In the Light of Madness

by Madness, In The Light Of

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “Mrs Wright, how would you feel about doing an appeal on local TV for the safe return of your son?”

  Wednesday gave him a sideways glance, wondering how they were going to dry her out enough to give a coherent interview.

  “I’ll have to have my Des with me. I ain’t doing it alone.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll need to arrange it and then an officer will bring you to the station. DI Wednesday will tell you what it entails.” He finished speaking and rose to leave.

  They left Judith clutching her mug of drink and staring at the floor. Her belligerent demeanour had diminished, and she looked a pitiful sight.

  Wednesday followed Hunter down the path as he tripped over the same loose slab that Lennox previously had. Wednesday smiled to herself.

  Des Wright had calmed down in the interview room. Damlish had got him a cup of tea, and Arlow was looking over the notes he had already taken when Des was highly agitated.

  “Mr Wright, would it be fair to say you have a temper which you can’t always control.”

  Des looked him directly in the eye. “And what if I have?”

  “Well, your stepson is missing and we might be wondering whether you have anything to do with his disappearance. So, instead of seeing us as the enemy, clarify things for us.”

  Des puffed out his chest as his jaw muscles pulsated rapidly.

  “I keep telling you people that I don’t know where the little sod is. I don’t know and I don’t really care.” His voice sounded strained and his eyes crackled with fire.

  Arlow straightened up in his chair. “Your words are telling us one thing, but your nonverbal is saying something else.”

  “What the fuck is ‘nonverbal’?”

  “Nonverbal communication is your body language. You seem nervous and it looks like you’re hiding something. You’re not telling us the truth. It would be better for you to come clean now, it would look better in court.”

  Des Wright’s ability to remain calm expired. He stood up, grabbed hold of the table then tipped it up with such force that the officers barely had the time to get out of the way. Arlow pressed the panic button on the wall, and within seconds four more officers entered the room and had Des Wright on the floor in a control and restraint hold.

  But Des Wright was strong, and as he undulated on the floor, the officers looked like they were riding a bucking bull. Hunter bounded into the room and bellowed out for order. Des’s aggression subsided as he remained on the floor panting and exhausted, but still angry.

  “Mr Wright, you’re in serious trouble. Now sit down and calm down, otherwise you’ll be put into a cell until you do.” Hunter’s voice was full of power that transgressed Des’s fury and permeated every pore of his sweaty body.

  He was hoisted up and shoved back down into his chair by two officers. Their hands remained clamped onto his shoulders in readiness for any further outburst.

  “Now, Mr Wright, what exactly is going on here?” Hunter said.

  “They won’t believe me; they won’t believe that I’ve got nothing to do with Darren being gone.”

  “Maybe your demeanour is suspicious, Mr Wright. We are concerned for Darren’s welfare and perhaps the officers don’t think you are worried at all.”

  Des let out a deep sigh, putting his hands on the table, palms up so they looked like slabs of fatty ham.

  “I don’t know where he is. He uses the house like a hotel, comes in for food and then buggers off out. Judith is usually too drunk to notice and I don’t much care.” Des then looked Hunter square in the face. “You may think I’m an uncaring bastard and because of that I would harm him, but that’s not true. You’ve no proof so you can’t keep me here.”

  Hunter knew he was right. They had no evidence to link him to the disappearance. Hunter felt frustrated, and the pressure from his boss was weighing on his shoulders. He decided to leave his detectives to finish the interview as he was running low on patience and ideas.

  Marching back to his office, he demanded that Wednesday join him straight away.

  “Right Wednesday, I want you and Lennox down at the forensic labs, we need leads and we need them fast. Des Wright isn’t letting up; he’s hiding something so we’ll have to keep an eye on him.”

  “You want surveillance on him?”

  “Maybe not around the clock, but a patrol car up and down his street enough times to unnerve him. He needs to know he’s not off the hook.”

  Wednesday nodded then turned to leave; she really wanted to get home a bit earlier to see Scarlett.

  “Oh and Wednesday,” he said as she was almost out the door. “Get some bloody leads. The press will castigate us if we don’t push on. And make sure the Wrights are ready for their TV appeal.”

  She left his office knowing that access to her private life would be once again delayed. She strutted over to Lennox’s desk and found him stuffing a chunk of fruit cake in his mouth. She informed him of Hunter’s orders as he stood up and brushed crumbs from his trousers before descending into the bowels of the building.

  Wednesday always found the descent into the laboratories and mortuary sinister, as the stench of death pervaded the corridor and every corner of every room. In her dreams she sometimes saw her own body on a gurney.

  The sight of Edmond Carter in the mortuary always appeased her rising fears. His kindly smile made her feel alive instead of a body of evidence lying on a slab.

  A laboratory assistant wheeled out the metal gurney with Tom’s body shrouded in a green sheet. As Edmond pulled back the sheet, she felt a shiver run down her spine; the sight of a young person in that situation was distressing.

  “What have you got for us, Edmond?” she asked, willing him to have a bounty of leads for her to take to Hunter.

  “Still early days, Detectives. Toxicology will still take a few more days. From the absence of markings around the neck, and the bizarre contusions on his upper torso, I’d say we’re looking at intense pressure being applied to his thorax.”

  The stillness of Tom’s pale body, illuminated under the glowing, clinical lighting, made Wednesday’s own chest feel tight. Her deep sigh did not go unnoticed by Lennox, but Edmond was in full throttle and was busy focusing on the evidence before him.

  “There are other obvious signs that go with asphyxia. His face is swollen, and you may notice how his head, neck, lips, and fingers are visibly blue, due to cyanosis.”

  Wednesday watched Edmond’s hands as they lay on the dead flesh, rather like a butcher’s hand ready to carve up a carcass.

  “And if you look closely, you can observe tiny petechiae in the whites of his eyes, on the outer eye-lids, and around the lips.”

  “Petechiae?” queried Lennox.

  “Ruptured blood vessels due to applied pressure to the area.”

  Edmond then moved Tom’s arm and lifted it up.

  “Now, we thought the lad didn’t resist. However, we found fibres under his fingernails and inside his nasal passages. I’ve sent them to be analysed. In his struggle, his front teeth made an imprinted contusion on the inside of his lips.”

  “This is all fascinating, Edmond. But are there any clues as to the identity of the assailant. You said sexual assault wasn’t the motive?” interrupted Lennox, as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  “No signs. If there had been we may have retrieved some DNA to give us a lead.”

  Edmond covered Tom’s body up again and signalled for the assistant to take him away.

  Wednesday thanked him before they left the room. “Let’s go and see if Alex Green can offer us anything.”

  They walked further down the corridor towards the room where forensic scientist Alex Green was hunched over a microscope. Wednesday tapped on the door and smiled as Alex looked towards them.

  “I didn’t think it would take you long to be beating down the door.”

  “Alex, I’d like to introduce Jacob Lennox, my new DS.”

  Ale
x gave Lennox a guarded look before summarising his findings, which revolved mainly around the fibres and some fine splinters found on the back of Tom’s jumper and jeans.

  “You’re looking for a wool blanket in a green and red colour-way, possibly a travel blanket. We’re putting it through the system to find the make.”

  “And what about the splinters?”

  “Again, we’re trying to identify the type of wood. However, it all takes time as you well know.”

  “Unfortunately the DCI and press don’t agree. Not with a child murderer on the loose.”

  Alex shrugged his shoulders and intimated he was going as fast as he could. “I’ll call you as soon as I have anything else.” He let his eyes linger on Wednesday as she left with Lennox.

  “A bloody green and red travel blanket. Is that all we’ve got to go on?”

  “It’s still early days, Lennox. Anyway, we’ve got to get the Wrights ready for their TV appeal, which means keeping the mother away from alcohol for a few hours. God help us.”

  “What about an appeal from the Dolbys?”

  “Too soon. The mother is medicated to the eyeballs. Their turn will come. Mr Dolby has written a statement for the press to be going on with,” she replied as they entered the Incident Room.

  She approached DS Maria Jones who headed up the Incident Room, to inform her of the latest from forensics and that they were heading for the Wright’s home.

  “Des Wright has been released, but he’s still a bit agitated, so be careful,” she warned.

  “I’ll drive,” Wednesday said, grabbing her jacket.

  “Okay, but can we forego the classical music.”

  “Heathen,” she replied as she closed her office door.

  They arrived to discover that Des Wright had already gone out. As Judith was the main parent they wanted to work with, Wednesday thought it made their life easier. She inhaled deeply on noticing Judith’s glassy eyes.

  “Mrs Wright, the appeal is going out at six thirty tonight, have you had any thoughts about what you want to say?” Wednesday used her gentle coaxing voice to appeal to Judith’s softer side.

  “I’ll tell the silly bugger to get his arse straight back home. He’s causing big problems for my Des.”

  Lennox rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

  “That’s not quite the appeal we had in mind,” sighed Wednesday. “Perhaps you could write down something less confrontational. We want Darren to know he’s not in trouble and is welcome home.”

  “He is in trouble, and I want him bloody home to stop the neighbours sneering at us.”

  “Then perhaps you need to show a softer side for the media. Let everyone see how much you love and miss your son.”

  Judith’s face creased as she picked up her mug and took a large gulp.

  “Perhaps I’ll make some coffee,” said Wednesday, stomping to the sink to fill up the kettle, aware of irritation trickling down her spine.

  “I don’t want a bloody coffee, and I don’t want you in my house.”Judith was on her feet, unsteady and swaying around. The thread veins on her face flushing vivid red.

  “Mrs Wright, we know this is a highly emotive time for you, but the need for calm is paramount.” Lennox’s masculine tone instilled some calm to the atmosphere, although Judith’s face was still knotted with anger.

  Wednesday made the coffee and placed it in front of Judith. As she tried to remove the other mug, Judith’s hand whipped out and gripped onto it tightly. Their eyes locked together.

  Twenty frosty minutes later, the front door swung open and Des Wright marched in. Wednesday and Lennox braced themselves instinctively.

  “I see you pigs can’t get enough of me,” he snapped as he reached for his tobacco pouch.

  “We’re holding a TV appeal this evening,” replied Wednesday.

  Des let out a staccato laugh which was instantly quelled by a glance from Judith.

  “She wants you by her side,” continued Wednesday. “Will you want to say a few words?”

  “Not bloody likely.”

  Judith shot Des another heated glance after which he lit his roll-up and strutted out into the overgrown back garden.

  “A car will collect you at five fifteen. We’ll see you at the station,” Wednesday said as she and Lennox left, leaving a mist of much needed sobriety hanging over the kitchen.

  Chapter Seven

  “Canteen food doesn’t match up to home cooked,” lamented Wednesday.

  “I don’t really cook for myself. I mainly live off ready-made stuff.”

  Wednesday wrinkled up her nose. “Scarlett is a terrific cook when she has the time.”

  Lennox tilted his head before forking some more semi-congealed lasagne into his mouth. “What does she do?”

  “She’s a journalist on the local paper, The Cambridge Times.”

  “God, I deplore journalists. They’re nothing but parasitic entities, feeding off the flesh of the dead.”

  “Sounds like I’ve hit a nerve.”

  Lennox sneered at her before wiping his mouth with a serviette.

  “You’ll get over the fact that she’s a journalist soon enough. Most men she comes into contact with fall under her spell.”

  “I’ve heard the rumours of her beauty, but it couldn’t detract me from the other stuff.”

  “What d’you have against journalists anyway?”

  “They get in the way of a case, they sensationalise the felon and they often make us look like burkes.”

  Wednesday sipped her orange juice. She could not argue with him as she sometimes had similar complaints herself.

  She decided to move the conversation away from her private life, as she always did with colleagues. But doing just that sometimes made her appear aloof, verging on conceited. However, she was not prepared to sacrifice her privacy to be a more affable colleague.

  “I’m dreading the Wrights’ appeal. I can’t see that woman being up to it. Hunter will do his nut if she cocks it up, and he’ll blame us,” he said, spraying particles of congealed lasagne over the table.

  Wednesday concurred, pushing her plate away. “I’m curious about the anger Tom displayed in his notebooks. There was never any mention at the school, or from his parents, come to that.” She sat back and spread her fingers on the table.

  “You know teenagers; they’re full of angst and misery. They’ve got ‘the whole world’s against me’ attitude.”

  “I’m sure there’s more to it than that. I’ve got this gut feeling.”

  Lennox rolled his eyes. “Women’s intuition, eh?”

  She chose to ignore him.

  They cleared their trays and headed for the Press Room, where they were to meet up with the Wrights and Parker. Wednesday had the sinking feeling it was going to be painful watching Judith slur her way through the appeal.

  She caught sight of her reflection in a window, and saw strands of hair sprouting out from the bun, giving her a bohemian look. She hurriedly redid her hair as they walked towards the Press Room.

  Parker was sitting with the Wrights at the long table. She had provided the pair with a cup of coffee at Wednesday’s request. Even though they had had a period of sobriety, Judith still looked inebriated and Des looked bored.

  Dave Arlow entered the room and positioned himself at Wednesday’s side.

  “Just to let you know, Des Wright’s story about being in a brawl outside the pub hasn’t been corroborated. The landlord wasn’t aware of an affray in the car park, so we still don’t know where his bruises came from.”

  Wednesday thanked him and drew a deep breath before addressing the couple. “Okay Mrs Wright, let’s run through what you want to say before we start.”

  “I don’t know whether someone has taken him, or whether he has run away, but he’s got to come home.”

  “That’s a good start, although perhaps address Darren directly when you look at the camera. Let’s try that again.”

  “Darren, we want you home. You’ve caused enough
trouble, so get yourself home, now.”

  Wednesday closed her eyes and dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. She heard Lennox expel a long breath of air.

  “Mrs Wright . . . Judith, we don’t want Darren to think that he’ll be in trouble when he returns home—”

  “But he will be,” she interrupted. “He’ll be in serious shit. He ain’t causing me and my Des all this hassle and getting away with it.”

  Judith became red in the face, whilst Des remained placidly by her side, disengaged from the proceedings. Lennox leant closely into Wednesday so she could feel his hot breath on her earlobe.

  “If the unthinkable has happened, and Darren is involved in Tom’s death, then after watching this pair, the public may feel poor parenting is a contributory factor.”

  “God preserve us from that route,” she whispered back.

  Wednesday bent over the table and wrote a more appropriate appeal on a scrap of paper. Judith read it then shoved the paper back to her.

  “This don’t sound like me, Darren would know these ain’t my words.”

  “They sound . . . softer, shall we say?”

  Judith rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, took the sheet of paper back and read silently whilst mouthing the words. After repeating the action a couple of times, she spoke the words aloud.

  “If someone’s got Darren, please send him home. We miss him. Please come home, Darren, you’re not in trouble. We love you.” She put the sheet down on the table. “Do I have to say that last bit?”

  “I think it would sound better. It would also look better if you didn’t read it.”

  Judith let out an audible sigh then stared at the paper in her trembling hands.

  “I hope her shakes make her just look nervous to the viewers,” said Wednesday, quietly.

  “Not to those who know her. I’m not sure that Hunter has made the right call on this one.”

  “It wouldn’t be right not to do this.”

  “But with this pair? You’re bound to take Hunter’s side, anyway.”

  The tweak of taunting in his voice riled her. Her cheeks stung with heat as she watched the unsympathetic pair before her.