Murder in Mind

by Lyndon Stacey

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop doing that!’ Joy snapped suddenly, then rubbed a hand over her face. ‘Sorry, I’m tired.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry.’ Contrite and a little taken aback, Matt removed the hatpin from the foam and put it back in the vase with the others. ‘I didn’t realise – I mean, I thought it was just an offcut.’

  ‘It is; it’s just – you kept stabbing it with that bloody pin and it reminded me …’

  Watching her closely, Matt saw her eyes begin to fill with tears. He straightened up and put out a hand to touch her arm, deeply concerned.

  ‘Something is wrong, isn’t it? What did it remind you of?’

  Joy shook her head, shrugging his hand off and bending over her work again.

  ‘Nothing – just leave it, please Matt.’

  ‘No. You can’t tell me it’s nothing. You’re all on edge. What’s the matter?’

  After a moment’s silence, Joy gave in.

  ‘It’s Deacon’s cat. Did Kennie tell you about that?’

  Matt nodded. ‘She said it was run over.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t. It was killed with one of those – a hatpin. Someone stuck one right through it. But you can’t say anything,’ she said, rushing on. ‘Please Matt – you won’t, will you? No one’s supposed to know.’

  ‘Why? What’s going on, Joy? Who did it?’ Matt’s mind was racing through the possibilities. ‘Oh no … not Deacon?’

  Joy’s expression confirmed his fears.

  ‘Oh, Joy …’

  ‘How did you guess? Did he say something?’

  ‘No, I had no idea. But I did know Frances was worried about him – Kendra told me the other night. I didn’t think any more of it, to tell the truth.’

  Joy nodded.

  ‘I wondered how long it would be before Frannie guessed the truth, but, to be honest, the way Deacon’s been lately, someone was bound to start asking questions. I told Charlie we needed more help, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’

  ‘So what’s actually wrong with him?’

  Joy looked down at the worktop.

  ‘I shouldn’t be telling you …’

  ‘But you’ve already admitted something’s wrong. You can’t stop there.’

  Joy took a steadying breath, then looked Matt full in the eyes.

  ‘Deacon has schizophrenia.’

  He’d been expecting something of the sort, but the confirmation was still shocking.

  ‘When? I mean, how long has he had it? When did you find out?’

  ‘About nine months. It started while he was at university. We were getting reports that he was having problems concentrating and seemed increasingly withdrawn and depressed. The doctor on campus was worried about him, and eventually his roommates admitted that they’d been experimenting with drugs a time or two. I don’t suppose it was anything more than a bit of grass, but it may just have been enough to trigger it. Apparently it can happen that way, sometimes.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Nor did I. I don’t suppose many people do. Deke was just unlucky. We brought him home and consulted a specialist. When he made the diagnosis, Charlie was devastated. At first he didn’t believe it – didn’t want to believe it, really. He’s our only son, Matt, and Charlie had such plans for him. He took Deacon abroad to a special clinic so no one would know. We invented the story that there’d been kidnap threats and that he’d gone to stay with friends. It took a while to get his medication right. Deacon was gone for three months or more and, when he came back, Niall Delafield was with him.’

  ‘Delafield’s a doctor?’

  ‘Not exactly. But he was an army medic, once upon a time. I’m not entirely sure where Charlie found him – someone’s recommendation, I think – but he’s been a godsend. On the surface a security man and minder, but also a nurse. You see, the problem is that, when Deacon’s on his medication, he feels fine, and, before long, he becomes convinced he no longer needs it – schizophrenics can recover, you know. And, anyway, they aren’t normally violent. A lot of sufferers don’t have psychotic episodes at all.’

  ‘But not Deke.’

  ‘No.’ Joy shook her head sadly. ‘The trouble is, it’s such a fine balance. The medication has a sedative effect and, when he’s on it, he tends to be dreamy and lethargic; he seems to have no real motivation and, some days, he gets the shakes. He hates taking it but, when he doesn’t, the symptoms come back.’

  ‘What happens then?’

  ‘Well, mostly he’s very withdrawn and depressed. He’ll sit for hours, apparently doing nothing except muttering to himself or rocking to and fro. But then he can become jumpy and unpredictable, and, just occasionally, he has flashes of temper. It’s scary, Matt – like dealing with a stranger. He’s my own child and I feel I don’t know him at all. Worse still, I can see that he’s in torment and I can’t help him – just can’t help him at all.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she stood staring sightlessly at the hat in her hands.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Matt said, putting a hand out to cover one of hers. Words just didn’t seem adequate, but his touch seemed to recall her from the private hell she was gazing into.

  ‘It was Charlie’s idea to tell people he’s on pills for a migraine problem and that he mustn’t have alcohol for the same reason. Alcohol makes it much harder to get the dose right.’

  ‘And Delafield keeps an eye on him and makes sure he takes his medicine?’

  ‘He tries to, but Deacon is getting more and more cunning in finding ways to outwit him.’

  ‘And is that what happened when he attacked the cat?’

  ‘We think so. It’s the only explanation. I came in here early that morning and found the poor thing on the floor. Oh, Matt – it was horrific. It made me physically sick. The pin was pushed right through from one side to the other – the poor little thing …’ Her face contorted as she recalled the gruesome find. ‘And it’s so sad, because he loves cats, and, once he was back on his medication, he had no memory of what he’d done. But every time I look at him now, I remember … Niall was marvellous, he offered to take the blame; told Deacon he’d accidentally run the cat over. There was a huge row.’

  Stabbed with a hatpin, Matt thought with revulsion, remembering the jokey conversation Deacon had walked in on, the night of the barbeque. Had that, in fact, planted the idea in his subconscious? He tried to recall who had started it, and had a horrible feeling it might have been himself.

  ‘I find it hard to believe that you’ve kept all this from the girls – his illness, I mean. Is that fair? Is it safe, even?’

  Joy looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Charlie insisted that we did. He dreaded the secret getting out – said, if the girls knew, then, sooner or later, one of them would let it slip and then everyone would know. He said Deacon would be all right as long as he took his meds. Oh, I argued with him, I can tell you. I thought it was wrong – but he was adamant; you know what he’s like.’

  ‘It was wrong,’ Matt stated with conviction. ‘What if it hadn’t been the cat he turned on? What if it had been one of his sisters?’

  ‘I know,’ Joy said miserably. ‘I’ve thought of nothing else ever since, but you have to understand, this was the first time he’d been violent. He’d never done anything like that before. But now even Charlie has admitted that something has to be done. Niall’s adjusted his medication, but that worries me too. I mean, Niall’s been very good, but he’s not a proper doctor, or even a trained psychiatric nurse, and sometimes I think Charlie forgets that. Anyway, Deke’s been fine on the higher dose, until …’

  ‘Until what … ? What’s happened?’ Matt was watching Joy closely and saw her eyes flicker towards the window, almost involuntarily. Suddenly all the individual anomalies of the evening began to connect in his mind. Greening’s surprise, the missing cars, and Joy’s obvious anxiety; seen together they became ominous. With a chill premonition, he asked, ‘Joy – where’s Deacon now?’
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br />   ‘That’s just it,’ she admitted, miserably. ‘We don’t know. He was in his room resting and then he was gone. Niall says he was upset and asking about the cat again this afternoon. He wonders if he was beginning to remember – can you imagine how terrifying that would be? Oh, Matt, I’m so scared! He’s such a gentle person – knowing he’d done something like that would tear him apart. I’m afraid …’ She didn’t finish the sentence, her face crumpling as a desperate sob broke past her guard.

  Matt was pretty certain he knew what she couldn’t bring herself to say. She was worried that, for someone with Deacon’s sensitivity, the knowledge that he was capable of doing such a thing might prove impossible to live with. Much as he would have liked to reassure her, Matt couldn’t. He was very much afraid she could be right. He turned, instead, to the practicalities.

  ‘How long has he been gone?’

  Joy took a deep shuddering breath and pulled a tissue from a box on the worktop.

  ‘Um … we think he must have gone about the same time as the girls did. With all the commotion of them setting off, he must have slipped out without anyone seeing him. Niall and Charlie are out looking for him now.’

  Matt consulted his watch.

  ‘So, about forty minutes or so. Is he – I mean, has he taken his medication?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. Niall says so, anyway.’ She sniffed and wiped her nose. ‘I just thank God Niall’s here.’

  Matt wished he shared her faith in the ex-army medic and wondered whether her husband had told her about Delafield’s sexual tastes. He shrugged the thought away. After all, it had no bearing on the present problem.

  ‘Has Deke taken a car?’

  Joy shook her head.

  ‘No.’

  Matt thought of the garage, wide open and inviting. If Deacon had doubled back, he could have helped himself to whichever of the vehicles he fancied – always supposing he could lay his hands on the keys. But then that would be the action of someone who was thinking logically and who had somewhere in mind to go, and Matt wasn’t sure either factor applied in Deacon’s case.

  ‘Have you told the police?’

  ‘No. He’s been gone less than an hour. They won’t be interested.’

  ‘But – with his condition …’

  ‘No! Charlie doesn’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘But surely Deacon’s safety is what matters?’ Matt felt exasperation rising.

  ‘Of course it is! I know that, but they’re sure they’ll find him. I mean – he can’t have got far on foot, can he?’

  ‘The longer it takes, the further he will get,’ Matt pointed out. ‘Look, can I help? Which way have they gone, do you know?’

  Joy shook her head helplessly.

  ‘I think Niall was going towards the town, but I’m not sure where Charlie went.’

  ‘OK, well there’s nothing I can do here, so I’ll go back by way of Rockfield and up over the hill by the gallops. I’ll leave my phone on, so let me know if there’s any news.’

  Joy thanked him and promised she would, and he left her drying her eyes and went out into the bitter wind to collect his car, scanning the vehicles in the garage on his way past. As far as he could see, they were all there except for Brewer’s car, the Land Rover, and the Porsche that Grace liked to be seen in – presumably the girls had taken that. Just to be on the safe side, he paused long enough to turn the light off and operate the electronic closing mechanism on the wide rollback door.

  In the MR2, he turned the heating up and, as he pulled away, a few pellets of icy rain bounced off the windscreen.

  ‘So much for global warming,’ he muttered, hoping that Deacon had found somewhere out of the cold wind.

  There was little traffic on the back road to Rockfield, where Matt hesitated before turning into the drive that led to the farmhouse and yard. He thought it unlikely that Deacon would have gone there, but, for the sake of five minutes, it seemed worth checking, just to be sure.

  John Leonard answered his knock, blinking slightly, as if he’d just woken up. He looked surprised to find Matt on his doorstep.

  ‘Matt. Er … come in.’

  ‘I won’t, thanks. Actually, I’m looking for Deacon. I don’t suppose he’s been here, has he?’

  ‘Deacon? No. Why?’ Leonard looked understandably mystified; Deacon wasn’t a frequent visitor to the yard.

  Unable to think of a convincing lie, Matt opted for the partial truth.

  ‘He seems to have gone AWOL and, as I was passing, I promised to pop in and ask if you’d seen him.’

  ‘Good for him, I say,’ the trainer growled. ‘Time he showed a bit of spirit.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Matt didn’t know what else to say. A couple of hours ago he would have agreed whole-heartedly. ‘Well, I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Back in the car, Matt left the farm and took the narrow lane that led up the steep hill parallel to the gallops. Just over a car’s width wide with passing spaces, it was flanked by fields fenced with barbed wire and hawthorn hedges of varying density and, to Matt’s knowledge, led nowhere except to a group of isolated farm buildings standing on the very top of the rise. A couple of miles further on, the lane curved round the head of a deep valley before descending to the village of Langford Combe.

  As the car climbed out of the dip, the wind drove another scattering of ice particles against the windscreen and Matt’s mobile phone gave a loud ding ding to indicate a message left. Operating the keypad clumsily with his left hand, Matt’s attempts to retrieve the message whilst on the move were interrupted by another call.

  ‘Hello?’ he said.

  ‘Luke?’

  Matt just managed to check the instinctive denial, remembering that it was the name he’d used on his visit to Kelsey Grange.

  ‘Er, yes – speaking.’

  ‘Is he there?’ the voice demanded, and something about it sounded familiar. In the background Matt could hear the thumping rhythm of a pop track.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Niall. Is he with you?’

  ‘No. Why would he be?’ Matt had placed the accent now; it was indeed Delafield’s boyfriend.

  ‘Well, he’s not here,’ Wintermann said, with an audible tremor. ‘So, if he’s there, you can tell him – from me – that I’m through being fucked around, and I never want to see him again! You’re welcome to him, OK? He’s let me down one time too many. Well, this is the last fucking time!’

  Taking advantage of a pause in the emotional deluge, Matt said quickly, ‘Hang on a minute, Joe. I told you, he’s not here. And anyway, Niall and I are just friends.’

  ‘Niall doesn’t have friends,’ came the bitter reply, ‘he just uses people.’

  ‘Well, I’m no threat to you, I promise. I’m straight – I have a girlfriend.’

  ‘So how do you know him, then? Were you in the army together?’

  ‘No, we just work for the same bloke.’ Matt steered the car into the side of the road, took it out of gear, and applied the handbrake, searching all the while for a way to gain the designer’s confidence. To prolong the conversation, he asked, ‘So what’s happened?’

  ‘Well, he didn’t come, did he? He promised to be here and he didn’t fucking come!’

  ‘Your fashion show …’

  ‘Yeah, of course – my show. I saved him the best seat – should’ve known better, I suppose. Now everybody knows I’ve been stood up. I feel so bloody stupid!’

  ‘He’s a shit,’ Matt agreed. ‘Did you try and ring him?’

  ‘Of course I tried, but he wouldn’t speak to me. Said he was sorry, but he was too busy to talk, and then he cut me off. Now he won’t answer at all. Well, sorry just doesn’t cut it anymore. Where does he think he gets off, treating me like that?’

  ‘Did he tell you he was with Deacon?’ Matt asked provocatively.

  ‘No.’ Warily. ‘Is he?’

  ‘Well, I know he was looking for him. You do know about Deacon?’


  ‘Oh God, do I ever? It’s all I hear – Deacon this, Deacon fuckin’ that. When his precious Deacon calls he has to drop everything and run. It happened the other day. First time we’d had a night out for ages and then the phone rings and he’s off. Left me outside the nightclub and told me to get a taxi home. We’d only just got there. Bastard!’

  ‘He didn’t! And you think it was Deacon who called?’

  ‘I know it was. Niall used his name. He was trying to calm him down.’

  ‘And why was that? Did he tell you?’

  ‘No, but I guessed. You see, I don’t think he had the night off at all,’ Wintermann confided. ‘I think he’d left Deacon somewhere and the kid had got himself in trouble. I reckon Niall was shitting himself in case the big chief found out he was shirking. He’s onto a cushy number there, and there’s no way he wants to lose it. But I’m getting sick of it, you know? It’s like his bloody job means more to him than I do.’

  ‘When was that – can you remember?’

  ‘Um, I don’t know … about three weeks ago, maybe? What’s it to you?’

  ‘Was it a Saturday?’ Matt held his breath. Three weeks ago, on a Saturday night, was when Sophie was killed. Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence?

  ‘Yeah … Why?’ The reply came slowly, cautiously.

  ‘And that’s all you heard?’

  ‘It was a nightclub; it wasn’t exactly quiet in there,’ Wintermann pointed out.

  ‘Have you ever met Deacon?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘No. Why … ? Look, what’s all this about?’

  ‘Did he ever tell you what happened that night?’

  ‘Not really. I asked, but he said it was all taken care of.’

  ‘So, what nightclub were you in?’ Matt could tell he was pushing it, but he had to try. If the nightclub had CCTV, the police would have the evidence they needed that Delafield had lied to them.

  It was a question too far.

  ‘No, look – you’re fucking me about! Who are you? You’re not Niall’s friend. Leave me alone.’

  ‘Joe, please – it could be important …’ Matt began, but his phone bleeped to signal a lost connection and the display showed call ended.