenly stood up straight again.

  ‘Hello, Mr Mercier. Yes, Pete said you’d be able to help us if we had any problems.’

  ‘Well, two detectives came round. They want to look in the safes and the flat upstairs and then they want our John-Michael in for a statement.’

  ‘No, we didn’t let them, they didn’t have a warrant…’

  ‘Good, I thought I was saying the right thing. What should we do now?’ Mum asked as she twirled the telephone cord around her finger.

  ‘You will?’ Her eyebrows raised. ‘Okay, I will. Thank you, Mr Mercier.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll certainly do that. Thanks again. Goodbye.’ She placed the phone down, then puffed her cheeks out and slumped against the counter.

  ‘What did he say mum?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s going to take care of it.’

  ‘Is that it? It was an awfully long conversation, Mum.’

  She laughed. ‘It wasn’t that long, JC.’

  I cocked my head at her. She never called me JC.

  ‘What?’ she said, mirroring my cocked head.

  ‘You never call me JC,’ I said.

  ‘Oh.’ She looked up as though exploring her memories to see if I was right. She didn’t need to search. I know she never used JC.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum. I know we’ve had our, umm… differences, but we’re moving past that now, don’t you think so?’

  ‘I do, John-Michael, I really do. Everything you’ve done and become is all because of me; the lack of attention and the nasty comments about your eyes are all things a parent should never do or say, and I take full responsibility for that.’ Her voice cracked, but she continued. ‘I’m going to do my absolute best to make it up to you. I’ve been a terrible mother, but I’m going to help you, be there for you, and maybe help you to look at us like you used to.’ She pulled out a hanky and wiped her nose. ‘Okay enough of the soppy stuff, what was I saying?’

  I ran over and hugged her tight, almost knocking her over. I can’t remember the last time I’d had physical contact from her besides a clip around the head.

  ‘Oh, John-Michael,’ she said, hugging me back. ‘I’ve missed so much.’

  ‘So have I mum,’ I said into her hair. I was much taller than she was.

  I liked hugging her just as much as I’d enjoyed the prolonged one with Tina. Mum said she’d missed so much, but then so had I. Though I didn’t like the fact it had taken the deaths of two people to bring us back together as proper mother and son.

  ‘Right, no time for this now,’ she said, removing my arms from her waist. ‘I need to tell you what that solicitor said before I forget. He said he’ll find out what evidence they have to substantiate a warrant. They must think something is here for them to get the warrant, or something to that effect. He also said he knows plenty of magistrates and putting a stop to the warrant won’t be an issue. If they come back, we’re to tell them to ring him. He’s our solicitor now, and all questions are to go through him. That was about the gist of it.’

  ‘Can he really do all that?’ I asked.

  She shrugged. ‘He says so.’

  ‘What about the statement?’

  ‘Oh, yes he’ll meet us there tomorrow at two.’

  We decided to shut up early and left through the back door. We weren’t ready to be seen out in public yet, seeing as people wouldn’t believe I hadn’t done it and The Suit hadn’t been caught. Mum said she was sure things would calm down in a week or two. I wasn’t convinced by her optimism.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The next afternoon, in a blustery headwind, I walked with Mum to the police station. She said the fresh air would do us good, but it only made my face sting and eyes water. Mr Mercier met us there, though, and we waited in the same room I was interviewed in almost two weeks earlier. Mum wasn’t allowed in and had to wait outside for us to finish.

  ‘We have some time before the detectives come in, so I want to take this opportunity to properly introduce myself and update you on a couple of things,’ he said. He didn’t look at me I guessed Pete had told him not to. Instead, he focused on the paperwork he had in front of him. ‘I work for Edwards, Adam & Stars. Pete has probably told you this. Anyway, I’m a barrister, do you know what that means?’ he asked, shuffling his papers.

  ‘No, I don’t, sir.’

  ‘It means I’m usually in the courtroom, not seeing clients in this setting. Don’t be surprised if the detectives are stunned to see me.’

  ‘Okay, sir.’

  ‘Moving on, the detectives are trying to obtain a warrant so they can do a thorough search of Claude’s Antiques, including the safes and the flat above. Now, I don’t want you to worry. I can keep them tied up for weeks in paperwork to prevent that from happening. Plus, I know every local magistrate for miles, and I’ve a sleeve full of favours that can put a stop to anything. Are you with me?’ he asked.

  I nodded, but I was a little confused with all the talk of favours. I didn’t know what Pete had done for Mr Mercier, but it must have been pretty big for him to go to these lengths for me. Is this what adult life was really like, owing favours to one another?

  Regardless of if they got the warrant, they wouldn’t find the guns. I was going to remove them after we were done here and take them home for safekeeping. I’d been trying to think of a way to get them home without anyone seeing, and this was the perfect opportunity.

  ‘Great. Pete has filled me in on the majority of what happened, and I’ve got snippets from the police. Is there anything you’d like to share with me?’ he asked.

  I hummed. I’d been holding back from telling Mum, Grandad, Tina, and Pete much about what I was thinking and feeling. I didn’t want to worry them or tell them more than they needed to know, for their own safety. And in truth, I felt like my head was going to explode sometimes.

  ‘It will be just between us,’ Mr Mercier added.

  I bit my lip. ‘The Suit. The man who killed Mr Phillips. He’s haunting my thoughts and dreams,’ I told him hesitantly, though I was relieved to finally say it out loud.

  ‘I see.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And this is the man the police have been unable to track down?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Okay, John-Michael. Don’t you worry now.’

  We sat in silence until detectives Lightman and Green walked in. They turned to each other as they entered. I imagined they were giving each other bemused glances, just as Mr Mercier said they would.

  ‘Mr Mercier. Nice to see you again,’ said Detective Lightman. ‘I didn’t know you were the Chester’s solicitor.’

  ‘What business is that of yours?’ he answered.

  ‘Well… I,’ the detective stammered.

  ‘None, is it? Now, let’s get on with what we’re here for, shall we?’

  Wow, Mr Mercier is good! I thought. My knee bounced under the table, fuelled by the passion Mr Mercier seemed to exude.

  ‘Yes… yes, of course.’ Lightman moved to switch on the tape recorder that had been placed on the desk, when Mr Mercier interrupted his action by putting his hand up.

  ‘Why are you attempting to record this? I thought we were here for a statement, not an interview,’ he asked.

  ‘It is, but…’

  ‘But nothing. I hope you haven’t asked my client to attend under false pretences?’ he asked, tapping his brown brogues on the floor.

  ‘Well, no…’

  ‘Good. So, it remains off,’ he told them.

  ‘We do have some further questions to ask and depending on the answers we may consider further action against John-Michael,’ offered Detective Green.

  Mercier scoffed. ‘We’ll see about that. It remains off.’ He indicated back to the recorder. ‘Get on with the statement, detectives
.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Mercier,’ they replied in unison.

  There was a knock at the door, and WPC Thompson brought in a tray of drinks.

  ‘Hope you’ve put two lumps in mine,’ said Green.

  ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a couple of those lumps, never mind sugar lumps, aye, sweetheart,’ said Lightman. He made a clicking sound with his tongue and tapped her backside.

  I was embarrassed by his action, but WPC seemed to ignore the violation.

  Before she left, I quickly peered at her reflection in the mirror, and she winked at me. I knew it wasn’t the time to smile, so I forced it down and held it in my mind to see me through the rest of the interview.

  We had to go over the statement three times before Mr Mercier was happy with it. The detectives became exasperated with him, but I was glad to have him here handling all the difficult questions. Once the statement was completed, they had more questions for me. They took their time with phrasing each one to prevent Mr Mercier from interrupting them endlessly.

  ‘John-Michael… This “Suit” gentleman that you’ve told us about… We’ve been unable to locate him, and we’ve been unable to find a single person who remembers seeing the man fitting your description,’ said Detective Green.

  ‘And?’ asked Mr Mercier. ‘Where are you going with this, detective? Surely you aren’t going to blame my client for your ineptitude in being unable to locate the suspect. Now, do you have a question, or not?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Green snapped. ‘I think John-Michael made it all up, and this “Suit,”’ he said, using air quotes, ‘is a figment of his imagination. A made-up story to cover his tracks. Everyone knows he’s not right in the head.’