by C. D. Neill
“What happened?” he asked.
“I left Dad alone this afternoon, I needed to go to town and he was sleeping in his armchair. I was gone about an hour or so, when I got back around four, Dad was agitated, he was in his office...”
She stopped talking and exited the kitchen where they had just walked and instead turned back towards Harris’ office. They entered the small room, where only a few weeks previously Hammond had sat whilst Harris had reminisced. Harris’ office looked as if it had been turned over, papers and books were on the floor. The photo-frames that had been left face down were also on the floor, devoid of pictures. Pieces of shattered glass lay by their feet inside the door where one of the picture frames had been thrown.
“Did you leave a window open when you left? Had someone broken in?”
Kathleen looked at him surprised by his presumption. “No. Dad did this. He was throwing everything around, shouting and slamming things about. I don’t know what got into him. I tried reasoning with him, tried to calm him, but he screamed at me to leave him alone so I called the Doctor.”
Hammond looked enquiringly at her. Morris hadn’t mentioned this when he had told of his earlier conversation with Harris’ G.P.
“I thought Dad was having some kind of episode, I didn’t know what to do. Anyway, whilst I was distracted on the phone, Dad walked out.”
“You haven’t seen him since?”
“Of course not! Why do you think there is a search team looking for him!” She quickly apologised for snapping at him before lighting another cigarette.
“Kathleen, are you aware that the Police want to question him?”
Kathleen looked at him squarely in the eye. “Yes. I do. I don’t know why but I guess you have something to do with it. Why the hell would you send the police round to question a man with a mental impairment?”
Hammond was aware that standing in the doorway of Harris’ ransacked office wasn’t the best place to have the conversation he had in mind. He suggested they move to the living room. She followed him meekly and sat herself on the sofa. Hammond looked at his watch, it was past midnight. Harris had been missing for seven hours.
“Kathleen...” Hammond paused. He was about to question her about her time with Goodchild when he had an idea. He changed direction in his conversation. “Do you have a recent photo of your Dad? Something that can be used to show people and ask whether they have seen him?”
Kathleen nodded. “Yes, I gave the Search team one earlier.”
“Do you mind if I take a look?”
Kathleen handed him a photo album. He pretended to look at the later photos but then deliberately turned to the front of the book where the earlier photographs were. He found a photograph of a younger Harris with a white haired woman. She wore a blue evening gown that brought out the blue in her eyes. Hammond looked up at Kathleen. It was no surprise to him that there was no physical resemblance between the two women, but it helped to turn the conversation around to the topic he wanted to discuss. “This is Elizabeth?”
Kathleen nodded. “Yes, it was taken three years before she died.”
Hammond pretended to admire the picture. “I never met your mother. I worked with your Dad when she was ill but she died soon after.”
Kathleen didn’t take the bait. Instead she smiled politely and took the photo-album from his lap.
“I’m sorry Wallace, I can’t think straight.” Unexpectedly, Kathleen started to cry. Hammond didn’t know how to comfort her. Much as he would have liked to have persisted with his questioning, he knew it wasn’t the right time. Instead he waited whilst she composed herself.
“I should go, you’re exhausted. I’ll come back in the morning.”
Kathleen grabbed his arm. “No! Wallace, please don’t go. I really need some company.”
She leaned forward until her body pressed against him. He automatically put his hands around her back. He hesitated for a second, he sensed they were heading for unchartered waters. At this point a wise man would have firmly said his goodbyes. But Hammond wasn’t thinking rationally. Whether it was his exhaustion or simply a moment of weakness, he couldn’t decide but he found himself agreeing to her request.
“He who would gain his life must be willing to lose it.”
Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Making love to Kathleen was different to how Hammond would have expected it to be. She was a beautiful woman, there was no denying it. She could not have lived thirty eight years without recognising the effect she had on the opposite sex, yet she revealed herself to him with hesitation and nervousness. As he held her he was aware that despite the intimacy of their embrace, there was a sense of separation, as if her mind was elsewhere. Her head was turned away from him as he kissed her neck and stroked her limbs but she uttered no sound. Her lack of response gave him the impression that she had no sensation, or worse, that she wasn’t pleasured by him and the thought made him feel pressured and unable to perform. Eventually she straddled him and he came quickly, but he was aware that she had not climaxed with him. Afterwards she lay with her back to him as his arm rested over her breasts. They were disturbed by the sound of discreet knocking on the bedroom door. Kathleen wrapped herself in a bathrobe slung over a chair and left Hammond alone. He heard mumbled conversation from the other side of the door and wondered what to do. He should leave, He knew he had made a mistake staying. He started to get dressed as Kathleen re-entered the room. She looked surprised to see he wasn’t in bed and asked him why he was dressed. He changed the subject by asking her if there was any news on her Father.
“They’re calling off the search until the morning, it’s getting too cold for the search team to stay out there.”
Hammond studied her expression. He didn’t want to leave her in a state of anxiety.
“Kathleen, you need to sleep. The search will continue in a while.” He sat on the bed and collected his shoes that had been kicked off earlier.
“So that’s it. You’ve had your fun and now you leave.” Kathleen’s voice was steely. She turned her back towards him as she walked towards the en-suite bathroom. Hammond took a stride towards her and reached out what he intended to be a reassuring hand but then stopped. Her robe was loose around her neck and exposed the top of her shoulder. Before he could stop himself, he pulled the robe further away from her back to take a closer look. On her shoulder blade was a small mark that seemed familiar. As he drew his finger over the scar, Kathleen jerked herself around angrily and saw the expression on his face that registered shock. She realised her mistake, and pushed his hand away, but it was too late. He had first seen the mark on Mark Callum’s autopsy pictures and again on the photo of Salima Abitboul. It couldn’t be a co-incidence. The scar on Kathleen’s shoulder was the same size and shape as the one he had seen on Salima’s shoulder as she had stood with her back to the mirror in the picture. The only difference with Mark Callum’s scar was that his hadn’t healed after his mark was inflicted, leaving an excess of fibrous tissue.
“Kathleen, what’s that mark on your shoulder?”
Kathleen ignored him and began to walk away from him, but he stopped her and forced her to face him.
“I need to know, Katie!” He used her childhood name deliberately; he was tired of walking on eggshells. He needed to know if she remembered her time with Goodchild, if her scar was a reminder.
Kathleen stared back at him, her eyes were wide, her mouth open as if she was trying to think what to say. Eventually her anger took over and she pushed him away from her, pulling her robe tight around her neck.
“If you don’t leave me alone Wallace, I swear I will scream rape, it will take one second before the officer outside will come in through my door. How will that look to your buddies at the station?.”
Hammond looked at her shocked. In that instant he realised how stupid he had been. She was right. No-one would believe he hadn’t forced himself on her, there was nothing to prove she h
ad consented or even instigated their lovemaking.
Hammond took a step back and allowed her to move away. He wondered what would happen if he opened the door. Would the officer see him? Would Kathleen fulfil her threat? He kept watching her as he tried to predict her next move.
As if she sensed his panic, she began to laugh. “You are a fool Wallace, an idiot! You think because you have a badge you have the right to intrude on everyone’s lives, that you can rake through people’s drawers and uncover their secrets. You don’t have that right. You are here because I asked you to be, not because I am willing for you to pry into my life.” Kathleen’s eyes flashed with fury, she came forward towards him and looked as if she was about to strike him. Impulsively he stepped back quickly. The sudden movement caused him to overbalance on his plastered ankle and he fell.
Kathleen stopped mocking him, instead she reached towards him almost tenderly. He refused her outstretched hand and managed to get himself up. It was only a matter of time before the officer outside would come to check on the noise and Hammond still didn’t know if Kathleen would carry out her threat.
Seeing his bewilderment made Kathleen calm down. She sat on the bed and looked at him silently. She reached out her hand and offered it to him as a truce. He gingerly accepted it, unsure what to do.
“I’m sorry Wallace. I’m stressed, worried about Dad.”
“I know, I am too.”
She encouraged him to sit on the bed beside her. They sat in an awkward silence.
“No-one has called me Katie for years.” Her voice was quiet, her head remained low as she looked at the floor.
“Do you remember who used to call you that?” He asked her with genuine interest.
“Of course. Mark was my only friend, he was like a brother. My shadow.” She smiled sadly and Hammond saw the tears roll down the side of her nose.
“I know you want to know all about my dark secret Wallace, but the truth is, there’s not much to tell. I lived with my mother and the children she fostered until I was twelve. My natural mother is not what you would call the maternal type, my father was around but he didn’t know how to relate to children. Lloyd offered to take me in, he and Elizabeth couldn’t have children so they offered to adopt me as their own.”
“So he is not your natural father?”
Kathleen shook her head. “No, but I called him Dad, he was the nearest thing to a Father figure after all.”
Hammond nodded carefully. “The scar. Mark and Salima had an identical one.”
Kathleen wiped her eyes dry with the back of her hand and lifted her chin with renewed dignity. “Yes, all the children did. It was our way of knowing who we belonged to. Our brand if you like.”
Hammond stared at Kathleen in disbelief. “You mean...your mother did that to you?”
“She used to say that it was for our own good, a way of ensuring that we wouldn’t get lost.” She gave a short laugh. “I guess it is a bit like marking your pencil case at school. Putting your initials on it so no other kid would steal it. My Mother did it to all those she wanted to keep as her own.”
“But that’s abuse! It’s sick!”
Kathleen’s eyes searched his face before answering. “I think Lloyd thought that too. Hence him taking me away.”
“Did you see any of them again? Did you see Mark again?”
Kathleen nodded but didn’t say anymore. She had clammed up. Hammond wanted to push her to telling him more. He moved closer towards her, noticing she didn’t move away.
“Your father asked me to investigate the deaths of the other foster children. Did you know they had committed suicide?”
Kathleen nodded, but her eyes remained lowered. “Yes. But there is nothing to investigate Wallace, this is what I have been trying to tell you. There is no great mystery, no sordid secret. My Father probably wanted to protect me, maybe he felt guilty that he couldn’t protect the others, but in his confusion he saw things as being more significant than they really were. I don’t know why they killed themselves. Mark was a very sensitive boy, he couldn’t cope with life as we know it, he probably just had enough.”
Hammond knew the subject was closed. Kathleen’s shoulders became hunched as if her body was closing in on itself. An unconscious attempt to become invisible. He knew she was exhausted. He got up to leave. Suddenly she pulled at him.
“Wallace, don’t go! Please stay here, just until the morning!” Her voice had taken on a sudden urgency. The dramatic change in her behaviour un-nerved him.
“Kathleen, I can’t stay. I’ve got to go.”
She stood up suddenly and walked towards the door, placing her back against it so that he couldn’t exit. He was confused. She was irrational. He tried to be firm with her, to gently encourage her away from the door but she wouldn’t co-operate.
“Why are you being like this? I’ll come back.”
Suddenly Kathleen pulled off her robe and stood before him naked. “Make love to me again Wallace.”
This time Hammond decided to be the wise man he should have been earlier. He picked up her robe and attempted to cover her whilst gently urging her away from the door. From the other side of the door, Hammond heard the uniformed officer calling Kathleen’s name. He sounded concerned. Alarmed, Hammond remembered Kathleen’s threat and found himself unable to speak. He waited whilst she decided what to do. It seemed as if minutes passed before she called back to the officer, telling him she was fine. The sound of footsteps filtered off down the corridor. Kathleen looked at Hammond, she was breathing heavily, anger darkened her face.
“I thought you of all people would enjoy a bit of attention. But obviously you are out of your depth.”
Hammond was perplexed by Kathleen’s sudden change of mood. He declined to answer and instead reached for the door handle, pulling the door open.
He heard her sneer. “Don’t take it all so seriously Wallace, it’s just a game.”
Hammond looked over his shoulder at her. Kathleen was standing clutching her robe tightly against her. “That’s just it, Kathleen. You play too rough.”
He closed the door before she could answer.
The early hours of Friday 7th January would forever stay in Hammond’s mind as a bad memory. He arrived home at 2.30 am. His body coursed with unspent anger flooding through his veins that made him feel shaky and out of control. His mind was distracted and he forgot his pin number for his credit card much to the irritation of the taxi driver who demanded Hammond pay him in cash instead. Despite the urge to clout the driver in the face, Hammond remembered his pin number in time and punched it into the machine, before snatching the receipt and marching as much as he was able to with an ankle in plaster towards his porch steps.
He slammed the front door shut before remembering Jenny would be asleep upstairs and for the first time since the Forensic team had left, he entered the living room. Traces of white fingerprint powder could still be seen on the mahogany sideboard; furniture had been moved, including the sofa bed. He surveyed the room and reminded himself to dispose of the Christmas decorations first thing in the morning. Out of habit he checked his phone messages, Lyn had left a terse warning not to send any unwanted furniture to her home again unless he wanted to see it smashed on his front lawn, the other message was from Paul, thanking him for the treadmill. Hearing his son’s voice made Hammond want to return Paul’s call. He felt the need to warn Paul not to fall in love. No woman was worth the heartache, but remembered Paul was probably asleep so resorted to texting it from his mobile phone instead. He tried to remember where he had left the Brandy but failed so climbed onto the sofa bed and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.
In his dream, Kathleen was standing over him. She was smoking a cigarette and exhaled clouds of smoke over his face. It caused him to choke, and he turned his face away from her, but she got closer to him and tried to kiss him. She touched his face but her hands were hot and burnt him. He yelled at her to get away but instead she began to climb over him. Her skin scalded
his thighs. Burning smoke bellowed from her mouth and nose, circling him in a devil’s pit of fire. He couldn’t breathe. Kathleen started to laugh, her mocking was shrill. The noise woke him up and he discovered he wasn’t dreaming. The smoke alarm was heckling. The room was on fire.
For a second his mind was paralysed, he couldn’t think what to do. The smoke drenched the room in darkness. He was blind and already disorientated, but then he remembered Jenny. He clambered off the bed and crawled his way towards where he thought the door was only to discover that he was heading into a wall. His ears filled with the sound of hissing and popping as trapped air escaped around him. The heat began to sear his lungs. He covered his nose and mouth with his shirt and lowered himself onto his belly. Desperate to find his way to the door he began to pull himself along on the carpet, the thought of Jenny upstairs driving him forwards. One arm stretched outwards as he attempted to identify any obstacle with the back of his hand. His mind became foggy, he found himself wanting to sleep but fought the urge to close his eyes. He knew his hands were burnt, the skin was tight and unable to grip his shirt against his face for much longer. His fingers from his outstretched hand grasped a lead of some kind and he knew he was now in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. The temptation was to go to his right where the front door was but he couldn’t leave Jenny, even if it meant leaving this sorry life with her. He wriggled towards the left where the stairs were and found the bottom step but exhaustion had claimed him. He knew he wouldn’t make it. A sob clasped his throat, his eyes streamed, his chest was burning from within.
Suddenly he noticed all noise had stopped, his head was clear of sound, his mind numb of fear as if he were out of the fire and in a bubble of absolute clarity. He realised none of it mattered anymore. Life would go on without him as if he had never been born. The thought calmed him and he allowed his eyes to close.