Jeremiah's Bell

by Denzil Meyrick

  ‘Mummy, what’s wrong?’ James Daley junior had stopped crying now, his unwillingness to visit the dentist replaced by worry for his mother.

  Liz breathed deeply. She’d expected Jim to take their child for the check-up, but he’d disappeared with Brian. She hadn’t made a fuss when he’d called to say he would be gone most of the day; that he had effectively gone back to work early. Part of her had wanted to scream at him for his insensitivity, but she knew that he would have been angry with himself for failing to think of the significance of the situation, and anyway he’d had enough to deal with over the last few months.

  She sighed and cuddled her son. ‘Don’t worry, James. Mummy’s just a bit tired. Come on, we have to get ready. I promise it won’t be sore. There are just some things in life you have to do.’

  Finally, he was ready. Once he was securely fastened into his car seat, Liz drove off, making steady progress down the rutted lane until they reached the main road.

  ‘It’s bumpy, Mummy,’ said the little boy.

  ‘Yes, Mummy will have to speak to Mr Galbraith and see if he can fix it.’

  ‘He’s a farmer, Mummy. Will he do it with his tractor?’

  ‘Oh, I expect so, James. Farmers do most things in their tractors in my experience. Just you sit tight; we’re on the road now. It’ll be much smoother.’

  As they drove along she began to feel hot and turned up the air conditioning.

  ‘Mummy, I’m cold.’

  ‘Sorry, darling.’ She turned it back down, but the sweat on her brow was a cold one.

  They avoided the centre of town, driving along the little dual carriageway and up a rise. After passing two small hotels she pulled in at a convenient space just outside a big sandstone house. On one of the pillars that guarded the entrance was fixed a polished brass plate: D. A. Skelton, Dentist, FRCDS.

  Liz’s hands began to shake; she felt her throat tighten and tears begin to fall down her cheeks. She felt the pain, the helplessness, the paralysing fear, the nausea – everything she had suffered at the hands of another man in this profession. He always smelled the same; whether it was antiseptic or one of the many other tools of the trade she didn’t know, but the underlying stench of his job lingered like the base note of an expensive perfume.

  ‘Oh, they’re closed today. I must have made a mistake, James,’ said Liz with forced jollity. ‘It’s your lucky day, son.’

  ‘Yay!’ roared James Daley junior as they drove away from the dentist’s and headed for home. All the time Liz was doing her level best to keep her silent sobs from her young son.

  Alice Wenger’s hands shook as she tried to dial the emergency number into her phone. This was her second attempt, there being no signal at the place her father had chosen to take his own life.

  ‘Emergency, which service do you require, police, ambulance or fire and rescue?’ The voice on the other end of the line was calm, measured.

  Alice hesitated. What should her reply be? The ambulance was of no use to her father now. ‘I – I’m not sure,’ she stammered.

  ‘Please try to tell me what’s happened,’ said the operator in a soothing tone.

  ‘He’s dead!’ Alice put one gloved hand to her mouth.

  ‘You’re breaking up slightly. Did you say someone was dead?’

  ‘Yes, yes – my father. He fell – jumped – I don’t know.’

  There was more urgency in the operator’s voice now. ‘Please tell me where this happened.’

  Alice looked around. For a second the hills and fields were anonymous in her mind, the places where she’d run and played as a child suddenly forgotten as she tried to process the trauma of seeing her father plunge to his death. Then it clicked. ‘Thomson’s Hill. I’m on Thomson’s Hill.’

  ‘And you mentioned your father, where is he?’

  Her voice was quaking now; despite her expensive outdoor gear she was freezing, cold enough to send her teeth chattering. ‘He’s – he’s on the rocks – below the cliff.’

  ‘I need your name, madam. Are you safe?’ Concern now on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m safe. Oh, just please, please help me!’

  16

  Daley and Scott were following an ambulance as it made its way along the winding single-track road towards Thomson’s Hill. Ahead, vehicles coming from the opposite direction reversed into the nearest passing places or pulled up on the grass verge to let them past. Both Scott’s car and the ambulance were attending the scene to the wail of sirens and flash of blue lights.

  The ambulance slowed at the gate. A woman in a green uniform jumped out and opened the gate to let both vehicles on to the hill.

  ‘Shit, I don’t think I’ll make it up the rise in this jalopy,’ said Scott as the car began to slip and slide alarmingly on the slick grass. ‘We should have gone for your SUV, Jimmy.’

  Ahead, the ambulance was having similar problems. Both vehicles stopped at the foot of the hill. The paramedic jumped from the ambulance and made her way to Scott’s car.

  ‘No way we’ll make it up there – you neither, by the looks of things. The field’s like a bog after the storms.’

  ‘I was kind o’ thinking that myself,’ Scott replied.

  ‘But it’s not far over that hill until we get to the cliff. My father used to take me up there birdwatching when I was a wean. We’ll take the essentials. Nothing we can do for Mr Doig by the sound of things, but we can see that this Ms Wenger is cared for. The lifeboat’s on its way; they’ll retrieve the body, I think.’

  ‘Oor forensics team are coming doon on the helicopter. You tell they lifeboat boys not tae touch anything until they arrive,’ said Scott.

  ‘What if he’s still alive?’

  ‘Does that sound likely tae you? He’s no’ moved in half an hour, no’ tae mention falling two hundred feet on tae rocks. Are you expecting him tae bounce up an’ say that he’s okay and it’s just a wee cut?’

  Daley leaned across Scott. ‘We’ll call the lifeboat and let them know the procedure, Mrs Shanklin. You feel free to do your job with Ms Wenger. We’ll follow you on foot up the hill.’

  ‘You’ve got the knack wae these folk, Jimmy. I don’t know how you do it.’ Scott scratched his head.

  ‘It just involves not being rude, Brian.’

  ‘Aye, right. You’re the master o’ diplomacy when the red mist descends, eh?’

  Scott’s mobile rang and as always he had to squint at it before he could see to answer the call. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Daley looked on as he nodded without speaking. ‘She can’t see you nodding, Brian – it’s a phone!’

  Scott nodded a couple more times then handed the phone to Daley. ‘Here, it’s the boss. She wants tae speak tae you.’

  Daley raised his eyes as he took the phone. ‘Yes ma’am?’

  ‘Jim? I didn’t think you were coming back until next week?’

  ‘I just popped into the office. DI Scott was getting me up to speed on what’s been going on.’ He winked at Scott.

  ‘Okay. I’m glad you’re there. A suicide, I hear?’

  Daley hesitated. ‘I don’t think we can immediately jump to that conclusion. Under the circumstances, I mean.’

  ‘What circumstances?’

  ‘I’ll call you when we get back to the office, ma’am. This could be more complicated than it appears. Might not be, but there’s a possibility.’

  ‘I’ll leave it in your capable hands then, Jim. Let me know what’s happening as soon as you can.’

  ‘Certainly will do, ma’am.’

  ‘And Jim?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am?’

  ‘It’s good to have you back.’

  He thanked her, ended the call and handed the phone back to Scott. ‘Right, DI Scott, time to get up that hill.’

  Liz was back home, gazing out of the window as James junior played on the floor with his toy cars. She’d been warned by her GP that life wouldn’t – couldn’t possibly – return to normal after her ordeal, b
ut she hadn’t listened. Overall, she’d been happy with how she felt. No bad dreams or panic attacks – she even managed not to think about it, though that had been difficult during the investigation into her husband’s attack on her tormentor.

  But today had been different – very different. She was still shaking from head to toe, and her mind was a whirl of memories of that evening, flashing before her as if they were taking place now, right in front of her. She could see the pitiless look in his eyes, feel the pain of the blows, then the humiliation.

  She looked at the time: almost three o’clock. She went to make herself a cup of coffee to see if caffeine would magically restore her equilibrium and banish the images from her mind, but when she returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug and a glass of juice for James, she headed across to the drinks cabinet and poured a large measure of whisky into her drink.

  As she gulped it down a merciful calm descended upon her, almost akin to an embrace. Liz laid her head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling, trying to think of nothing for a few minutes. Soon, however, the sights and sounds of the attack on her returned, and this time she decided to forget the coffee and just poured herself a large measure of the good single malt her husband always kept to hand.

  Just one more, she thought. Just to take the edge off.

  As she took a gulp at the raw spirit she screwed up her face, the whisky burning her throat. Liz Daley was more used to expensive wine than fine whisky, but it was hitting the spot, so she persisted.

  She thought of her life. Growing up in a privileged, well-off family; a private school, university; then her marriage to Jim Daley. It hadn’t been plain sailing by any means, and in truth most of it had been her fault. She wondered what had driven her to have so many affairs; to have destroyed the man for whom she would always have the deepest affection. But the past was just that, immutable, like a mountain or the stars: no matter how much she wanted to push against it, change what had happened, it wasn’t possible and she knew it.

  She’d nursed Jim Daley through his health scare and the investigation by PIRC into his conduct and she knew that he was grateful, happy to have had the care, a shoulder to cry on, someone to talk to when he was at his lowest ebb.

  But she also knew that something had changed.

  Gone was the big man who looked at her with puppy dog eyes; gone the husband who would forgive her outrageous behaviour every time she threatened to leave; gone the man who would shake at her very touch. Gone, all gone.

  He had become cold, not to others, like Brian Scott, but to her. The changes were barely perceptible; nobody but her could possibly have noticed them. But Liz knew in her heart that Jim Daley, the man she loved, had cheated on, had treated like shit, no longer loved her. Tears filled her eyes, and for want of something else to do she headed back to the bottle and poured another large measure.

  ‘Mummy, why are you stealing Daddy’s special drink?’ asked her son, looking up at her with a confused expression.

  ‘It’s not just Daddy’s, James. It’s mine too.’ She knew, though, this was a lie. Nothing of Jim Daley belonged to her now; certainly not his heart.

  While the forensic team were busy at the rocks below, Daley had made sure that nobody went near the cliff edge from which Nathaniel Doig had plummeted to his death. Indeed, a young cop, wrapped up against the cold, was now standing guard awaiting the arrival of SOCO.

  ‘What are you thinking, Jimmy?’ Scott asked.

  ‘I don’t know. We’ll have to wait until the boys in the paper suits have done their work.’

  ‘Aye, but what’s your gut telling you?

  ‘My gut’s been away from this for a while, Brian.’

  ‘But it’s possible, right?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She comes over here tae take revenge on her dear old dad. It’s clear tae me that’s a dysfunctional family, if ever I saw one. It’s 1842 in that hoose!’

  Daley thought for a moment. There was no doubt that the likely circumstances in which Alison Doig, now Alice Wenger, had grown up were unusual ones, but why wait all these years to come back and kill her father? Though he hadn’t met the man, Hamish had called him a gent, and seemingly he was more refined and much better educated than the rest of his family. Somewhat unkindly, Daley considered Alice Wenger’s waspish mother to be a more likely candidate for murder. But within families ran complex, often impenetrable dynamics. Who knew what relationship the woman now shivering in the ambulance down the rise had had with the man who’d just died?

  With Scott in tow, Daley walked carefully down the slick mud of the hill. Alice Doig was wrapped in two blue blankets, her teeth still chattering.

  ‘We’ll be off to the hospital in a couple of minutes,’ the paramedic told them as she asked Wenger to lie down and strapped her into the on-board stretcher.

  ‘Just a couple of questions, then you can be on your way,’ said Daley.

  The paramedic opened her mouth as though she was about to object, but a stern look from Daley saw her close it again and disappear from sight round the side of the vehicle.

  ‘I know what you guys think. Cops are the same all over the world,’ said Alice, defiant though obviously still in shock.

  ‘And what do I think?’ Daley asked.

  ‘That I’ve come all this way after such a long time to kill the father I’ve always hated.’

  ‘Did you hate him?’

  ‘There wasn’t a whole lot of love going on in our house. But since you’ve asked me a direct question, no I didn’t hate him.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Are you deaf? I said I don’t want to talk about her!’ Alice Wenger spat the words out.

  ‘Tell me what happened today.’

  ‘I knew he came here every day. He did it all the time I was a kid. I knew him, so I was sure he’d be here, just like always.’

  ‘Why not go to the cottage?’

  ‘I wanted to speak to my father.’

  ‘What about your brothers?’

  ‘Have you met my brothers, detective?’

  ‘No, but I’ll be speaking to them soon.’

  ‘Well, good luck with that.’

  ‘Tell me what happened – on the hill, I mean.’

  ‘We spoke – he was very calm.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘No, not really.’ She drew the blankets tighter round her shoulders. ‘It was as though he’d seen me yesterday. He didn’t . . .’ Her voice tailed off.

  ‘He didn’t seem surprised to see you after all this time?’

  ‘Huh, no. Some of the local gossips had gotten to him first. He knew I was here – even knew I’d changed my name.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘We exchanged a few words. I shouted, he said very little. Then he just walked backwards, held out his arms, closed his eyes and fell off the edge.’

  Scott screwed up his face. ‘Backwards, you say?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Was your faither a drinking man, Ms Wenger?’

  ‘Never touched a drop when I knew him. His father was a drinker. I think he’d suffered – you know, the old guy used to get tanked up and beat the shit out of him, that sort of thing. My eldest brother is named after him – Thorbin. I’ve seen my fair share of men who like to drink, but he certainly didn’t appear drunk to me.’ She lowered her head.

  ‘Okay, Ms Wenger – Alice. Let’s get you to the hospital and we can talk some more once you’ve been checked out,’ said Daley.

  ‘If you think you’re going to make a name for yourself by pinning this on me, you can think again, asshole!’

  ‘I’m not in the habit of pinning anything on anyone. We’ll speak later. I’m sorry your father’s dead.’ Daley turned on his heel and walked towards Scott’s car. His old friend nodded at Alice Wenger and followed him.

  ‘What now, Jimmy, back tae sleepy hollow?’

  ‘Yes. While
she’s being checked out we’d better go and inform Mrs Doig that her husband’s dead. Didn’t think we’d be back there so soon. Looks like I’m having a baptism of fire.’

  Scott started the engine and pulled away, making slow progress towards the gate and the road beyond. ‘It’s no’ just Symington that’s glad you’re back. I am too, big man.’

  ‘Thanks, Brian. Much appreciated.’ Daley smiled.

  ‘I don’t fancy passing on the bad news tae that old witch, I’m telling you.’

  Daley sighed and looked up at the sky, a patchwork of grey clouds and flecks of blue.

  ‘What’s up wae you, Jimmy?’

  ‘You spoiled the moment, Brian.’

  ‘Eh? You’re as bad as Ella. It’s like speaking tae a crossword: you never know where you are.’

  ‘While I remember, I’ll need to get to grips with all the roster sheets. I’ll take a look when we get back to the office.’

  ‘Och, nae bother. Shaw’s your man for that.’

  ‘I thought you did them.’

  ‘Nah, I was, but he was keen as mustard. He’s done his best – you know, under the circumstances, like.’ Scott gave Daley a side-on look and changed the subject as quickly as he could.

  17

  1925

  As the tide went out what was left of the steam puffer Jeremiah was to be found lying on her side, held fast by the black finger of rocks that had brought about her end.

  The day was fresh now, a strong wind the only remnant of the storm that had raged all through the previous night. The air, cleaned by gales, wind and rain, was salt-tanged by the sea, and seabirds soared, glad to be able to take their heads from under the wings that were now spread in flight. In the small bay lay the body of a man, face down where sea met sand, tiny waves still pulling and pushing him as they came and went.