Naked Souls

by Karen Botha

  She’s patient, I’ll give her that. DS Burdett is still, waiting, allowing the silence to hang and not wanting to do anything to interrupt Mitchell’s thoughts.

  Mitchell moves suddenly, clasping both hands to the side of his head and squeezing as he scrunches his eyes. He lets out a gasp which turns into a cry. “Yes, I told Eric. He set up the warehouse for me. Said one of his punters watched it and he could arrange for it to be left vacant.”

  Mo and I look at each other, “Why would he do that?” Mo whispers, as though Mitchell can hear us from his interview room four hundred miles away.

  I shake my head, “Loyalty to an old friend?”

  Paula

  And so, DS Burdett is back in with Eric.

  “Look, don’t piss us about Eric,” is her opening line. It’s as though she’s a different person to the understanding sister figure she just played with Mitchell. We all do it, but sitting back watching the personality transformation as an outsider would is interesting.

  Eric’s eyes shoot up, but he’s still tight-lipped.

  “Mitchell told us you set up the warehouse for him, so don’t piss us about. We’re going to get you for it anyway, so you may as well just come clean and stop fucking everyone around.”

  Oh, fair enough. It’s not how I’d handle it, but she seems to have Eric’s attention. His expression has changed from a distant arrogance to something that at least displays a hint of confusion. His eyes flick from left to right.

  And so, once again, she plays the waiting game.

  She waits at least three minutes, which, when you’re in a room staring at someone trying to work out how best to save the rest of his life, is a lifetime.

  Eric’s jaw is still set in firm defiance. “We can do this the easy way, or we can make it hard for you. Either way, we’re not bothered we’re on the clock but it’s better for you to just work with us.”

  It’s as though Eric hasn’t heard a word she’s said. His face is stone.

  “Look, we’ll take you down, and if you don’t speak, we’ll take Declan down with you. How do you think your sister will feel about her brother and her husband being banged up? What will happen to her kids then?”

  Eric’s eyes lower, study the non-existent grain on the Formica table. We hold our breath and once again play the waiting game.

  “Ok, I did. I paid Brian. I know Mitchell from school and, while we’ve both kept in touch with Declan, he came to me when he had three months to live. He figured I’d be able to help him out. He was hell bent on getting rid of as many narcissistic characters as possible in the time he still had left to live. The way he figures it is that these are the characteristics of people who create wars, whether they be world wars on a grand scale, or the mini feuds that go on throughout all walks of life. He decided cleansing the world would mean he’d be leaving it a better place than when he came in. With only three months to live, I figured I could keep an eye on him, the last thing we want is another Hitler knocking around.”

  “You really expect me to believe that, Mister Moody?” DS Burdett sits back in her chair, hands crossed over her belly. She looks like she just had a baby, or ate bread...

  “Of course I fucking do. What do you think, that I’m making this up? Why would I bother to speak at all, if what I’m saying is just horseshit? I’ve just implicated myself here, don’t think I don’t realise that.” He stares at his solicitor, eyes wide as he gesticulates with an open palm across the table towards our colleague.

  “He might be telling the truth,” I say, not diverting my eyes from the screen.

  “I think he is,” Mo agrees.

  DS Burdett for her part, keeps at him. “So you wanted to make sure that Mitchell Swain killed people, but not too many?”

  Eric sighs, throws his hands up in despair, “I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to believe, but yes. How do you think you found out about that warehouse in the first place?”

  “I don’t know, Eric. Why don’t you tell us?”

  “I know exactly how you found out. Via an anonymous call.” He jabs his index fingers between his breast bone. “I’ve been doing you guys a favour all along.”

  “Mo! You knew there was someone else involved.”

  I say this as he stabs his fist in the air. “I told you,” he yells and stands to do a little victory dance around his wheeled office chair.

  I laugh, but don’t take my focus from the screen.

  “Why would you do that?” DS Burdett is asking.

  “Because he’d gone far enough. His original plan was to do away with one targeted soul a day, so if he had three months left, that’s a max of ninety people. I figured the world could do without ninety nasty individuals. By sticking to one person a day, Mitchell figured that gave him time to identify deserving characters. But, I’m not sure if it’s his brain which is playing up as his disease progresses, or the idea that he’s approaching his D Day, but he switched it up to bat-shit-crazy-motherfucker. So, when he went ten days past the ninety I’d expected, with no sign of him stopping, it was time to do something. And so I made the call. What I didn’t account for was him taking off and continuing his spree elsewhere.”

  “Hang on a second.” I turn to Mo who has now sat back down next to me.

  “What?”

  “If Eric is in this up to his eyeballs, and he was the one to involve Brian, then did he tell Brian about what Lucy was up to and set up her attack?”

  Mo rubs his chin. “It sure sounds like that.”

  Lucy

  We’ve looked at a million and one places for our wedding ceremony. We’ve been to country barns, London skyline venues, old castles, but everything is, I don’t know, just so run of the mill. Beautiful, special places, but they still churn out one happy day after another for the right price.

  And that’s another thing. The price is only right for them.

  I know Adam is loaded, but I don’t take that for granted. I still don’t appreciate being ripped off just because the price tag states ‘wedding’.

  I’m moaning in Adam’s office.

  “I’ve still not actually proposed, yet,” Adam says to Todd.

  “I did wonder where the amazing diamond was, but I assumed you didn’t wear it for work, Lucy?”

  “Oh, Todd. That’s just a formality. Adam has been asking me for ages, I just needed to say, ‘yes’. Isn’t that right, darling?” I tap his knee, knowing full well his answer will be yes.

  He nods, “Hmm. Well, this champagne is delicious, and what a wonderful reason to be celebrating with it.”

  We’re wrapping up the day over this particularly special glass of champagne because Paula dropped in to give us the good news that she’s finally been able to close the case.

  “It’s over Lucy,” Paula said, hugging me close when popped in to give me the great news.

  “Thank goodness,” is all I say, choosing not to let her know I had a bolthole lined up with Daisy, if things had taken a less favourable turn.

  I haven’t mentioned this to Adam either, preferring to keep my B plan to myself and concentrate on the wedding instead.

  “How’s it going?” Todd asks.

  “Oh, big mistake.” Paula laughs. “She is bridezilla on steroids.”

  “No, I’m not,” I screech, explaining my predicament more fully.

  “I think that’s admirable of you,” Todd says. “I have a suggestion for you.”

  Internally I cringe. Not another suggestion from a well-meaning friend. Instead of voicing my concern, I smile. “Oh?”

  “Yes, why don’t you hold it at my ranch in Southern California?” He whips out his phone and proceeds to show us picture after picture of the idyllic place, for which I’ve been searching without actually knowing it.

  “It sits on over 500 acres. Look these are the stables.” He zooms in on a building which I thought was a house, it’s that fresh and modern.

  “It is beautiful.” My voice has taken on a wistful tone.

  “Why are you ove
r here?” Paula asks Todd and my eyes sparkle as I look at her, always the detective.

  “Because I need a mix of life. The US is my refuge, and I live and work in London until I need that escape.”

  I glance at Adam, daring him to say no, willing him to say yes. “It’s amazing Todd, are you sure you’re OK with us using it?”

  “As long as I get an invite.” He smiles. “It would be an absolute delight to accommodate you and your guests on your special day.”

  I can feel Adam wondering how they’re going to work both of them being out of the business at the same time and his eyes cloud for a second as he considers this.

  “We’d love to get married there Todd, thank you so much for your offer.” I jump up and hug him, my version of a gentleman’s handshake, and Adam smiles, shaking his head. He knows what I just did and he’s willing to let me get away with it.

  There’s a knock at the door. Adam’s PA pokes her head around, “There’s someone to see you Adam. He says it’s a private matter.”

  Adam

  My heart sinks when I nip out of my office to find Brian waiting in my private reception.

  “What do you want?” I snap.

  “I have a proposal.”

  “You have a proposal for me? You tried to kill my girlfriend. Do you think I have any interest in anything you have to say?”

  “You should.”

  There’s something about the way his eyes narrow and the strength in his tone that makes me not walk away. I check behind, my PA has made a discreet exit. I ask, “What does that mean?”

  “Only that I’m starting to remember what happened that night in the alleyway. You know, the night I ended up in hospital. The night Lucy put me there.”

  My hairs prickle in my skull as they stand on end, all my senses shocked into an instantaneous state of high alert. My heart thunders two beats whilst I think. “What do you want?”

  Brian motions at me to sit in one of the leather chairs I reserve for guests. I do as he suggests, not missing the fact that I’m giving him the upper hand in our negotiations by complying.

  “Adam, you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

  I grit my teeth, feel my jaw clench, remain silent, staring him out, trying not to slam my fist against his nose. I see the blood spurt loose and in that second I have more of a clear understanding of what drove Lucy to attack and almost kill this man. The thought of smashing his head into the glass side table which separates our two chairs fills me with a shocking degree of satisfaction.

  He continues, “Lucy attacked me. Left me for dead in a premeditated act which will land her in prison for a long time. At the moment, that won’t happen because no-one knows that I remember the incident. However, that can change and you will then lose the woman you love.”

  “I gathered all of that from your prescursor, so cut the shit Brian. What do you want from me?”

  “I want to gamble here free for the rest of my life.”

  There are so many issues with this it’s unreal. Firstly, he’s not our type of client so will stand out a country mile. Instead of voicing this, I say, “It’s not just my company. Even if I wanted to allow you to extort me without limitation, I have a business partner who deals with all our gambling relationships. I have nothing to do with those concerns. It’s impossible for me to grant what you’re asking.”

  “You’ll find a way.” He stands, anger burning from his red cheeks. The energy between us bristles with unresolved hatred. Not only has this man become a very real threat to my happiness with Lucy, he’s also now placing my organisation in danger. I’m starting to appreciate why sometimes Eric is more hands-on with his clients. They’re a different breed to the customers I entertain. If they don’t pay their bills, I claim possession of their house - because they own one. Eric often doesn't have that option because his clients don't possess one. And so, he inevitably adopts a different attitude. All Brian is looking out for here is as much as he can gain from the situation. He’s uninterested in Lucy’s future, or mine. Nor does he have the slightest concern for what drove her to act so out of character.

  It’s obvious he’s not going away until he gets what he wants. I believe his threat. The issue is, that if he goes to the police, it won’t only be Lucy who suffers. Mo and Paula will also have to pay a hefty price if their cover up is discovered.

  I come up with a plan. “I’ll provide you with an account funded by me to the value of £1 million. When that’s gone, it’s gone. No top ups. Whatever you win is yours.”

  “£5 million.”

  Well at least he didn’t start at ten. “It’s one. I’m not a bank, I don’t have unlimited funds that I can pull in. Take it or leave it.”

  He sits back down, but eyes me, brushes a finger over his pursed lips.

  “OK.” He holds out his hand, like we’ve just reached a mutually satisfactory deal on who will win the football.

  This is my power play, and yes, it’s petty, but in this situation, I’ll take the kicks where I can get them, so I ignore his outstretched hand. Instead, I stand and call over my shoulder, “I’ll have my solicitor draw up the paperwork.” That should have his bottom twitching at least a little.

  Mitchell

  “Mitchell Swain, I am charging you with the murder of one hundred and five people, whose bodies were found in the warehouse in East London and Yorkshire. The details have been given to your lawyer but for now I need to ask whether you have any questions about your formal arrest?” DS Burdett asks.

  Hang on, one hundred and five. That’s not right. They discovered all the ones in the Yorkshire warehouse, they exposed the three under the tree that I had to dump. I don’t think they’ve connected Mickey to me yet, so I can discount him. And then those in London.

  “One hundred and five?” I ask.

  “Yes. Now, if you have no further questions, I’ll caution you officially and for the record...”

  “I have a boatload of questions.”

  The know-it-all copper sighs and leans back in her seat. “Go on...” Little does she know I’m about to blow her neat case apart. I’m not against taking the rap for those I’ve wiped out, but I’m not about to be a fall guy either.

  “There aren’t that many. I disposed of ninety acrid souls in London. One a day for the three months I’d been given to live. Then, I took off on my barge, having completed my mission. It was only when I had the peace to contemplate the next phase of my life that I realised I had a chance to do more good than I initially thought. That’s when I started again, whilst I was on the move. So that’s only ninety-five, as you found the five bodies up north.”

  I’ll leave out the three under the tree, just in case. I don’t want to leg myself up for more than I need.

  I resist the urge to laugh, as the detective sits bolt upright, her back rigid and her mouth wide open. The humour continues to churn in my stomach, rising to my throat. I swallow it down, it’s not going to help my cause to let it loose.

  “What do you mean ninety-five?” She’s flustered, shuffling papers in her cardboard file.

  I don’t answer her, choosing to relish my limited control of these proceedings.

  She finds what she’s looking for, runs a finger down the statistics, nods. “Very funny Mitchell. We have them all here.”

  “Are they all identified?”

  She peers over her glasses at me before answering. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I didn’t take these people’s lives lightly. They were part of a mission. Their identities are etched on my brain. I can tell you the names of all of those I killed.”

  “Don’t you assume we will fall for that one. Do you think we were born yesterday?” She smirks.

  I don’t feel anger, just pity that she is so stupid.

  I shake my head and when I answer, my voice is soft, “You can check the computer records and see who I’ve been speaking with against the names of those I give you.” It’s so obvious. This is why this country is in such a mess: beca
use the figures in power don’t have an ounce of common sense between them. People such as this DS Burdett. How did she get to be a detective, and a sergeant at that, without being able to piece that together?

  “OK, so you’re going to give us some names. You’ll miss off ten and then these were killed by who?”

  Oh, I’m sorry. “Would you like me to do your job for you?” I can’t help it. Really?

  “No, I’m asking, who you expect us to believe did the other killings and dumped them at a warehouse that only you knew about.”

  “And, so this is the issue. Was I the only person who knew about that storage facility? I didn’t call you, so how did you find out about it?” Do I have to do everything for her?

  I’m not saying another word. She can work out for herself that Eric topped up my numbers with his non-payers. I sit back and fold my arms.

  Adam

  I’m experiencing a cocktail of emotions as I head back into my office to resume our wedding chat.

  My stomach is churning at the close shave I just avoided. My chest is tight with the need to get on the phone to Clifford and instruct him on drawing up legal paperwork that won’t land me in the shit but will be binding on Brian. That’s not going to be easy.

  And yet all the while, my heart continues to soar at the excitement of making Lucy my wife. Her enthusiasm for our nuptials, far from overpowering, is endearing. She said she wouldn’t change her mind, and it looks like she’s come good on her word. I doubted her, thought this was part of her mental breakdown, but now I realise that her emotional fall-out allowed her to appreciate what is important.

  When I get back into my office, though, she’s missing.

  “She went to the toilet just after you nipped out and she’s not been back. I thought she was with you,” Todd says.

  Panic creeps up from my stomach, constricting my throat. “How soon after?” I ask, when really I want to scream, ‘Did she hear what I was talking to Brian about as she passed through the reception to the ladies?’