Influence

by Stuart Johnstone

  Lizzie looked into the face of the woman and felt that familiar pain squeezing on her heart. It was her mother, or at least she was there somewhere a ghost of her in this living corpse. The woman’s sunken eyes found Lizzie’s and a smile turned her tortured face back into that of her mum’s.

  ‘Lizzie? How long have you been there? Sorry sweetie, I’m just so tired.’

  ‘I know Mum, don’t apologise, just rest.’ The words came through her without thought, a re-run of words exchanged already.

  ‘Listen Lizzie, we need to talk about things.’

  ‘Not now Mum, just you rest, let the doctors do their work.’

  ‘Lizzie, you can be so stubborn, but remember where you got that streak from, we need to have this talk. You know that.’ The determination in the woman’s voice took every effort and Lizzie could no longer argue, to do so would be cruel. The house Lizzie-‘

  ‘Mum I don’t want to-‘

  ‘Lizzie, you be quiet now. The house sweetie, is yours, but you must let your stepdad stay there as long as he wants to.’ Lizzie’s eyes rolled.

  ‘Please don’t call him that Mum.’

  ‘Fine, you’re to let Derek stay there as long as he needs to.’

  ‘Okay Mum, but you know I’m not going to stay there with him don’t you?’

  ‘That’s up to you, Janice is coming back soon and I’ve asked her to organise things for you if you’re determined not to stay.’

  ‘I can look after myself Mum, and besides you’re looking better.

  ‘Sweetie, I’m not better, and I’m not going to get better. You know that too.’ The woman stared into Lizzie’s eyes trying to inject the realisation of the situation.

  ‘Don’t you dare give up, you hear me,’ said Lizzie, tears streaming down her face. The words came automatically, verbatim, this conversation, this last conversation, was old, but the grief felt altogether new.

  ‘Lizzie, come here,’ she stood and leaned over the bed to hug her mother. She wanted to squeeze with all her might, but the frail woman’s ravaged body could not withstand it. Her mother had always been a slight woman but nothing compared to the bone filled gown she was embracing.

  ‘It’s going to be alright,’ her mother’s voice was soft, she shifted over in her cot and encouraged Lizzie up on to the bed to lie beside her, ‘you know for a while there I thought I had lost you. At first I thought it was just teenage rebellion, but the longer it went on the more I was scared I had ruined things by bringing Derek into the house.’

  ‘It was my fault Mum, just petulance, I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re not to say sorry for anything, you’ve come back to me, and I’m happy. That’s what you should always remember.’ Lizzie’s mother stroked her hair, like she would when she was young, at the funeral days from now, it is what Lizzie would remember as the priest’s words drifted by her unregistered. Her mother would sleep now, and she would not wake up. Lizzie lay with ambivalent emotion, happy to be with her mum, and profoundly unhappy that she was about to taken from her, again.

  ‘Lizzie, you ought to leave all this council business alone, let the boy rest in peace.’ Lizzie recoiled in horror, sitting up suddenly almost falling off the bed, her mother’s voice breaking from the script, and no longer strained and soft. Lizzie moved to stand up, but her mother’s hand gripped her wrist with an impossible strength.

  ‘I need you to do one last thing for me sweetie,’ her voice was now strong, and angry. She lunged for Lizzie hard, but her arms were stopped dead by the tubes and wires like a manacled prisoner, her face turned into a vicious scowl, her deep dark eyes suddenly wide with hate, her lips curled back over gnashing yellow teeth as she screamed in Lizzie’s face ‘STAY THE FUCK AWAY, STAY THE FUCK AWAY, STAY THE FUCK AWAY.’

  ‘Easy Lizzie. Lizzie it’s okay. Try to relax. NURSE!’

  She sprang into a seated position, her ears filled with the blare of the heart monitor going berserk. Sully’s hands gripped her upper arms. She tried to scream but the pain in her head overpowered her. A nurse appeared from nowhere and did something with her arm. The need to scream left her as a warm calm flooded her bloodstream.

  ‘You,’ she muttered, her jaw not quite sitting right in her head and making the word come out funny.

  ‘It’s me Lizzie, Sully. You’re safe, you’re going to be alright. Your aunt is here, she just popped out.’ Lizzie looked around with drug addled eyes, trying to focus, if it were not for the pain she would have assumed she was still dreaming. Sully pulled a chair up beside her and leaned his hands on the side of the bed. ‘You gave us quite a scare there, you’ve been in and out of consciousness most of the night.’

  ‘How did you know?’ she asked, barely recognising her own voice.

  ‘That you were here? I stopped by your house last night for a chat. Your aunt was going out of her mind, she’d just got a call from the police and was determined to drive over here, but she’d had a few drinks, so I brought her over.’ He reached for her arm, bur Lizzie wrenched it away.

  She was in a private room, she noticed. The light was correct now, harsh and clinical. Her heart monitor was slowing like a decelerating car as the drugs did their work. Janice burst into the room dropping her cigarettes and lighter on the floor.

  ‘Jesus Lizzie, you’re awake. What in God’s name were you thinking?’ Janice embraced her and it took all of Lizzie’s strength not to cry out. The pain in her head had been masking the agony in her abdomen, but now they swapped priorities, the drugs did their best to defend her but she still struggled. Janice, suddenly realising Lizzie’s discomfort, drew back and carefully placed her hands on each side of Lizzie’s face. ‘Look what they did to you, Christ look what they did.’ This sent a surge of panic through Lizzie and the heart monitor aroused an audible representation.

  ‘What do you mean? What did they do?’

  ‘No no, you’re fine, don’t worry, the doctor said it’s mostly superficial.’

  ‘Mostly?’

  ‘Fractured eye socket was the worst of it he said, looks worse than it is,’ said Janice, her hands were shaking.

  ‘Shit, how bad does it look?’ Lizzie’s voice was coming back to her. She made to sit up, but the pain was too much.

  ‘It’s not that bad. Really.’ Janice lied. ‘Besides, forget how you look, what in God’s name were you doing walking by yourself? After everything that’s happened, how could you be so bloody stupid Lizzie?’ Janice’s voice shook like her hands, grief and anger battled for supremacy. ‘I trust you to make sensible adult decisions, that’s why I give you so much space, but then you do something this fucking stupid?’

  ‘Easy Jan, go easy on her.’ Maggie’s voice was uncommonly soft and reassuring. It drew Janice’s attention to the tears rolling down Lizzie’s battered face.

  ‘Shit, I’m sorry. I just got such a fright,’ said Janice. Lizzie took her hand.

  ‘You’re right, it was stupid. I guess I just wasn’t thinking.’ Lizzie glared over Janice’s shoulder at Sully. He stood there smiling at her.

  ‘Hey kiddo,’ said Maggie breaking the awkwardness. She approached the bed and talked as if she were addressing a sickly puppy. ‘Woof, those fuckers really did a number on you,’ she said, much more like herself.

  ‘Mags, for-Chrissake’ Janice scalded.’

  ‘Well, just look at her, if I ever get my hands on those cun-‘

  ‘Two visitors only please, she needs to rest,’ a nurse interrupted from the door of the room. Sully lifted a jacket from the back of the chair.

  ‘I’ll go. Lizzie I’m sorry this happened to you, but I’m very glad you’re okay. I’d still like to talk to you, when you’re feeling up to it of course. Maybe come and find me at my office at Pembroke College? Just ask and they’ll send you in the right direction.’

  ‘Brian, I can’t thank you enough,’ Janice stretched a hand out.

  ‘Sully, and you’re most welcome,’ he said taking her hand briefly. ‘Talk soon Lizzie, look after yourself and feel
better okay?’ Lizzie said nothing, and Sully left.

  ‘He’s wonderful, I remember you telling me about him. I can see what you were talking about,’ Janice said to Lizzie giggling.

  ‘You trying to make me jealous or nauseous?’ said Maggie taking the seat Sully had vacated.

  ‘So, what did the police say?’ asked Lizzie, leading the conversation away.

  ‘Actually they want to talk to you, there was a plain clothed office here earlier, says he’ll come back. They think it was an attempt at a robbery, a gang thing maybe. Did you see who did it?’ Lizzie thought back and could recall almost nothing, only that thought - that it was all over, and it sent a chill down her spine.

  ‘I didn’t see anything. It was over in a second. When can I get out of here?’

  ‘They need to scan your brain, check that you still have one, that sort of thing,’ said Maggie. ‘But if that’s clear you should be out tonight they said.’

  ‘We’ll stay until they let you go.’

  ‘No, don’t do that, really. It will probably be hours and I feel, well I feel like death, but I know I’ll be fine. I’ll get someone to call you when I can leave. You guys look like you haven’t slept. Go home for a bit, I’m okay, honestly.’ Janice looked to Maggie, who smiled and nodded approval. Alright, listen, Amy came by earlier, she’s out of her mind with guilt and worry, I told her it wasn’t her fault, but you should probably call her when you get home, I took her number. We’ll bring you some clothes and your other glasses when we come back.’

  ‘And a cheeseburger,’ added Maggie.

  The next few hours were a blur of tests, scans and sleep. On returning from a CT scan Lizzie asked the orderly, who insisted on holding her arm the whole way, to use the bathroom. He deposited her at the door and waited for her to return. Lizzie didn’t need to use the facilities she simply wanted a damage assessment in the mirror. She could feel the swelling around her face and body and knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight but she thought she would be prepared for the reflection. She was wrong. She shuffled into view and looked at the miserable beaten girl staring back at her. She shuffled forward, every step making the image increasingly horrible as her eyes tried to focus without her glasses. By the time she reached the mirror tears rounded the massive blackening bump below her left eye and fell freely onto her gown. Her jaw, also taking on a dark colour, jutted asymmetrically. She took a step back and opened her robe, she was naked underneath it. An area roughly the size of a man’s boot distended on her left side, it was currently red but she knew the blackness would follow soon enough. She closed her robe, took a deep breath to steady herself and splashed cold water on her face, forcing herself to stop crying.

  The television in the room received three channels, one of which had a slightly iffy signal meaning the picture would scroll vertically every ten seconds or so and the sound would cut out when it did. She watched and slept and watched and maybe slept, the lines between wake and sleep were distorted like the station signal. An afternoon soap opera turned into snooker, which metamorphosed into the Antiques Roadshow in what felt like a blink. Lizzie reached over to the bedside table for the remote to turn the thing off and saw a large grey haired man sitting in the adjacent visitor’s chair. She guessed she was becoming immune to shock as it would normally have made her jump out of her skin.

  The man snored softly, his chin rested on his chest and his arms were folded over his large stomach. He wore a sharp suit and by the shine on the black leather shoes he wore she guessed this was the policeman waiting to see her. She pressed the red button at the top of the remote killing the signal, the change of atmosphere was enough to rouse the man.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said stretching and adjusting his seat to point towards Lizzie. ‘I haven’t worked shifts for a while and it takes some readjusting. I hear your going to be just fine, that’s good news.’

  ‘Thanks, yes I was pleased to hear that one myself, sorry you are?’

  ‘Yes, sorry, my name is Richard Dunphy, DCI Dunphy,’ he said and flashed an identification card hung round his neck after detangling it from his tie.

  ‘Dunphy?’

  ‘Yes,’ he smiled, ‘I heard you were a sharp cookie. You’ve met my daughter Hilary, and I should thank you for whatever it was you did in school for her to talk so highly of you.’

  ‘It was nothing, she’s a nice girl.’

  ‘Yes, it’s her gift and her curse I fear. She trusts too readily and when people take advantage of her she gets hurt, very sensitive you see. I should probably explain, I’ve recently been drafted in from the Met to head up the murder investigation of Robert Adams,’ he paused. ‘I hope you don’t mind me speaking so clinically, twenty five years in the Force induces certain habits.’

  ‘No, it’s fine, in fact it’s refreshing. How is the investigation going?’ Lizzie adjusted her position to face the man better, a shock of pain surged through her.

  ‘Should I get someone?’ DCI Dunphy asked.’ Lizzie shook her head and took a sip of water.

  ‘The investigation isn’t going well I’m afraid. Gone completely cold in fact,’ Lizzie raised her eyebrows at this. ‘You’re surprised at my honesty?’

  ‘I am a little, yes.’

  ‘That’s my curse, I am incapable of bullshit, if you’ll pardon the profanity?’

  ‘I’ll live,’ said Lizzie, smiling.

  ‘It’s also my gift as it means I am also impervious to it, which you can imagine comes in handy in my profession.’ He reached down at his feet and produced a fat black folder.

  ‘I guess so. So are you here to talk to me about last night or about Robe, Robert?’ asked Lizzie.

  ‘I’m here to listen to anything you wish to tell me,’ he said leaning forward in his chair.

  ‘I’m not sure I can shed an awful lot of light on either,’ Lizzie tried not to commit to anything that might trigger his bullshit alarm.

  ‘You’ve not had much luck lately have you? Do you think these things could be related?’

  ‘Do you?’ asked Lizzie, realising she was avoiding the question.

  ‘It would be a mistake to discount anything in my experience. I’m open to suggestions in other words,’ he said.

  ‘Are you guys that hard up for leads?’ Lizzie hoped her attempt to flip the conversation wouldn’t appear suspicious.

  ‘I’ll be honest with you Lizzie, there never has been a lead. Murders without apparent motive are the most difficult of all to solve. If there is no logical chain to connect people and circumstance we are left floating in conjecture, do you understand?’ Lizzie paused to consider. She picked at the tape holding the drip line in place on her forearm.

  ‘I think so,’ she said, ‘I suspected as much but it’s disappointing to hear you say it. Where does that leave things?’

  ‘Firmly at my feet I’m afraid. You see, in the past few months the local police have failed to interview a single suspect, have failed to establish any plausible motive, and I won’t even go into the fiasco behind the forensic work on this case. Pressure from the top for results has resulted in my… secondment. I’ve been brought in from the Met as I have considerable experience in this particular field and since things had stalled so badly they needed a fresh pair of eyes on it,’ he said.

  ‘That’s good then?’ said Lizzie.

  ‘Time will tell. I’ve spent the last month going over the statements, and to be honest I’ve actually been quite impressed with the quality of work, forensic carnage aside, impressed and disappointed actually. I had hoped to identify some obvious oversight, but alas the investigation has been run more or less as I would have done from the start. So it’s thinking outside the box time, which brings me all the way back to the question you sidestepped most proficiently,’ he smiled. He had a kind face and a gentle way about him, even though she had met Hilary only once she could see an instant likeness in her father. ‘I think,’ said Lizzie choosing her words carefully, ‘That if last night had been connected to what happened to Robert
we would have to have been having this conversation through a medium or Ouija board.’ DCI Dunphy studied Lizzie’s face, the only sound came from the heart monitor, Lizzie suddenly wondered if he was using it to assess her pulse for some fluctuation which might betray her. But in the end she had not lied to the man, not really, or at least not completely. She was as much in the dark as he was.

  ‘DC Thomson, will pop in later this afternoon to take a proper statement from you about last night Lizzie. She’s very nice just tell her what you can okay?

  ‘I will,’ she said. The detective stood and straightened his tie. ‘Can I ask you something?’ said Lizzie.

  ‘Of course,’ he said picking up his black leather folder and tucking it under one arm.

  ‘Why Queen’s Grove House?’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ he said furrowing his brow.

  ‘For Hilary, why have you enrolled her there? Is that not a little… I don’t know, odd?’ Lizzie hoped she wasn’t being rude. DCI Dunphy nodded, thinking, and sat again.

  ‘It does seem odd doesn’t it? We moved from London you see. My secondment is more of a permanent deal, nobody has said as much, but after a while in the organisation you get a feeling for these things. Hilary wasn’t against the idea of moving, she was getting a hard time of things at her last school and saw this as an opportunity at a fresh start. I spoil her, I can’t help it, I told her she could pick any school she wanted. When she learned of the case I was going to be working on, it followed that she learned about Queen’s Grove House; she immediately loved the sound of it. I was against the idea of course, apart from the obvious conflict of interest, and any concerns about safety, it’s a fair hit on the pocket with my salary. But, in the end, as always, she got her way. I made it clear to her that she mustn’t divulge my connection to the case, I also insisted that she stay away from anyone involved, although as I understand it your intervention blew that one out of the water.’