The Devil's Reflection

by Colin Davy

  He tried to sit up, and though it proved painful, he’d live with it. “What did Keith want with you?” he asked. “Over and above giving you sympathy.”

  “Money,” she said. “But never mind that, are you happy to have me drive you home?”

  “I’ve every faith in you,” he said. “After driving off Big John, driving my car should be easy.”

  But in the passenger seat of the car, he began to have doubts. The seatbelt rubbed and he felt every bump in the road all the way back. And after a glance in the rear-view mirror he decided to give his face a miss for the rest of the journey. To make matters worse, Maria drove well below the speed limit, adding at least fifteen minutes to the journey. On the way, she admitted it was the first time she’d driven since the fatal journey with her mother. That had been in the USA, and he wondered if she’d ever driven in the UK. Did she have a legitimate driving license? Too late to ask now, they were coming into Liverpool.

  When Maria checked the rear-view mirror for what was probably the first time, she swore under her breath.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I forgot something.”

  He tried not to show his irritation. “Do we have to go back?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing really, it’s only my nose, is it shiny?”

  What an odd question. Her face had a fine coating of perspiration, but with a warm day and her failure to switch on the air-conditioning, what else did she expect? “Does it matter?” he asked.

  “I suppose not, but I was called Rudolph when I was at school in Australia,” she said. “My red colouring and … it’s silly, I know.”

  He tried not to smile, she must be sensitive about it. So, she was at school in Australia? Something new he’d learned. “It’s a very, very nice nose,” he said. “And not shiny at all.”

  “Don’t!”

  Yes, very sensitive about it.

  “I’m sorry I was so long coming to your rescue,” she said as they entered approached Bootle.

  “Were you?” he asked. “I didn’t notice.”

  “You were too busy being used as a football.”

  “I noticed, but why are apologising? I haven’t even said thanks. I was grateful, you know.”

  When she shrugged, he thought the top she now wore suited her more than the loose shirt she’d worn earlier. The tighter material emphasised her slim waist. Snug always beat floppy, he thought, whatever the material.

  “I was on my way out when I had a phone call,” she said, her eyes glued to the road.

  “Oh? You used your mobile?”

  “That’s what it’s for.”

  “Fair enough, who was it?”

  “Riya,” she said. “She rang to remind me about tomorrow’s meeting to bring me up-to-date.”

  His ears pricked up. “Any news?”

  “Sort of.” She screwed up her eyes to concentrate on a line of cars at the traffic light ahead, but her voice suggested the news wasn’t good.

  “And?”

  “They’re working on the cause of death as being self-administered drugs,” she said. “Unless new information comes to light.” Her voice changed to a disappointed monotone. “When she asked if I had any definite information, I had to admit I hadn’t.”

  He wondered if she was finally facing facts, uncomfortable as they might be. “I assume they didn’t find GHB or Rohypnol, or any other date-rape drugs?” he asked.

  “She didn’t mention it, so I assume they didn’t.” She let her unhappiness show. “We’ll find out for sure tomorrow.”

  “You’re disappointed?”

  She took her eyes long enough off the road to give an icy stare.

  “Did you tell Riya about your suspicions?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “What do you think.”

  He shrugged. “You can’t blame them.” When she sighed, he felt a strong twinge of sympathy. “I think you need to find out if someone else gave her the drugs,” he said. “And if they knew it was an overdose.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Possibly manslaughter rather than murder,” he said. “Unless the person involved meant to kill Debbie.”

  She sighed again and her eyes welled with tears. A look of despair, he thought. Where had her faith in her knight in shining armour disappeared? To his surprise, she turned and looked him in the eye. “You’ll find out for me, Gary,” she said. “You will, won’t you?”

  Such touching faith. “I will,” he said, and he’d begin as soon as they reached the docks. William or Tom? He’d spoken to both before and achieved zilch, but this was the new, improved Gary. Who would be first in the firing line? He might be rubbish, but he’d give it his best shot.

  It turned out to be Tom, because he was the one greeting them as long-lost friends when they turned into the parking area. After his sympathetic condolences for Maria, he leaned further into the car and his smile disappeared. Gary could see he was dying to ask about his swollen face, but delicacy suppressed his curiosity. “How are you, Gary?” he asked.

  “Could be better,” he said. “I slipped and fell on the road.”

  “Hmm …” A doubtful tone from the man, and Gary could almost hear the cogs whirring.

  “Tom,” he asked. “You usually work on Sundays, don’t you?”

  Tom nodded. “Sunday evening’s one of my core shifts,” he said. “I like the peace and quiet.”

  Interesting, it sounded worthwhile questioning him again. The police would no doubt have asked him general questions, but it’s unlikely they’d ask him specifically about Gail visiting. He would definitely ask him the first chance he got.

  His chance came when Maria discovered they’d run out of milk, and his immediate offer to fetch it caused only concern for his welfare. “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough?” she asked. “What about your ribs?”

  “They’re a lot better,” he said. “You were right in your diagnosis, it’s only bruising.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked again.

  “It’ll do me good,” he said. “Stop everything stiffening up. I’ll have a hot shower later to keep loose.”

  Although she frowned, she didn’t argue further.

  By the time, he reached the gatehouse, he realised he’d been over-optimistic about his ribs, but hopefully, the painkillers he’d taken would kick in soon. However, Tom took some rousing, being engrossed in his Sunday newspaper. But after pushing it aside, he seemed happy to chat. “How’s Maria coping?” he asked.

  “Upset, of course, but she’s coping well.”

  “Tell her I shed a tear or two myself, I can only hope that time does bring comfort.”

  Although it took Gary a while to wean him off that topic, a detour onto his damaged face did the trick. “You fell and landed on your face and your ribs?” Tom asked. “A nice bit of contortion involved there.” He clearly didn’t believe a word.

  “There was a brick on the road.”

  “Not your lucky day then.” He gave a sympathetic smile. “Or your lucky week. What did your girlfriend think?”

  “About the same as you,” he said. “But she has other things to worry about.”

  He nodded quickly. “Of course.”

  “Now, she’s worrying that her sister died all alone.”

  “I suppose it’s a natural reaction,” he said, “But that’s really sad. If there’s anything I can do, just ask.”

  Another step forward, Gary thought. “I think she’d be heartened to find that one of Debbie’s friends had been with her on that Sunday,” he said. “It would put her mind at rest.”

  The man waited expectantly for him to finish.

  Gary took a long breath. “Do you know if her any of her friends visited then?”

  “Did you have anyone in mind?”

  He attempted a neutral shrug, but it felt stiff and staged. “Gail sometimes came by, she was her best friend.”

  Tom’s eyes narrowed a fraction but he did
n’t ask the obvious question – why didn’t he ask Gail directly. “I said I’d check this for Maria,” Gary said quickly. “As Gail’s really cut up, I didn’t want to bother her yet.” It sounded thin, but Tom clearly wanted to be helpful. “What does Gail look like?” he asked.

  “Good-looking, very slim, long hair dyed blonde, and about twenty- five.”

  He turned up his nose a little. “It’s difficult to be sure from that description,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have a picture?”

  “Not on me.” Gary said. “Don’t worry though, it was just a thought. I’ll ask Gail personally when we see her again.” He tried a hang-dog expression. “Not sure when we’ll see her again, though.”

  “That might be best,” the man said. “I might recognise a good-looking woman from a picture, but …”

  “I know,” Gary said. “Thanks anyway.” Leaving the man in peace, he went out to fetch the milk, finding his ribs slowly easing as he walked. A triumph for British pharmaceuticals, but he felt annoyed. A vague description of Gail was asking a lot of Tom, and he should have had a picture ready.

  On the way back, he was surprised to see Tom leaning from the window of the cubicle and beckoning him closer. “I’d like to help,” he whispered when Gary hurried across. “There were a couple of blondes that might fit your description last Sunday. If you rustle up a recent picture, I might be able to recognise her. No guarantees though.”

  “Thanks a lot, Tom, I’ll see if we have one available. If so, I’ll pop back later.”

  Tricky, he decided, but there might be something in Debbie’s flat, even if it was only a blurred selfie. Maria had put her sister’s key on her own key-ring and if he could manufacture an excuse, he was sure she’d let him have it for a few minutes. Although he could tell her the truth, her sudden conversion to acting like Mother Teresa with her enemies worried him. She might even veto it out of sympathy for Gail.

  She already thought him psychic, so he could hopefully invent some nonsense about needing to feel the aura of the room in which Debbie died. And he needed to do it alone, as being a twin, her own aura might interfere with things. Total bollocks, but If he phrased it correctly, she’d not refuse. It’s the sort of thing she’d expect him to do if he was seriously investigating.

  Although he felt guilty about not telling her the truth, she’d see it later as being for a good cause. He hoped so, anyway. And if Tom could implicate Gail, it would guarantee Maria would understand his temporary subterfuge.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Riya was her usual softly-spoken and sympathetic self during the morning meeting with Maria - everything a caring policewoman should be. Gary, however, detected a certain alteration in her attitude to him.

  It might well be paranoia on his part, but he thought she was being distinctly frosty. Was it possible she knew of Gail’s accusations? He wasn’t sure she’d have made them at the same police station Riya worked, so he might be seeing slights where none was intended. But, if nothing else, it reinforced his determination to check Gail’s whereabouts when Debbie died. After all, there’s no point bearing a grudge if you don’t act on it.

  When Riya frowned again, he suddenly realised she was staring at his cheek. Of course, the swelling had reduced but the bruising was showing now. So much for his paranoia about Gail’s accusations.

  He was glad he’d changed his mind about deceiving Maria. His conscience, newly-woken, prevented him going behind her back to incriminate Gail. It wasn’t fair on Maria. She’d accepted his explanations about Gail’s accusations without qualification. The least she deserved was honesty, and they’d had a clear-the-air meeting last night. “It’s a way to eliminate Gail from any suspicion,” he’d said. “We can do this together.”

  Her gaze had been almost hypnotic in response, and he suspected she knew his intentions were less altruistic than he made out. At times, he worried she could read his mind. She saw the bad easily enough, but she must assume the good lay deeply buried. Yet she seemed surprisingly enthusiastic about his plan. Riya’s arrival prevented them from searching Debbie’s room, but as soon as she left, they’d search for a photograph of Gail.

  For Maria, the policewoman’s news was as bad as she expected. “The initial toxicology screen was clear except for fentanyl citrate. It’s not official yet, but we don’t expect things to change. It also appears she was on her own when she died.”

  “But what about the circumstances?” Maria asked. “She wasn’t wearing clothes when we found her. Isn’t that strange? You hardly take a shower just after taking a large dose of a dangerous drug. It doesn’t seem right.”

  “Yes,” Riya said patiently. “I agree there are unusual aspects. The fact she was naked for one, but we see a wide range of circumstances with drug abuse. Fentanyl citrate is a very powerful opiate with fast-acting properties. In America, parents have died while their baby slept peacefully beside them. It’s becoming a scourge there, and we’re seeing it more and more here.”

  Maria looked as though she’d received a slap across the face, and he felt an instant sympathy. They’d never spoken about the exact circumstances of Debbie’s demise and he wondered if her post-mortem nudity had shocked her more than she let on.

  “Debbie obviously wasn’t a regular drug user,” Riya continued. “But even for addicts, fentanyl citrate presents a serious danger. That’s why we’re working actively to stamp out this trade.”

  “Do you know who’s dealing it?” Gary asked, but she shook her head firmly. “There are many possible outlets,” she said, turning to Maria. “It’s available from parts of the dark web, and even from China via mail order.”

  “But it’s so out of character, for Debs,” Maria said.

  “I understand it’s distressing for you,” she said. “The inquest will be another hurdle to surmount, but we’ll make it as comfortable as possible. Have you taken possession of your sister’s effects yet?”

  “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “I know,” she said soothingly. “It must be upsetting to go through the deceased’s possessions. Please call me if things become overwhelming.”

  Maria gave a tight smile and clutched Gary’s hand. “Thanks,” she said. “But that won’t be necessary.”

  Riya paused for a second. “There is another subject I need to raise,” she said before pausing again.

  Gary tensed, if she was bringing up Gail’s accusations, he’d give a robust defence. But instead, she glanced at Maria. “We’ve received distressing news from our colleagues in Preston.”

  Maria frowned. “Preston? Why? What’s happened there?”

  Riya consulted her notebook. “Did you know a young lady called Caitlyn Jones?”

  “Caitlyn? Yes, I did, why?”

  Riya looked up. “It seems she was found dead on a railway line recently.”

  Maria let out a gasp. “When?”

  Riya frowned. “Three days ago.”

  “Suicide?”

  “It appears so. How well did you know Ms Jones?”

  Maria shook her head. “Not well, but she was a regular member of our congregation.”

  “The congregation in Southport?”

  “It is, why?”

  “Were Debbie and Caitlyn good friends?”

  Maria’s frown returned. “Is this relevant to my sister’s death?”

  “Not directly, Maria, but it appears she left a note, and Debbie’s death was mentioned as a factor. I’m sorry to bring you more bad news but we felt you needed to know.”

  “I see,” she said. “What did the note say?”

  “I haven’t seen it,” Riya said. “But I’ll leave you a contact number for the Preston Constabulary. Foul play isn’t suspected, but it seems she was upset by your sister’s death.”

  Maria gave a brief nod. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  After giving a sympathetic smile, Riya leaned across to grip her hand. “If you remember anything which might be useful, Maria,” she said. “Please get in touch.” Ri
sing slowly to her feet, she held out her hand.

  While Maria rose to take the woman’s hand and escort her to the door, Gary sat back and wondered why the police had mentioned Caitlyn’s death today. Possibly standard procedure, but it explained where one of the so-called ‘disappeared’ had gone.

  Maria’s eyes were moist when she returned. “Riya’s nice,” she said, and when she hugged him tightly, he felt her heart beating strongly. “But her news was a shock.”

  “No doubt,” he said. “It’s too late now, but do you still have that e-mail from Caitlyn?”

  “Why?” She looked curious rather than concerned.

  “Curiosity,” he said. “Is there something I don’t know?”

  She frowned. “I deleted it,” she said. “I told you the main points.”

  “But why delete it?”

  She shrugged and tried a brief smile. “I decided it might discourage rather than encourage you.”

  “How?”

  She sighed. “There were one or two uncomplimentary things about me personally in it, nothing relevant.”

  Understandable, he supposed, but she frowned when he waited for her to continue.

  “She accused me of setting Debbie against her,” she said.

  “Did you?”

  “I gave her my honest opinion.”

  Now, it made sense.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  He gently released her. “As we planned earlier,” he said. “We find a photo of Gail to show Tom.”

  She nodded. “What do you make of Riya’s visit?

  “As expected,” he said. “It will be a matter of resources. Do you know how many drug-related deaths there are each year?”

  “No, have you looked it up?”

  He smiled briefly. “You’ve guessed right, I have. It depends on your definitions but for opiates. It’s nearly three thousand, and fentanyl is one of the reasons for the increase.”

  “How many cases turn out to be murder?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s not many.”

  “You’re saying it’ll be called accidental death?”