by Helen L Lowe
‘Yes, I have friends.’
‘And girlfriends?’
‘There are girlfriends.’
‘You said that in the plural - is that because you haven’t met Miss Right yet?’
‘No - it’s because I met her too early.’
She smiled and nodded as if she understood.
The floor show was a demonstration of Latin American dances with three couples dressed in exotic costumes. After the show, soft romantic music was played and couples got up to dance. Still wearing his gentleman’s hat, Julian asked her to dance. Harriet surprised him by dancing very close, pressing her body against his, and he made a mental note that she was not always a lady. She also surprised him with her conversation and her dry sense of humour with the result that the evening was not at all what he expected; it was actually quite pleasant.
They left the restaurant at 11 p.m. and it wasn’t until they were getting in the car that Julian realised he had missed last orders at the Coleherne. On the drive home not a word was spoken and the atmosphere in the car was uncomfortable. Harriet’s right hand found its way to Julian’s thigh.
‘That was a lovely evening, Julian,’ she said, as she walked into the hall ahead of him. ‘It’s a shame to end it so soon. You must come in for a coffee.’ She opened the sitting room door.
‘Are you sure, it’s a bit late.’
‘It’s only eleven thirty.’
He hesitated before following her into the sitting room. Once inside with the door shut, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
‘I had it in my mind to not mix business with pleasure – it’s never a good idea to get involved with tenants,’ she said, ‘but you’re quite irresistible.’
‘Harriet, I don’t . . .’
She took hold of his hand to guide it through the wraparound front of her dress to her breasts. More passionate kisses led on to her trying to unzip his flies but she stopped abruptly and pulled away.
‘I’m sorry - I got a bit carried away there.’ She adjusted her dress and turned away from him. ‘I didn’t mean to lead you on. It’s just been so long . . .’ She walked up to the fireplace and nervously adjusted the position of the ornaments on the mantelpiece. ‘Do you mind if we forget about the coffee. I’m suddenly very tired.’
‘No - of course not.’ He opened the door. ‘Good night.’
She half turned towards him and he saw a look of confusion on her face.
‘Good night, Julian.’
CHAPTER 25
The Coleherne, 261 Old Brompton Road, Earls Court
11 p.m. Wednesday 29 March
John Erikson waited for two hours in the Coleherne until he was practically pushed out of the door at closing time. He had lost count of how many whiskies he had drunk during that time but his eyes refused to focus when he got into the car, and he decided he should go straight home to sober up. It was a slow drive but he managed it without killing anyone or crashing the car.
In his flat, he made strong coffee and drank four mugs of the stuff until he felt only slightly drunk and could see more clearly. While in his volatile inebriated state, he spent some time fuming about Julian seeing someone else. He doubted it would be a man but there was that bloke in the Coleherne who had given Julian his number, and even though John had screwed it up Julian may have quickly memorized it.
As the coffee started to have an effect, he dismissed that idea and decided it had to be a woman. He remembered the bite marks and scratches on Julian’s body and how furious he had been. If he saw just one more mark on Julian’s body that hadn’t been inflicted by him, Julian would be in for a beating.
John was almost sober by 1 a.m., and he had just decided to drive over to Sussex Gardens when the phone rang.
‘Hello - is that Gerry?’ It was a woman’s voice.
John felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water in his face. He was instantly sober. That was a code he and Jenkins had worked out for emergencies, and the woman was a hooker Jenkins knew he could trust.
‘Gerry moved out last year and I don’t have any contact details,’ he said.
‘Ok, sorry.’ She hung up.
He looked at his watch. It was 1:10 a.m. and by using the code, Jenkins wanted to meet-up within one hour in the usual place.
When he drove out of the underground carpark and turned right down the Fulham Road, he caught a glimpse of the surveillance car pulling out behind him. It followed him a good 200 yards behind. Without signaling, he ducked down a side road and took a right, a left and another right before driving down an access road around the back of a garage. He turned his lights off and waited for thirty minutes. Back on the road, he took another couple of short cuts to bring him out onto Finborough Road and after a quarter of a mile he turned left onto Old Brompton Road.
He parked his car down another side street and walked back along Old Brompton Road and through a gate leading into Brompton Cemetery. He followed the path that led to the semi-circle of benches that surrounded the memorial to fallen soldiers. Jenkins was already there.
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ John snapped at him.
‘I’ve just found out that you’ve been bugged - your phone, the flat and the office at the gym.’
John was shocked. ‘For how long?’
‘Easter Sunday, when you were brought in for questioning - and that’s not all. That doctor, the one you fancy, is working for Chase. He persuaded Hartmann to try to get you to talk - to incriminate yourself. A surveillance team has been listening to everything you say.’
‘Why the fuck didn’t you know about this earlier?’
‘Chase is suspicious - he’s deliberately kept me busy following up leads on the Thames murders. I’ve been trawling around all the homeless shelters and visiting the families of missing young men. Yesterday, I was up in Birmingham interviewing parents. The only reason I found out today was because I came back into the station while Chase was in with the Super. There was a file on his desk.’ He suddenly looked worried. ‘How did you give them the slip to get here?’
‘It wasn’t difficult. I know all the back roads.’
‘I have to go,’ Jenkins said, looking around nervously. ‘I’ll have to lie low for a while.’
John took out his wallet and gave Jenkins a wad of notes. ‘Thanks for letting me know - I appreciate it.’
John walked back to his car, keeping his eyes peeled for anything that looked suspicious. He drove over to Sussex Gardens and throughout the drive he tried to calm himself enough to work out a plan. He had been shocked when Jenkins told him about the bugging but he was furious when he heard that Julian was working for the police. He really liked Julian and had thought there was a future for them. The man’s obvious anxiety at taking the first steps to recognizing he was gay had rung true but there could never be a future for them now. John would never forgive this betrayal.
* * *
Erikson pulled up in front of Sussex House at 2:40 a.m. and honked his horn but after no response he pressed it again. A light went on in a front first floor window and the curtains were drawn back. He saw Julian peering out and he flashed his headlights. He only had to wait minutes before the car door opened.
Julian got into the car and John tried not to glare at him.
‘Busy night?’ John said.
‘Yes, it went on longer than I thought - sorry.’
‘Can I ask what went on longer?’
‘My landlady arranged an evening and I was pressured into going.’
John nodded, deciding not to challenge him. He drove along the access road and pulled out onto Sussex Gardens.
‘Where are we going?’ Julian asked.
‘To the flat - it’s too late to take you to the film studio. We can do that another time.’
Nothing else was said on the drive but John could sense nervous tension coming from Julian and he resisted the temptation to laugh. How sweet this revenge would be.
When they were in the flat, John locked the door and
put the key in his pocket. He turned towards Julian. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you - a clever doctor slumming it with an uneducated man like me.’
‘I’m sorry, the evening just overran,’ Julian said, turning away to hang up his coat.
John took his opportunity as soon as Julian’s back was turned and grabbed him from behind. ‘You think you can fuck around with me?’ He slammed the side of Julian’s head into the door and continued to bash it. ‘Fucking public school nancy-boy - that’s what you are - you’re not even clever enough to know you’re gay.’
Julian fought to break the hold but as the blows to the head continued, he struggled less and less until he was nearly unconscious. John lifted him off his feet and threw him along the hallway where he landed heavily and stayed down.
John walked through the lounge and into the SM room where he opened a drawer and selected a vial of clear liquid. In the lounge, he picked up a half empty bottle of whisky and emptied the vial into it, giving the bottle a shake to disperse the contents before placing it on the bar. He poured himself a drink from an unopened bottle of whisky and replaced the bottle on a shelf at the back of the bar.
Finally, he looked at some cassette tapes on the shelf under the bar that he had used to record previous conversations. He found one with ‘Julian 26/03/67’ written on the side.
Julian was in the bathroom.
CHAPTER 26
When Julian walked into the lounge, he saw Erikson sitting on the sofa with a drink in his hand. He went over to the bar, sat on a high barstool and looked longingly at the bottle of whisky. But instead of helping himself to a drink, he got up and walked through into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He was going to need all his senses working to get through whatever Erikson had in mind; now wasn’t the time to suppress his survival instinct with alcohol. He went back into the room and sat on the stool again; the added distance from the bar to the sofa making him feel marginally safer.
The silence in the room was tangible and he was acutely aware of the police listening in, waiting for him to get Erikson talking. As he sat there, the reality of the situation and the danger Chase had put him in became crystal clear. Chase knew that Erikson, if not the Thames Butcher, was a man capable of extreme violence and yet he felt no compunction about placing Julian in the firing line. And now, Julian’s willingness to help the police was fading fast.
He glanced over to Erikson who looked like he was chilling out with no cares in the world and wondered what had brought on this latest spate of violence. Picking up his glass of water, his eyes fell on the bottle of whisky again. The day had been challenging, he told himself, and a drink would steady his nerves. He imagined the smooth warm liquid going down into his stomach and the slight numbing of the brain that made bad things seem less bad and good things amazing but he rejected the idea again . . . you’re thinking like an alcoholic . . . come on, pull yourself together . . .
He glanced over at Erikson. ‘Is this how you treated David Woods?’
‘Only when he deserved it,’ Erikson said, his lips turning up in a grin.
‘So, what did I do to deserve that?’
Erikson shook his head and smiled, obviously amused about something. ‘Dear boy, how did you get so fucked up?’
Julian turned his back on Erikson. He needed to concentrate, to work out a plan. Erikson hadn’t lashed out just because he had failed to turn up at the Coleherne that night. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong, and Erikson’s increasingly malevolent mood was probably just the tip of the iceberg. The time had come to forget about helping the police. He must make a stand against Erikson. He took a moment to mentally prepare himself before he went over to the armchair facing Erikson and sat down.
‘It was that boarding school - wasn’t it?’ Erikson said.
Julian said nothing.
‘So, it’s the silent treatment again - you need to relax - can I get you a drink?’ Erikson stood up and went over to the bar. He came back with a glass full to the brim with whisky and held it out to Julian. When he didn’t take the glass, he placed it on the coffee table in front of him. ‘Come on, Julian - chill.’ He chuckled softly. ‘I know - I’ve got something that’ll do the trick.’
Julian watched him walk over to the fireplace and put his arm up the chimney. He pulled out a metal box that had been scorched black with the heat from the fire.
‘Have you ever taken drugs, Julian?’
‘Years ago when I was young and stupid.’
Erikson stood still for a moment with his back to Julian, when he turned around he had a smile on his face that resembled a snarl.
‘You know, sometimes you really irritate me with your “holier than thou” comments.’
Julian didn’t respond.
‘So this,’ he said, throwing the box at Julian’s chest, ‘is beneath you now you’re a respectable doctor.’ The box remained closed but the soot from the chimney had transferred to Julian’s pristine white shirt.
Julian carefully picked the box up and put it on the coffee table. ‘I just don’t like illegal drugs of any sort.’
Erikson nodded slowly and sat on the sofa. ‘You’ve no objection if I partake?’
Julian shook his head and watched while Erikson took a small mirror, a playing card, a short straw and a packet of white powder out of the box. He arranged two lines of white powder on the mirror shaping it with the card, and closed one nostril with a finger while he snorted one line of the powder with the straw. He changed nostrils and repeated it with the second line and finally, snorted hard and rubbed the powder from his nose. He leant back and closed his eyes.
Eventually he smiled and opened his eyes to look at Julian. ‘Tell me about your days at public school.’
‘I thought we’d exhausted that subject.’
‘Well, I have a short memory. Tell me again.’
Julian hesitated. ‘As I said before there’s not much to tell.’
‘I don’t believe you - all those boys living together, sleeping in dormitories - the communal showers must have been a hot bed of iniquity.’ He patted the sofa next to him. ‘We can’t have a heart to heart with you over there, come and sit next to me.’
‘I’m fine here.’
The glare from Erikson made it obvious he didn’t like the rebuff and there was a moment’s silence.
‘Just tell me about a typical day at the school,’ Erikson said, ‘what time did you get up on a weekday?’
Julian held back his frustration. ‘Seven or seven-thirty, I think.’
‘And then what did you do?’
‘We went to lessons.’
‘No - after getting out of bed, what did you do next?’
‘What the fuck does it matter what we did next?’
Erikson scowled and got to his feet. He held his arms away from his body and clenched his hands into fists. ‘SHOW ME SOME RESPECT.’
Julian was on his feet before Erikson finished shouting and moved away from the armchair into a clear space facing him. He stood his ground, ready to fight.
Erikson seemed unsettled by this and held his hands out in a gesture of contrition. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me - please, sit down again - have a drink.’ He sat back down on the sofa.
Julian sat in the armchair and picked up the glass of whisky. He drank half of it in one swig before he looked down at the glass, wondering why he had done that when he had made a conscious decision minutes earlier to stay sober.
‘You know, I’m not as insensitive as you think. I can understand why you don’t want to talk about your school days - traumatic events in childhood are often hidden beneath years of pain and torment.’ Erikson was silent for a moment, his eyes not moving from Julian’s face. ‘Were you raped by a tutor or just molested?’
Julian didn’t answer. He was angry with himself, Erikson and the police who were probably enjoying this. Julian could imagine them laughing, maybe even laying bets on who would come out on top tonight. In one corner, John Erikson, t
he self-confessed, shaven headed, cockney queer or in the other corner, Dr. Julian Hartmann, the sexually confused, smartly turned-out upper-class twit.
‘You were raped, weren’t you - by a tutor perhaps or a senior boy or by a gang of them?’
Julian finished his drink.
Erikson stood up and held his hand out for Julian’s glass. ‘Refill?’ With the glass in his hand he walked over to the bar. While he was pouring out whisky from the bottle on the bar into Julian’s glass, he looked over to him. ‘I had such hopes for us, Julian - but you blew it all away.’ He put the bottle down again and walked around the bar to select a bottle from a shelf. It was the same brand of whisky as the one on the bar. ‘You’re looking tired. Perhaps a lie down would do you good.’
From where Julian was sitting in the armchair, he had a clear view of the bar and had watched Erikson pouring the drinks; had seen him use two identical bottles of whisky even though the one on the bar was still a quarter full. His eyes started to lose focus and the two bottles turned into four. Erikson came back to the sofa and placed Julian’s refilled glass on the coffee table.
‘Where were we?’ Erikson asked. ‘Oh, yes, your rape - perhaps you ought to consider suing. I would think Pendlebury would be horrified if news of a rape got out.’ He looked at Julian for a moment and said, ‘but maybe it wasn’t rape - maybe you were a willing young homosexual just starting to express your sexuality.’
Julian could hear Erikson talking in the background as if from another room and when he looked at Erikson, the edges of his body were blurring into the leather sofa. He was feeling nauseous and stood up to go to the bathroom but he only managed a few steps before he grabbed hold of the back of the sofa as his knees gave way. Overwhelmed by tiredness that wrapped around him like a dense fog, he dropped to his knees.
‘You sick bastard,’ he mumbled through numb lips.