Delete-Man: A Psychological Thriller

by Johnny Vineaux

  Stumbling and panting I reached the edge of the park. I pulled myself over the fence and dropped heavily onto the pavement. Stealing a brief glance back into the park, I saw that I was being followed by several flashlight beams—they had probably followed my own. I threw it back into the park and tiredly ran across the road. I could hear a siren approaching, and for some reason it spurred me on. I limped and hopped as fast as I could down the road until the first turning. Every step felt like it was the last I could make, with the little energy I had left within me, I pushed and pushed.

  Before I made the turning I looked behind once more, and saw my followers. There were four of them. A couple looked like typical, teenage students, another was an older male in jeans and a raincoat, the last one was bearded and overweight. All of them seemed completely harmless, and I wondered even if they were not people simply out and about, and not my pursuers.

  I saw a flash of spinning blue light, then the siren stopped, and the squeal of breaking tires in the rain indicated the police car had pulled up right outside the park. The four runners split off, each running in a different direction away from the police. I turned the corner and moved as fast as I could down the small residential street. A few houses down I leapt over a side wall and stayed low. I waited for someone to find me, or for footsteps to pass by, but heard nothing. I closed my eyes and once again all the bruises and the pain pulsated within me.

  After a full eight minutes I pulled myself up with a huge amount of effort, and began hobbling home, leaning against any wall I could find to steady myself. I felt battered and confused; too hurting to think. Yet one thing was echoing from the depths of my mind, a thought that overrode all of the physical pain: I was close to finding Josie’s killer. More than that, I had come across people who were no doubt capable of it. I played back the moment at which the girl had pummelled me with the flashlight, and the cruelty and nonchalance of it left me certain that whoever those people were, they were more than capable of murder. Who knows what they would have done to me had I not broken free. Josie had for some reason been interested in what they were doing, and no doubt they had found out and gone for her.

  All that remained now was to fill in all the gaps. Find out who those people were, then take revenge on every single one of them. I had to get that laptop.

  Chapter 14

  Having spent most of the night showering, washing the taste of gravel and mud out of my mouth, then struggling to sleep despite my physical aching; I finally slept for only a few hours before waking up again to take Vicky to school. There was still a tension between us, but I talked about the zoo and it brought a smile to her face. I was half-planning to tell her to invite Sandy’s kids—instead of Monika coming—but I wanted to try asking Monika one last time. I still thought she was crazy, and I would have been happy to never talk to her again; but she made Vicky happy.

  When I got home from the school I slept until around midday, and felt a lot better for it. I showered again and looked in the mirror. I had grown a couple of ripe bumps on my forehead after the altercation the previous night. I tried brushing my hair differently in order to cover them. The scar on my cheek was healing nicely however, and eventually I was satisfied that I didn’t look too battered and bruised to present myself.

  I worked out lightly then ate lunch. Outside it was damp and cold; the sky was dim and grey. I went on the computer to check the weather for Saturday and was pleased to see that there was no rain forecast. A brief search confirmed Dr.Hughton’s address. Another much longer search gave me a vague idea of where Bianca lived—according to Karim’s directions. I wrote down some brief directions and stuff the page into my coat.

  I browsed the news sites a little until I found yet more disturbingly dramatic reports. A riot over the closure of an historical site in which thirty thousand pounds worth of damage was done, a couple of schoolgirls lured into some sort of sex party; one of whom overdosed, multiple break-ins attempted simultaneously all over the city, grave-robbers caught in the act. I read the reports with no less concern than I had before, but this time felt there was something even more sinister about them. It was entirely possible that the connection I had been looking for, the orchestrated force that was the reason for some of these bizarre occurrences were linked to the group of people I had seen in the park the previous night. I tried finding anything I could about clandestine meetings in parks, humming rituals or that park specifically, but turned up nothing.

  I reached for the phone and dialled. It rang for a while before being put through to the answerphone. I dialled again, and this time was put through to answerphone after the first ring. I dialled again:

  “What?!”

  “Monika, just listen to me for a second.”

  “There’s nothing to say, just leave me alone.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. We should talk.”

  “It’s too late now.”

  “It’s not too late, come on. Give me a chance, at least. I’m trying to apologise.”

  “You can apologise all you want, but the fact is you don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

  “I know, but I do. It just takes me a while. You know I act before I think. Let’s meet up and talk.”

  “I don’t have time, I’m at work now.”

  “When’s your lunch?”

  “I’m going to lunch now.”

  “Can’t you put it back an hour? I’ll meet you somewhere.”

  I heard her sigh on the other end of the line. I could imagine her closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead in one of her dramatic gestures.

  “Be here at two then.”

  “Where is it?”

  She gave me the address and curtly warned me against standing her up. I was out of the door seconds later.

  The modelling agency lobby reminded me of clean, alien planets I had seen on TV. I asked about Monika inside but I couldn’t stand to wait there. I stood out dramatically, like an audience member who had accidentally stumbled down from the gallery and onto the set of some aspirational drama. I decided to wait outside in the cold before attracting more uncomfortable attention.

  Monika jogged and bustled outside to meet me holding a stack of papers in one hand and her phone in the other. She wore consciously clashing clothes and looked far more like the meticulously pristine people inside than the Monika I had spoken to only the day before.

  “Joseph, I’m really sorry. I can’t do lunch with you now. Someone made a big mess of an allocation and I’m the one taking the blame. I’m going crazy trying to fix it. Maybe another time, ok?”

  “How about tomorrow? At the zoo with me and Vicky?”

  Monika sighed, shifted from foot to foot, and looked at the sky.

  “I don’t know… Ugh… Why does everything have to happen at once!”

  Her phone made a noise. She looked at it and made a disgusted expression, then glanced back at me with a look of defeat.

  “Ok, whatever. I’ll come. Call me tonight.”

  She turned and ran inside, clicking buttons on her phone, dumping papers at the reception, and shouting instructions at a passer-by. I felt lucky. I had been dreading the conversation we would have—I hated to beg.

  I decided to visit the psychiatrist. I had quite a few hours until I would need to pick Vicky up, and I was still intensely curious about him. Although I felt certain that her death was more directly linked to the peculiar group that I had met in the park, I wasn’t totally sure. Perhaps the psychiatrist could confirm my feelings—if he knew Joseph as well as I did—that she wasn’t capable of suicide. It also bothered me that I had no knowledge of Josie seeing a shrink, and I wanted to find out if there was good reason for her to keep it a secret—from Monika as well as myself.

  As I drew close to the station I began hearing cheers and shouts. Turning the corner; I saw a large crowd jostling around a part of the wall beside the station entrance. People were laughing, shouting, and screaming. The general murmur of those further away was a mixture of surpri
sed, amused, and disapproving tones. I reached the crowd and craned my neck to see above the ever-growing throng.

  “Oh my god.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Haha! Go on!”

  “Fucking junkies. Ought to be locked up.”

  “Sick people.”

  “Oi! Sam! Come have a look! Look man!”

  “Can you believe it?”

  “Oh no, another one!”

  “I’m outta here.”

  Just as the sound of sirens caused the crowd to turn the other way, I pushed deep enough into the crowd to see what was going on. Against the poster-ridden wall beside the station a half-naked man was having sex with a fully-naked girl. Beside them another girl was undressing as she pressed herself up against them. It looked like a scene from a cheap porno. I caught a glimpse of the expression on their faces just before being pushed away by the police. There was something aggressive and uncontrolled in their eyes that felt awkward to see in public. The police pushed their way to the front, and two officers violently pulled the lovers apart as a couple of others pushed the crowd back and shouted at us to leave. I turned and broke free of the crowd by crossing the road. There was a rising of shouts and I looked back. The officers were struggling to control the naked lovers as they twisted and struggled to break free of the policemen’s grip. I watched for a few minutes as they were bundled into the back of the police car, and continued down the road amidst frenzied, giggling chatter.

  I had hoped to take the train, but the incident had driven me away from the station, and it was still crowded with onlookers. I decided to walk it instead. It wasn’t too far, and I wanted to walk off the aches that had bugged me since morning.

  Eventually I reached the address. It was a fairly discreet yet well-maintained doorway; sandwiched between a boutique and an optician’s. I walked up the steps and pushed the button below the golden plaque bearing Dr. Hughton’s name. A few seconds later I heard a gentle buzz and pushed the heavy blue door aside to enter. I walked up even more stairs and found myself in a pleasantly relaxed reception room. It was the second time in an hour that I felt like I had entered an alien environment. Classy, minimalist, and distinguished; more like something from a black and white film than any doctor’s office I had been in before. A beautiful young girl with pristine blond hair sat behind a desk typing at a computer.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, I’d like to see Dr. Hughton please.”

  “I see. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I’m here to pass on some news about one of his patients.”

  “Umm…”

  Her eyes flickered away down to my arm, then back to my face again. I noticed something in her expression that I had seen many times before; on the faces of bosses, petty bureaucrats, even friends. Redundant sympathy. Instinctually I reached into my pocket and pulled out my bus pass which I kept in a sleek, thin card holder Vicky had bought me for my birthday. I flashed it open violently in front of her.

  “Detective Inspector Williamson. Homicide.”

  The words came out sounding somehow American, and I wondered if we called it homicide in England too. I snapped my card holder shut and put it back into my pocket before she could take a good look in it.

  “It’s very important I speak to Dr. Hughton right now.”

  She looked startled, and I felt a surge of confidence.

  “Umm, he’s seeing someone at the moment.”

  “How long will he be?”

  She looked at the clock for a few seconds. I got the impression she didn’t know what to do.

  “I would imagine another fifteen—no, ten, minutes.”

  “Great. I’ll wait for him then.”

  “Umm, would you like something to drink?”

  “No thanks.”

  I sauntered over to the soft, cream couch placed beside the window and sat down. It had a great view over a small park. I gazed out of it, trying to look authoritative. I glanced back at her and caught her staring at me. She looked away, embarrassed, and fumbled on her keyboard.

  “You never seen someone missing a limb before?”

  “Oh, no, no I wasn’t…”

  “Let alone a policeman, right?”

  “No, I didn’t mean…”

  “Forget it.”

  I turned back towards the window. She began clattering on the keyboard again. I watched her type for a while. She looked younger than me, perhaps in her late teens even. She noticed me in her periphery a few times and pretended to be occupied with the computer. I walked over to her desk and leaned over it a little.

  “Do you remember a girl called Josephine Baird? One of your patients.”

  “Umm. Yes, actually.”

  “What can you tell me about her?”

  She sighed and her eyes searched about the room.

  “I don’t know really. Um, she had blonde, curly hair—frizzy. About my height, but um… not as slim.”

  “I know what she looked like. I meant, can you tell me anything else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How did she act when she came here? Do you know why she came to see Dr. Hughton in the first place?”

  “I’m sorry, um, I really don’t know anything. I don’t talk much with the clients. All I remember is she had blond hair, um, she seemed nice. I’m sorry officer.”

  I pulled away from the desk.

  “That’s ok. Just curious.”

  I paced around the waiting room a little, stopping to admire one of the paintings hung there. It showed a landscape. It was such an utterly dull painting I almost felt compelled to ask about it. I turned to the girl, saw that she was still red-faced and breathing slightly heavily, and decided not to push my luck.

  The door to Hughton’s office opened and a short man in a suit walked out with his coat slung over his arm.

  “Bye Sarah.”

  “Bye Mr. Young.”

  I glanced at the girl.

  “One moment, officer.”

  She stepped into the office and I heard a tone of slight surprise. The girl came out again, followed by a well-dressed man of about forty with wizened pale-black skin and short hair showing tinges of grey.

  “Dr.Hughton?”

  “Yes. Please, come in.”

  I stepped inside and shook his hand.

  “Detective Constable Williamson.”

  “Nice to meet you. How can I help?”

  The office was large, and filled with shelves that held all manner of foreign artefacts. I walked around the room a little, examining various objects.

  “This is a great place.”

  “Thank you. It used to be a doctor’s practice. It was renovated shortly after the war.”

  “I like this window. It’s more of a glass wall than a window.”

  “Indeed.”

  The window looked out onto the same small park I had seen from the waiting room, but the view was even more striking.

  “A place like this must be very nice to work in.”

  “Hehe. Are you looking to buy?”

  “If I could afford this I wouldn’t even be in London.”

  I watched someone walking a dog across the park. Far off in the skyline I could see the gentle rising of hills on the outskirts of London.

  “So how can I help?”

  “I’m here about one of your patients. Josephine Baird.”

  “Yes. I’m aware.”

  “Are you aware she’s dead?”

  “Oh my.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She missed an appointment in November. Sarah called her afterwards—common practice—to confirm another appointment. But I don’t believe she had any luck getting a hold of her.”

  “Makes sense. She died at the beginning of November.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Is that Japanese?”

  I gestured towards a strangely aged teapot resting on a mat of bamboo.

  “Yes.”

  “I saw something like that once, on
TV. Some Japanese place where they take fifteen minutes to make the tea. Makes you think.”

  “Think what?”

  “What kind of person takes fifteen minutes to make tea. Maybe they enjoy making the tea more than drinking it.”

  “I would imagine it’s something like that. May I ask, how did Josephine die?”

  “Well, that’s actually what I wanted to ask you.”

  “I doubt I can really help you with that. Please, take a seat.”

  I sat down on the comfortable leather sofa he had indicated, and he sat down opposite me on a chair I noticed was slightly higher. I figured that was a psychiatrist’s thing.

  “Psychiatrists can prescribe drugs, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Did you prescribe any for Josephine?”

  “I only prescribe medication when it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “How long was she seeing you?”

  “Let me think… It was summer when I first saw her. July perhaps. A few months. I could check for you.”

  “Why did she come to see you?”

  “You do realise I cannot easily share this kind of information, don’t you?”

  His expression shifted momentarily to something more concerned. He still looked calm, but I could tell he was sizing me up.

  “Sorry to be rude, but may I see some form of ID officer?”

  “Why?”

  “Please, don’t be offended. It’s just a habit of mine.”

  “No, of course.”

  I reached into my inner pocket, then my outer pockets; making a bit of a show of it.

  “This is embarrassing. I must have left it at the station. I was in a bit of a rush today.”

  Dr.Hughton’s expression once again shifted. He sat back, squinted slightly, and said:

  “You’re Josephine’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”

  I said nothing, and the silence that followed felt aggressive. Car horns sounded beyond the glass window.

  “Yeah, I am. Doesn’t matter though. She’s still dead, and I’m still here to ask you why.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t see how I can help you. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  “She died from an overdose; an apparent suicide. So it’s very much to do with you.”