Death and Faxes

by Julie Howlin

  A kind policewoman came and spoke to me alone while her male colleague questioned Jonathan in the kitchen. I knew Jonathan wanted me to back up his story. I knew that if I did, I would be lost forever.

  ‘I want you to tell me what happened,’ the policewoman said. ‘But I should point out that your injuries look to me to be sufficient that charges will be brought against the person who inflicted them. If it was your partner, we won’t let him off if you say you don’t want to press charges. We have to press charges because a crime has been committed - do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ I mumbled - I could do little else now as my lips were swelling. ‘It was Jonathan. He did this to me.’

  ‘Would you like to tell me a bit more? What happened?’ Her voice was soft and motherly. Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. She handed me a tissue and I gratefully wiped my face.

  ‘He asked me to marry him, I said no and he flipped. He dragged me onto the floor and kicked me. I lost count of how many times.’

  The policewoman nodded and wrote in her notebook. ‘Has he attacked you before today?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Would you like to tell me about that?’

  I related the events of the night of Jess's birthday. ‘I lied to everyone about what happened,’ I sobbed. ‘I told people I'd been mugged and that I walked into a door...’

  ‘You're not alone there,’ the policewoman said, gently. ‘Women who are beaten by their partners often try to hide the truth from other people, sometimes even from themselves. It can go on for years. You are admitting it now, and that is a brave thing to do.’

  I was starting to feel better. ‘What happens to Jonathan now?’ I asked.

  ‘We will arrest him and he'll appear in the magistrates' court tomorrow.’

  ‘Will he get sent to prison?’

  ‘That will depend on how he pleads. He might apply for bail, so I need to know how you feel about that, so we can tell the magistrate.’

  ‘I don't want him anywhere near me,’ I said. Being a spinster with a cat suddenly didn't seem so bad. At least I'd have my friends. Assuming Jess and Simon would forgive me.

  The policewoman wrote in her book again. ‘Thank you for your help,’ she said. ‘I'm going to have a word with my colleague now.’ She patted my shoulder as she stood up and then she left the room.

  Cynthia came and put her arm around me. ‘Well done, you,’ she said. I leaned my head on her lavender scented shoulder.

  Moments later, Jonathan was led past the open door by the two police officers. He glared at me. I looked away.

  The policewoman came back. She explained that I might need to give evidence in court, and once again I was given a number for Victim Support, and also one for a domestic violence charity where I could get counselling if I wanted it.

  ‘I want to go home now,’ I said.

  ‘We think you need to go and get medical help first,’ the policewoman said.

  ‘I don’t need to. I’ll be okay. I must go and feed my cat.’ I stood up. After all, I’d been beaten like this once before and not even seen a doctor. I’d been fine then, and... The room spun around me; my legs gave way and I sat down heavily on the sofa again. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ I moaned. Someone, I think it was Cynthia, thrust a bucket in front of me, just in time. I realised I didn’t want to go anywhere - I wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

  I was aware of being lifted and carried out of the house, and not much else until I woke up in a hospital bed.

  Cynthia was sitting with me. ‘What time is it?’ I gasped. ‘I need to feed Thumbelina...’

  ‘I sent Edward to feed your cat,’ Cynthia said. ‘He should be back with your keys soon. The doctor wants to keep an eye on you overnight but he said you could go home tomorrow.’

  ‘Jonathan?’

  ‘In custody. He can't hurt you anymore. The angels were truly looking after you,’ she said. I had to concede she was probably right. I’d been saved - from heaven only knew what. But for what?

  **

  Jonathan appeared in court a few days later and admitted to the magistrate what he’d done to me, which amounted to ABH. He applied for bail but the magistrate refused, and remanded him in custody pending the decision on what kind of sentence he would get. Cynthia went to that first hearing and reported back to me that they'd be bringing him back in two weeks to sentence him.

  ‘I want to be there,’ I said. ‘So I can know I'm free of him.’

  ‘Would you like me to be there?’ Cynthia asked.

  I nodded. I hadn't been able to bring myself to tell my family or friends about what had happened yet. I told Mum and Jess that I'd split up with Jonathan but didn't want to tell them all the details. Especially not Mum. The very thought of the fuss she would make made me cringe. Jess and I had often discussed how baffled we were as to why women stayed with violent men, and I didn't want to admit to her yet that I had been one of those women.

  There had even been a message on my machine from Jamie, who knew somehow that Jonathan had been arrested. Scotland Yard grapevine, I supposed. He said he'd like to hear from me, but I was still ashamed of having lied to him, so I avoided calling back. Cynthia, however, already knew everything, and had been so kind; calling me every day to make sure I was all right.

  I was grateful to have her beside me in court as Jonathan stared at me from the dock. I noticed he blinked a lot more than he ever had before.

  He got three years in prison. The judge said it would have been six years if he’d not pleaded guilty from the start.

  Afterwards, when Cynthia went to find the toilet, I stepped out of the imposing, stuffy court building and stood on the steps, gulping in the fresh air. I was free.

  Jonathan was not, thanks to me. I could walk away now and never see him again, but something in me was saying that I should go and see him once. I had to tell him to his face that I never wanted to see him again.

  It occurred to me that I had no idea how you went about visiting somebody in prison. I had no idea even which prison they’d take him to. I was just wondering if Jamie Swan would know the answer to that question when I noticed a smartly dressed woman wearing a blue badge with what appeared to be an egg timer on it. She might know. If she did I could avoid speaking to Jamie for a bit longer. I went up to her.

  ‘How do I find out which prison they sent Jonathan Van den Burgh to?’

  ‘I can help with that,’ the woman said, rummaging in her bag and bringing out a printed leaflet. ‘More than likely they’ll take him to Brixton, unless Brixton is full, in which case you can ring the court tomorrow and find out where he went. Were you thinking of visiting at all?’

  ‘Only to dump him,’ I said. I must have sounded ferocious as the woman took a step back.

  She handed me the leaflet, which had the same logo as her badge. ‘All the information about visiting is on the insert inside,’ she said. ‘If you need any other help, you can ring this freephone number during office hours and they will answer all your questions.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s useful,’ I said. Just what I needed to know. I was about to be single again, but for the first time, it would be me doing the dumping, and I felt quite liberated.

  **

  Two days later I sat opposite Jonathan in a huge room full of rows of tables. There were children screaming and men in uniform watching us. It wasn’t a comfortable experience. Being searched and shepherded through security I felt like a criminal myself. I looked at the other people around me, the loyal wives, girlfriends and mothers - they had not come here to dump their men. They were in it for the long haul and would come here twice a month for years, enduring that same treatment time and time again. Some of them seemed to know each other and had been chatting and laughing as we'd waited to go in. I didn’t want any part of this world.

  Jonathan did not take it well, but with the eagle eyes of a prison officer on us, he couldn’t touch me. I said what I had to say, then got up and walked away, withou
t looking back.

  26 tabitha

  I had not spoken to Jamie Swan for a couple of months. I thought of him now and again, as my physical and emotional scars and bruises healed.

  Jonathan Van den Burgh had to be the biggest, stupidest mistake I had ever made in my life. Jess and Simon seemed to have forgiven me - it was like the old days again. We went to the King's Arms and were joined by Luke, the lead singer of the band. Simon and he had started seeing each other. I'd missed the start of this flowering romance and that hurt.

  Jess and I, both single, rolled our eyes as the two men made sheep's eyes at each other. ‘So. Nobody even remotely attractive on your horizon either?’ Jess asked, pouring me my fifth glass of wine.

  ‘Hmmm.’ I thought about it, and someone did spring to my mind. ‘Detective Inspector Jamie Swan is rather tasty, I suppose.’

  ‘Perhaps you should make a pass at him, then,’ she said.

  ‘No, really, I...’

  ‘Come on, Tabs. If you fancy this guy, do something about it. Ask him out. Don’t wait for him to ask you. You gotta make things happen, girl. You deserve a bit of fun with somebody nice. Next time you’re up at the Yard, or wherever you meet, go for it.’

  ‘I’m not sure it would be very appropriate.’

  ‘I challenge you.’

  When Jess or Simon or I challenged each other, it was almost as binding as Jonathan’s Book. She would not leave it alone until I had made some kind of move on Jamie. However, since there wasn’t anything happening on my psychic police work front at that time, I was not under any pressure. I was just thankful that the challenge had not been to phone him up out of the blue and ask him out. Hopefully, since we never write our challenges down, by the time I did see Jamie again Jess would have forgotten all about it.

  **

  At work, Sarah had announced that she was pregnant again. This time she was not going to return after the baby was born (she already knew it was going to be a girl and had decided to call it Violet Rainbow). Now that I had been working at wegotanythingyouwant.co.uk for some time, I could step into her job. More money and less dogsbody work. Sarah was training me up in between bouts of morning sickness and ante-natal classes and I was virtually doing her job already. When she left completely, they’d recruit a new person to replace me. Robert seemed to be treating me with much more respect, already.

  I joined Megan’s development group and looked forward to the meetings much more than I ever had with Jonathan’s group. Megan was more flexible, and much more fun. We sat on bean bags, not plastic chairs. When we were done we’d crack open a bottle of wine, and joke about the negative entities we were attracting. Even Cynthia and Edward came along, so it was just like the old group without Jonathan, and with the addition of Lorna's new boyfriend, Pete.

  I babysat Amber about once a month. We both looked forward to our time together. Her abilities were developing in leaps and bounds. I tried to quiz her on where she had seen the nice man I’d been married to in a previous life, but she could no longer remember.

  I had recurring dreams about Mitzi Dolls. They’d show up in the oddest places - on desert islands, inside tins of cat food, under the lid of the photocopier at work. Yvonne Cullen appeared in one dream telling me that the Mitzi Dolls were the key. The key to what, she did not divulge before my alarm went off.

  In another, a woman in an air hostess uniform appeared. She was crying. ‘Mark’s in prison - you have to get him out of there so he can meet the woman he’s meant to be with! Please! Promise me next time you see that detective you’ll say something. He’s trying to catch my killer - he just doesn’t know it yet.’

  Amber had decided to collect the full set of Mitzi Dolls. She prattled on about them each time we met. That was probably why I was forever dreaming about them, I decided. When I asked what she wanted for her birthday she handed me a list she’d asked Caroline to print from mitzidollworld.com, all fifty or so varieties from Accountant to Yachtswoman. She’d crossed out Teacher, Ski instructor and Pop singer - the ones she’d already got. I wondered if I’d be banned from seeing her if I bought her the Witch Mitzi. As I looked at the list, I experienced one of those odd deja vu moments - you’re doing something totally ordinary and you somehow feel you’ve been in this very moment before, and that it’s significant somehow. Gran used to say that when we plan our lives before birth, we place a series of markers in the life we plan to have - ordinary moments with nothing earth shattering happening, that we will somehow recall when they happen - it’s a sign we’re on the right path. All the same, it’s an odd feeling.

  Then one day, I got a call from Jamie Swan. There had been another murder. Body dumped on wasteland, with a decapitated gymnast Mitzi Doll near the body. Jamie was hoping that I’d be able to pick something up by psychometry from the doll.

  He met me at reception. I’d forgotten just how attractive I’d thought he was. Whenever I’d seen him before, I’d always been involved with someone - now I wasn’t. Perhaps Jess had a point. Perhaps it was time to show a little more interest... He smiled at me so warmly and welcomed me so genuinely that I began to wonder what it would be like to go on a date with him, and all that might entail. I felt myself blushing as he led me into a small interview room.

  I took the mutilated doll from him and held it in my hands - the head in the left and the body in the right.

  ‘It’s never been touched without gloves,’ he said. ‘So I don’t know if you’ll be able to detect anything, but I figure anything’s worth a try.’

  I didn’t know, either, especially since I’d been asked to wear gloves myself - thin, powdery, slippery latex ones, because the item I was holding was still officially classed as evidence. Although it had been dusted for prints and DNA and come up empty, Jamie still didn’t want it contaminated by me, especially since my involvement in the case was not generally known.

  Jonathan had always taught that it was important to have actual skin contact with an object you were trying to read, so it could indeed be a complete waste of time.

  ‘I'm more likely to pick up stuff from someone who works in the Mitzi Doll factory than from the killer,’ I said.

  ‘We checked,’ Jamie said. ‘The manufacture and packing process is completely automated. Assembly, painting the faces on, stitching the hair on - even putting them in the boxes is all done by machine. The first human touch they get is when the person who buys it gets it home. Our man must have worn gloves when he took it out of the box - but perhaps he left some energy behind, if not any prints. It’s a long shot, I know, but right now I’m willing to try anything to track him down.’

  I sighed and closed my eyes. I had to try, at least, and really wanted to be successful to please Jamie. For a while, there was nothing. I couldn’t get into the correct meditative state. I was all too aware of Jamie Swan sitting so close to me - I could feel his energy and the warmth of his body. I could smell his aftershave and hear him breathing. I knew his green eyes would be fixed expectantly on me, waiting to hear anything I might have to say.

  I tried to empty my mind and concentrate but it was impossible. After a while, some fleeting images began to appear in my mind. A woman, her hair in a neat bob, and a heart shaped mole on her left cheek, sitting on the seat in a pod on the London Eye. A panoramic view of the city was spread out below. The sun was setting; the skies over London were ablaze with vibrant colour. There was a man with her. I couldn’t see him clearly. He was on one knee in front of her holding a small box. He opened it and slid the solitaire diamond ring it contained onto the third finger of her left hand. I could sense she was very happy. She threw her arms around him and the vision faded. She was familiar, but I could not immediately place who she was. Was she the victim? Was the man with her the killer? If so, I couldn’t detect anything about him at all, so it wasn’t going to help. Still, it was a start.

  I opened my eyes. ‘Well?’ asked Jamie. ‘Did you see anything?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘Was the victim engag
ed to be married, by any chance?’

  ‘Er, no - she was only fourteen.’

  ‘Oh. Well, I saw something, but it wasn’t this victim. Perhaps it was some memory of the killer’s. Or something from a different victim.’

  ‘What did you see?’ he asked, quietly. His eyes were locked on mine. I was overcome with a desire to kiss him. I should have done it a long time ago. Jess was absolutely right. I closed my eyes, leaned forward and brushed my lips against his, waiting for him to kiss me back. Instead, he stiffened slightly and drew away. I realised my mistake - he was on duty, of course - and probably there was a CCTV camera recording the whole thing.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, turning away from him and looking down at the doll in my hands.

  ‘A romantic scene, I’d guess?’ He was giving me a get out, bless him. Of course, the vision had been a romantic one and I’d got carried away. Let him think that.

  ‘Yes, rather,’ I said. Mortified, I closed my eyes again and tried to see something else. I saw the same woman again, meeting an older couple and showing them the ring. They seemed overjoyed at her news. The couple I did recognise. It was the Harmans and the woman who’d just been proposed to was their daughter, Alison.

  I knew she wasn’t at risk from the killer, so I had no idea why I was picking up on her now.

  ‘I kept getting Alison Harman,’ I said. ‘You know, Monica Harman’s sister - that family I came and did a reading for - do you remember?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I remember them very well.’

  ‘I saw some guy proposing to her on the London Eye at sunset. She said yes and then went off to tell her parents. I couldn’t see him very clearly, though. Do you think he could be the killer?’

  ‘No,’ Jamie said, a little too quickly. ‘He’s not the killer.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ I asked him. He looked rather flushed and was looking down at the cup of coffee he was holding. I wondered if he was feeling all right.