Jack's Back

by Mark Romain

  “There’s nothing else we can do, I suppose. I should have thought to ask her about the kid when we spoke on the phone.”

  Kelly nodded over Jack’s shoulder. “Heads up, here they come,” she warned. He stood up and turned to greet them. Rita Phillips was pretty much the way he’d imagined her to be. She was in her late sixties, and slightly underweight for her bone size, but that was probably a result of the stress Tracey had put her through these last few years. Her collar-length grey hair still had faint traces of blonde in it, and the pale blue eyes, which looked him up and down, were alert, worldly wise and full of character. Rita wore a three-quarter length camel hair coat over a conservatively cut blue dress with a crew neck. It was the kind of outfit that had probably looked old-fashioned even when it was brand new. Her brightly polished shoes appeared well worn and comfortable. Head up, back straight, chin jutted out defiantly; everything about her indicated that she was a woman who conducted herself with pride and dignity.

  Jack had a feeling that he would like her immensely.

  The little girl, trailing shyly behind her grandmother, seemed reluctant to approach them. She held the old woman’s hand tightly and stood directly behind her, cautiously peering around the side of Rita’s legs when she thought no one was looking.

  He had a sneaking suspicion that she was probably far more uncomfortable with him and Barton than she was with the surroundings. Jack asked himself how many strange men, how many new ‘uncles’ or ‘friends’ she been forced to meet in her brief life? He wondered if they had been kind, cruel or simply indifferent towards her. He hoped that it was the former.

  The unassuming innocence in those big blue eyes had a strange impact on him and he felt a lump forming in his throat as he looked down at her. Tyler didn’t consider himself to be a sentimental man, but he was touched by the sweet gentleness that seemed to radiate from little April Phillips. Somehow, she seemed wise beyond her years. You’ve been in the world before, little lady, he thought, smiling tenderly. He remembered his own grandmother saying that to him once when he was small. It had sounded silly at the time but now it seemed to make perfect sense. “Hello, Mrs Phillips. I’m so very sorry that we have to meet like this,” he said softly, taking her hand in both of his.

  “Thank you, Mr Tyler. You’ve all been so kind to us. It’s helped enormously to know that somebody cares,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.

  Jack bent down until his face was at the same level as April’s. He slowly held out his right hand, smiling as he spoke. “You must be April. My name’s Jack. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  As he spoke the girl drew back, seeking refuge behind her grandmother’s legs. Jack gazed up at Rita, seeking guidance.

  “April’s not too comfortable around men,” Rita explained with great sadness. “I’m afraid she hasn’t had much reason to trust them so far.” She didn’t add that Tracey had gone through a phase of bringing clients back to the flat whenever Rita was out; or that she used to lock April, often crying, always frightened, in her bedroom while she entertained them. Rita had found out about this practice by pure chance when her next-door neighbours called round one evening to complain. They had threatened to call in the police and social services unless it stopped.

  Tracey had been out at the time, and Rita had waited up half the night for her to return, confronting her with the accusation the moment she stepped through the door. Tracey denied it, of course, but little April had, by that stage, told her nanny the shocking truth about the ‘bad days’, as the girl referred to them; days when she was repeatedly locked in the tiny room for hours at a time.

  It was the very last straw for Rita. Tracey could ruin her own life if she wanted, Rita couldn’t stop that, but she wasn’t going to let her drag a poor defenceless child down into the gutter with her.

  Rita had laid into her daughter over her cruel and reprehensible behaviour; she had threatened to throw her out, there and then. Shocked by the unexpected ferocity of her mother’s wrath, the like of which she had never seen before, Tracey tearfully swore that she was sorry and that it would never happen again. Irrespective of how genuine her remorse seemed at the time, Rita had learned the hard way that she couldn’t rely on the word of an addict, and so she had never left the child alone with her mother again.

  Jack stood up slowly, still smiling tenderly down at the little girl who continued to cling to the one person she knew she could trust. “April, honey, not all men are bad. I hope that one day we can be friends.” He wanted to reach out and touch her, to show her that he, at least, was sincere, but it didn’t seem appropriate. The girl studied him closely for a moment, weighing him up, perhaps, before ducking back behind Mrs Phillips legs.

  “And this is Tim Barton, one of my finest officers. He runs the office for me. If you ever need to speak to anyone urgently, and you can’t get hold of Kelly or me, then you can trust Tim implicitly,” Jack said.

  “Hello, Mrs Phillips,” Barton said, offering his hand. Barton excused himself as soon as the introductions were completed. He needed to get into the court to set up a table with his papers, in readiness for the hearing.

  “Can we talk?” Jack asked as tactfully as he could. He glanced down at April as he spoke.

  Rita Phillips nodded, understanding that he meant alone, without the child.

  “Of course.” Her voice sounded brittle, betraying the stress she was trying to conceal from her granddaughter.

  He watched as she turned to the child. “April, darling, I’m just going to have a quiet chat with Mr Tyler. Will you be okay sitting here with Kelly? Will you look after her for me until I get back in a few minutes?”

  April glanced up at Jack, a deep frown of uncertainty creasing her young brow. Then she looked across at Kelly, who immediately smiled at her. She finally returned her gaze to Rita, staring at the old woman with those big trusting eyes for a long moment before nodding. She sat down next to Kelly, releasing Rita’s hand with great reluctance.

  Jack guided Rita a few paces away before speaking. He continued to glance back at the child, noting that she seemed happy enough with Kelly Flowers. “Rita, I know that this is a very trying time for the two of you, and I want you to know that you can call us at any time if you need to. Do you understand what is going to happen today?”

  “Yes, I think so. Kelly explained it to me on the way over; at least she tried to. It can be difficult to talk freely about such things with a child around.”

  “Well, there’s not too much to it, really. The law requires that the inquest is opened as soon as possible, but this will be a straightforward decision for the Coroner, who will rule that Tracey was unlawfully killed by a person, or persons, unknown.” Jack paused, considering his next words carefully. “Look, Rita, the medical details are not very nice. I need to warn you about that before we go inside. I –”

  She raised a hand to cut him off. “I know, I know.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Those dreadful murders in Whitechapel were plastered all over the TV yesterday. I’m not senile, so I can guess exactly what happened to my poor baby. And don’t forget that I saw her in the morgue when I … when I had to identify her.” Her voice quivered and the colour completely drained from her face. A solitary tear ran down her cheek, and she turned away from him.

  Tyler placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, waiting in silence while she gathered her emotions.

  “I’m okay now,” she said, turning back to face him again a few moments later.

  Jack decided to change the subject. “Are you coping okay financially?” He suspected she would be too proud to ask for help, even if she needed it.

  “Things are tight,” she admitted, “but we get by.”

  “I’m not trying to pry; I’m just concerned for you and April. If you need help with the…well, with the funeral arrangements and the like, then the State is duty bound to provide it…” Her upraised hand silenced him for a second time.

  “Mr Tyler, I know you mean well and I t
hank you, truly I do, but I’m not a pauper and I have a small amount of money put by. It’s not much, and it was intended to pay for my own funeral in due course…” She smiled wanly at this point, pondering the bitter irony of what she was about to say. “…I thought that it would save my poor Tracey the worry of trying to find enough money to bury me when the time came.” Inevitably, more tears were forming in Rita’s eyes. Since the unexpected knock on her door early Monday morning, when the two baby-faced constables, their helmets tucked respectfully under their arms, had awkwardly delivered the death message, Rita had desperately tried to conceal her pain and grief from April. She had quickly mastered the art of crying silently, and each time the tears returned she would turn her head away, or use a newspaper to shield her face from April’s view. And such simple things would set her off: this morning, when she heard a song that Tracey was fond of; last night, when she had cooked April one of Tracey’s favourite meals; every single time Rita walked into Tracey’s bedroom and saw her clothes hanging up, knowing that her fashion-conscious daughter would never wear the garments again.

  “Look, Rita. You should really hang on to that money,” Jack was saying. “You’ve got to think of April. She might need it one day. Why don’t we sit down later, just you and me, and work out together exactly what needs to be done?”

  She nodded, grudgingly. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk about it, at least.”

  Tyler’s heart went out to this poor woman and her grandchild. They were in a terrible predicament, through no fault of their own, and he would do everything in his power to help them. “We’ll talk more, later – once the inquest is adjourned,” he said, gently placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she sat down, next to Kelly.

  “Thank you, Jack Tyler,” she whispered, placing her hand over his for the briefest of moments.

  April was visibly relieved to have her beloved grandmother back by her side, where the youngster firmly believed she belonged. She leaned over and subjected the old woman to a crushing embrace. Rita lovingly ran the arthritic fingers of her left hand through the child’s shiny hair. At the same time, her other hand sought the familiar reassurance of the golden crucifix she wore around her neck. Please, God, give me the strength to get through today, she prayed.

  Standing a few yards away, Jack watched the touching scene out of the corner of his eye. He felt woefully inadequate and desperately wished there was a way to comfort them in their time of need.

  Kelly Flowers, as if somehow sensing the inner turmoil his thoughts were causing him, made her way over. For a few long moments, she stood there, trying to think of a tactful way to voice her concern without giving offence.

  As he inhaled the subtle fragrance of her perfume, Tyler was acutely aware of her presence. He could actually feel the heat being radiated from her body. Kelly leaned closer to speak, her hand brushing against his as she moved. The sudden physical contact between them was electric, and it sent a small jolt right through him.

  “You know, as much as you might want to, you can’t heal all the wrongs in the world on your own,” she pointed out. The words, quietly spoken, seemed very poignant to him as he turned to study her. Their faces were suddenly only inches apart, but she didn’t back away, he noted with surprise and pleasure. He eyed her with mock suspicion. “Have you been talking to DI Dillon?” The words she’d just spoken could easily have come straight from the mouth of his overprotective partner.

  Kelly smiled. “I don’t need to talk to Tony Dillon to see that.”

  Before they could say anything more, the courtroom door opened and a slim, elderly man in the robes of an usher shuffled out and invited them into the courtroom.

  Jack walked back over to Rita and placed a hand on her arm. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she replied in a weak voice that lacked conviction.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be right next to you all the time. If you need to go outside just tell me. Don’t stay in there if it’s too much for you to bear.” He squeezed her arm gently. “Ready?”

  She nodded uncertainly, allowing him to guide her through the wooden doors into the courtroom. As they sat down a small cluster of reporters, all keen to secure a seat in the limited space available, filed into the court. Tyler’s face darkened as he caught sight of Terri Miller, dressed to kill in a stylish blue business suit, which had a lighter blue herringbone cheque running through it, and a garish red blouse. Holland had been right; the press coverage would continue to grow and grow until the killer was ultimately caught or another major news story eclipsed it.

  Jack thought about the two TV crews opposite the building, waiting to film the grieving family when it emerged later in the day. He made a mental note to take Rita and the kid out of the courthouse via the back exit if there was one. With luck, they could get them away without being seen by the damned newsies.

  The ancient usher walked across the room and stopped beneath a large portrait of Queen Elizabeth II. There was a much smaller version of the same image – at least Jack thought it was the same image – hanging on one of the walls in the main office, although some clever sod had added a curly moustache to the Queen’s face in that one. “All rise,” the usher instructed.

  When everyone had stood up, the usher opened a wood panelled door theatrically and, with an air of dignified grace, the Coroner, Dr Montague DeVere, made his entrance. He paused to study the expectant crowd before walking the short distance to the raised platform on which his ornately carved chair awaited him. He bowed formally, an act reciprocated by court officials and those police officers present.

  Dr DeVere sat down swiftly, motioning to the usher to continue with the opening procedure.

  Jack reached over and took Rita’s hand, holding it tightly. Without averting her eyes from the distinguished looking Coroner, she squeezed back.

  “Here we go,” he muttered under his breath.

  CHAPTER 24

  The building seemed strangely deserted now, Kelly reflected. She was reading a story from a book of assorted fairy tales. April Philips was a good listener. The child seemed more relaxed now that the tiny corridor had cleared of people, leaving them alone together.

  Kelly had two nieces of her own, her elder sister’s children. They were aged seven and four, and she had been reading stories like this to them since they were in nappies.

  She wondered what would become of the child sitting so serenely on her lap. Would fate be kind to her in the coming years or would she end up going the same way as her mother?

  As Kelly reached the end of the fable, the ageless tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, April looked up at her. “My nanny got me the video of Snow White from the market. Would you like to come home and watch it with me?” She spoke shyly, a look of eager anticipation accompanying the words.

  “I would love to, April, but unfortunately I have lots of work to do. Maybe we could watch it another time?”

  A frown appeared on the child’s face as Kelly spoke, quickly followed by a look of disappointment. “That’s okay,” April responded sadly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. My mummy didn’t like doing things with me either.” She looked down at her shoes as if she had been scolded.

  Kelly mentally kicked herself. Thanks to the constant rejection she had suffered at the hands of her worthless mother, April had grown into a deeply insecure child with a very low opinion of herself. She thought Kelly was fobbing her off, making excuses just like her mother had.

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Kelly mentally kicked herself, and she was determined to rectify the mistake. “What other video’s do you like, sweetheart?” she asked, trying to coax the child back into the conversation.

  “Beauty and the Beast is my very best favourite,” April told her, risking a coy glance up at Kelly as she spoke.

  “Wow! That’s my favourite, too!” Kelly exclaimed. The child looked at Kelly again, a smile beginning to form. She found herself intrigued by the grown up’s sudden exc
itement. “Really?” she asked, eyes the size of dinner plates.

  Kelly smiled. “Sure is!”

  “My nanny said she would buy me a doll of ‘Belle’ for my birthday, but I don’t think she will be able to, not now…” Her little voice, so full of energy and enthusiasm, faltered as she uttered the last few words, and her enchanting smile was replaced by an expression of infinite sadness.

  “What’s wrong, angel? You can tell me…” Kelly put her fingers under April’s chin as she spoke, gently tilting the girl’s head towards her. Kelly found herself close to tears as she stared into the endless sea of pain shimmering in the big blue eyes of the child on her lap. That was when it hit her, that April was just as much a victim of this obscene scumbag who proclaimed himself a modern-day Jack the Ripper as any of the three women he’d brutally hacked to death. “Why so sad, my little one?” she asked, instinctively drawing the child closer. April willingly snuggled into her, and Kelly began to rock her back and forth in a soothing rhythm that had always worked on her when she was April’s age.