Doc was lying again. He planned to visit the young man first thing in the morning, without Jack in tow, to confront the boy about his suspected nocturnal habits, to assess his reaction. And that of Mrs Leech. He was confident he could get to the bottom of this without Jack’s help, but he would soon discover just how wrong he could be.
***
Suzie slotted the giant umbrella into its concrete stand and positioned it to ensure the afternoon sun didn’t burn her mother’s skin as she snored softly on her lounger, lured into her slumbers by the soporific warmth and a full belly. With her mother in the shade, Suzie scooped up the remains of their early tea and headed into the house.
Billy was still out and about, but, as usual, she had no idea where he was, what he was doing or who he was with.
Is it too late to change that?
Probably.
Reasserting herself would most likely make him even more resentful. Hateful. But she had to do something to discipline him.
Starving her mother was pure evil – she struggled to understand why he would do something so despicable. And the Chinese whispers he had sown between them were simply mind blowing. The most hurtful lies. And he had been so cruel to Suzie – his own mother – constantly belittling her, sniping at her, driving her to wrap herself in a morphine comfort blanket. So why was she so shocked that he would lie about Nana’s food intake?
Her son had been Suzie’s pusher too. Her drug supplier.
Buying sedatives for her at first, when their local doctor had limited her prescriptions. She had embarrassed herself by pleading for more, then demanding more, shouting at all the patients and staff in the waiting area as she was led out. Billy had offered to help her, by buying the drugs she needed on the internet…
It seemed reasonable enough. It’s not like she was on heroin or anything like that, buying illegal substances from dodgy dealers on street corners. These were proper medications, the same as her GP had prescribed. Supplied by respectable pharmaceutical companies, so they were okay.
Surely?
Then Billy suggested she might prefer codeine linctus, which sounded harmless enough. Cough syrup, he’d said. It was only later, after it had become a regular part of her routine, that he explained how her liver was converting it into an opiate.
‘You’re on morphine. Just like a worthless junkie!’ he’d said, laughing and sneering at her.
She had merely shrugged off his insult, drank more of the medicine. It felt so good.
Helpful Billy. Always there with the drugs. Her next fix.
Suzie clattered in the kitchen as she scraped the plates and loaded everything into the dishwasher, her mind racing, running through all the different ways she had allowed their lives to nosedive out of control. She was fuming by the time she slammed the door shut.
Time to look in the cellar.
What else have you found out, young man?
The concrete steps were situated at the side of the property, accessed through a door from the garden, and led down into a musty, damp space with a low ceiling. One bare lightbulb dangled from a wire in the middle of the room, and dust laden spider webs spanned from there in every direction. The cool, foetid air sent a shiver through her, and the idea of rooting around down here for any length of time suddenly lost its appeal.
Come on – you must do this.
She rubbed her bare arms, thought about retreating to her room to find a cardigan, knowing full well she would not come back if she did, then gave herself a mild dressing down for being such a wimp.
The cellar was the original boiler room for the property, and still contained an ancient cast iron affair that her father had left in place, convinced the solid antique fitting was far too heavy and way too much trouble to remove. In fact, the place was full of old junk, some of it familiar, like the rocking horse with chipped, faded paint, almost hidden under a pile of other toys and books from her childhood, all coated in dust. There were plenty of items in here to prompt memories of happier times, but her focus was on some rusty shelving that sagged to one side like a drunk leaning against the wall for support. The four boxes of papers from her London home were there, alongside others, stowed by her father, a man who’d thrown nothing of importance away.
And all her boxes had been opened, recently from the look of the dust patterns.
Billy?
Or was it her father when he was sorting her affairs over the last seven years? No. He would have resealed them before bringing them back down here, taped in that precise, careful way he applied to everything he did.
She took a closer look at the contents of her boxes and squinted at some of the papers in the poor light, checking to see what had been stored within them. Mostly correspondence relating to investments, bank statements, household bills, insurance policies, Shaun’s company accounts and so on. Then she came across the large beige envelope from the hospital – the one she had been taken to by ambulance, sirens wailing, the night she’d been mutilated by Peter. It had been ripped open, carelessly.
Not Dad, then.
A cursory inspection suggested most of the papers were still in their boxes, as best she could remember. Including the notes about her termination in that envelope, previously sealed and marked ‘Confidential’ and for her eyes only. When she’d arrived at the hospital she had no idea she was with child. Peter had kicked her stomach repeatedly that night too, so it was a miracle she hadn’t had a miscarriage already.
She had blotted out most of the memories from that time, but as she clutched the nurse’s report it all came flooding back to her. Screaming at the medical staff when they told her she was pregnant, demanding that they ‘Get that monster out of me – right now!’
There was more, but she just dropped the papers to the floor and let the fury fizz inside her again.
Billy had read these notes about the abortion. And then lied to her mother about how he had found out. No doubt he had discovered other records too. Her father’s. Had he discovered some documents or letters relating to the time she was raped? And how the resultant cash from the Leech family had allowed her parents to move them all away from the area and buy this house?
You evil brat. And what other lies have you been telling, Billy?
***
‘That was Charlie.’ Jack pocketed his smartphone, aware that his gruff manner and tone were due, in part, to Doc’s insistence that he should take the boat this evening as planned. The news from Charlie made him more convinced he should stay, but it was pointless arguing. ‘A Labrador went missing from Caversham a week ago. Two hundred quid reward being offered for anyone who can bring it back. It was in the owner’s backyard, but they assumed it had managed to get out, somehow.’
‘A Labrador.’ Doc tugged an earlobe, clearly not liking what he was hearing. Jack wondered if they were both thinking the same thing. They were. ‘Another little detail, matching the Leech brother’s history.’
Jack nodded his agreement, then said, ‘There’s been a bit of a spate of dog-knapping lately. Seems there’s a demand for stolen domestic pets for dog fights, and the local bobbies assumed it was another one of those. Normally they disappear without trace. I’ve got the owner’s number.’
‘I should leave it, Jack. There’s no way we can be sure it’s their pet – it was burnt beyond recognition. Probably best to let them think it’s been stolen by a loving new owner.’
‘Mmm. Let ’em delude themselves.’ The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of Jack’s guests. ‘I’ll get that. It’ll be my Sally and her bloke.’
Jack greeted them at the door, and introduced his future son-in-law to Doc who had followed him into the hall.
‘Doctor Colin Powers, this is Felix. I haven’t nicked him for it yet, but he’s the lucky blighter who’s stolen my Sally’s heart.’ Jack forced a laugh, though he would’ve happily arrested Felix if he could. As far as Jack was concerned, it was absolutely normal for a father to think no man was good enough for his daughter. He tried to keep his
animosity to himself, for her sake.
It was difficult.
Jack watched as they shook hands, then Doc gave Sally a hug, all smiles and happy chat. No hint from Doc that he knew of Jack’s concerns regarding her choice of partner.
Felix wasn’t a criminal. Jack had checked the first time Sally had mentioned the bloke’s name, not long after she’d met him in her final year at Durham University. Jack had begrudgingly accepted it when the two lovebirds moved in together eighteen months ago, though he had hoped they might realise they were incompatible.
Fat chance.
Fat chancer…
Felix was a bit of a short-arse too, a round lump of flab, like a soft beach ball with stubby arms and legs. And lazy with it. His career aspirations extended no further than a part-time job in a computer games store, and he seemed to spend a great deal of his leisure time testing out their stock. Sally waited on the guy hand and foot – cooking, cleaning, shopping – everything, while he sat like a barrel of lard in his La-Z-Boy chair playing video games, with his feet propped on a pouffe. God knows why she put up with it, but she did.
After she had announced they were to be married, dropping that gem while visiting London a few weeks ago, Jack had phoned his ex-wife, Sally’s mother, a woman he rarely spoke to, but wanted her opinion on their daughter’s choice. To commiserate… Moira had given him a bollocking – told Jack to do his best to get to know the lad, had insisted that Felix was a ‘lovely fellah’, that he had a ‘great sense of humour’ and made Sally ‘laugh but never cry’, and as a father he should be delighted his daughter had found someone who ‘made her happy’.
The upcoming excursion, just the three of them, crowded together on Doc’s boat, was supposed to be a bonding exercise. Sally’s idea. Jack had tried his best not to let on about his feelings for her man, but she wasn’t daft.
Investigating Billy Leech could have provided a perfect excuse to dip out, but Doc knew the importance of the trip to Sally, and Jack was sure that was the real reason he wouldn’t let him wriggle out of it.
‘So, is this everything?’ Jack pointed to the small suitcase Sally had wheeled in. ‘Or do you need a hand getting more clobber from the car?’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
Jack went to Sally’s Peugeot, the one he had bought and paid for, and hauled out a much larger suitcase, this one without wheels, wondering why Felix had waddled in without it.
‘Cheers, Jack. My back’s been playing up again. Maybe you could pop it on the boat for us?’
Jack dropped it in the hall with the other one. ‘No hurry. We won’t be heading off until Judy gets back. She’s making a raspberry pavlova for us all before we go. And there’s a drop of champagne to go with it as we’re all celebrating. Eh, Doc?’
Jack had popped two bottles in the fridge, happy with the prospect of delaying departure for another couple of hours.
Why had he agreed to this bloody trip?
‘Can we check out the boat? I’ve only seen it in photos.’ Felix was far more eager to get aboard than make conversation with his hosts, and although Sally had been on a couple of Sunday lunch cruises with Jack, Doc and Judy, she followed him through the lounge as he took his first look at the boat through the patio doors.
‘Cheer up, Jack. You’re on holiday!’ In response to a black look, Doc compressed his lips, visibly suppressing his mirth before calling after Sally. ‘The lower cabin’s locked, the key’s hanging–’
‘I know. It’s in your study. Thanks, Doc. I’ll get it.’
Sally’s sunny smile warmed Jack’s heart as he watched her go. Felix was already halfway across the lawn.
‘What does she see in him, mate?’
Jack felt Doc’s arm curl around his shoulder as they stood in the hall gazing through the lounge at Sally bounding after her lover.
‘He must have hidden charms. And that’s my lovely wife’s car just pulling up outside. Let’s get this celebration under way. Promotion, pregnancy and an engagement – time to crack open that champagne, I think.’ Doc’s hand massaged Jack’s shoulder as he added, ‘Come on, you miserable bugger. Some bubbly will help you unwind before you go.’
***
‘Listen to me. Please don’t argue with me.’ Suzie tucked her mother into bed and gave her forehead a gentle peck. She had woken from her snooze not long after the cellar discovery had made Suzie’s blood boil, and asked if she could go to her room as it was more comfortable. ‘Billy’s been living in a world of fantasy.’ The lie was necessary. Telling Nana the whole truth would break her heart. ‘And from now on, I’ll look after you. If he tries to talk to you about anything more serious than the weather, you tell me. Okay?’
‘Are you sure you’re not overreacting, love?’
She still thinks he’s an angel. Lucifer maybe.
That was unworthy. She was still his mother.
He’s a disturbed young man who needed her help. Her support. Her love.
Along with some parental discipline…
‘Just you tell me. Promise?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’ll bring your milk and biscuits later. You’re okay with your book? Or would you like the TV on?’
‘My book. I haven’t felt like reading for months. I feel so much better tonight. Thank you for today, dear.’
It’s amazing what a full belly and a bit of fresh air and sunshine can do.
I really could wring his bloody neck. And where is the little sod?
Suzie checked the lounge clock as she arrived downstairs. She assumed it would be a few hours before he would appear as he was usually back by ten. He liked to get to sleep early. Though she was usually comatose by the time he made his way to bed.
Her eyes were drawn to the drinks cabinet in the far corner of the room. She stood in the doorway, her tongue parched, staring at the glinting bottles. A magnet, drawing her in. Suzie could not resist.
She found herself standing with a cocktail shaker in one hand, a vodka bottle in the other, as if her subconscious had decided for her that a drink was now desperately needed.
No. I will not!
She took all six bottles of spirit from the cabinet, loaded them precariously into her arms, and half trotted to the kitchen. The bottles clinked dangerously as she dropped a few on the stainless steel draining board, and two others rolled into the sink, landing with a sound that reminded her of church bells.
Suzie unscrewed the cap of the first bottle and watched with grim determination as the delicious liquid poured down the plughole, wafting the scent of temptation into her nostrils, as if the gin was determined to change her mind. It didn’t. She’d even do the same with the bottles of Vermouth after she had got rid of the worst offenders – mere fortified wine with its sickly sweet herbal aroma held no appeal on its own, anyway.
Three more full bottles went the same way as the first, glugging into the drain with a satisfying gurgle before the empties went in the recycle bin, leaving just one of each of her preferred spirits – vodka and gin – that were already open. She upended the first and immediately noticed something odd.
No…
It was difficult to tell for sure, while the contents swirled out of the neck, but as she held the empty bottle up to the light, she could see it clearly enough. Something that should never be in a bottle of distilled spirit.
Sediment.
Like she had occasionally seen in bottles of real ale and scrumpy. A tiny trace in this instance, barely visible, but it was there. A smear of white granules, clinging to the bottom and side of the glass.
She went to the bin, checked the other empty bottles. Nothing.
Suzie’s heart climbed to her throat as she tipped out the contents from the last one – the half full bottle of gin.
Again. There.
Not sediment.
Powder residue.
With jelly in her legs, she took both tainted bottles to the kitchen table, and sat heavily as the implications struck home. The frequent bouts of unconscio
usness and memory loss, usually early in the evenings… Or whenever she drank her preferred cocktails. She thought about the speed with which she could blot out reality, swilling her home-made Martinis, had put it down to mixing codeine linctus with strong alcoholic beverages – a welcome side effect, knocking her out in no time at all.
Now, she knew the real reason, her mind screaming the answer, but still she tried to deny the inevitable truth…
He wouldn’t. Would he?
Poison his own mother?
Was her son trying to kill her? By accumulating toxins in her system?
Impossible. Not my Billy…
Even as she desperately denied the possibility, the rational part of her brain overruled her maternal instincts, shaking her to the core as she finally admitted to herself:
Her husband’s son?
Oh, he could, alright.
He is a Leech boy, after all…
Murder runs in his blood.
***
‘You’ve got all this to look forward to, Doc. Your nipper growing up and turning into an adult. I don’t envy you that, not at this stage of your life, but at least you don’t have money worries, so that’s something.’
Doc placed an ice bucket containing a champagne bottle on the patio table while Jack added glasses and plates. Judy had just thrown him out of the kitchen for picking at the pavlova while she was putting it together. Meringues were one of the few recipes she had mastered, and the delicious sweet fluffy ones she had made after lunch were being smothered with double cream and the fresh raspberries and strawberries she had fetched from their local Waitrose. Doc had developed a sweet tooth – along with a bit of a paunch.
Gaslighting: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate Book 3) Page 15