Smoke and Mirrors

by Denver Murphy

  ‘Well, it’s about what I said the other day, about finding a way to help you out of your current… circumstance.’

  This was good. Brandt was pretty sure that she was telling the truth, and this was the purpose of her visit. Besides, if she even for one moment suspected his actual identity, it would be utter madness for her then to choose to come along to confront him in a, now near-deserted, caravan park in the middle of nowhere. Surely not everyone was quite as bold and reckless as DCI Johnson had been.

  ‘Oh, great,’ he responded. ‘I really do appreciate this. Honestly, when Mr Jones told me he was letting me go I never imagined that someone would be so kind as to…’

  ‘Please, Greggy, I have something to tell you,’ the seriousness with which she delivered her interruption not only caused Brandt to stop talking immediately but also to sit up straight on the banquette designed to be the equivalent of a living room sofa. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good news. I have been asking around everywhere I can think of, really I have, but it appears that no one is looking to take on new staff at this moment. Or at least…’ She paused, seemingly unable to conclude her sentence.

  ‘Someone foreign,’ he finished for her.

  ‘Well, er… yes,’ she confirmed with a sigh.

  Brandt got up and moved into the kitchen area to attend to the kettle, which had just finished boiling. He didn’t know why he was quite so disappointed with Mrs Hardcastle’s news. It was nothing less than he would have expected and yet he had clung onto that shred of hope over the last few days. It had kept him going and had even seen his drinking the night before her first visit become a mere blip on an otherwise exemplary track record.

  ‘How will you manage?’ she asked, breaking the awkward silence that had descended.

  ‘Oh, I’ll be fine. Really,’ Brandt replied, heading to the fridge before remembering that Mrs Hardcastle liked her tea to steep for at least five minutes before the milk was added.

  ‘No honestly, Greggy. How will you manage?’

  Brandt sighed and re-joined her in the lounge area and sat down again. ‘Honestly, Kath, I don’t know. I think I have enough to last me until Christmas but if I can’t get a job until then I’ll have to find somewhere else. Perhaps if any of the fruit pickers have decided to stick around, I can share with them.’

  He got up again. The tea bag might not have been in the water long enough for her tastes but, under the circumstances, it would just have to do.

  ‘Sit down please, Greggy.’

  Brandt complied with her request. He had assumed that their conversation was drawing to an unsatisfactory close, but it seemed she had something more she wanted to say.

  ‘There was something else I needed to ask you…’

  Here it comes. She’s clearly not convinced but she at least suspects it’s me. What she really wants is for me to deny it, so she can try and cast it from her mind. But what if my reassurances aren’t enough? What if she’s here, not to hear whether it’s me, but to see if it is? Has she been studying the photos of me in the newspaper and wants to see my face one last time, so she can be sure? Sure enough so that the first thing she does once she pulls away in her car is to phone the police?

  ‘Go on…’ Brandt encouraged her, flexing his fingers so they were ready to squeeze the life out of her, should the need arise.

  ‘Well, everything you’ve told me is how I imagined it would be and so I’ve been thinking… thinking whether you would like to come and live with me.’

  ‘What?’ Brandt exclaimed, unable to hide the shock from his voice. This turn of events was entirely unexpected.

  ‘Oh, good God, I didn’t mean like that,’ she responded in distress. ‘I didn’t mean live with me as in… I meant come and stay with me. For a while. Just until the new year and things start to pick up again.’ As if thinking that this was still not enough to confirm that her suggestion was purely platonic, she continued. ‘It’s a large house. I’m just rattling around it on my own. You would have your own bedroom. Of course you would,’ she added, still flustered. ‘But what I mean is that the house is big enough that it wouldn’t even be directly next to mine. You could come and go as you please. It would be like you were my lodger. Erm, except that you wouldn’t be paying me. Although, if you wanted you could repay me in other ways. Oh, good God, I didn’t mean like that, I meant doing some odd jobs. It’s not quite the place it once was before my husband passed away. You could do some of the things he used to do. Around the house I mean.’ She stopped abruptly, perhaps realising that the more she tried to justify herself the more she seemed to be tying herself up in knots.

  ‘Kath, I really appreciate you offering but you don’t need to do this.’

  ‘I know I don’t,’ she responded, a steeliness entering her tone. ‘But I said I would help you because I want to, and this is the best way I can.’

  The voice came back telling Brandt that this was just a trap. All women are the same and Mrs Hardcastle was just trying to lure him back to her place like that slut had in Benidorm. As soon as she got her wicked way she would cast him back out onto the street.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he admitted. He looked into her face and could see the kindness within. Was he really going to refuse her offer and remain here in this increasingly cold and deserted caravan park, and just wait for his money to run out? He had come to Wales to make a fresh start and Mrs Hardcastle was giving him a way of ensuing the setback dealt to him by Mr Jones wasn’t incurable. He knew he didn’t deserve such generosity considering what he had done, but then part of him believed he did. Her desire to help had been borne out of the relationship he had forged with her in the tearoom. Had he treated her as just another customer she would not have felt compelled to come to his aid. Perhaps this was a sign that his actions in his former life weren’t irredeemable; that he wasn’t beyond redemption.

  ‘As long as you promise to put me to good use around the house then I shall accept your gracious offer. But I have one question for you first…’ He allowed the tension to increase once more before continuing. ‘Where is it that you actually live?’

  ‘Oh, Greggy,’ Mrs Hardcastle squealed like a schoolgirl. ‘You are going to love it. It’s a converted farm house overlooking Betws-y-Coed and…’

  Brandt tuned out her excited ramblings about the property and the grounds on which it sat. He was keen to leave some details as a surprise and, instead, just wanted to bask in the warm glow of finding companionship for the first time in years. He didn’t know if he would like living under someone else’s roof and having to abide by their rules, but he was keen to find out.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘Look, guv, I told you there’s nothing to worry about but if it makes you feel any better I haven’t told a single person my new address. I’m perfectly safe here.’

  ‘Stella, that’s not why I called… Brandt is still alive.’

  ‘What?’ Was this some kind of sick joke? She didn’t know how this was meant to be a suitable lead into begging her to return to work, but Potter had better justify himself, and quickly.

  ‘I thought carefully about what you said the other day and you were right to be shocked that standard procedure hadn’t been followed. To tell you the truth, I had only just found out that Fi… that no one had seen the dental records cross referenced. I know I should have checked it had been done but… well anyway, I made the right decision and had the body exhumed.’

  ‘Who… who is it then?’ Johnson still couldn’t believe she was hearing this.

  ‘It was the husband of a couple who went missing after returning from holiday.’

  ‘Let me guess, returning from holiday in France. By car.’

  ‘Yes, that’s about the size of it.’

  ‘Fucking hell!’ Johnson cursed quietly. Having got over the realisation that Potter had been calling her for a different reason to what she had expected, she realised what a monumental cock up they had made. Now it dawned on her the true meaning of his revelation.<
br />
  Former Detective Superintendent Jeffrey Brandt, the man who had killed McNeil, along with eight others that they knew of, in fact, make that ten given the couple returning from holiday, was not dead. He had faked his own suicide and was out there somewhere thinking he had got away with it.

  Johnson had the sudden urge to throw up but strangely she didn’t feel in immediate danger. What had occurred at her house hadn’t been the crazed final stand of a dangerous man believing himself backed into a corner. He must have planned it all along. To lure her out, under the pretence his ex-wife could still be saved and then use the time when she had been unconscious to set the stage for his elaborate escape.

  But why then would a man who meticulously tried to avoid leaving anything to chance, not only kill himself before seeing Johnson burn in the flames, but allow something as basic as not securing her bonds tightly enough to see his plan fail?

  ‘I know what you said about no one knowing the whereabouts of your flat, but remember he found you once before and I assume you’re still driving around in that red sports car he traced you in.’

  ‘He’s not coming for me, guv.’

  ‘What? How can you say that after he hunted you down, not once but twice?’

  ‘But that’s the whole point. Admittedly, the only reason why he didn’t kill me the first time was because of McNeil suddenly arriving,’ Johnson was unable to say that last bit without an involuntary change to her voice as a lump formed in her throat. ‘But if he had wanted me dead the second time he would have done so.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Stella. Are you telling me now that you’re not surprised he’s still alive? But when I asked you in the station whether…’

  ‘It’s not that at all!’ Johnson didn’t know why she was being so defensive of her thoughts and, more crucially, Brandt’s actions. ‘It’s just I truly believe if he had wanted me dead, he would have made sure of that last time, or at least, what with him still being alive, he would have finished the job in the months since then. And before you ask why I think he decided not to kill me, I don’t know. Although, now I come to consider it, perhaps he didn’t see that he needed to anymore, seeing as he was about to make a clean getaway. Believing him to be dead, I obviously wouldn’t still be looking for him.’

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t feel safer staying somewhere else? Just say the word and I’ll have something arranged.’

  It wasn’t so much the repetition of the same concern that irritated Johnson, more that Potter didn’t even seem to want to acknowledge her thoughts on Brandt’s motives.

  ‘Listen, guv, I’m staying put. And like I said, it doesn’t really change anything.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘It’s still not him who’s done these two recent killings. There’s still a copycat out there.’

  The silence that followed was worse than the denial she had expected her assertion to receive. It meant that Potter was so unconvinced by it that he didn’t see the point of challenging her. It was just like when they found Franklin’s body and the bogus suicide note: they were blinkered by the thing that was most immediately in front of them. She sighed heavily. There were so many emotions she should be experiencing right now: bitterness, anger, betrayal. Anything but the sensation of impotence she was currently feeling.

  The irony of this, given what she had seen Gail Trevelly write in her newspaper articles about Brandt, did not escape her.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  ‘You, sly old dog!’

  It was a matter of minutes after the news breaking that Brandt was not dead that Jack found out. His second killing had ensured that murder was on everyone’s lips on campus and the revelation of Brandt’s faked suicide had spread like wildfire. Jack had guessed that, in their embarrassment, the police would have added little to the brief bit of information he had overheard in the student union bar, but he still wanted a chance to digest it in peace. Fortunately, Mandy hadn’t been with him at the time, otherwise he would have needed to come up with a more convincing excuse for his departure than an overdue essay.

  The admiration Jack felt as he re-read on his laptop the short statement on the news site he had accessed, was far greater than when he had found out that Franklin’s claim that Brandt had merely been a pawn in his game was false. That may have served to redeem his hero but this now elevated Brandt to a god-like status.

  Jack had never felt comfortable with Brandt’s supposed demise. He had taken some solace in it being on his own terms, but it still felt like an opportunity wasted. To have something so good snuffed out in its prime seemed to Jack little more than cruel. Once again, he felt guilty for underestimating his mentor’s brilliance, but that reaction was soon pushed away by the sudden realisation that Brandt would know of his actions.

  Wherever Brandt had chosen to escape to, surely he would have received news of Jack’s murders in Nottingham. The thrill this gave him was greater than anything he had experienced murdering those women, and much more so than the lustful, animalistic sex he’d performed with Mandy afterwards. But there also came the sense of great responsibility. No longer was he paying homage to his great teacher by way of honouring his glorious acts, what he had done was to perform in his image. Jack had always considered the shadow created by Brandt to be long, but that he was still alive to cast it added a certain pressure, giving him more to live up to.

  As with many ambitious young people, understanding that the bar had been set higher only conspired to make Jack even more determined to clear it. Knowledge that Brandt would be seeing and judging his efforts, convinced him that he should not continue to delay his next task. If anything, Jack had been selfish. His reunion with Mandy had only served to strengthen the bond they had undoubtedly formed. His claims that he was falling for her, at the time said by way of an explanation for his bizarre behaviour, were becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. They had also coincided with a feeling of becoming settled in his course of study. He may have only picked Politics and International Relations as a means of securing a place at the university, but Mandy’s keen interest in the subject was beginning to rub off on him.

  Yet all that was secondary to the true purpose of him being in Nottingham. Brandt’s resurrection was a timely reminder for him not to lose focus and he would repay this kindness by ensuring that his next action would not just be soon, it would also be spectacular – a fitting tribute to his master. Coming to this conclusion may have been swift and simple, but establishing what exactly to do would be a greater challenge. The number of murders so far might have now made Jack a serial killer in his own right, but he still considered himself just a fledgling. He hadn’t forgotten the problems he’d faced in Whitstable and how he had needed to cower behind some bins in Canterbury until someone came along who was sufficiently pissed that his job in killing them was made easy. Things had been much better since he had arrived in Nottingham, but he put down how much smoother things had gone, as well as the enormous increase in the satisfaction he had derived, to having closer followed Brandt’s blueprint.

  Jack considered whether recreating his murder in Milton Keynes would be sufficient. There were obvious logistical problems he would have to overcome but maybe that would illustrate the scope of his devotion. However, he quickly abandoned that idea. If he were to show himself truly worthy of the admiration from Brandt he now craved, he would have to do something bolder. But deviating completely from Brandt’s own intentions wouldn’t feel right, especially because he could never truly be sure that he would receive approval for something completely different.

  ‘Got it!’ he declared triumphantly to no one other than himself. The path set before him now seemed so clear, as to appear obvious. The only way to be certain that Brandt received his actions in the manner intended was to complete something he had tried but had been unable to achieve.

  Jack leaned back on his chair, basking in the brilliance of the idea. It would prove to everyone, himself included, that he was truly worthy. Now he just had to
figure out how he was going to manage what had eluded Brandt. This was going to be tricky, but he knew that it would make the result all the more satisfying.

  He would start with a little research on the internet.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  ‘After you Kath,’ Brandt insisted, indicating that his new companion should make her way through the door.

  ‘Why thank you, kind sir,’ she said, offering a slight curtsy that made them both laugh. ‘Shall I prepare us a light supper and we can treat ourselves by watching it in front of the telly? If I’m quick we can catch the news before that programme you like comes on.’

  ‘Perfect,’ replied Brandt even though he was still pretty much stuffed from lunch.

  The first few days since Brandt had moved in with Kath had been a little awkward. It had not been deliberate on either of their parts, but it seemed both had become very used to living on their own. Especially given the unusual nature of their relationship, it took a little while for them to find an equilibrium.

  From Brandt’s perspective, he still felt uncomfortable with the level of generosity shown towards him; it was certainly something he wasn’t accustomed to and he tried too hard to be both considerate and a help around the house. Kath, on the other hand, had been so keen to ensure that her motives continued to come across as altruistic that she might as well have been treading on egg shells.

  Things had come to something of a head yesterday when Brandt had noticed on Kath’s kitchen calendar that she was meant to be hosting a book club meeting. Brandt didn’t want to confront her because it might come across as pushy, instead drawing his own conclusion that, for all her generosity, she was worried what people would think of her. He didn’t like the idea she was ashamed of him and that her fellow conservative, middle class, middle aged women would think he was taking advantage of her well-meaning but naively placed sense of kindness.