Hidden

by Derick Parsons

  There was a silence, and then the girl said, ‘Jimmy didn’t just burgle your flat. He was paid to burgle it. Hired. But I don’t want to go into it over the phone. Besides, I have something for you.’

  Kate’s curiosity deepened, ‘What?’

  ‘Come to my flat and I’ll tell you.’

  Kate was torn by indecision, but she had nothing to lose by playing along so she temporized by asking, ‘Where is it?’

  ‘St. Patrick’s flats in Ballymun. Flat 31. Do you know Silloge Road? It’s just off the Ballymun roundabout, not half-a-mile from the M50. Mine’s the second block on your left. Come today or forget it because I’m not staying here. After what happened to Jimmy I’m getting the fuck out of here.’

  Kate blinked in surprise, her jaw clenched with tension and the phone receiver pressed so tightly to her ear that it was starting to hurt. ‘Are you afraid you’re in danger too?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ There was a pause, then, with a sigh, the girl said, ‘I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe. All I know is that someone killed Jimmy and I’m not hanging around to find out why, and if he wants to kill me too.’

  Kate made up her mind suddenly and on impulse said, ‘Okay, I can be there in half-an-hour. Flat 31, you said?’

  ‘That’s right, in St. Pat’s. Though if you’re more than that I might be gone when you get here.’ And with that she hung up.

  Kate sat looking stupidly at the phone for a long moment before replacing the receiver, torn by indecision. Would going to see this Madelyn be a mistake? Probably. Finally, and in spite of her reservations, Kate got up and went anyway, hoping that curiosity would not engender the same fate for her it had for the cat. She had been in Ballymun before, though not since the old tower blocks had been demolished. Back then the flats had been notorious for crime, poverty and drugs, and to the privileged, middle-class Kate had appeared not just a different country to hers but almost a different planet. The filth and litter had appalled her, and even driving through the estate without stopping had scared her; nothing would have induced her to even pass through the place at night, much less live there. Burnt-out cars had littered the dingy streets and every green space was crammed with horses, caravans and filthy children. Thousands of filthy children, swarming the streets and fields in huge groups. To Kate’s disbelief, many of them had been riding piebald horses bareback, on the streets as well as in the fields, and their dirt and noise as they swarmed the area had made them seem more like wild animals than children. She had even seen babies in nappies tottering around the roads, supervised by -or rather, following- children only a couple of years older than themselves.

  The less said about the parents, and indeed all the adults on view, the better; suffice to say that most of them had looked like criminals, and probably were. A pall from all the open fires smoldering in the fields had hung over the area like a dull cloud, which matched the cloud of depression which had settled on Kate as she drove through the place. About the only positive aspect of seeing the place was that it had made her more appreciative than ever of her own upbringing, first in Stillorgan and then in Dalkey.

  This time around, things had changed at least a little, and in such a place change could only be for the better. She had heard of the much-vaunted regeneration project on her trips home over the years, and great improvements had indeed been wrought. The first and most obvious change was that five of the seven massive grey tower blocks were gone, having been replaced by smaller, modern blocks of flats as well rows of neat houses. Most of the open fields had been converted from rubbish dumps to football pitches, and there was far less piled filth and litter on the streets; even most of the burnt-out cars were gone. There was still a vague aura of hopelessness and despair, and of course crime, but now it was an undercurrent rather than the prevailing theme. Kate still wouldn’t have walked down Silloge Road alone at night but it was a vast improvement nonetheless.

  Kate had in ways had more than her fair share of problems, but now as she parked beside St. Patrick’s flats she realized that her life could have been very much worse; she could have had exactly the same abusive childhood, only in a place like this. She turned off her engine and sat wondering if she dared leave her insanely expensive car unattended in such an area. Certainly at night it would be stolen as soon as the local delinquents realized that it belonged to a stranger rather than one of the local drug dealers, but would it be safe at this time of day?

  Oh well. Fear exists only in the imagination, Kate told herself as she got out and quickly walked into the building, And anticipation is always worse than the reality.

  Inside, St. Patrick’s block did not match its bright and relatively clean exterior, as there was litter scattered in the dirty foyer and ugly graffiti on the walls. She tried not to be judgmental, knowing that living in such surroundings would not imbue anyone with community pride, but even so she felt a touch of distaste that she could not repress. Especially in the lift, which wasn’t just covered in more graffiti but also stank of stale urine, and had a broken syringe lying on the floor to boot. Luckily Kate had a thick wad of tissues in her coat pocket and she was able to pick it up without danger; she couldn’t have left it there where a child might stand on it, or even pick it up.

  Although quite new the door of flat 31 was battered, with the paint already peeling off, and Kate paused outside, her heart hammering, wondering again what she was letting herself in for. And why. Then she gathered her courage and firmly knocked on the door. A girl of perhaps twenty opened the door a crack and then immediately slammed it shut again. Kate recoiled in surprise but then heard the rattle of a chain being slid off its catch. The door opened wider this time and the girl said urgently, ‘Are you Kate? Come in.’

  Kate walked inside nervously, and was pleasantly surprised by what she found. The interior was no paradise but it was better than the outside suggested. It was clean, for a start, and reasonably well furnished with bright, colorful furniture. The girl, who was dressed in grubby jeans and a clean but unpressed lilac blouse, led her inside to a large sitting-room and sat down on a huge yellow and blue checked sofa. She stared at Kate with eyes that looked too big for her thin face but said nothing, alternatively puffing on a cigarette and gnawing at her stumps of fingernails.

  Before sitting down Kate showed her the syringe and asked if she had some safe way of disposing of it. Without much interest the girl nodded to an empty plastic coke bottle on the sideboard and said, ‘Put it in that for the moment. There’s a safe disposal place on the corner; I’ll drop it off there later.’

  Kate carefully sealed the syringe inside the bottle before putting it in the bin and then sat at the other end of the sofa. Then she flashed a brief, uncomfortable, smile and said awkwardly, ‘So, Madelyn, why am I here? What have you got for me?’

  The girl did not answer. She was young and almost pretty, though her skin was poor like that of so many junkies, and she had limp, untidy brown hair. Her features were even and finely drawn, but it was her big brown eyes that captured the attention; they were open and gentle, if currently scared. She would have been attractive save that she was far too thin and her nervous, twitchy movements and shifting, darting gaze betrayed her as a drug user, as did the unfocused look in her eyes on the rare occasions that she met Kate’s steady gaze. She put out her cigarette and began wringing her narrow, bony hands together as if trying to crush the life out of them, but still she remained silent.

  Kate looked at her with compassion, wondering what background she had come from, and how she had ended up here, living with a thief and drug pusher who used his own goods. But the answer to the second part at least was self-evident, for drugs were no respecter of class or background or anything else. ‘Why did you ring me?’

  Madelyn lit another cigarette before replying with a question of her own, ‘Did you have anything to do with Jimmy’s death?’

  Kate was partly shocked and partly amused, and after gawping in astonishment for a moment she uttered a horrified little b
ark of laughter and answered, ‘Of course not! What do you take me for?’

  Madelyn looked at her moodily, her fear evident, ‘I don’t know anything about you. If you were working for -or even just friends with- the right people and Jimmy robbed you...’ Her hopeless shrug finished off her statement eloquently enough.

  ‘I’m a psychologist. And a teacher,’ said Kate patiently. At least, for now. ‘I don’t have any connections with criminals, and certainly not with killers. I know nothing about Jimmy or why he was killed. All I know is that I was burgled -by him according to you- and the next night a stranger called to my door, saying he wanted to speak to me. Again Jimmy, according to you. Next thing I know there are policemen at my door, telling me that some guy called Shiels is dead, that he has my name and address in his pocket, and asking me how I know him. I was hoping you might tell me what all this is about.’

  The girl gave a short, ironic laugh that wasn’t far from a sob, ‘I don’t know anything! Or at least, not much.’ She took a deep pull on her cigarette and said, in a steadier tone, ‘Like I said, he was paid to rob your flat. Some guy rang him at his own place in town.’ She paused, ‘Although he stayed here most of the time Jimmy kept his old flat in the city center for…business purposes.’ She shrugged, ‘Plus, when the baby’s born I’ll get more money if I’m on my own; the Lone Parent Allowance or something. So Jimmy said anyway, and he usually knows about that sort of thing.’

  The use of the present tense in her last sentence seemed to throw her and she paused to take several deep, sniffly breaths before continuing, ‘Anyway, some guy rang him there with a proposition. He wouldn’t give a name, but I think Jimmy had an idea who it was just the same. Anyway, Jimmy was to burgle your apartment and bring everything he could lay his hands on to this guy, who’d give him two grand for it. Plus, he’d get to keep any cash he found in your flat. So you tell me; why anyone would pay to steal your stuff.’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea!’ replied the astonished Kate, ‘The stuff I lost wouldn’t have cost three thousand bran new, and stolen could only fetch a couple of hundred, tops. No one in their right mind would pay two thousand for it. But if that was the deal, what went wrong? How come he was killed?’

  ‘Jimmy went wrong!’ said the girl bitterly, ‘Just like he always did. He always had some fucking brilliant scheme to set us up for life, and they always went wrong.’ She shook her head in despair, setting her lank hair flying, ‘I think the guy specified your briefcase as one of the items he wanted, and when he saw how old and shabby it was Jimmy started wondering why this guy wanted it. So instead of handing it over he went through it first, looking for whatever it was that made such an old wreck so valuable. He said he didn’t find anything but it didn’t matter; this job was going to make him a fortune anyway. He wouldn’t tell me how but I’m sure blackmail came into it somewhere. I think he knew the identity of the guy who hired him or something. From years ago, maybe. Anyway, instead of handing the stuff over as arranged, he told the guy on the phone that he wanted ten grand, not two, and the guy agreed.’ She shook her head again, sadly this time, ‘Poor, gullible Jimmy. He really thought he could blackmail this guy. Instead he got himself killed.’

  ‘But why did Jimmy want to see me the other night?’ frowned Kate in confusion.

  ‘Because he was going to double-cross this guy!’ retorted Madelyn, ‘He was going to take his money and then keep your stuff anyway! I think he was going to sell you your stuff back, to increase his profit from the whole scheme. At least, he’d have offered to sell it back to you, but if he found another buyer for any of it he’d have double-crossed you too.’

  ‘Charming guy you picked,’ muttered Kate, unable to help herself.

  Madelyn just shrugged, not seeming inclined to argue, and continued, ‘Only, as usual, his scheme didn’t work, and this time Jimmy ended up in the water. With a knife in him.’

  She started silently crying and Kate slid up along the sofa to sit beside her, taking her cold, thin hand in both of hers and making small, meaningless sounds of comfort. But inside she was in turmoil; who would pay to have her tatty old case stolen? After some moments of silence she said, ‘I think it was all some sort of mistake. There was nothing in that case worth killing for.’

  Madelyn shook her head, tears running down her face, ‘Someone thinks there was.’

  This was inarguable so Kate instead asked, ‘What did Jimmy do with my stuff?’

  ‘I don’t know. He rarely brought anything he stole back here. The police were always sniffing around and picking him up so it was too risky. Like I said, he had his own flat too but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave anything valuable there either.’ She gave Kate a watery smile, ‘Too many thieves about. He always stored his takings somewhere but I don’t know where. All I have is your case. That he did bring here, to try and figure out why it was so valuable.’

  Kate’s heart leapt in sudden joy, ‘You have my briefcase?’

  The girl’s too-thin face lit up in reflection of Kate’s joy and she nodded, ‘It’s in the bedroom. I’ll go get it.’ She vanished into the hallway and returned a moment later with Kate’s old black accordion-style case, tears still streaking her cheeks. ‘I wish I had your other stuff too but this will have to do. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You didn’t steal my things and you are giving me my case back. Thank you,’ said Kate gratefully, taking it from her and examining it. It was even more battered than it had been because the strap-lock had been forced open but she didn’t care. And the contents seemed intact, though that was even less important to her.

  She smiled at Madelyn and reached out to touch her arm, ‘This is all I really cared about. The other things were only worth money, but this was my mother’s and means a lot to me. It’s about all I have left of her.’

  The girl’s face cleared a little and her bowed shoulders straightened slightly, as if responsibility for her boyfriend’s crime had been weighing her down. As perhaps it was; junkie or not, she didn’t seem the criminal type. Kate felt so relieved to have the precious, worthless old thing back that she felt she should pay the girl a reward. It was ridiculous, since it was hers to begin with, but that was how she felt.

  She sat and thought for a moment or two before saying, ‘Is there anything else you can tell me about this man who supposedly hired Jimmy? Anything at all?’

  Madelyn shook her head, ‘He didn’t tell me much. I figured out most of what I told you myself.’ She twisted her lips into a bitter, angry moue, ‘Jimmy didn’t trust anyone, including me.’

  He probably judged others by his own standards, Kate thought but did not say. Personally she was far from sharing the girl’s despair. Her mind was racing, and a sudden brainwave was filling her with excitement. She had it; she knew the answer. Her book! That stupid damned book on sex offenders that she couldn’t finish, and probably never would! There was a killer in there, she believed, and a man who had already murdered at least three girls would not hesitate to kill the likes of Jimmy Shiels. Not to protect his identity. She shivered slightly; he wouldn’t hesitate to murder her either. In fact, he would probably enjoy it. But then she cheered up as she reflected that she was in no danger as George Meagher didn’t know she had her briefcase back. And if she had her way he never would either. She frowned to herself; on the other hand the mysterious stranger hadn’t come after her himself; he had paid someone else to do it, and had only killed Jimmy when backed into a corner. And that did not sound like the actions of a homicidal psychopath who enjoyed killing. She shook her head; there was an anomaly there somewhere but she would have to puzzle it out later.

  Kate was ready to go but still hesitated. And at length she asked, ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Get out of here before whoever killed Jimmy comes looking for me,’ said Madelyn fretfully, her eyes darting about as if expecting an assassin to burst into the room at any moment, ‘He might think I have that case, and kill me to get it.’

  �
��Where will you go?’

  ‘London,’ said Madelyn with finality, ‘I can’t go home and I can’t stay here so there’s nowhere else for me to go.’

  ‘Listen,’ said Kate gently, ‘You might not think it but your family would probably be delighted to have you back home. I’ve seen it again and again; girls who’ve done foolish things and who are afraid to go home, certain they’ll be turned away. And they’re nearly always wrong. No matter what they’ve done their parents are usually overjoyed to have them safely home.’

  The girl grimaced and wrapped her thin arms protectively around herself, ‘Not my parents. A junkie daughter, maybe. Just maybe. But not a junkie daughter carrying Jimmy Shiels’ baby. Have you ever seen a baby born already addicted to heroin?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kate, taken aback. She paused for a minute, ‘Well, you know them better than me, but most people are surprised by just how understanding their parents can be, when it comes down to it.’ Some parents, anyway. ‘Anyway, have a think about it. What have you got to lose? Even if they tell you to get lost you’ll be no worse off than you are now. Or if you prefer I have a friend who works in a detox clinic; he can give you professional help with your addiction. Not in London, though; in Oxford. After all, what will you do in London if you’re still on drugs?’

  Madelyn gave Kate a look that made her suddenly far older than her years, ‘What do you think I’ll do? What else can I do? It’s not like I have a range of skills in demand on the jobs market. Girls like me always end up the same way. It’s the only way we can earn enough to...’ She shrugged her narrow shoulders hopelessly, unable to go on.