Jack in the Box

by Hania Allen

  The kettle switched itself off. ‘Do you take milk?’ she said.

  He nodded, his face turned towards hers. ‘I’ve no biscuits, I’m afraid. The price I pay for help from the social is that Mrs Mannion scoffs my jammie dodgers. Do you mind carrying yours?’

  He walked unerringly back to the Parker Knoll. ‘So I take it you’ve come about the attack,’ he said, settling himself.

  Von sat down next to Steve. ‘How did you know, Frankie?’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean, How did you know, Frankie?’ he said, mimicking her tone. ‘I was the one who rang the police. But you haven’t been here before, I’d have remembered that perfume.’ He cupped his hands round the mug. ‘Where the hell’s Clerkenwell, anyway? It’s not the local nick.’

  ‘We’re north of the river,’ said Steve. ‘Borough of Islington.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it’s being properly attended to. And not before time. I’d almost given up waiting.’ He brought the mug to his lips. ‘You going to pull them in, then? I know who they are although, obviously, I can’t give you a physical description. But I’d remember the voices. Can you do a police line-up with voices?’

  ‘Frankie, what attack are you talking about?’ Von said in exasperation.

  ‘Haven’t you been briefed? The last attack. Same as the others. I was pushed over in the street, and my cane was stolen. It’s the third time that’s happened. It’s always at the bus-stop.’ A note of anxiety crept into his voice. ‘I need to use the bus to get to college.’

  ‘We haven’t come to discuss that,’ she said softly.

  ‘No? Then why the hell have you come?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘We’ve come to talk to Manny Newman.’

  Steve sprang from the sofa and lifted the mug from Manny’s hands. ‘Let me take that, son. You’re spilling it over your jeans.’

  Manny was shaking uncontrollably. ‘How did you find me?’ he said in a whisper. ‘I’ve changed my name.’ He gripped the chair, rocking back and forth.

  ‘We’re police officers,’ she said gently.

  ‘Who else knows where I am?’

  ‘Just my staff, and they’re not telling anyone.’ She hadn’t expected such a violent reaction. ‘Breathe deeply, Manny. I’m sorry we’ve given you such a shock.’

  ‘Were you followed?’

  ‘No, we weren’t.’

  ‘So, why have you come?’ he wailed. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To talk to you about what happened in 1985.’

  He stopped rocking. ‘The Jack in the Box murders.’ There was fear in his voice now. ‘He’s done it again, hasn’t he? I knew he’d come back. Knew he’d want to finish what he started. He’s afraid I’ll finger him, that’s what it is. He meant to do me like he did the others. And now he’s going to.’

  ‘Manny—’

  ‘You’ve led him here, haven’t you?’ He was rocking again. ‘He’ll be waiting outside.’

  ‘There’s no-one outside,’ said Steve. ‘We weren’t followed.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘Aye, son.’

  He sat still, and turned his face towards them. His tone changed to one of anger. ‘All right, then. Get it over with. Ask me your questions.’

  ‘We can come back another time if it’s easier,’ Von said.

  ‘Do it now.’

  She hesitated. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to do it. But they were here now. ‘What do you remember about your attack, Manny?’

  He chuckled. ‘I don’t believe this. Police officers, and you haven’t read the file? I gave my statement before, and I’m not going over it again just because you can’t be bothered to do your homework.’

  ‘We’ve read your statement, but there are things that aren’t clear. Can you remember back to the night of the attack?’

  ‘What a stupid question. You really think I’d forget that?’

  ‘Tell us about your attacker, Manny.’

  After a silence, he said quietly, ‘His eyes are what I remember best. It’s what drew me.’

  ‘So he didn’t approach you?’ said Steve.

  ‘Can’t remember that particular detail.’ His head bobbed as he spoke. ‘Anyway, who really approaches who, in the game? You do this little dance, see? You catch their eye. Or they catch yours. Then it’s a longer look, or maybe a smile. That’s how we did it in the Duke. Different on the street, of course, people are more direct. But in a pub you have to be careful.’

  ‘Can you remember what colour his eyes were?’ Von said.

  ‘Now you’re asking. It’s the expression I remember, not the colour. Could have been brown or hazel.’

  ‘Not blue?’

  ‘Could have been blue. Who notices the colour of people’s eyes?’ He tapped his right eye with a fingernail and laughed softly. ‘Mine are brown. They were blue before.’ He shrugged. ‘No-one asked me what I wanted.’

  ‘You stated you’d seen your attacker before. So what was he like, Manny? Lively? Quiet?’

  ‘He was like everyone else. Sometimes lively, sometimes quiet. Mid-twenties, maybe. I could be wrong, never was very good at guessing men’s ages.’ He paused. ‘All right, now it’s your turn. I’m saying no more till you tell me why you’re asking these questions.’

  She felt her heart contract. No-one’s told him…‘There’s been another murder, with some similarities to the Jack in the Boxes.’

  He clutched at the chair. ‘So, I was right. He’s done it again.’

  ‘It may be someone else.’

  ‘Copying the old murders for a lark?’

  ‘It happens.’

  He seemed to be digesting the information. ‘So who snuffed it? Another kid from the Duke?’

  ‘An older man. Max Quincey.’

  ‘Never heard the name.’

  ‘You heard a tape of his voice,’ she said slowly. ‘He was the prime suspect in the Jack in the Box murders.’

  ‘The one who was arrested?’

  ‘He was never charged. There was no material evidence.’ She hesitated, but she had to ask the question. It was why they were here. ‘Manny, are you absolutely sure it wasn’t his voice on the tape?’

  ‘Am I absolutely sure? No, I’m not absolutely sure, either about the voice or how old he was. I was pestered so much by that old plod, he almost camped beside my bed, that I said what he wanted to hear just to get him to go.’ He slumped back. ‘All I wanted was the coppers to leave me alone, see? I’ve thought since that maybe if I’d paid more attention they’d have got him.’

  ‘Don’t blame yourself, Manny. So, there was only the one tape played to you?’

  ‘Only one.’ He turned his head towards her, something he must have learnt in therapy. ‘Was this Quincey guy a regular at the Duke?’

  ‘He seemed to be.’

  ‘Then that’s where you need to go,’ he said angrily. ‘Talk to Dickie, if he’s still there.’

  ‘Dickie Womack? The landlord? Yes, he’s still there.’

  ‘He’ll tell you what was going on.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell us, son?’ Steve said.

  ‘I never found out. And I wouldn’t want to know. I kept my head down.’ He laughed harshly. ‘In more ways than one. I was good at blow jobs.’

  ‘Were you often in the Duke?’ Von said.

  ‘Every day. Picked up my punters there.’

  ‘Even after you heard what had happened to the other boys?’

  ‘Had to, didn’t I? Needed the money,’ he said bitterly. ‘And you never think it’s going to happen to you.’ He rested his head against the chair back. ‘But you’re curious about the sex, aren’t you? Did the earth move? Well, I did it for the money, not for the sex.’

  ‘Did your attacker use a name?’ she said anxiously.

  ‘Can’t remember. If he did, it would have meant nothing. No-one ever tells anyone their real name. I always asked my punters what name they wanted to call me by. Sometimes they used a girl’s name.’ He grinned. ‘There
are some really screwed-up people out there.’

  ‘How well did you know the Irish boys? Gilly and the others?’

  ‘Christ Almighty, give me some credit. Do you think I’d keep company with that bunch of Fenians? I kept away from them. They were always involved in some racket or other.’ He rocked back and forth again. ‘That’s why they were killed. They knew what was going on at the Duke.’

  She glanced at Steve. This confirmed what Larry had learnt when he went undercover.

  ‘And you really have no idea?’ said Steve.

  ‘I’ve said so, haven’t I?’

  ‘Then why do you think you were attacked?’

  ‘I went to the Duke to pick up punters. I was there sometimes when Gilly and Liam were around. Maybe he saw me and thought I was in with them.’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘Murderers can make mistakes, can’t they?’

  ‘And all this time you’ve been worried he’ll come back?’ Von said, suddenly close to tears.

  ‘Wouldn’t you? Each time I go out, I ask myself, is he going to be there? Is he round the corner? Is he at the bus-stop? Whenever I’m shoved around by those low-lifes from the estate, I wonder if he’s with them and this is going to be it.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I know I’ve been lucky. It was only because Pete heard us that I’m still alive.’

  ‘The security guard?’ she said, brushing at her eyes.

  ‘He used to look out for me. Told no-one I dossed at the back. He was a good mate. Wish he was living with me now.’

  ‘Your mother’s still in London. Why aren’t you living with her?’

  ‘You are joking, aren’t you? She’s a druggie. She’s the reason I left home.’

  Von glanced at the table. ‘I see you’ve learnt Braille,’ she said encouragingly.

  He straightened his shoulders. ‘I go to college now,’ he said, pride in his voice. ‘Been there for three years. I have tapes and everything.’

  ‘What have you been studying?’

  ‘Sociology. I’m getting good grades.’ He flushed slightly. ‘I have a girlfriend. Met her at ballroom dancing classes.’

  Von pictured him dancing, stumbling against the other couples. But perhaps not. He’d walked confidently enough across the room. Maybe the blind develop a sense of the objects around them. ‘Have you made many friends at college?’ she said.

  ‘I’m not good at that. Never was. Even on the game, I never had friends.’ His head drooped. ‘What we all wanted was a friend, just one punter who’d protect us and treat us nicely. Set us up.’

  ‘What about regulars?’ she said quietly. ‘Did you have anyone who asked just for you?’

  He fell silent.

  It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking because of the eyes. With a jolt, she realised why they looked familiar. They’re identical to the doll’s…

  ‘There was this guy,’ he said. ‘He was different.’

  ‘A client?’

  ‘We never did it. He just sat and smiled. Paying for the pleasure of my company, he used to say. Liked to stroke my hand.’ He snorted. ‘Said I should quit the game and do something else. I knew he must have picked up other boys, so I didn’t put much store by what he said. It’s only now I’ve come to realise he was probably my only friend. This might sound strange, but I was gutted when he stopped coming.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Shortly before it happened.’

  ‘How long did he come to the Duke?’

  ‘Not long. Two or three weeks.’

  She glanced sideways at Steve. He caught the movement, and shook his head slightly. This couldn’t be the rent boys’ killer, they hadn’t had sex.

  But, still, the information might give them a lead. ‘What did he look like?’ she said.

  ‘Heavy build.’

  ‘Tall?’

  ‘Never really found out. He was always sitting when I arrived, and he was still sitting when I left to find a punter. And before you ask, no, I don’t remember the colour of his eyes. He had bad skin, though.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘As I said, I’ve never been good at men’s ages. Older than me, but not by much. In his twenties.’

  ‘Would you recognise this man’s voice?’

  ‘After fifteen years?’ He sneered. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Maybe you’d recognise the touch of his hand,’ she said softly.

  For one heart-stopping moment, she thought he was going to cry. She nudged Steve, who nodded. They got to their feet.

  ‘You’ve been very helpful, Manny.’ She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘We’ll leave you to get on with your studies.’

  He clutched her arm. ‘You will catch him, won’t you?’

  ‘I give you my word,’ she said, her heart twisting inside her.

  He released her. ‘You can’t promise that, neither you nor your pal. That’s lovely perfume you’re wearing, by the way. Paris, isn’t it? My girlfriend uses it.’ He sat back. ‘I bet you’re gorgeous. You know your pal is sweet on you, don’t you? It’s amazing what you see when you’re blind.’

  She resisted the urge to throw her arms round him. ‘We’ll let ourselves out,’ she said, her voice choking.

  They walked to the Toyota in silence. It had stopped raining, and the roof tiles gleamed in the early evening light.

  ‘Well, that didn’t go too badly, boss.’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ she said, tears stinging her eyes.

  Von was sprawled on the sofa, sipping wine. A half-drunk bottle and the remains of a boxed pizza lay on the table. She was thinking about Manny. Her heart ached. Poor lad, getting pushed about like that. She knew the Superintendent at his local nick, maybe she could do something about getting a uniform to patrol the area around the bus stop. She’d learnt something from the visit, though: if Manny was right about not recognising the voice on the tape, Max Quincey was still in the frame for the Jack in the Box murders. She pushed her hands through her hair. Christ, she was no further forward with solving any of the murders.

  She sat up. Something Manny had mentioned stuck in her mind. The man who’d stroked his hand. Who was this well-built man who paid just to sit with Manny? Something niggled. He’d come to see him when the play was running, then stopped two or three weeks later. How long did the play run? A month, then they went on the road.

  And the Iron Duke. That’s where you need to go. Talk to Dickie. The Duke. Again. Her breath came out in a rush. She’d made an error of judgement sending her detectives in. If the regulars were closing up like limpets, she’d need a cooling-off period before trying again. Problem was, they’d smell a copper a mile off. So, she wouldn’t send in a copper. She’d send Tubby. It wasn’t his patch, so he wouldn’t be known, and he was good at gaining people’s trust. But she had to do it soon. If she didn’t take something to the Chief Super, he’d bring someone in over her head. She was that close to being kicked off the murder squad, this time for good.

  She poured the last of the wine, then phoned Kenny’s flat. His answer-machine came on. She listened to his voice, remembering how they’d laughed when he recorded the message. The answer-machine had been an early Christmas present because he was hopeless at staying in touch.

  ‘Kenny,’ she said, ‘I can’t get you on your mobile so I’m phoning here. If you’re home tonight, please give me a call. Even if it’s late.’

  She dropped the phone into her bag, and sank back against the cushions. The image of Manny’s face with it dead glass eyes floated before her. She replayed their conversation, remembering the pleasure in his voice when he’d told them he was a student, and his anxiety about getting to college. His mother wouldn’t know anything about him, how he’d turned his life around. She’s a druggie. She’s the reason I left home. Couldn’t he forgive her? Parents forgave their children everything. So why couldn’t children forgive their parents?

  She thought of her own child, a child she hadn’t seen in years. These days, no-one batted an eyelid when children were born out of
wedlock, but it hadn’t been like that for her; teenage pregnancies, although depressingly common, could ruin a girl’s chances then. Strangely, her parents had been neither angry nor disappointed. Her mother had strenuously encouraged her to keep the baby although the idea of an abortion had never entered Von’s mind. Fortunately for the baby, she had an extended family. Even Von’s brothers had rallied round. She smiled as she remembered her daughter as an infant, the head of downy hair, the warm milky breath, and the tiny fists she made whenever she cried. Von had loved her so much that it ached…

  She tottered to her feet and stumbled into the bedroom. The blanket box stood in the corner, buried under a pile of forgotten ironing. She swept the clothes to the floor, then knelt and lifted back the lid. The scent of old roses drifted out, wrapping itself round her, awakening slumbering memories. She burrowed under the sheets. At the bottom, she found what she was looking for.

  She laid the shoe box on the floor. The pink satin ribbon was knotted loosely in a huge bow, flattened by the weight of linen. She untied the knot, set the lid aside, and parted the thin tissue paper. With trembling hands, she removed the baby shawl and buried her face in it. Maybe she imagined it because she wanted to, or maybe it was still there, faint but distinctive, that marvellous caramel smell that babies have. She set the shawl aside and, heedless of the tears now streaming down her face, she lifted the tiny shoes and baby rattle and brought them to her lips.

  Chapter 16

  ‘Still not sure why we’re here,’ said Steve.

  ‘To see the lighting manager,’ Von said, with exaggerated politeness.

  ‘But there’s no evidence he even knew Max Quincey.’

  She threw him an amused look. ‘True, but if we thought that way we’d never interview anyone, would we?’

  ‘So where’s his office? How are we going to find it in this maze of corridors?’

  ‘I phoned ahead.’

  On cue, Dexter appeared. He was dressed in a t-shirt stamped with the words ‘Body of a God, Pity it’s Buddha’.

  ‘Nice to see you, Chief Inspector,’ he said. ‘You too, Inspector English,’ he added quickly.