by Wonny Lea
Martin got up from his seat on the footstool and stretched his legs. ‘We had picked up on that incident from Mark’s Social Services record, but thanks for filling in the details that were omitted.’
‘Shall I make us all a cup of coffee?’ asked Helen. ‘What about you, Norman? I know how to mix the blends you like, and I promise to give you your favourite mug.’
Almost as soon as she had said the words Helen regretted them, as she remembered that Norman’s favourite mug was one shaped like a Welsh dragon, which had been given to him by Mark and was now somewhere in that box of rejected memorabilia.
She needn’t have worried, though, as there was absolutely no reaction from Norman. She made her way to the kitchen anyway, suddenly realising how much this situation was demanding of her. When she had rung the surgery, Helen had been told that Norman’s GP was doing house calls, but a return call had told her that the doctor knew about the situation and would be with them in about twenty minutes. That had been ten minutes ago and so Helen quickly made four mugs of coffee, thinking that DCI Phelps would want to finish talking to Sandy before the doctor arrived.
She carried the coffees into the lounge on a tray, and handed one each to Sandy and Martin before setting the tray down on a long sideboard, then moving one of the occasional tables near to Norman and placing his coffee within easy reach. Her actions were rewarded as Norman looked up at her and mouthed a silent thank you.
Sandy hadn’t missed this first small sign of normal behaviour from her husband, and wanted to rush over and hold on to him but was worried that anything could send him back into himself. She pretended not to notice and continued her discussion with DCI Phelps.
‘As I was saying,’ she continued, ‘soon after Mark came to us he went to Whitchurch High School, and it seemed to be the making of him. I like to think that he felt at home and safe there, because he had a comfortable home to come back to at the end of each day and, for the first time in his life, somewhere to bring his friends. He was very popular, and as we aren’t that far from the school it was not uncommon for me to do lunch or tea for a dozen or more hungry teenagers. It was one of the best times of my life.’
As Sandy was speaking she was becoming more aware that her husband was listening and used the opportunity to inject some more positive memories into his mind.
‘Norman used to pretend shock horror at the thought of our home being invaded most lunchtimes, but it was he who popped out to the shops in the mornings and came back loaded with goodies, and Mark loved him for it. After a while the numbers went down, but our usual, almost daily, visitors, were Paula and Suzanne. And Mark has remained friends with those two ever since. They are totally devastated and brought us that enormous bunch of lilies, they were Mark’s favourite flower.’
‘I thought there were three women in that group of friends?’ interrupted Martin.
‘Not to begin with,’ Sandy said. ‘Anne and Mark met when he went to art college, and then they worked together for a while, but I suppose it was through visits here that they all got to know one another. Anne and Paula didn’t hit it off at first, but I think that was because she felt a bit side-lined when Mark and Anne talked endlessly about art and design. They had an uncanny ability when given a particular project to sit down with a blank piece of paper and come up with almost identical ideas.
‘On reflection, art and design was the only thing I ever remember them talking about, and Anne never seemed to participate in the other three’s discussions about music, politics, families, and whatever – but then some people are just single-minded when it comes to something they love and are good at.’
Norman moved forward and took a sip of his coffee, and Sandy looked towards him and smiled, but didn’t move. Her gut feeling was that her strategy was working, and her husband was coming back to her from that very dark place he had visited.
‘Just to recap,’ said Martin, taking his lead from Sandy and not directly involving Norman. ‘We know there are issues surrounding Mark’s biological family, and no love lost with any of them but Mark’s father is in jail and your son had no contact with his sister. There are also a few incidents relating to the time that Mark was in care but the only serious one involves a young boy and his father, and both of them are no longer with us. No problems in school by the sound of things, so that brings us to people Mark knew through work or socialising, possibly clubs or other interest groups.’
To everyone’s surprise Norman interrupted in a voice that was so normal it was quite shocking – it was as if nothing had happened with him and he had been part of the discussion all along. ‘I taught Mark to play golf,’ he volunteered. ‘He joined the golf club but was never very good and I think he only persevered with his dreadful swing just to please me. There was never any trouble there and as far as I know Mark never made any enemies. Certainly nobody was jealous of his handicap!’
As if by some kind of mutual autosuggestion, everyone accepted his input and did nothing to indicate how worried they had been about him. Norman continued to reminisce about their short-lived golfing activities. Didn’t he even remember his own actions of this morning? Could he have collected up all those things and attempted to set fire to them, and then forgotten about it almost immediately? Martin had seen grief play strange tricks on people but this was a new one on him and he was relieved that this was one problem he could hand over to Norman’s GP – he had enough of his own to worry about, and for now he was just pleased to have extra input into his investigation.
‘Were there any other clubs or any other people that Mark brought home?’ he asked.
‘Well, not exactly clubs, but Mark signed up to a number of things over the years, always wanting to learn something new. He did a one-year course in computing at UWIC, and several courses in different aspects of horticulture. And then there were the endless weekend and holiday-linked courses, usually associated with international food and cooking. Mark was an excellent cook, and the more complicated the recipe the better he liked it.’
Norman was on a roll now, as if the floodgates of his memory had been opened and the outpourings were outside his control. Martin did not want to inhibit what could be essential to Norman’s recovery but needed to contain the conversation and get answers to some important questions.
‘Any friendships develop from any of these activities?’ Martin looked at Sandy, not wanting to lose her input as she was more focused and seemed to understand why DCI Phelps was asking these questions.
‘No particular friendships,’ she answered. ‘Just a few casual relationships, and we met a number of people, both men and women, with whom Mark shared a common interest while he was doing the various courses. Nobody stands out in my memory and there was no trouble at that time.
‘For a while Mark was involved with an organisation that promotes the rights of gay men and women, but I wouldn’t say he was a particularly active member and only got involved with it through Tony, who was the one partner Mark brought to our home. We had always told Mark that he was welcome to bring home anyone he was involved with, but there was never any relationship that lasted. As far as I recall, Tony and he were together for about three months, and we met him twice before it petered out and they amicably went their separate ways.’
‘Did they stay in touch at all?’ asked Martin.
‘Not really,’ said Sandy. ‘I was with Mark about two years ago when we bumped into Tony as he was coming out of the HSBC bank in the centre of Cardiff. He was with his partner, whose name I can’t remember, but whose Scottish accent was unforgettable! They told Mark that they had been through one of those civil partnership ceremonies and all three of them chattered away like old friends while I left them to sort out some payments. Afterwards Mark told me how pleased he was that Tony had found such a nice partner, and hoped they would both enjoy their new life in Scotland.’
Sandy did not have a contact number for Tony, but he would be easy enough to trace as each year there were only a small number of same-sex
civil ceremonies recorded in Cardiff. From what Sandy had said, Martin did not think Tony would be involved with the murder but he would still need to be officially ruled out.
Norman had been listening and suddenly interrupted. ‘The only place we suspect there may have been trouble is at one of the health clubs Mark joined within the last year or so, and we only know that as a result of something Mark said to Paula when they were both here a few weeks ago.’
Martin pricked up his ears. ‘What exactly did he say? Can you remember?’
‘I caught a snippet of the conversation, where Mark told her that he was not going to be driven out of a place that suited his needs just because some gorilla was homophobic. He went on to say that he believed the guy was jealous as his steroid-enhanced body was already going to seed.
‘Mark added that he had heard the manager say that it was not normal for someone to be gay and at the same time look so macho – it confused everyone. I remember Paula laughed hysterically at that, and then asked Mark how this idiot had discovered that he was gay.’
Norman looked across at Sandy. ‘That’s when you came into the room and the conversation stopped, but I was anxious about what I had heard and asked Mark about it later. In his usual way of not wanting to worry me he told me that the man was just one of many bigots he had met during his lifetime and not someone for me to be concerned about – but I was left feeling uneasy at the time, and have thought about it several times since.’
‘What about work?’ Martin asked. ‘Did he have any problems there?’
Sandy responded. ‘Mark kept work and home very separate from the beginning and although he got on well there he was never ambitious, just content to do the job and come home. Of course, to begin with Anne worked in the same place but apparently they had such similar ideas on design that the boss decided he didn’t need both of them and Anne left.’
‘There was no problem over that, as Anne by her own admission has itchy feet, and history has proven that as she never really settled at any job and has apparently done a lot of freelance projects. According to Mark, most of what she called her “freelance projects” are more likely to have been periods of time on the dole, but he respected her privacy and didn’t delve too deeply into that aspect of her life.
‘I can’t think of any problems with work, and since this has happened we have received numerous cards, flowers, and phone calls from the company. It’s a pity someone has to die before people are able to tell them how much they are liked.’
A car was drawing into the drive, and as it pulled up alongside Martin’s car Helen Cook-Watts got to her feet and made for the front door. She wanted to fill the GP in about the latest twist in Norman’s state of mind before the doctor saw him and so she opened the door even before the bell sounded.
‘Bloody hell, I’m glad I’m not famous! I would definitely be up for assault and battery if I had to face that lot on a regular basis.’ The doctor, who was not much older than Helen, was referring to the press as she stretched out her hand and introduced herself.
Helen raised her eyebrows in response, and then quickly briefed Dr Kate Perry on what had happened, concluding with the thought that Norman may not even remember what he had done earlier and may be surprised that she had been called at all.
‘Not to worry,’ replied Dr Perry. ‘Although Norman and Sandy are not constant visitors to the surgery, we do know them fairly well, and I’ll just say that this is a routine visit following their recent loss and take it from there.’
Helen instantly liked this level-headed young woman, and led her into the lounge where DCI Phelps was on his feet and thanking Sandy and Norman for their help. Dr Perry again held out her hand, this time in Martin’s direction and after a brief greeting sat down between Sandy and Norman and immediately engaged them in conversation.
In the hallway, Martin asked Helen if there was anything she needed and requested she let him know the outcome of the doctor’s visit.
‘I believe I’m managing OK here, sir,’ replied Helen. ‘I think I’ll go back in there now as they may say something to the doctor that could be of relevance to us.’
Martin opened the door to face the tireless onslaught of the media but allowed himself a brief smile – was he getting seriously older, or were police constables and doctors just getting younger and much better looking? And were both professions being taken over by women? If so – bring it on!
Chapter Eleven
The next victim
Jack was usually on a high when returning from a job for his father, knowing that not only were the jobs very well-paid, but that each time he did one his father’s reputation went up a notch – and he lived to please his old man. His own standing amongst the big boys in the drugs world was increasing and they were starting to see him as the weapon of choice when particularly nasty messages needed to be given.
He pulled into the same parking space he had left earlier, expecting to see Amy wandering around the car park looking for him, but there was no sign of her.
Instead of the usual pumped-up feeling, Jack was agitated, as the job hadn’t gone exactly to plan and he had ended up having to forsake one of the keepsakes he treasured from each of his successes. Never before had this happened, but he told himself it was no big deal, as there was nothing to link it to him and he was too clever to leave behind fingerprints or DNA – his father had taught him well.
It had been the first time he had left the murder weapon behind and it had also been the first time his target had been a woman. The stupid cow had thought he was chatting her up, and she had come on to him as he had suspected she would. It had been so easy to stick the long steel dagger in between her ribs and watch her body contort as the blade entered her heart and quickly stopped it beating.
Jack hadn’t noticed her dog, and although there was no struggle or outward sign of violence the dog obviously sensed danger and started growling and barking fiercely and attracting attention. With no other option, Jack had to get away quickly, leaving his knife in situ. She had been the wife of one of Leo Thompson’s fellow inmates and now her cheating days were well and truly over.
The job had been done, and the end result was what had been required, so the boys would be happy with that. But Jack knew he would be torn to pieces when his father found out the risks he had taken. They had already decided that Jack would not visit for the next couple of months, as there was a feeling that the cops were being fed information on a couple of fronts so best he keep away.
Jack hoped it wouldn’t be too long before the prison leak was discovered. His mood lifted as he envisaged which of his treasures he would use on the next piece of shit who needed to be taught a lesson. Something really special would send out the right message to women who played away when their husbands were banged up.
He left the car and looked around, realising that the job that should have taken no more than ten minutes, plus just over an hour travelling time, had actually taken over two hours in total and they would now have to get a move on or miss the plane.
Where the fuck was she, and why wasn’t she answering her mobile? He rushed around muttering to himself, and cursed the fact that she had some strange hold over him and he knew that for now he didn’t want to dump her. But, hell, no bloody woman was going to make a fool of him.
She hadn’t tried to call him, as he had checked his phone, but then he had told her that on no account was she to do so. At that time, with his mind fixed on the job he was about to do and the look of pure sin and evil in his eyes, she would have been left in no doubt that he meant it.
So where was the stupid bitch? They were already behind the schedule the airlines give for checking in, but being a seasoned flier Jack knew he could get there minutes before the checking finished and still make it. But that wasn’t keeping a low profile, and last-minute activity seemed to attract the attention of airport officials.
‘Pick up, you bitch. Pick up, you stupid bitch. Pick up, you stupid fucking bitch.’ Jack bellowed at
his phone, before he became aware that he was drawing attention to himself and this was not something he normally did. He had reached his current age and had committed some unbelievable acts of depravity without so much as a police caution or a point on his driving license. He was proud of this amazing achievement. It was what kept him invisible, and now wasn’t the time to blot his copy-book.
Pulling himself together, Jack headed back to his car and drove straight to the airport. If she was there she would have some explaining to do, and if not; well, that would be her loss. To override the feelings he had for her, Jack convinced himself that just lately she was starting to look her age, while he still had years of youth on his side. He would not be made a fool of, and driving into the airport while still alone in his car he yelled above the loud bass sounds of the stereo system. ‘Sod her … sod the stupid fucking bitch.’
Within ten minutes of Jack leaving her, Amy had become overwhelmed with cravings, not for the substitute drugs she had been swallowing in recent years but for the real thing. And why not? Cash wasn’t a problem now that she had more than she ever had seen in her life, and her hands caressed the black leather bum bag she had strapped around her waist. It had been their first purchase that afternoon and as she looked down at it she expected it to be bulging with cash, but it surprised her to see that close on two thousand pounds in assorted notes, mainly twenties, took up so little space.
Perhaps she had miscounted … but no, she had done it at least half-a-dozen times, and each time got a total of one thousand nine hundred and forty pounds. And, after all, Jack had given it to her to spend as she wanted. But Jack would kill her if she ditched him … She shuddered at the thought, knowing that he was more than capable.
Instead of bringing her to her senses, her fear of repercussions from Jack only served to heighten her cravings, and she knew they were past the point of no return and they would have to be satisfied.