by Ellis, Tim
‘Yes, of course.’
She found everything left out on the olive drab green worktop next to the kettle. The kitchen resembled an icebox. After making a two-teabag pot of tea, she carried it all in on a wooden Silver Jubilee tray and poured them both a piping hot cup of tea.
‘Three sugars for me, love, I need to keep me strength up.
Molly spooned two sugars into her own cup and stirred.
‘Ah just the job,’ Bessie said after taking a drink and wrapping her icy hands around the cup. ‘I like you, Molly Stone, what is it you want to know?’
‘Can you tell me about George?’
She pointed to a photograph at the far left of the brown-tiled mantelpiece of the two of them holding ice cream cones and laughing. ‘That was taken at Southend in 1979. I was in love, can you tell?’
‘You look happy.’
‘I was the happiest girl in the world then. George had the gift of the gab – the things he said. He could make you feel as though you were a princess in waiting. Next thing I knew I was pregnant and married. My family disowned me, but I didn’t care. I was head over heels in love. George and me spent whole days in bed making love – the things we did to each other – God, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘He was twenty years older than you.’
‘Age didn’t matter. He was a man of the world. He knew how to woo a girl, make them seem special… That is, until we were married.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘In those days, once you were married, your husband owned you. Oh, things were gradually changing – the feminists were burning their bras, but they hadn’t changed then. He used to beat me something terrible, and then he’d have sex with me every which way. Tied me to the bed and raped me front and back. I still suffer up the back passage, you know?’
‘That’s terrible.’
‘Yes it was. Things are different today, of course, but back then I didn’t know whether I hated him or loved him. I still miss him, still miss the way he made me feel. I don’t miss the beatings, don’t get me wrong, but I always knew what was coming after the beatings. He was an animal, couldn’t get enough, and I couldn’t get enough. I had seven children in as many years, you know. Two died within a year of being born poor things, and I had three miscarriages as well. After the last one they took out my womb – said I couldn’t have any more children. I was glad, I think I’d had all the children there was in me. It was hard though, with five children. At first, George looked after us, but then – in 1985 – he went away and never came back.’
Molly took a swallow of her tea and then said, ‘Do you want to know what happened to him?’
‘You know?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Tell me everything. I know about his other women. He used to taunt me with them, told me how much better they were in bed than me.’
‘His real name was George Hansen, not Myers. He was a burglar, and as far as we know he had nineteen children with four wives.’
Bessie laughed, but there was no joy in her laughter. ‘I didn’t know he’d married them, but it doesn’t surprise me. I wonder if he abused his other families. When he was here, he used to hit the children and me. They were afraid of him. I didn’t find out until a long time after he’d gone what he made them do. I hate him for that. He wasn’t content to abuse me he had to do things to the children as well. They grew up with problems, especially Gabriel. If I’d known I might have been able to stop him, but I didn’t know. They say the wife must know, but I didn’t.’
She went quiet.
‘As far as we know, he did the same with his other families.’
‘He was a monster… I loved a monster.’ Tears ran down her face.
‘You had three boys and two girls?’
‘Yes. Pearl is the eldest. She suffered the longest. Now, she can’t have a relationship with one man at a time. She has three children by different men. I never see Pearl, or my grandchildren. She blames me, you see. They all do. The only one that pops round to see me once a week is Nellie. She’s a carer in an old people’s home, but she hates men and lives with another woman who treats her terrible. I keep telling her she’d be better off on her own, but I see me in her. It gets to the point where you think it’s normal, and you can’t live without it. In a sense, it’s a form of love, and any kind of love is better than none.’
‘I’m more interested in your sons. Do you know where they are now?’
‘Gabriel is the eldest boy. George did awful things to him, but Gabriel tried to fight him. He’s lucky – or unlucky depending on how you look at it – to be alive. Every time George abused him, Gabriel would struggle, scream, and fight with every fibre of his being, but it didn’t matter to George. I know, because I used to fight him as well, and he liked it more. My mum and dad were right, I was a terrible person.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true, Bessie.’
‘It’s true all right. Gabriel spent his childhood in and out of mental institutions, couldn’t control his anger, you see. Thought everyone was like his father. He would hurt anyone who crossed his path, including defenceless animals. George came one time with a puppy, after he’d left Gabriel slit the dog’s throat. If there is such a thing as an evil person, then Gabriel is evil.’
‘Do you know where Gabriel is now, Bessie?’
‘No I don’t, and I don’t want to either. If I wasn’t his mother, I’m sure he’d have come back and killed me. Out of all my children, Gabriel blames me the most. He can’t kill George, and I’m the next best thing.’
‘You never hear from him?’
‘No.
‘Do you think Nellie might know where Gabriel is?’
‘If she does, she isn’t likely to tell me. Nellie has her own problems. I doubt she knows anything about Gabriel. Although… out of anyone, Gabriel was the closest to Nellie.’
‘What about your other two sons?’
‘Sam and Willie? Ha, not a brain cell between them. Sam lives in Norwich. He’s a milkman, married with two children of his own. He doesn’t come back here, says the memories give him nightmares… More grandchildren I never see. Willie mixed with the wrong crowd, used to be a drug dealer. He’s serving a minimum of fifteen years for killing another drug dealer. All in all, Inspector, I wasted my life having children that should never have been born. Now, I sit here day after day waiting for the Devil to come and take me down to Hell, if there is a Hell, which I doubt. My whole life, since I met George, has been a living Hell. I don’t get out much now, except to collect my benefits and do some shopping, and I don’t have any friends. Christmas will soon be here, but it may as well just be another day. Oh, Nellie might pop round to see if I’m still alive and probably bring me a little something, but I won’t see any of my other children or grandchildren.’
‘I’m sorry. Could I have Mollie’s address?’
‘I’ll give you her address, but she’ll be working now. She works from two in the afternoon until ten at night.’
‘And you know where she works?’
‘St Aloysius Residential Home on Parkgate Road in Battersea, near the Somerset Estate.’
‘Does she live near there?’
‘15 Gwynne Road.’
‘Do you have the postcode?’
‘SW11 2TW.’
Molly wrote the two addresses down in her notebook and then looked at her watch. It was one forty-five. ‘I’m sorry, Bessie, but I need to go now.’
‘That’s all right, love. It was nice to see someone and have a chat. You look after yourself, you here. Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘A pretty girl like you should be married with babies. Don’t let my experience put you off, not all men are the same as George.’
‘I’m looking around for someone special, Bessie.’
‘Well, I hope you find him, love.’
‘So do I. I’ll let myself out, you stay wrapped up warm.’
Feeling guilty about leaving Bessie in a
freezing cold house, Molly let herself out.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Even before he opened his eyes, he smelt the fish. He’d forgotten how much he hated the smell of cooked fish. His head throbbed, especially on the right side above the ear. Then he remembered what had happened. He tried to move his hands, to feel the lump on his head, but he was securely bound. After he’d opened his eyes, it took some time before they focused. There was a brazier raging in the middle of the room. A group of men and women in filthy threadbare clothes were standing or sitting on makeshift seats.
‘He’s awake,’ a man said coming towards him. He wore a woollen hat above intense eyes, a pitted nose and a beard. Around his neck was a knotted scarf tucked into a frayed jumper over which he had on an old Army green combat jacket. ‘Hey, he’s awake,’ the man repeated prodding Randall in the chest with the pointed end of a black rolled up umbrella.
A dirt-streaked heavy-set woman with grey uncombed hair and rotting teeth came up and stared at him. ‘Ain’t much to look at.’
‘We ain’t got him ‘ere to look at, Philly,’ came from the other side of the brazier. ‘He’s ‘ere ‘cause he was gonna kill us.’
‘Excuse me?’ Randall said. ‘I didn’t…’
‘Listen to ‘im, Charlie, talking all hoity-toity – Excuse me, your lordship.’ Philly said, squatting on his legs and kissing him on the lips.
Randall began gagging. He guessed she was in her mid-fifties, and could smell body odour, urine, fish, sour milk, and Indian takeaway. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he said to her.
‘Leave him alone, Philly. Let’s hear what he’s gotta say for hisself.’
‘Okay, Charlie,’ Philly said kissing Randall on the lips again then standing up.
The group shifted from the fire to surround him. Randall looked around. He was propped up against a wall with the brazier between him and the open door. His hands and legs were tied. There were seven people besides him in the room. They looked like tramps, and he guessed he’d stumbled into a squat that they were willing to kill to protect. He wriggled his hands to see if there was a chance he could get free, but whoever had tied him up had done a good job.
‘Well?’ a man said.
‘When are we gonna kill ‘im, Charlie?’
The man named Charlie wore a dirty herringbone coat over layers of clothing. He had the squashed nose and mangled ears of a boxer, and rocked on the balls of his feet like a southpaw. In his right hand he held Randall’s gun.
‘I was regimental boxing champion three years running, Mister. Wouldn’t take me long to beat the truth out of you. So, think carefully before you start spinnin’ us a tale.’
‘I’m police, a Detective Inspector…’
‘No warrant card, no bullet-proof vest, no radio, and carryin’ a non-issue handgun,’ Charlie said. ‘Try again?’
‘Shoot him in the knee,’ Philly cackled. ‘I saw it in a film once, that’ll get him tellin’ us the truth, Charlie.’
‘Okay, I used to be a copper. I came in here looking for a murderer. I’m investigating the Butcher Murders… He killed my family, and when I find him I’m gonna kill him.’
Charlie squatted on one knee and rested the muzzle of the Glock on Randall’s top lip. ‘A more likely story is that you was sent by that developer fella to get us out of here, and if we’d resisted you would have killed us and dumped us in the river to float away. Nobody would have cared about a few old tramps.’
There were grunts and nods from the others in the group, and they pushed forward like a lynch mob. ‘Good job we got the drop on ‘im hey, Charlie?’ someone said.
Randall wondered how he was going to get out of Viking Wharf alive. When he was a copper, there’d been a lot of people who’d said they were going to kill him, but didn’t have what it took to take the life of another human being. Some, however, would have killed him at the drop of a hat, and Charlie was one of them. In his eyes, he could see that the ex-soldier had killed men before, and wouldn’t flinch at what needed to be done.
‘I promise you, I didn’t come down here to kill you, or get you out of the building. I’m looking for a murderer. My name’s Cole Randall.’
‘He’s gonna say anythin’ to save his life, Charlie,’ Philly said. ‘We’ll never know whether he’s tellin’ us the truth or not. I say kill ‘im and dump ‘im in the river, and then that developer fella will know we mean business.’
Charlie stood up. ‘Needs more thinkin’ ‘bout. Let’s say he was sent to get us out and we kill him, what then?’
‘Then that’s it,’ a man’s voice said. ‘We’ll have won.’
‘You don’t think the developer will send a bunch of heavies with bazookas down here next?’ Charlie said. ‘He’s tried reasoning with us, offered us money, and now he sends a hired killer after us. If we get rid of this one, more will follow.’
‘So, what you sayin’, Charlie? That we give up, move on. This is our place now, and I for one ain’t goin’ nowhere.’
‘We keep ‘im as an ‘ostage,’ Philly said showing her blackened teeth. ‘That’s what you’re sayin’ ain’t it, Charlie?’
‘Yeah, that’s the answer,’ someone else said.
A man kicked Randall’s leg. ‘Yeah, it’ll give us time to torture him. Get a stick out of the fire, Freddy, I’ll soon ‘ave ‘im singing like a canary.’
‘Shut up, Tolly,’ Charlie said. ‘Ain’t nobody torturing nobody. You forget, I been there, in Bosnia, it was God-awful and I ain’t bringin’ back those memories for no one.’ He waved the gun in Tolly’s direction. ‘You hear me, Tolly?’
Tolly was a short stocky man with long greasy hair parted in the middle, wide-rimmed glasses perched on a bulbous nose, and a dark moustache hiding a hair lip. ‘Sorry, Charlie, I forgot about the cleansin’.’
‘Yeah well, I’ll never forget, so don’t start me remembering. You know what my nightmares are like.’
‘So, we’re gonna keep him tied up ‘ere are we?’ asked a woman wearing a checked jacket and smoking a roll-up cheroot. ‘He’ll be one more mouth to feed, and how long are we gonna keep him for?’
‘Ain’t no one said we got to feed him, Emmy,’ Philly said. ‘Let the bugger starve.’
‘Excuse me…’ Randall interrupted.
‘Excuse me,’ Philly mimicked.
Although his situation was dire, Randall smiled. ‘I have a way to resolve this, so that you’ll know I’m telling the truth.’
‘Go on?’ said Charlie.
‘I was released from Springfield Asylum last Friday, my face was all over the newspapers. I’m an ex-copper. You could get a newspaper and confirm my story.’
‘Do we look like people who get the Times delivered?’
Philly cackled. ‘Good one, Charlie.’
‘You’ve obviously emptied my pockets and checked my ID,’ Randall said. ‘Use the money you found to buy some newspapers, see if you can get one from Friday. The last thing you need is someone eating you out of…’ He was going to say ‘house and home’, but thought better of it. ‘Once you get a newspaper, you’ll be able to verify who I am.’
‘Okay, we’ll get a newspaper to see if you’re tellin’ the truth, but if you’re lyin’ I’m gonna kill you without givin’ it a second thought. Freddy, you want to go?’
‘Are we gonna use his money to buy us some food and drink as well?’
‘You can use it all, I don’t mind,’ Randall said.
‘It’d be tough if you did mind eh, Charlie?’ Philly said sitting astride Randall’s legs again.
‘Do what the fella says, Freddy,’ Charlie said. ‘Use it to buy what people want. How much is there?’
‘A hundred and twenty pounds,’ Emmy said. ‘I’ll go with Freddy, you know, just in case.’
Freddy turned on Emmy. ‘Just in case of what?’
‘Just in case you forget where you live.’
‘Take Emmy with you, Freddy,’ Charlie agreed. ‘You’ll need someone to help you carry all the stuf
f anyway.’
After a heated discussion, it was decided that each one of the eight people could spend £10 and that Charlie would retain £40 for emergencies. Emmy and Freddy made a list of the things people wanted.
‘Don’t forget Tommy,’ Charlie called after them.
Philly cackled and kissed him again. ‘Tommy’s on lookout. He was the one who cracked you one.’ Her face lit up and she turned to Charlie. ‘I could have his baby, Charlie.’
‘Get off him, Philly,’ Charlie said. ‘Every time you have a baby, Philly, the Social take it off you.’
Philly started to undo Randall’s belt and zip. ‘Maybe they’ll let me keep this one, Charlie.’
Bucking like a bronco Randall shouted, ‘Will you get this mad woman off me?’
‘Don’t talk about Philly like that,’ Tolly said kicking Randall’s leg. ‘She ain’t doin’ any harm.’
‘Come away, Philly,’ Charlie said again. ‘You can ‘ave his baby if we decide to kill him.’
Philly grinned, kissed him on the lips and stood up leaving his penis hanging out. He didn’t complain, he was just glad to have her off him.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Molly turned the key in the ignition, put the heater to number four, and lit up a cigarette. As she was opening the window just enough for the smoke to be sucked out, her mobile began playing Tubular Bells.
‘Hello Andrew.’
‘Princess, you are speaking to a man whose heart has shrivelled to the size of a pea through lack of love.’
‘We’ll need to do something about that, Andrew.’
‘And in anticipation of your answer, I have arranged a treatment session at the Chapulines restaurant at the top of Hammersmith Grove near the Health Centre for eight o’clock tonight. I hope you like Mexican food?’
‘It’s not all chilli is it?’
‘No, I’m sure they have food without chilli.’
‘Then I’ll come and rub your shrivelled heart until it blossoms into one that is bursting with love.’
‘I’ve already started counting the seconds, Princess. I’ll meet you at Hammersmith tube station at seven forty-five.’