by Helen L Lowe
‘You need to be on the couch if you want me to examine you.’
‘I haven’t come here for that I just wanted to talk . . .’
‘I’m working - I don’t have time for chats.’
‘Please, Joe - give me a break here.’
Joe paused. ‘Ok, you can talk after I’ve examined you.’
Julian stood up and removed his jacket and shirt and as he was throwing them onto the chair, his inhaler dropped on the floor.
Joe picked it up. ‘Are you asthmatic?’
Julian nodded.
‘You should have told me that at the police station - that would explain the wheezing I heard. I thought it was to do with your injuries.’ He turned Julian around to look at the bruises that were now representing the colours of a rainbow. ‘You look like you were run over by a truck.’
‘That’s what it feels like.’
When Julian was lying on the couch, Joe did a thorough examination of his chest and abdomen and the injury to his left side which was now a dark bruise of impressive dimensions.
‘Urine ok?’
Julian nodded.
Joe signalled for him to get up. ‘It looks like you were lucky this time - next time may not go so well.’
Julian sat on the edge of the couch. ‘Can I talk now?’
Joe checked his watch. ‘You’ve got five minutes.’
‘I need to explain what happened at the restaurant . . .’
‘I know what happened.’
‘No, you don’t. You think I got upset about your guilty secret from years ago, behaved like an idiot and stormed off.’
‘Well, didn’t you?’
‘If I’ve only got a few minutes you need to stop interrupting.’
Joe raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
‘Yes, I did get upset but not for the reasons you think - what you said brought back some memories from years ago - when I was a kid - nothing to do with you but in the restaurant I recognised the signs of a panic attack, again something that hadn’t happened for years, so I had to leave the restaurant quickly and try to calm myself down. I ended up on a bench by Kensington Gardens and the panic attack sparked off my asthma.’
‘And your arrest at the Coleherne?’
‘As I told you before, I was beaten up by the policemen who arrested me. I was just distributing photographs of my son who is missing and they decided I looked suspicious and laid into me.’
‘I didn’t know you had a son.’
‘Well, I have.’
‘And you’re not gay?’
‘No.’
Joe rolled his eyes. ‘Damn it - d’you know what the worst of it is - I didn’t believe the charges against you - gays are always getting beaten up and arrested on spurious charges. I gave you a hard time at the police station because I thought you were gay and therefore a hypocrite by the way you reacted to my confession in the restaurant - but really I was quite prepared to forgive you in the end - I was just hoping that it was true and you were gay - I love you Julian - I always have.’
Julian stared back at him with no idea of how he could respond to that.
‘Anyway, it looks like the joke’s on me – but I have to get back to work now - patients are waiting.’
‘Joe, please don’t just walk off, I need your help - as a friend?’
Joe shrugged. ‘Ok, I’m listening.’
‘I’ve been approached by a DCI in the police. He wants me to help them get evidence on a guy who goes to the Coleherne.’
‘Really – evidence for what, and why you?’
‘Because when I went to the Coleherne the other night I met this guy who made it obvious he liked me. I found out later that the police had him under surveillance - they think he’s the Thames Butcher.’
Joe’s jaw dropped open. ‘The Thames Butcher? At the Coleherne? When you say he liked you, you mean . . .’
‘He’s gay.’
‘What do they expect you to do?’
‘They want me to see him, date him, pretend that I like him. They’re going to bug his flat and phones and listen in on our conversations. They say they can get me out quickly if things get rough.’
‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing.’ He rested his hand on Julian’s shoulder. ‘Christ man, you really are in the shit. Why did you go to the Coleherne to find your son, is he gay?’
‘I don’t honestly know for sure but I was told that he goes to the Coleherne. Sam’s a good kid but he got in with the wrong crowd and he’s on heroin. I was told he goes to the pub for tricks to earn money to feed his habit.’
‘I’m sorry, really sorry to hear that - you must be worried sick.’
Julian nodded. ‘I’m particularly worried because the man knew Sam.’
Joe checked his watch. ‘I really need to get back to work. I’m taking a break in half-an-hour, can you wait and we’ll have some lunch in the staff canteen? You can tell me more then.’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Wait here a minute, I’ll get the nurse to take those stitches out. The eye has healed nicely.’
The food in the canteen was hot and plentiful and that was the best that could be said but the quality of the food didn’t interest either of them.
‘So, how can I help?’ Joe said.
‘Well, even though DCI Chase assured me that they would be close by and could get me out within minutes, he asked me how I managed aggressive patients. When I said that I’d give them an injection of a strong sedative, he suggested that it might be a good idea to carry something on me as a back-up. Something I could use if Erikson got violent and it was somewhere other than his flat or gym.’
‘What did you call him?’
‘Chase?’
‘No, the other guy.’
‘Erikson, John Erikson.’
Joe groaned. ‘For goodness sake, you must have a magnet for danger? That man is evil.’
‘You know him?’
‘What gay in London doesn’t - anyone who goes to the Coleherne and any other gay bar within a fifty mile radius knows him - he’s a sadistic bastard. I can’t believe the police are going to use you as bait.’
‘Chase didn’t force me. It was my choice in the end. If Erikson knows Sam from the Coleherne he could have easily taken him and even if he didn’t, he might give me some clues on how to find him.’
‘You’re not going to change your mind no matter what I say, are you?’
Julian shook his head.
‘Ok, so you need something to knock the bastard out fast.’
‘Diazepam?’ Julian suggested.
‘Haloperidol - chlorpromazine, maybe?’
‘Diazepam acts faster and has fewer side effects.’
‘Who cares about side effects, nothing could be bad enough for him - IV or IM?’
‘Both - I’ll use IV if I can. If not, IM will have to do.’
‘That could take a good fifteen minutes to take effect - but it would definitely slow him down after five minutes or so. When are you going to see Erikson again?’
‘Tonight.’
‘Ok, stay here.’
Julian looked around the canteen and saw a table of four nurses looking his way; when they saw that he had noticed them they erupted into giggles. When Joe came back, two of the nurses had moved closer to Julian and were trying to get his attention.
Joe shook his head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe I even considered you were gay.’ He placed a white pharmacy paper bag in front of Julian. ‘I’ve given you two bottles of diazepam plus extra syringes and needles.’ He suddenly laughed. ‘And now I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re addicted to the stuff.’
‘No, but I think I’m an addict.’
Joe grinned at him. ‘What of - sex?’
‘Alcohol.’
‘You’re serious, sorry - have you been diagnosed?’
Julian shook his head. ‘I’m drinking every day and I don’t have a stop button.’
‘But you’re going through a lot of stress rig
ht now . . .’
‘It’s been like this for years.’
‘D’you think it’s connected to that memory you mentioned from your childhood - the one that sparks off your panic attacks?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Ok, we can tackle that another time when you’ve stopped being a hero.’
They left the canteen and walked up the stairs to the ground floor.
‘Are you going to tell me how you got all those bite marks and scratches – not to mention welts - I presume they were from a whip of some kind?’
‘I was with a girl who got too excited.’
‘It must have hurt to leave marks like that. I hope you didn’t do the same to her.’
‘No, I was a bit tied up at the time.’
Joe stopped him at the top of the stairs. ‘When you say “tied up” . . .’
‘I mean “tied up”,’ Julian felt his face flush. ‘Handcuffed, actually.’
‘I didn’t know you were into SM.’
‘I’m not.’
Joe chuckled. ‘You really ought to choose your friends more carefully.’
They stopped at the doors of casualty.
‘D’you think you could remember to check in with me every now and then,’ Joe said, ‘so I know you’re still alive - as a friend would.’ He took a pen from his top pocket and wrote his number and address on the back of Julian’s hand. He gave the pen to Julian and held his hand towards him. ‘Go on - now yours.’
Julian did the same and laughed. ‘It’s been years since I’ve done that - now I feel like we’ve got a date.’
Joe grinned and slapped him on the back causing him to wince with pain. ‘Many a true word is spoken in jest.’
* * *
Julian got back to Sussex House at 3:30 p.m. and was opening the front door when Harriet came out of the sitting room.
‘Julian - I was wondering when you would get here. You’ve missed lunch, I’m afraid.’
He remembered the invitation to Sunday lunch the moment he saw her. ‘Sorry - I had an appointment at St Mary’s to take my stitches out and I forgot the time.’
She came closer and looked at the scar under his eyebrow. ‘Yes, I can see they’ve taken them out and it’s healed well but they don’t usually give appointments on a Sunday, especially not Easter Sunday.’
‘No, you’re right, but I knew the doctor - an old friend from medical school,’ he said, wondering why on earth he had to justify himself to her.
She smiled, apparently satisfied with his explanation. ‘I see - never mind - I’m sure I can think of some way you can make it up to me. I’ll try and think of something we can do together.’
Walking up the stairs reminded him of how much he ached, and he decided a hot bath might help. As he was running a bath, he thought about the situation that seemed to be developing between him and Harriet. She was behaving like they had some kind of relationship going on and he was sure he hadn’t given her any encouragement. He made a mental note to find a way of defusing what was threatening to be a difficult situation but right now his priority was to get some rest.
After a long hot bath, two codeine tablets and a large whisky, he was sleeping like a baby. At 6 p.m. he was woken by a knock on his door for a phone call. It was Lizzie.
‘I’m going to drive up this evening and I was wondering if you’d be free for lunch tomorrow.’
‘Yes, that would be great.’
‘There’s a nice restaurant in Hyde Park, on Serpentine Road - The Serpentine Restaurant - I’ve booked a table for one-thirty; thought it was wise as it’s Easter Monday. It’s booked in your name.’
‘Ok, see you there.’ He was smiling on his way back upstairs, excited by the thought of seeing her but the phone rang again and he went back down.
‘Dr Hartmann?’
Julian recognised the voice. ‘Yes.’
‘Everything’s ready,’ Chase said. ‘Erikson may know you were arrested Tuesday night and brought in for questioning. So, tell him that up front and say you were asked about him but leave it at that - and remember, if you’re in his flat, his office at the gym or talking to him on the phone, we’re listening. Anywhere else, and you’re on your own - so choose your locations carefully.’
CHAPTER 15
The Coleherne, Earls Court
6:30 p.m. Easter Sunday 26 March
John Erikson walked through the doors of the Coleherne and stood by the door surveying the scene before him. He had missed the afternoon’s jazz-calypso session but all their instruments, mics and amplifiers were still set-up, ready for another session at 7:30 p.m. He liked Sunday jazz at the Coleherne. They were the perfect end to the week and never failed to chill him out, and after his grilling from DI Trent he was in serious need.
He wore an expensive dark blue tailored suit and an open-necked white shirt which made him stand out from the leather, chains and denim most of the other men were wearing. John hated following the crowd. As he looked along the line of men standing at the bar his eyes stopped at the only man who wasn’t dressed for a rock concert. It was Hartmann, Dr Julian Hartmann. Sunday night had just got a lot more interesting.
John chose to stand at the opposite end of the bar from Julian. He waited to be served, nodded to a few acquaintances but kept his eyes firmly fixed on his target. He watched as another man approached Julian and held his breath while the two men had words but he needn’t have worried, the competition was sent packing within minutes. John beckoned to Tom, the barman, and paid for a double whisky for Julian. When Tom pointed him out to Julian and their eyes met, John knew that he had scored big time.
They sat in a booth and, unlike the first time, John sat close to Julian.
‘I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.’ John said
‘No, neither was I.’
‘What changed your mind?’
‘Changed my mind about what?’
John chuckled softly. ‘Are you saying you didn’t come back here to see me?’
Julian levelled his clear blue eyes on him. ‘I came back for the jazz.’
‘Yes, of course - of course you did, dear boy.’ John sat back in his seat and watched one of the band members fiddling around with the mics. ‘What happened to your face - you look like you’ve been in a fight.’
‘I was picked up by the police when I left the pub last Tuesday.’
‘Getting beaten up by the police is an occupational hazard for customers of the Coleherne but it was bad luck on your first visit. Did they charge you with anything?’
Julian shook his head. ‘They just asked me a lot of questions - some of them about you.’
‘I’m sorry about that - they picked me up again today. Once you’re under their radar they like to bring you in every now and then, just to keep you on your toes.’ He noticed Julian’s empty glass. ‘Another whisky?’
‘I’ll get this one,’ Julian said, picking up his empty glass.
John covered Julian’s hand with his, holding onto it and the glass with a vice-like grip. ‘I buy the drinks in this relationship - you ok with that?’
Julian visibly paled but gave a slight nod of his head.
John didn’t release his grip. ‘I know where you’re coming from Julian - everything will be fine - trust me.’
* * *
At closing time, Julian accepted Erikson’s invitation for a drink at his flat but he was nervous as he sat in Erikson’s new Bentley. He answered the few questions he was asked, mainly with one word single syllable answers, ‘yes’, ‘no’, and an occasional ‘maybe’, knowing that the place for conversation was where the surveillance guys could hear and where he would have some backup. By the time Erikson parked his car in the underground carpark, Julian’s nerves were wound as tight as an overwound clock spring.
Erikson’s flat was big and tastefully fitted out with simple high quality leather and oak furniture. A log was smouldering in the open grate.
‘You won’t need your coat in here,’ Erikson said, holding his hand out
towards Julian.
Julian removed his outer coat and passed it to Erikson who took the coat and grasped Julian’s hand in one smooth movement.
‘You can relax, dear boy, nothing’s going to happen tonight. We’re just going to talk.’ He let go of Julian hand and indicated the brown leather sofa. ‘Take a seat and make yourself comfortable. What would you like to drink - Whisky, coffee?’
‘Whisky, thank you. Could I use your bathroom?’
‘Yes, of course - it’s off the hall.’
In the bathroom, Julian took some time to compose himself. He splashed his face with cold water and thought about the questions he would ask Erikson. He checked the syringe in the right inside pocket of his jacket, the injection he had prepared earlier with enough diazepam to knock the man out. A spare bottle of diazepam and spare syringes and needles were in his left inside pocket. Everything was ready but in an awful self-deprecating moment he doubted he was up to the job and he had to grip the edges of the sink to stop his hands from shaking.
When Julian returned to the lounge, Erikson had put another log on the fire and was preparing the drinks in a purpose built bar in the corner of the room. Julian sat on the sofa but changed his mind and moved to an armchair.
Erikson came over with the drinks and he noted Julian’s change of seat and smiled. ‘No, no - that won’t do.’ He placed the drinks and a bottle of whisky on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, patting the space next to him. ‘Sit with me - please.’
Julian did as requested and sat down next to him. His thoughts randomly jumped to a children’s program from years ago . . . ‘are we sitting quite comfortably . . . then I’ll begin’ . . . he could hear the cultured BBC voice of the “Watch with Mother” presenter when she was about to read a story . . . ‘once upon a time’ . . .
‘So, tell me about yourself?’ Erikson was sitting at an angle, turned towards Julian, observing him like a scientist watches a caged monkey during an experiment.
‘What would you like to know?’