Hidden

by Derick Parsons

  After some time the tears finally stopped and the two women simply sat together in silence, tightly gripping each other’s hands, with Kate infinitely grateful that not one word of reproach had passed the other’s lips; she really wouldn’t have been able to take it. In fact, after both had regained a measure of control, Noleen had tried to comfort her by saying, ‘Sean’s a Gardai, he takes risks every day. It’s part of the job and he loves his job. I know him better than anyone, and I know he would rather risk being stabbed himself than have arrived a minute later and found you dead. You can’t blame yourself for the act of some maniac.’ She smiled through her tears, ‘Besides, Sean’s tough. If anyone can survive this, he will, don’t you worry.’

  Kate did not reply, understanding that Noleen was really trying to convince herself. She merely closed her eyes in misery, overwhelmed by the woman’s unthinking generosity; Sean had married the right person, another just as strong and brave as he was.

  They sat together, united in fear, for what seemed an eternity but was in fact about six hours, until finally a doctor came and informed Noleen that her husband had passed the critical stage and was now to be considered out of immediate danger. He spoke on for some time but Kate never heard another word of his discourse, and doubted if Sean’s wife did either; out of immediate danger was enough for both of them. Relief dispelled the tension with an almost audible snap and the whole room suddenly seemed brighter and airier as the two women exchanged tearful but joyous smiles.

  At that point Garda Moore, who had stayed by their side all night, occasionally bringing them cups of tea that were left untouched, approached Kate and said firmly, ‘Listen, enough is enough! Go home and get some rest. Don’t forget, we’re going to need an official statement later today, and you need some sleep before the heavies from the detective branch start grilling you.’

  The Women’s Liberation movement might have passed him by but at least he was sensitive enough not to suggest to Noleen that SHE go home, Kate thought. And good-hearted enough to miss a night’s sleep for a comrade he had never met and two women he didn’t know.

  Surprisingly, Noleen patted her hand and said, ‘He’s right, you know. There’s no point in you sitting here any longer. Go home and get some sleep. And don’t worry about Sean; I told you he was tough. And thank you.’

  Kate shook her head, fresh tears running down her cheeks at the other’s generosity, ‘Don’t be silly, I didn’t do anything.’ Except almost get your husband killed.

  Noleen managed a smile, ‘You care, and that’s something. And just having you here was a comfort.’ She included Moore and the Ban Garda in her gaze, ‘And the two of you, too. I’ll never be able to thank you both enough.’

  Moore gave her an embarrassed smile and hung his head before actually leaving the room, muttering something about fetching yet another cup of tea, while the female officer smiled and said, ‘It’s all part of the job.’

  Noleen gave her a tired look and said dryly, ‘Yes.’ And her eyes clearly said, And you don’t know the bloody half of it yet. Just don’t marry another copper. She turned back to Kate and motioned with her head, ‘Go on, it’s all right.’

  ‘What about your children?’ asked Kate, though not without difficulty, ‘I mean, if you need someone to look after them or anything...’

  Noleen shook her head, ‘We took a detour on the way here last night and dropped them off at my mother’s place. The kids will be fine. I didn’t tell them what had happened, of course.’ She gave an immensely weary yet sweet smile, ‘They thought it was all a big adventure and they’re probably having the time of their lives with their Nan.’

  Kate doubted it, knowing that no one picked up on atmospheres and unspoken tensions more quickly than children. But she knew better than to argue. She got to her feet and said reluctantly, ‘Well, if you’re sure. I am pretty tired.’ Utterly exhausted might have been more apt.

  ‘Positive,’ nodded Noleen firmly, ‘Now go.’

  Kate kissed her cheek and walked slowly and tiredly from the waiting-room. The hospital was coming fully to life and there were many more people about, almost causing her to miss Moore walking back towards her down the hallway.

  ‘You’re doing the sensible thing,’ he said briskly, stopping in front of her, ‘There’s nothing you can do here anyway. I’ve got a car outside so I’ll drive you home.’

  ‘But my own car,’ protested Kate, though feebly, ‘I have to collect it.’

  Moore shook his head, ‘Later. Besides, we’re having it watched. In case someone else is also watching it, if you get my drift.’

  Kate did, and understood too why she was being driven home. Random attacks by maniacs, successful or otherwise, are rare; most murderers are well known to their victims. But she must be one of the exceptions; who did she know that would want to kill her? She shook her head in weary disbelief, ‘I think I’m safe enough. It could only have been a random attack by a psychopath. I don’t have any enemies, and no one would set out to deliberately murder me. Me in particular, I mean.’

  ‘Yes, well, just in case,’ said Moore immovably.

  Kate was too tired to think straight, much less argue further, and gave in readily enough, with a weak smile and an, ‘Okay, then, thanks.’

  They left the hospital, emerging into surprisingly strong sunlight that made Kate squint in pain and feel somehow old and tired and none too clean. It also made the events of the night before seemed hazy and unreal, like a partly remembered dream. They got into the police car and drove out to Monkstown in silence but when they turned onto her street and parked Moore said, ‘I’m only a legman on this case, the running of it will of course be up to my superiors. Detectives who are probably personal friends of Morrison. And they’re going to want answers. Make sure you get some sleep, and when you’re rested rack your brain for any possible suspect, however unlikely, because they are going to grill you.’

  Kate nodded wearily; sleep was right! And God did she need it; already the sequence of last night’s events was jumbled in her memory, though fractured images kept flashing into her mind with a clarity she could have lived without.

  Moore held out his hand, ‘Now, give me your keys and I’ll go and make sure there’s no one hanging around in there.’

  Kate gave him the keys and sat back with her eyes shut, thinking, Make sure there’s no one waiting in there to kill me, you mean. And it was not until he was gone that she appreciated the simple bravery of his seemingly casual act. The fear for his safety that immediately flooded her was allayed within five minutes, when he returned and said, with a smile which contained no visible traces of relief, ‘All clear. I noticed you have an alarm in there, with a panic button on it. If anything happens hit that button, okay? I mean the slightest noise, anything. There’ll be a car outside your flat all day and if they hear anything the cavalry will be in to you like a shot. Don’t be embarrassed or afraid of wasting our time; we’d rather answer a hundred false alarms than turn up later and discover a corpse. When you’re rested ring Garda Headquarters in the Phoenix Park and ask to speak to the detective in charge of the Morrison case; tell him you’re ready to make your statement. Okay? All set?’

  Kate got out of the car and, acting on a sudden impulse, leaned back in to kiss him on the cheek before saying, with a heartfelt smile, ‘Thank you so much for all your kindness. I just want you to know that I really appreciate it. In fact, I think you’re wonderful.’

  Moore grinned at her in an attempt at cockiness, though his cheeks blushing bright red betrayed him, and betrayed his youth, ‘Yeah, right; I wish my sergeant thought so. Besides, you know how it is; anything for a pretty girl!’

  Sexist or not, even in her current mood Kate could not resent the remark and instead gave a wry smile, ‘Girl? I wish. It’s been a long time since I was a girl, and after last night I feel about a thousand years old. But it’s nice of you to say it. You will ring me, won’t you? I mean, if there’s any further developments with Sean?’

&nbs
p; He nodded, ‘No problem. If I hear anything.’ He added ironically, ‘I’m due to catch up on a little sleep myself. Now go on. Get some rest.’

  She gave a half-wave goodbye before slamming the car door and walking down her steep stone steps like the old woman she currently felt herself to be. She almost crawled into the flat and, after taking her phone off the hook for what seemed the millionth time in the last few days, walked into the bedroom and curled up in the bed, too exhausted to even think about undressing, much less do it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A faint, distant ringing reached Kate through the heavy black blanket smothering her, causing her to struggle upward to consciousness. She forced her bleary eyes open and looked around foggily; it was dark and she let her face fall tiredly back onto the pillow, her eyelids dragging themselves closed of their own accord. The ringing came again, startling her now that she was semi-awake, and causing her to open her eyes and sit up. It was the doorbell, and as she stood up she fuzzily wondered who could be disturbing her in the middle of the night. She squinted at the clock and got a little shock helped wake her up; it was only eight pm. Not such an unreasonable hour to have a visitor after all. At first she couldn’t believe she had slept the entire day away but then, on reflection, thought that if not for the bell she might have slept right through till the next day. Certainly she didn’t feel rested or refreshed.

  She walked slowly out to the front door and peered through the glass panel at the top. Two men in cheap, off-the-peg suits were standing on the doorstep and she relaxed without even really thinking about it; from their appearance they could only be policemen. She opened the door and said, with a yawn, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you Ms Kate Bennett? I’m Detective Inspector Mullins of Dublin CID, and this is Detective Constable Rafferty. We’d like to ask you a few questions about last night’s incident. Can we come in?’

  Kate stood aside and let them in without examining the proffered warrant card, thinking in dull amazement, Last night? Is that all? Jesus, it seems like weeks ago! ‘Come on in. Is Sean okay?’

  Mullins shrugged, ‘According to the doctors his condition is stable.’ In spite of the shrug there was a pleased expression in his eye that belied his blasé demeanor and Kate felt the little knot of tension in her stomach unwind. She plugged the phone back into its receiver and showed them into the sitting-room before dropping into her favourite armchair with a still-tired yawn.

  Mullins was looking at her with a professionally blank face but in his eyes there was a gleam of curiosity as he inquired, ‘Are you all right, Miss Bennett?’

  Kate had to restrain a laugh; she could imagine only too well what a fright she must look; puffy faced, red-eyed, and her hair looking like a punk rocker’s dream! Death only fractionally warmed up. She offered him the ghost of a smile and said, ‘I’m fine, just a little tired.’

  Mullins nodded and said, without any discernable sympathy, ‘It must have been a terrible ordeal for you. But you weren’t hurt?’

  He was so blatantly indifferent that Kate straightened up and said, in a more business-like tone, ‘I’m fine. Now, I imagine you want to take my official statement about what happened last night?’

  Mullins nodded, ‘Unless you wish to have a solicitor present when make it. That is your right.’

  Kate looked at him in mystification, ‘Why on earth should I want that?’

  Mullins made no reply, but simply looked at her with his carefully expressionless face. After a pause he said blandly, ‘Many people like to have a solicitor present when making an official statement regarding an attempted murder. After all, we don’t yet know precisely what happened last night, and we won’t until Sergeant Morrision is conscious and able to tell us.’

  Kate’s tiredness vanished as she goggled at him in open-mouthed amazement, ‘Am I a suspect, then? You think I could have stabbed Sean?’

  ‘We don’t think anything,’ replied Mullins neutrally, ‘We’re just gathering the facts.’

  Kate shrugged and said, ‘Well, then; no, I do not wish to have a solicitor present. I’ve nothing to hide.’

  Mullins coughed and said, ‘You’re not under arrest, and apart from the right to have a solicitor present you also have the right to not talk to us, but anything you do say will be recorded and may be used in evidence against you. Do you understand these rights?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kate, a trifle sourly; she had always liked working with the Oxford police but was not enjoying her taste of life from the other perspective at all.

  Mullins nodded to his assistant, causing Rafferty to produce a notebook and pen as well as a mini tape-recorder. He switched it on and both cops looked at Kate expectantly. She took a deep breath and rather reluctantly related everything that had happened the night before, up to but not including her night vigil with Morrison’s wife. When she finally tailed off into silence Mullins said, ‘Do you have a copy of this file you were to give Sergeant Morrison?’

  Kate shook her head, completely thrown by this side-track, ‘I don’t know…I don’t know what happened to it. In all the confusion I must have left it in my office.’

  Mullins nodded, and paused for a moment before saying, ‘You’ve had some time to think about this whole affair. Can you think of anyone who might want to kill you?’

  Kate nodded, ‘I’ve been asleep, not thinking, but a couple of possibilities occurred to me. That it was just some nut; that it was some nut who hates psychologists in general; or it was someone I know. Obviously I can’t help you if it was a random maniac but if it was someone I know there are really only two candidates.’

  Mullins raised his brows, apparently in surprise that she could have two mortal enemies, and she took a deep breath and launched into the respective sagas of George Meagher and Arthur Straub. When she was finished Mullins nodded and said, ‘Okay, I can see how this Straub guy might want you dead, but unless you have some hard evidence against him I don’t think you’re that big a threat to Meagher’s future freedom.’

  ‘You forget,’ said Kate dryly, ‘If I’m right he likes raping and killing women. As indeed does Straub.’

  ‘But they’re both in prison, right?’

  Kate nodded wearily, ‘Meagher’s in Mountjoy, Straub’s on the Isle of Wight. And, this guy Wilsons’ antics notwithstanding, it’s hard to imagine either of them having a friend who’d kill for them. Though either could have hired someone, I suppose.’

  ‘Possible but hardly likely,’ said Mullins sceptically, ‘So neither of them are real suspects, now are they? Can’t you think of anyone else that might want you dead, for any reason?’

  Kate shook her head positively, ‘I don’t believe either of them had anything to do with it myself, but they were all I could come up with, unlikely or not.’

  After a moment’s reflection the detective said thoughtfully, ‘You really think this could be the actions of some passing nutcase?’

  Kate thought for a minute before shrugging, ‘Maybe. It can be hard to fathom the thought processes of a maniac; what seems a random assault to us can seem supremely logical to them.’

  Mullins pursed his lips but didn’t reply, and Kate offered, ‘If he was a random psychopath then the chances are he has a history of mental illness. I’d start looking there, as he’s also likely to have a history of assaults against psychologists. Or psychiatrists. Most people don’t know the difference.’

  ‘And what is the difference?’

  ‘Psychiatrists open funny doors, psychologists open doors funny,’ said Kate with a wan smile.

  Neither policeman smiled back and Kate lowered her eyes, ‘Sorry; kind of an in-joke. A psychiatrist has a medical degree and can prescribe drugs to patients. Psychologists aren’t medical doctors and can’t. I specialize in trauma counseling but most psychologists don’t work with the mentally or emotionally disturbed. They generally study human behaviour patterns rather than individuals, and generally work for firms like Coca-Cola, telling them what shape the new bottle should be. To s
ay nothing of our ground-breaking work in telling supermarkets the best places to situate certain items to maximize sales.’

  Mullins gave her a look of surprise, followed by a slight smile that made him look almost human, ‘Thank you, Miss Bennett, you’ve been most helpful. We’ll certainly be looking into with grudges on both types of practitioner. What about this file you were preparing for Morrison, could that have been the reason for the assault?’

  Kate sighed, ‘I don’t see how.’

  ‘What did it contain?’

  Kate took another deep breath and launched into another long explanation, this time regarding Jimmy Shiels and her burglary. When she finally finished Mullins shook his head almost in admiration and said, ‘I can’t believe a pretty young woman like you has so many enemies. Especially as your job entails trying to help people.’

  ‘Well, I never said I was good at it,’ Kate deadpanned, and the two policeman smiled naturally for the first time. The smiles were fleeting, however, and vanished as Mullins said, ‘I can’t believe you left this till last. Someone pays to have you burgled, and then murders the burglar, and you’re talking about random nutters and people already in jail being your only enemies? Surely it’s obvious that whoever was behind Shiels’ murder has to be behind last night’s attack? Which means this mysterious file is the reason for last night’s carry-on as well as the burglary on your flat.’

  Kate shook her head wearily, ‘Maybe. I don’t know what to think anymore. But I’ve been through that file three times and I can’t find anything that incriminates anyone. For anything. There’s nothing there.’

  ‘Nonetheless, we’ll need a copy of everything that was in that case,’ said Mullins firmly, ‘Not just the file you prepared for Sean.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said Kate instantly, ‘Like I told Sean; much of Grainne’s file is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality. I was only giving him an edited version; if you want the complete file I’ll have to check with Trevor Jordan first, and probably a lawyer too. And the DPP.’