Tunny that you should say that,’ said Donoghue.
‘Really?’
‘Yes. All I can say at the moment is that it strikes relevant notes.’
‘I see. Well, I’m pleased that I am being of assistance. The numbers of aggressive psychopaths are fortunately low. There are probably about forty or fifty in British prisons at the moment, which means that there are about four times that number in the community.’
That’s frightening.’
‘Well, it’s not as chilling as it sounds because many of those aggressive psychopaths will be latent, or will be controlled within their particular social framework. Again, we come to the difference between a mentally ill person, the “mad” rather than the “bad”, the psychopath. The “mad” person will not be contained, the “bad” will.’
‘Because the “mad” person is ill?’
‘Precisely,’ said Cass. ‘You see, psychopaths need not only their psychopathic personalities but also a precise set of circumstances which will enable them to commit a crime and get away with it in order for them to pass from latency to activity.’
‘So,’ said Donoghue, ‘the potential is constant, always there, and when it comes together with opportunity, which is not constant, then the potential of the aggressive psychopath is released?’
‘Very well put. Inspector.’
‘So it’s possible for an aggressive psychopath to live out his life without committing a crime?’
‘Yes. If the opportunity to commit a serious crime never presents itself, then he won’t commit that crime. A “mad” person, on the other hand, is capable of running amok with a knife in a crowded street in broad daylight. I really don’t know what else I can tell you, Inspector. People known as psychopaths tend to ”act” rather than ”live”, they will act out the role of a family man, go through the motions, but won’t “live” it. Another favoured phrase to describe a psychopath is “He knows the words but not the music.”’
‘He appears normal?’
‘Yes. In fact, of all the key characteristics of the psychopath, that is the cornerstone. You see, the whole purpose of criminal psychopathy is getting away with the crime. It is therefore vital to appear normal, the last thing an aggressive psychopath wants to do is to draw attention to himself Having said that, his crimes are so convoluted and complicated that that is what he does do, draws attention to himself The more you analyse his crime, the more it becomes obvious who it was that committed the crime, no matter how hard he or she tries to throw you off the scent. This is why the inadequate groups go in and out of gaol as often as they do.’
‘I see. This is fascinating, sir.’
‘It’s all off the top of my head. I can recommend some good reading. Other characteristics might be, well, absence of delusions or fantasy or other signs of irrational thought, a lack of nervousness, great calm and self-control, a lack of truthfulness, a lack of sincerity, lack of guilt feelings or feelings of remorse or shame, a great egocentricity, a lack of wealth of the major affective reactions.’
‘Inability to love, for example?’
‘Inability to hate as well; a lack of anger, a lack of enthusiasm, lack of fear, generally a lack of the major emotions which go to make up a normal human being.’
‘Extreme detachment?’
‘Yes. Psychopaths are generally unresponsive in personal relationships; their sex life is trivial, impersonal and poorly integrated. One other major characteristic, and probably the most frightening, is an apparent ability to influence and control other people. It is as if a psychopath can cast a spell over people in his immediate circle, it may only be one person or two, but these people will fall under his control.
Beware of an over-friendly approach, a laying on of hands even, resting a hand on your leg, shaking your hand with an over-long eye contact, or reaching out on an emotional plane, inviting you to be a role model he or she never had— ”You know, I never had a father,” for instance. Beware of that, it’s the beginning of the snare that will eventually trap you.’
‘Like a spider’s web.’ Donoghue tapped his pipe in the ashtray, sensing that it was time to go, to thank and conclude.
‘That’s an analogy worth remembering.’ Cass stood, taking Donoghue’s eye. ‘If only because in terms of proportion to their actual size, spiders have the largest jaws of any living creature. Psychopaths rarely commit suicide, tend to be Caucasian, tend to have relocated from their roots, tend to be only children. That’s just off the top of my head.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Donoghue.
It was Thursday, 11.05 hrs.
Donoghue drove out to Balfron, the house of Bentley, as he would later write in officialese. Ray Sussock sat beside him and said nothing, speaking only when spoken to and then giving little in exchange. Donoghue sensed that the older man was in a huff; better to just let him brood, he reasoned. Donoghue drove the Rover up to the imposing Bentley residence. The rain had eased off and then stopped, a temporary respite; the sun shone brightly through a gap in the cloud cover and, as the police officers got out of the Rover, their nostrils were assailed by the scent of plants: everything about them smelled fresh and new and cleansed. Donoghue and Sussock climbed up the steps of the house and Donoghue reached forward and pressed the doorbell. It rang, jangling and hollowly echoing in the vast hallway. Sussock turned and surveyed the panorama of hills and white-painted cottages and trees; his eye fell lovingly and longingly on one cottage in particular, white like the others, nestling in a fold in the hills, isolated at the top of a long winding drive.
‘Not bad,’ he said in his first unsolicited statement of the afternoon, ‘not bad at all.’
Donoghue was keen to respond, keen to jerk Sussock out of his mood. ‘As they say, nice work if you can get it!’
The door opened. Mrs Bentley stood in the doorway, a retiring, whimpering woman with short black hair and flower-patterned frock. She held her hands tightly together.
‘Yes, gentlemen?’ she said in a thin, frightened voice. ‘Mr Bentley’s not at home.’
‘That’s all right. We’d like to talk to Veronica,’ Donoghue said.
Miriam Bentley stepped aside and the two cops entered the clean-smelling hall, sweeping off’ their hats as they crossed the threshold.
‘If you’d like to wait in the library, please. I’ll bring her down.’
‘She’s still unwell?’
A look of guilt, or embarrassment perhaps, thought Donoghue, flashed across Miriam Bentley’s eyes. ‘It’s nothing. A touch of cold and influenza.’
‘Influenza?’ Donoghue echoed. ‘We’re quite prepared to go upstairs.’
‘No.’
‘We’ll go upstairs,’ said Sussock.
‘Well, if you insist, gentlemen.’
Donoghue raised his eyebrows. ‘We insist.’
‘Mr Bentley won’t like it. He won’t approve.’
‘Just refer him to us,’ said Sussock.
Miriam Bentley sighed and turned and ascended the wide staircase. Sussock and Donoghue followed. The staircase turned halfway up and a large stained glass window looked down on the turn of the stair. On the upstairs landing Miriam Bentley turned to her right and walked along a carpeted corridor. She stopped at a door and took a key from her pocket.
Donoghue and Sussock glanced at each other.
‘You keep her locked in the room?’ said Sussock.
Miriam Bentley turned the key. ‘My husband insists on it,’ she said. ‘I don’t like it but he insists on it.’
‘And you do as he says?’
Miriam Bentley nodded, as if to say, ‘Yes, I know it’s wrong, but I do it. I don’t know why I do it, but I do.’ She flung the door wide. ‘Some people to see you, dear.’
Veronica Bentley lay in bed under sheets and blankets. She was pale, drawn, hungry-looking, her long black hair lay on the pillow. She levered herself up and as her strength seemed to seep from her, she sank back on to the pillow.
Donoghue glanced around the r
oom. The bed was an old hospital bed, he thought, metal frame painted a sickly creamy yellow colour and flaking here and there. The floorboards were bare, the windows were curtainless. There was not the smallest item of furnishing in the room, save the bed. And that was it, an utterly naked room, a metal bed, two sheets, two blankets, a pillow, a girl and pyjamas for the girl. Sussock crossed to the window and tried to open it.
‘It’s nailed shut,’ said the girl. ‘It gets a bit stuffy in here, but it’s better than the shed in the garden.’
‘The shed?’
‘I started out in the shed.’
‘Mr Bentley allowed Veronica back into the house once the worst was over,’ said Miriam Bentley.
‘The worst?’
‘I’m a smackhead,’ said Veronica Bentley.
‘I know,’ said Donoghue.
‘Mr Bentley is doing that which is best.’
‘So he says,’ Veronica Bentley said sourly.
‘What is he doing for the best?’ asked Donoghue.
‘Well, my husband says it’s just like a dose of ‘flu, any discomfort is all in her head.’
‘That’s what he said to me, so I said that I ache all over— my joints especially. The funny thing is, the only place I don’t hurt is my head.’
‘Veronica…’ Miriam Bentley pleaded.
‘Look, Mother, he’s destroyed you, he’s not destroying me. I’ve got a life of my own and most of it is still in front of me. See, him, he threw the baby out with the bathwater years ago.’ She turned to Donoghue. ‘Can you take me out of here, please?’
‘Veronica!’
‘Can you take me away? I’m twenty years old. I can leave if I want. I’m a prisoner here.’
‘Veronica, your father says it’s for your own good.’
‘Yes,’ said Donoghue calmly. ‘Yes, of course we’ll take you out of here. Have you got any clothes or have they been nailed down too?’
‘I don’t know. Where are they. Mother? Perhaps he’s destroyed them as a second line of defence to prevent my escape.’
‘I can’t let you have them.’ Miriam Bentley shook nervously.
‘I would, if I were you,’ said Donoghue.
‘Otherwise you are aiding and abetting unlawful imprisonment,’ said Sussock.
‘She’s our daughter.’
‘She’s an adult.’
‘I’m going. Mother.’ Veronica Bentley propped herself up in the bed. ‘I’d like to see a doctor.’
‘I think you need one,’ said Donoghue. He turned to the shaking woman. ‘Can you get her some clothes, or take her to where her clothing is?’
‘You’d better come too. Mother. You know he’s only going to put your blood on the wall again, just as soon as he finds out that I’m gone.’
Miriam Bentley hesitated.
Donoghue said, ‘It’s up to you, Mrs Bentley. If you suffer mental violence, you can be offered alternative accommodation.’
‘I don’t know what to do for the best.’
‘I want you to come with me, Mother.’ Veronica Bentley levered herself out of bed. Donoghue saw that she had the potential to be very, very attractive, but at present she was thin and anaemic. ‘We can make a fresh start.’
‘In a council housing scheme?’
‘It would be better than this prison.’
‘Maybe I will. I don’t know. I’ve been here most of my
‘Easily.’ Veronica Bentley stood unsteadily. ‘Besides, I don’t call what I’ve seen any sort of marriage. It’s a wonder you’ve any teeth left.’
‘I don’t have much time.’ Miriam Bentley glanced at her watch. ‘He could come home any time now.’
‘He can come home any time he likes,’ said Donoghue. ‘I know it’s his house, but we are in control here.’
‘No, he can’t,’ said Veronica. ‘He has control over us, over her especially. You know what he’s like. Mother. Face up to reality, will you?’
‘I can’t…I can’t…’
‘Will you come with me, or stay?’
‘You’re really going?’
‘I have to. I want to live. I don’t want this—this—this living death that you’re living.’
‘But thirty years of marriage, thirty years…it’s half a life.’
‘It’s a half-life. There is a difference.’
‘We’ll wait downstairs,’ said Donoghue.
‘What did you want to see me about anyway?’ Veronica Bentley forced a smile. ‘Inspector Donoghue, isn’t it?’
‘We wanted a chat about Eddie Wroe and Shane Dodemaide.’
‘Oh, them. Look, I was heavily into the poison then. I’m trying to put it all behind me. I’m not so pleased with myself, but when you’re down where I was, all you care about is your next fix, all you want to do is puncture yourself and fill yourself up with poison.’ She pulled up her pyjama sleeve and revealed a blotched, bruised skin with a series of small dots in the bruising. ‘See my track marks,’ she said. ‘The bruising will fade, but the track marks will remain. Just in case I forget, they’ll be there to remind me. So what’s happened to Shane and Eddie? They’re just sad cases, really. They’re really victims. Have you pulled them for theft or something?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Donoghue.
‘Oh?’
‘Shane Dodemaide’s in gaol.’
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‘Shane in the slammer?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘Why?’
‘Murder.’
‘Oh no! Not Shane. Really, Inspector, he’s done a few daft things in his time, but he wouldn’t murder anybody. He hasn’t got the bottle for that. He wouldn’t murder anyone.’
‘Well, frankly, between you and me and Sergeant Sussock here, I’m inclined to believe you. But the circumstantial evidence is so strong that we can’t ignore it.’
‘His fingerprints were found on what we believe may have been the murder weapon,’ said Sussock by means of explanation.
‘Well, that’s damning enough,’ Veronica Bentley conceded. ‘So what about Eddie? Is he implicated as well?’
‘No,’ said Donoghue. ‘He is the deceased in question.’
Sussock drove to Longriggend. He had journeyed back to P Division with Donoghue. In the rear of the Rover had sat a pale-faced Veronica Bentley and a lost-looking Miriam Bentley; both seemed to be in a state of shock, especially, thought Sussock, Miriam Bentley, who seemed to be a lady confronting a wasted past and an uncertain future. At Longriggend he was shown into the agent’s room, the same agent’s room where earlier he and Donoghue had interviewed Shane Dodemaide. Sussock sat on one of the chairs and rested his forearms on the table. In his mind he went over the questions that Donoghue had asked him to put— ‘Don’t feed him the answers, Ray, you know the form. I’ll leave it to you.’
He waited a full ten minutes before Shane Dodemaide was shown into the room. When he entered, he looked sheepish and embarrassed. He was bruised about the face and had a long cut across his forehead. He grinned a forced grin and revealed a top gum with newly missing teeth.
‘Finding your feet, Shane?’ asked Sussock as the youth sat opposite him.
‘I can’t stand it in here, Mr Sussock,’ Shane Dodemaide’s grin faded and gave way to a desperate pleading and expression of despair. ‘I never killed nobody.’
‘That’s why I’m here.’
‘You’re here to help me? Last night they gave me a doing.’ He waved a hand over his face. ‘I’ve got more bruises under my shirt. I wouldn’t put the slop bucket over my head and bunny-hop up and down the cell.’
‘Aye, there’s some hard wee neds in here. So if you want me to help you, you’ll have to help us.’
‘What do you want me to do, Mr Sussock?’
‘Reach back into you memory. I know that your short-term memory is bad, the heroin does that to you, but I want you to think.’
Shane Dodemaide nodded.
‘Two questions. First, the sequence of events from the time that Veronica came to
the squat to the time we lifted you. I mean comings and goings, not when, but the sequence. Second, anything that happened to you in that time concerning Veronica’s father. Take your time.’
‘Well, I’ve got plenty of that.’
Sussock opened his notebook and took out his ballpoint pen.
‘It’s not so easy to remember, Mr Sussock. I don’t remember too well.’
‘Try,’ Sussock spoke sharply. ‘It’s up to you. You can get out of here within hours if we drop the charges, or you can go back to your cell doing bunny-hops between the bunks with the slop bucket on your head. It’s up to you. If you think that you’re tough enough to do a ten-year stretch in the slammer, then just don’t try to remember. But if you want out and back home…’
‘Home!’ Shane Dodemaide sighed.
‘Or wherever, but out of here at any rate.’
‘I want out.’
‘Then help me to help you. How about those questions?’
‘What were they again?’
‘Sequence of comings and goings at the squat and anything that happened between you and Mr Bentley.’
‘Oh yes. In January, it was cold and dark and wet and she came in shivering and bedraggled.’
‘When did you realize that Eddie Wroe’s solicitor was Veronica’s father?’
‘Eddie told me in mid-February. He was sort of amused by it. Kept making appointments to see Mr Bentley. Things went on like that for a few weeks as Eddie’s case was coming up, theft by OLP, I think.’
‘What did he turn over? A lockup?’
‘Something like that. Eddie was into stealing videos, very easy to unload. Two videos would buy a day’s smack. He worked really hard, did Eddie. Made a lot of money. He’d get lifted, get lifted again, but just kept at it. He had to survive.’
‘You did the same sort of thing?’
‘Yes. He showed me the ropes, then we operated separately. We could keep each other supplied better. See, that way only one of us got lifted at any one time.’
‘So Eddie was visiting Mr Bentley regularly. He went to see him at his office? Which is where?’
‘In the town in Bath Street. One day I got lifted for possession, a few grains. I got bailed and Eddie said I should go and see Mr Bentley. He said that Bentley was a huge guy in a silk shirt getting fat on Legal Aid money and not really giving a damn about anybody, but you can sit there and think how we are passing his daughter backwards and forwards between us. That’s what Eddie said.’
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