Killing Time

by Mark Roberts

  ‘Raymond,’ said Mr Robson.

  Raymond looked at his solicitor as if he’d just entered the room.

  ‘Listen to me.’ Mr Robson used his hands to create a shield between Clay and Hendricks’s eyes and the motion of his lips. His voice dropped and he whispered into Raymond’s ear.

  When the solicitor finished speaking, Raymond looked directly at Clay. ‘You’re asking me to give up the only people that I love in this world. He’s asking me to do the same. You want their real names?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Hendricks.

  Raymond smiled. ‘CJ’s real name is no, and Buster’s real name is comment.’

  91

  11.11 am

  Detective Sergeant Gina Riley sat next to Edward Storey, Alder Hey’s head of security. They faced a bank of screens showing live-time CCTV footage from across the hospital.

  ‘I’ve got something to show you, Detective Sergeant Riley. Based on the time-frame you gave me relating to Marta Ondřej’s visitor, I’ve worked backwards from the arrival of the priest and traced his journey to the moment he stepped through the front door of Alder Hey. I’ve edited it together onto one continuous piece of film. Are you ready to watch?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll then need to take this film away, Mr Storey.’

  He smiled at Riley. ‘If it’s what you’re looking for, I’ll send it directly to your phone after you’ve OKed it.’ He pressed play.

  Riley saw the revolving doors at the front of the hospital. The time on the screen was 12:51. Within moments, a woman with a baby in a carrycot entered and then, seconds later, a man dressed as a priest followed.

  ‘That him?’ asked Edward Storey.

  ‘That’s definitely him. Do you know him, Mr Storey?’

  ‘He’s definitely not a member of Alder Hey’s chaplaincy team.’

  There was a cut. Then she saw the man walking across the large reception, past the fast-food concessions and pausing at the information desk to ask a question. Cut. The man started walking up the staircase. Cut. He walked past the first floor and the second floor before the CCTV caught him walking onto the third floor in the direction of Marta Ondřej’s hospital room.

  Edward Storey paused the film. ‘He’s on the ward for under two minutes, then it’s the same story over again but in reverse.’

  ‘Thank you very much. I’m sure this’ll prove helpful to us.’

  ‘Do you know him?

  ‘Me, personally? No. But I’m hoping we’ll be able to ID him soon.’

  Edward Storey unlocked his phone and sent the footage to Riley’s phone. In silence, she watched it again, double-checking that everything she’d seen on the security monitor was in place. Then she dialled Clay.

  ‘Eve, I’ve got Alder Hey’s CCTV footage of the priest.’

  ‘Send it to me. I’ll look at it and then pass it on to the team. Thanks, Gina.’

  92

  11.36 am

  In the incident room at Trinity Road Police Station, Detective Constable Barney Cole looked up from his laptop and let out a long thin whistle.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Clay, walking into the room alongside Hendricks, as an incoming message arrived from Riley.

  ‘I’m doing some digging on the Dare family. Carmel, the mother, is squeaky clean. Raymond has had several close encounters with Merseyside Constabulary but he’s like a criminal cat with nine lives. Never been charged.’

  ‘You’re going to tell me something about Jesus-On-A-Stick, aren’t you? What’s he been done for?’

  ‘Grievous bodily harm. Racially motivated. He battered the lights out of three Asian teenagers, all by himself, on the waterfront outside the Echo Arena. He claims they tried to mug him, and that there was no racial abuse at all from him. They said he tried to rob them but that he called them all the names under the sun before, during and after a sustained and vicious assault.’

  ‘What did he get?’

  ‘Two years in Altcar.’

  ‘So, he’ll have served one?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out for you.’

  ‘Anything since he was released?’

  ‘Not a thing. He’s been a good lad, a sunbeam for Jesus it seems. Maybe he converted in Altcar.’

  ‘Thank you, Barney.’ She weighed up the news. ‘Bill, you’ve got Jack Dare’s contact details.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘We need to talk to him as soon as possible.’

  The phone on Cole’s desk rang out and he picked up the receiver.

  ‘Do you know where he’s staying, Bill?’

  ‘Last I knew, over the road from his home with a neighbour.’

  ‘Give Jack a ring, tell him you want to have a chat about Raymond. Tell him you’ll pick him up and bring him in to Trinity Road. Bring Carmel as well to soften the impact.’

  ‘I’ll get on to it straight away.’

  Clay played the footage she’d just received from Riley. As the film unfolded, she whispered, ‘Jesus... What were you doing around Marta Ondřej?’

  93

  11.35 am

  Lucy Bell stood facing Kate Thorpe in the old woman’s parlour. In the fireplace, flames licked round the birch log recently placed on the hot bed of coals.

  As she glanced at the large sheets of poster papers placed face down on the table to the left of the bay window, she took the consecrated host from the black box that housed it, held the wafer up towards heaven between the thumbs and index fingers of both hands and looked Kate in the eye.

  ‘Behold the Lamb of God

  Behold him who takes away the sins of the world

  Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.’

  Lucy’s eyes were fixed on Kate as she extended the host towards her.

  ‘The Body of Christ,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Amen,’ mouthed Kate, as Lucy placed the host on her left palm.

  Kate went to pick up the host with her right index finger and thumb, but the wafer slipped out of her hold and fell to the carpet.

  In silence, the women looked at each other, neither one moving.

  ‘That was very clumsy of you, Kate. Pick up the Body of Christ.’

  She pointed at the floor and, as Kate stooped to pick up the host, Lucy turned and walked to the table. She flicked through the paintings, glancing over her shoulder as Kate advanced with the host between her right thumb and index finger.

  ‘Don’t! Don’t, Kate! Don’t come near me...’

  Kate stopped and placed the host on her tongue, her eyes fixed on Lucy.

  Lucy picked out one of the sheets.

  ‘When you saw me on your doorstep, you turned these pages over. Like you didn’t want me to see them. Why? I come here to share the Body of Christ. Why hide things from me? What is this, Kate? Is this a vision you had? Because if it is a vision, you are the only one who saw it. And the only one who believes it.’

  Lucy showed Kate another of her own paintings. ‘A vision.’ She held up a third picture. ‘Another vision.’

  Lucy started rolling the three paintings into a tube, watching Kate intensely.

  ‘Are you smiling, Kate? You are happy. That is good. My father says he fears for you. He fears for your sanity. This is a private conversation he has had with me. I too fear for your sanity.’

  Lucy’s hands tightened around the pile of papers as the fire danced up the chimney.

  ‘I used to visit a man in Broad Oak. He had paranoia and schizophrenia. He also had religious visions but they weren’t good ones like yours. I was his only visitor, except for the devils and hobgoblins who visited him in visions. One Tuesday I turned up for my visit and his nurse told me that he had killed himself. It was most sad. His nurse and I were the only ones at his funeral. When he was alive, when he had the power of speech, he used to talk about his visions, and words being words, they used to drift into the air and disappear. All gone. But you express your visions...’ Lucy pointed at the pictures. ‘Like this.’

  Lucy’s face puckered into a gri
mace. ‘I have never seen you laugh before, Kate.’ Lucy smiled. ‘What is so funny?’

  Kate lifted her right hand and pointed at Lucy.

  ‘That is hurtful to my feelings but I too have laughed at you behind your back. We must forgive each other. And as for these pictures? People will laugh in your face. Don’t you understand?’

  Kate lifted the fireguard away from the fire and pointed at the flames.

  ‘Thank you for listening to my advice. Let us pray.’ Lucy threw the paintings into the flames and watched as the fire consumed them. ‘For Kate. May the world not laugh at an old lady who has religious visions. Lord, help me to protect her from the derision of mankind. Amen.’

  Lucy collected her communion box and headed for the door. ‘Don’t worry about seeing me out. You stay here and enjoy the fire.’

  Kate heard the front door open and close, then sat and watched her paintings turning to ash.

  94

  12.01 pm

  DCI Eve Clay stood on the step of the vestry next door to St Luke’s Roman Catholic Church as Detective Sergeant Karl Stone tried the front door of the church.

  ‘Locked back and front,’ said Stone, walking down the church steps.

  Clay rang the bell a second time and banged on the door.

  ‘I’m coming, I’m coming, hold your horses.’ Father Aaron’s voice was light as he made his way towards the front door.

  She looked at the spy hole and felt the weight of Father Aaron’s presence behind the door. It opened, and Father Aaron Bell smiled at Clay.

  ‘Come in, come in. Have you come to ask news of Sister Ruth?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s just that I haven’t heard back yet. But do come in. I’ll get the kettle on.’

  ‘No, thank you. Father Aaron, I need to talk to you but it isn’t going to happen here. It’s going to be at Trinity Road Police Station.’

  ‘Whatever’s wrong?’ The lightness left his voice and his face creased into concern and surprise.

  ‘I’m not obliged to tell you. Please come with us.’

  ‘Can’t you give me an inkling?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is it about Lucy?’

  ‘No, it’s about you. Go and get your coat, and be as quick as you can.’

  Stone crossed the threshold and headed towards the back of the house.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Father Aaron.

  ‘He’s going to secure the back.’

  ‘I’m not going to run away. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Your coat. Now please, Father Aaron.’

  As he headed back inside, Clay looked down the line of houses on Grant Avenue and into the Mystery. She saw a familiar figure walking up the road, dressed from head to foot in black, shuffling awkwardly across the snow and ice.

  Lucy Bell stopped for a moment then picked up her pace when she saw Clay standing on her doorstep.

  ‘What is happening, DCI Clay?’

  ‘I can’t discuss it with you on the street, Lucy.’

  She came closer, her face deadpan.

  ‘Where have you been?’ asked Clay.

  ‘I’ve been administering the consecrated host to the sick and elderly. Why are you here?’

  Father Aaron Bell appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Where are you going, Dad?’

  ‘To have a chat with DCI Clay. Listen. Get into the house. Stay at home until I return. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  Stone followed Father Aaron as he walked out of the house and Lucy asked, ‘Who is this man?’

  ‘Lucy, in the house, now.’

  She stood on the threshold. Clay felt her eyes in her back as they walked towards Clay’s car.

  Father Aaron turned and looked back. ‘Don’t be disobedient, Lucy.’ There was a deep-seated anger in his voice. Clay heard the front door slam shut and wondered how long it would take the duty magistrate to issue the search warrant for Father Aaron’s house and church.

  95

  1.10 pm

  ‘We’ve already had your fingerprints and DNA, Jack,’ said Detective Sergeant Bill Hendricks. ‘Thank you for cooperating and letting Sergeant Harris take an up-to-date photograph of you.’

  ‘Why are we here, Detective Sergeant Hendricks?’ asked Carmel Dare, quietly.

  ‘Basically you’re here because Raymond’s here.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Jack.

  ‘Raymond’s here because he’s up to his eyes in it. He’s committed three racially motivated murders. CCTV tells us that there were two other people involved.’

  ‘Do we need a solicitor?’ asked Carmel.

  ‘I can suspend the interview until you choose one from the list, and we can start again.’

  They looked at each other.

  ‘I’m happy to go on,’ said Jack.

  ‘Me too,’ agreed his mother. ‘So to speak.’ A fresh wave of sadness washed through her eyes.

  ‘It’s standard procedure to investigate the family and friends of a person in custody who’s about to be charged with an extremely serious crime, and we’ve done just that. Carmel, nothing came up about you. But Jack, you served time for committing a hate crime.’

  Hendricks observed Jack forcing himself not to fall into a thousand pieces.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it? And if so, do you still not want legal representation?’

  ‘The legal system from top to bottom hasn’t been a friend to me,’ replied Jack. ‘No, I don’t want a solicitor. I just want a massive miscarriage of justice to be overturned and to get my good name back. But that’s not going to happen, is it?’

  Carmel put her hand on his arm and said, ‘Just tell it to DS Hendricks as it happened.’

  Hendricks watched Jack as he poured himself a glass of water, and noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

  ‘I went out for a run. It was seven o’clock-ish and twilight. I dipped down onto the promenade from the Dingle and headed towards the Albert Dock. When I turned back to run the other way, I saw these three figures walking towards me. I looked over my shoulder and saw that there was no one behind me and there was no one behind them. The closer I came to them and them to me, I saw they weren’t as tall or as big as me, but I was outnumbered.’

  Jack stopped and downed the water in one.

  ‘I was a few metres away from them when they fanned out, blocking the space on the path. I stopped so I could move through the narrow gaps between them without barging into them. I walked to the gap that was riverside, and they closed it down. I said, All right, lads, joke over, let me past.

  The smallest of the three said, Who said we’re joking, you fucking white piece of shit? Give us your fucking money, or we’ll kick the shit out of you!

  Money? I’ve got no money. Why should I have money when I’m out running?

  No money? another one said. Then we’ll just have to kick the shit out of your white arse anyway.

  In one moment, I had to make a decision. Fight or flight? I could feel a pull in my right ankle from an old injury. Flight wasn’t going to save me. I grabbed the hair of the lad in front of me and smashed the side of his head into the lad next to him. I grabbed the other lad’s head and smashed their skulls against each other. As they dropped to the ground, I saw the third lad kicking away at me. He was aiming for my groin. I caught his foot before it landed and threw him to the ground. As he got there, I kicked him in the head. I worked it out. The whole incident lasted between three and seven seconds. I looked at them on the ground, bleeding and pathetic, begging for mercy and offering me money to go away. I’d rather starve than touch your money, you racist bastards, I told them. I continued with my run, thought nothing more of it and then two days later there was a knock on our door, and the police took me in for questioning.

  ‘They said I’d racially abused them and made threats and demands for money. When they refused to give in to me, they claimed I went into a racist tirade, calling them all the fucking Paki cunts, bastards, arseholes and
pricks under the sun. They then asserted in their witness statements to police and under oath in court that I’d told them I was going to follow them home and rape their mothers and sisters.

  ‘No one believed my side of the story. From the uniformed coppers who took me in and the DCs who interviewed me, over and over and over again, through to the jury and the judge who sentenced me. No one believed me.

  ‘But here’s the thing, Mr Hendricks. One of the lad’s fathers was a doctor. Another one’s father had his own highly successful business, and the third lad’s father was an investment banker. They all lived in Woolton.’

  Jack pointed to himself and indicated his mother. ‘I was out of work at the time through no fault of my own. I lived in the Dingle with my mother who works in a fish and chip shop and my younger, vulnerable brother.

  ‘At the end of the court case the predominantly white jury found me unanimously guilty. I suppose they didn’t want to appear racist. I was given two years by the judge, and when I was being taken down to the cells, I looked up at the three of them in the public gallery. They were smirking at me. That was the last time I ever saw them.’

  Jack moved the bottom of the glass against the surface of the table and then stopped. ‘Are you going to question me some, Detective Sergeant Hendricks?’

  ‘Your brother’s here because he’s a prime suspect on three counts of murder. We know he didn’t act alone. Were you one of his accomplices, Jack?’

  ‘No. Absolutely not. If I was going to murder anyone, surely it would have been the lying Pakistanis who took my liberty and wrecked my life. Think about it, Detective Sergeant Hendricks.’

  ‘You deny any involvement in the murders of Karl Adamczak, Václav Adamczak and Dominika Zima?’

  ‘I categorically deny any involvement in these murders. One of the greatest of the Ten Commandments says, You shall not kill. I’ve changed my mind.’ Jack turned to his mother. ‘I don’t want a solicitor. I don’t trust them. But I need one, Mum.’

  ‘I’ll give you the list, Jack,’ said Hendricks.