6.0 - The Face Behind The Mask

by Helen Phifer

Wally had forgotten all about the suit until he saw it then, in all its bloodstained glory. He felt his fingers lose their grip on the boxes as they slid from his grasp and landed on the floor. He looked down at the huge headline on the front page of the paper: ‘Body Found in Park’; then he looked at the suit, which was on the coat hanger on the back of the door. He felt his stomach lurch as the room began to spin once more. As he fell to the floor, everything went black. His head hit the pizza box, which, luckily for him, broke his fall and stopped his head from hitting the cold, concrete floor and smashing his face in.

  When Wally eventually fluttered his eyelids, he wondered why he was lying on the floor. He shifted his head, feeling the crumpled cardboard underneath him. His body was stiff and he could feel the coldness creeping through his clothes and making his skin numb. He pushed himself up, then opened the pizza box. It was a bit cold now, and pieces of stringy cheese were stuck to the lid. His stomach groaned and he wondered if he’d passed out because he was ill.

  He sat up, leaning against the back of the threadbare sofa where he began to eat the pizza. He didn’t look at the paper and he didn’t turn around to see if the suit was still there. Right now he needed fuel to make his body work properly and that was all he cared about. The churning in his stomach made it hard to stomach the pizza, but he bit more off and chewed it slowly.

  When he had eaten almost three-quarters of it, he pulled the box with the French fries in near to him and ate the ones he could salvage that hadn’t been squashed into the floor when he’d fallen. When he could physically eat no more he still didn’t move, groaning now because he was too full. If he turned around and saw the suit he was liable to throw up everything he’d eaten. What he did was pull himself to his feet and go to the bathroom to look at his face because his nose was sore and his cheek was smarting.

  It took him a couple of attempts to grab the pull-string, but he caught it and yanked it hard enough for the light to fill the room. He looked into the mirror and grimaced. No wonder his nose was sore. It was crusted with dried blood around his nostrils. His cheek had the beginnings of a dark blue and black bruise, filling almost the full side. He prodded it with his finger, the pain making him flinch.

  After running the towel under the tap and wringing it out, he sat on the side of the bath and pressed it against the side of his face. What was he going to do now? Just how had that suit come back? He didn’t understand and none of it made any sense. Why couldn’t he remember going back to get it? When his face was too numb to feel the pain he stood up, had a pee, then took a deep breath and opened the toilet door. He hoped he’d imagined it and that it wouldn’t be there, but he stared at it in horror. It was hanging there in all its glory for the world to see what he had done.

  He forced his trembling legs to walk forwards, towards the costume. He was going to pull it down off that hanger and burn it. It wouldn’t be able to come back if it was a pile of charred ash. As he stood just inches away from it he reached out his hand to grab it, but snatched it back. He couldn’t do it; he was shaking so much. He was afraid of a costume. It was ridiculous. How on earth could that even be possible?

  He backed away from it until his calves pushed against the sofa and he fell back onto it. Not once looking away from it, he wasn’t sure if he was on some huge trip, or whether his antipsychotics had been a faulty batch and not working properly. He might be coming down with something and hallucinating.

  As if he’d reminded himself of how ill he’d felt earlier, the pain in his head came rushing back and he lay down on the sofa – never taking his eyes off the suit until it hurt him to keep them open. Then he turned on his side, away from it. Feeling sleepy, he hoped that when he woke up this would all turn out to have been a bad dream. That there would be no stripy, bloodstained suit that was able to come back of its own accord to watch him and give him orders.

  It was too unreal to make any sense of and he wondered if he was delirious; maybe he was or maybe he’d had a full mental breakdown and couldn’t distinguish between his dream or waking state? All of these were better options than the one he had. He wanted his sneaking suspicion to be true. It was much easier to believe that the suit was haunted and telling him to kill. Even though the reality was it had nothing to do with the costume.

  __________________________

  Colin got dressed, choosing clothes that didn’t stand out in the crowd. No checked shirts or bright jumper today. Instead he opted for a pair of dark-brown trousers, black T-shirt and jacket. He picked up his camera, put it around his neck and walked along the corridor to reception.

  ‘Afternoon, Colin, are you going out?’

  ‘Yes, I think I am. It’s too nice to be stuck in here all day. I’m feeling a bit restless to tell you the truth. I’m thinking of getting the train to Ulverston and having a wander around, if that’s all right?’

  ‘You could get the train to London as long as you’re back before they lock up for the night. You know what the night shift manager is like.’

  Colin winked at her. ‘I do. She’s stricter than a nun running a home for tearaway boys.’

  He turned and walked away. She laughed at him and carried on scrolling through the latest round of everyone’s holiday photos on Instagram. He always felt such a sigh of relief when he was outside the building. As he caught sight of his reflection in a car window he paused. Was that old man staring back at him really him? Where had his life gone in such a flash?

  He smiled to himself and carried on walking in the direction of the train station. If he got a move on he might even make the next train and not have to hang around the platform for forty minutes or more. He liked going on the trains. He’d never gone on them as a kid and they reminded him of his short time with the travelling circus.

  He really wished that policewoman hadn’t come to visit him. He’d been doing all right the way he was. Not thinking about his past life, which was so different to his life now, and it was all so long ago. He preferred to remember the good things that had happened back then and not the bad or the sad. Now he was feeling unsettled again, thanks to her, and he’d have to do something to get rid of it; only he wasn’t sure exactly what it was that would restore the normality in his life. For now, a wander around the town and some photography would have to do the trick.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Colin had got off the train at Barrow, so absorbed in his memories he’d completely missed the Ulverston stop. He’d seen the headlines of the paper on the billboard outside the station café about a body being found in the public park and had decided to have a walk up Abbey Road to the entrance of the park. It was gory, he knew, but he hadn’t seen anything so exciting for years. Of course the body would be long gone and he wouldn’t get anywhere near the park to look, but he had nothing better to do with his time.

  As he’d wandered to where he could see a crowd of youngsters gathered, he’d stood on the opposite side of the road for a short time. Then, walking a bit further up, he found a low wall to perch on and take the weight off his feet. He heard a door slam behind him; he didn’t turn around to see who had come out. It was none of his business, and then he heard a voice whisper, ‘The clown did it, the clown did it, the clown did it.’ Over and over the tall, skinny man from the auction house who Colin had asked about the clown suit walked past him with his head bent down, muttering the same words. Colin watched him.

  The man was the same height as Gordy had been only much slimmer. When Colin was about to get up and go on his way, the man came back. This time his muttering was louder and he was much more agitated than he had been minutes ago. ‘The clown did it, the clown did it.’ Colin turned and watched as the man avoided looking in the direction of the park opposite and then rushed back in through the front door, leaving it open.

  Colin knew that he should ignore it. The man was unhinged. It was plain to see and he could be dangerous. Only he couldn’t ignore it. What had he meant: the clown had done it? He pushed himself up and walked through the open fr
ont gate. He walked into the communal hallway of the flats and saw the door of the flat furthest away close.

  He had no business being here. What he should do was go and tell the police officer standing across the street that there was a man acting very suspiciously in here. He began to walk towards the front door, stepped outside and then paused as his mind flooded with a multicolour slideshow of his life when he’d been truly happy.

  __________________________

  Will went into his office, closing the door behind him; he needed some space to think things through. He also needed some help. It was unfair to expect him to run with both cases. Adele had made him think with her suggestion of packing it all in and going into business with Annie or even finding another job.

  He sat down with a piece of paper and tried to write a list of all the things he was good at. In between chewing on the end of his pen, he managed to write down sex, solving murders, being a dad. What else was he good at? He screwed his eyes up while he tried to think of something else. Was he a good husband? He thought he wasn’t too bad; then he remembered last night and the fact that he hadn’t had time to talk to Annie properly. He’d begun to write that down but then put a big black line through it. No, he wasn’t a good husband if he didn’t even find the time to find out what was scaring his wife so much.

  He tried to think what else he could do. This was so bloody hard. He could do odd jobs around the house, but preferred not to. He couldn’t paint landscapes or write books, and poetry was definitely out of the question. He could set up a private detective agency, but it would still take him away from home and possibly bring him into contact with dangerous people, which meant putting Annie in danger. And besides, if he was going to do something like that he may as well stay where he was. This was too hard. He would have to ask Annie what she thought he was good at. God help them if she said sex, solving murders and being a dad.

  There was a knock on the door and a much cleaner, sweeter-smelling Brad with still-damp hair opened it. ‘Boss.’

  Will sat up, pushing the piece of paper he’d been writing on underneath a frayed brown file on his desk. ‘Brad.’

  ‘What did you want me to do?’

  Will paused as if he was really thinking about it. ‘Learn how to row a boat for starters.’ He couldn’t help himself and started laughing.

  Brad frowned at him. ‘You might be laughing now, but you won’t when I come down with bird flu and pass it on to you lot. You pack of wankers, not one of you came to help me.’

  This made Will laugh even harder. There was some shouting outside and a loud thud, making him stand up. Brad turned to see what was going on and Will heard him mutter, ‘Fuck.’ Will followed him out to see what the commotion was, just in time to see two of the uniformed officers punching the living daylights out of each other. Brad ran and grabbed one and Will the other, pulling them both apart.

  A red-faced Shona was standing there, looking as if she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. In seconds Will had assessed the situation and figured out that Shona had obviously been seeing both of the younger coppers and they’d found out. Will dragged his copper into his office and Brad dragged his along the corridor so they could both calm down before the Chief Super realised what was going on and came out of his office to suspend the pair of them. Adele took Shona off to the ladies’ to compose herself. Will slammed his door shut. He took one look at the miserable expression on the young lad’s face and felt sorry for him.

  ‘Look, I don’t particularly want to know what this is all about because I have a pretty good idea, but you can’t go around fighting like that in the station of all places.’

  He felt a bit of a hypocrite. When he’d first starting seeing Annie, he and Jake had had a similar set-to because Jake didn’t want Will breaking her heart and Will did have a reputation as a bit of a playboy.

  ‘Sorry, Sarge, it won’t happen again.’

  ‘No, it won’t, because next time you might end up with the Super breathing down your neck. I suggest you both apologise to each other and let Shona get on with fucking her own life up and not your careers. Do I make myself clear?’

  He nodded. Will pointed to the door. He was definitely getting too old for all this drama. The officer left and Brad came back along the hall, grinning. Obviously he was glad that at least the gossip about his embarrassing tumble into the park lake hadn’t lasted long. This would keep the gossips busy for weeks. Brad sat down at his desk, waiting for Shona to come back so he could take the piss out of her. Will didn’t know what was worse, working with an office full of twenty-year-olds or being out chasing killers.

  The phone on his desk began to ring and he picked it up. The tone of the voice on the other end told him everything he needed to know without even getting to the details.

  ‘Are you sure? Yes, I’m on my way.’

  He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on, sipping the last of his coffee, then throwing the paper cup into the bin. He went to look for Adele who was on her way out of the ladies’.

  ‘Are you good to go? There’s another body.’

  The look on her face just about summed up how he was feeling at this very moment: pissed off with a huge sprinkling of tired and a stress migraine to add to the enjoyment.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘That block of flats on Abbey Road opposite the park where they tasered that poor woman a few days ago. They don’t know if it’s suspicious yet. It could be a suicide, but the victim is wearing a bloodstained clown suit and the officer on scene can’t see any open wounds.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘This isn’t some kind of wind-up?’

  ‘After today I no longer possess a sense of humour. No, it’s not a wind-up.’

  She sighed loud enough for the pair of them. Will turned to Brad, who was actually sitting playing some stupid game on his phone.

  ‘Brad, turn that off and get yourself up to the mortuary. Take Shona with you. I want a full report on my desk about Billy Marks. See if they’re ready to do the PM. When you get back start getting me every piece of background information we have on the system for him. He’s old-school and will have a record as long as my arm. I want all his associates printed off and the most recent ones spoken to.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘There’s another body.’

  Even Brad’s face paled at the thought of the workload three sudden deaths in the space of a couple of days were going to cause. Adele followed Will. ‘At this rate, the amount of time we’re spending coming in and out of the station and working crime scenes, there’s no need to go to the gym. I’ve never walked so much since I joined the job and was a patrol officer walking the beat.’

  Abbey Road was one of the busiest roads in the town and it was a good job the flats were situated on a stretch of it with four lanes for the traffic; otherwise they would have caused pandemonium. Will parked behind the police van. There was an empty ambulance just in front of it. The two paramedics came out of the shabby-looking front door. One of them, who’d also been present at Pauline Cook’s house, shook her head.

  ‘Does it look suspicious?’

  ‘It looks super weird is how it looks, so yes, I suppose you could say it’s suspicious.’

  He felt his stomach heave at the thought of having to face another body so soon. ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘Nope, he’s relatively fresh. Still warm. We got an emergency call to say someone had stopped breathing. We got here and the flat door was wide open so we went inside and that’s when we saw him lying on the sofa with a plastic bag over his head.’

  Will felt a spark of hope that this was going to turn into a suicide and not a full-blown murder investigation. Not that a suicide was much better. It was still a tragic waste of a life and terrible heartbreak for the family. He was just being selfish and thinking about how much easier it would make his life. The officer who’d come to the job after the ambulance had phoned it in. He was s
tanding at the entrance to the flats.

  Will turned to Adele. ‘We better suit up, just in case.’

  She didn’t say a word and followed him back to the boot of his car to pull out a full set of protective gear.

  ‘You’re going to have to restock, boss; you’re almost out of everything.’

  Will nodded. ‘You’d think that in a bad year you’d maybe use two or three of these things, not three in the space of a week.’

  ‘When I told my sergeant I wanted to transfer to Barrow he actually laughed and said that if I was after an easy life I was fooling myself. I thought he was talking bollocks, but now I realise he was telling the truth. Seriously, it can’t be this bad all the time, can it?’

  Will didn’t know what to say; no, it wasn’t usually. It did, however, go through phases – for want of a better word – where it would be manic and then calm down for a couple of months.

  ‘I’d like to say no, but I’d be lying. It’s not like this all the time; however, it is like this quite often. I bet you’ll be withdrawing your transfer request as soon as possible after this.’

  She looked at him. ‘Nah, believe it or not, as knackered as I am, I like working with you, and the rest of the team aren’t too bad either if you allow for them all being half my age.’

  They went into the block of flats. At least it wouldn’t smell if he was fresh, which was a huge relief. Will was expecting to go upstairs to the flat they’d visited the other night after the serious domestic. He thought that either she’d finished the job off or he’d killed himself.

  As he began to walk up the stairs he heard the officer shout to him, ‘It’s downstairs, boss, the bottom flat on the right.’

  Will turned around and realised it was the flat he’d knocked at with the strange, jumpy man. What was his name? Screwing up his eyes he tried to remember but couldn’t. At least he had his details in the back of his pocket notebook that he’d left in the car. He’d have a look when he came back out.