Doors Without Numbers

by C. D. Neill

  Hammond nodded his appreciation, he felt as if words were insufficient somehow. The adrenaline was still pumping throughout his body but despite the sense of urgency, Hammond knew that it was pointless looking outside for Goodchild. She had no intention of waiting for Kelsey to join her. A woman that cunning would have known that Kelsey would have wanted to prove himself to her at the last minute and she had used the opportunity to get away. Hammond looked down at Kelsey and spoke to him for the first time.

  “You do realise that she had no intention of taking you with her? She didn’t wait for you.”

  Kelsey said nothing, his stare communicated his hate and defiance but Hammond was pleased with the response. He knew he had planted a seed in the man’s mind that could only flourish into all consuming doubt.

  Hammond allowed the man to stew over the thought as he ventured outside to wave to the patrol cars. From where he stood, he could see the blue lights flashing through the darkness and wondered how far Goodchild would get before she was apprehended. He hoped that he would have the opportunity to see her again. She had been so sure that Hammond will no longer be a nuisance that he could imagine the exhilaration he would feel proving her wrong.

  He heard the sound almost instinctively. They had been awaiting the call for so long that when it came, he knew instantly what it meant. He turned to go back indoors, and saw Galvin approach him halfway, his face was flushed, his eyes large, he shone with jubilance. “I’m about to be a Dad!” he said.

  The moment of excitement was shattered in an instant. Galvin, lost in his euphoria, had turned his back on Kelsey. It was a mistake. As Hammond saw what was about to happen, he lost all speech. As if in slow motion, Hammond flung his body forward in an attempt to shield Galvin from the force of the attack. Galvin’s expression turned from joy into confusion before the back of his skull shattered and he fell forwards.

  “The more rapidly a civilisation progresses, the sooner it dies for another to rise in its place.”

  Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life.1923

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  There are some images that once seen, cannot be unseen. No matter how much effort is spent to cover the sight with imaginings, the condemned vision remains fixed, it burns holes through the pages of memories so that whenever the eyes close, all that is seen is the scalding moment that wants to be forgotten. The event repeats itself in slow motion on perpetual playback with agonising precision. This is how Hammond would remember Galvin.

  Galvin had fallen seconds before the officers rushed into the house and had tackled Kelsey to the ground. Suddenly the house was filled with the sound of shouting but Hammond was lost in a silent world. He turned Galvin over gently and cradled Galvin’s shattered head, attempting to plug the holes that seeped blood and brain matter, but it wouldn’t stop, the stream spilled through his fingers, onto his lap soaking the floor. Galvin’s eyes were glazed, the breath that lingered between his lips frothed into oblivion. Hammond rocked him, desperate to circulate the life force that was leaking so forcefully. He shouted Galvin’s name repeatedly, telling him not to give up, to hold on, but even as he expelled his appeal, he knew that there was no life left for Galvin to cling to. From somewhere behind him, he heard a scream, then felt hands pulling at his back and shoulders, trying to tear him from his task. Hammond felt Dunn, rather than saw her. She had fallen onto her knees beside him, grasping at Galvin’s body. With frantic desperation, she pulled at his listless hands as if to make him acknowledge her, but Galvin was silent and still. Hammond looked up at Dunn, the tears that coursed down his cheeks mingled with the spilt blood on his lap.

  “He’s gone.” There were no more words he could say.

  “In the end, it will be seen we return at last to the point from which we start.”

  Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life.1923

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  On the morning of Monday, January 24th, Hammond’s ankle cast was removed. He celebrated his new found freedom by walking along the beach. The breeze felt unseasonably warm as it slapped his face and whipped his hair skywards. He tasted the salt on his lips and marvelled how nature protected itself. She chose her seasons to administer his needs, but she sent constant reminders that he was there as a guest. He couldn’t overstay his welcome for his existence was immaterial, an insignificant speck of dust that was carried on the back of a ever turning wind.

  Hammond stood on the pebbles and watched the fishing boats shunt further out to sea. Above them the clouds parted to allow a beam of sunlight guide their way. It reminded him of an image he had seen on the cover of a bible when he had been at Sunday School as a young boy, in his innocence he had thought the beam of light was a departed soul’s ascension into heaven. Hammond found himself trying to imagine what life was like before birth, whether there was a presence that slowly descended onto the living and became one itself before spending its energy and evaporating into the atmosphere. He wondered about Galvin’s newborn son, Michael Junior and the memory of Galvin’s death engulfed him, causing him to squeeze his eyes closed. He would never say, but he had identified the second Galvin had died in his arms, he became physically lighter in an instant. Hammond vaguely remembered reading about a physician who had tried to determine the weight of a person’s soul. As far as Hammond knew it was never determined, but from his own experience he took some comfort that Galvin’s soul hadn’t wasted away with his physical remains.

  His thoughts turned to Lloyd Harris and he wondered, somewhat absurdly, whether Harris’ mental clarity had returned following his death, then he thought of his mother and became lost in his own thoughts for several moments. He continued his walk along the sea front to where he had parked his newly acquired Saab before driving to the police station.

  He was back in the office by 9 a.m. He spent the next hour revising his statements and going through the reports on the murder of Cheryl Bailey. He was meeting the team to discuss the investigation he had initiated following Lloyd Harris’ request. It seemed as if an age had passed since he had met his former colleague at the Golf Club, since then his life and the life of his team had changed dramatically. He was pleased that Dunn had decided to stay, he valued her contribution.

  He greeted them all individually with a handshake before seating himself at the table, the team waited for a few minutes and chatted amongst themselves until Beech joined them.

  Hammond’s memories of what had happened during the last five months had started to lose its clarity, but the facts that had emerged following Bradley Kelsey’s arrest supported his initial theories. Rachel Turner had met Patricia Gutkin during the 1970’s. How they met and what had transpired between them was impossible to determine, but they shared a confused belief that society owed them. Rachel Turner had been rejected by her family, her child had been taken from her and she had been left to fend for herself. Gutkin was a young attractive woman who discovered that men would pay for her attention and she exploited their desire to finance her own brothel. During this time she met Bradley Kelsey, a client, with whom she became pregnant. At some point the three of them began a scheme to offer a profitable service to the more discerning clientele. They realised that, to ensure absolute discretion and exclusivity, they would need to use people that had reason to retaliate against the social system like themselves. With Turner’s help, they found young people that would not be missed, those with neglectful parents, or delinquents who had been shunned by society. Gutkin changed her name to Goodchild. Hammond considered that it was her own twisted way of making herself appear more trustworthy to the children she took on. Through methods such as sensory deprivation and psychological manipulation, their individual identities were encouraged to be forgotten and this successfully created a secretive and tightly controlled organisation that financed itself through offering specialised services such as drug trafficking and later, people trafficking.

  Lloyd Harris, it was presumed, but not confirmed, was a former client of Goodchild, he had referred her
services to his colleagues in the Metropolitan Police and had protected them from investigation later on by deflecting blame onto other officers.

  Most of the threads had been woven together to provide logical explanations of how the organisation had been founded and how it had progressed to the present day but there were still some questions that remained unsolved. Salima’s killer would probably never be identified, just as the client’s identities would never be exposed. Bradley Kelsey refused to offer this information during questioning, he maintained that clients never used their real names, although he admitted that several clients were often in the public eye and were therefore easily recognisable. He confirmed that Mark Callum, Theresa Davenport, Claire Bennet and Lucas Dean had been encouraged to believe that without the support of the organisation, they would not be able to continue living, they would not have anywhere to live, no money to survive on. He blamed this on Goodchild’s manipulation. Kelsey admitted to having been at Mark Callum’s flat the day of his death as he had delivered Goodchild’s personal message. It was Goodchild that decided when they were to be ‘made redundant’. He refused to clarify his involvement in coercing their deaths, he maintained his innocence by explaining his role was that of a messenger. When asked about the missing pen and notepad, he had explained that he had mistakenly taken them following Callum’s death. He had realised his mistake too late. He refused to divulge what had happened to Rachel Turner.

  The photographic evidence taken from the bus and the restaurant was enough to encourage Kelsey’s confessions regarding his interest in Hammond. He admitted he had killed Cheryl with the intention of framing Hammond. This was, he had explained, on the orders of influential clients. They feared that Hammond’s enquiries would expose them. The arson attack on Hammond’s home was inspired, Kelsey said, when he saw Jenny smoking. He had intended for it to look as if Jenny had caused the fire accidently. Through several interviews Kelsey dribbled information that proved helpful in establishing why certain events had occurred. But what Hammond could not determine with absolute certainty was Kathleen’s involvement. There was no concrete evidence to suggest she was guilty of conspiring to kill Lloyd Harris or Hammond. Kathleen had given the impression of wanting to co-operate fully with the Police. She had answered all questions willingly but Hammond could not be sure that she was telling the truth. She maintained that her contact with Goodchild and Kelsey had been a recent development, following a chance meeting where she had seen Mark Callum in Ashford in September. It had been a shock, she explained, because she had been told by Harris that Callum had died soon after Kathleen had been taken into Harris’ care. She had tried to talk to Harris about it but he had refused to disclose any information and subsequently she had attempted to find her biological parents, hoping to re-new contact with Callum. Following her enquiry Kelsey contacted Kathleen and offered to renew their relationship with the agreement that she was not to tell Harris. She had only seen Kelsey a few times, her mother had not wanted any direct contact with her.

  Hammond could not satisfactorily conclude what had caused Harris’ death. Kelsey refused to claim responsibility, he claimed that Harris had hit his head whilst being in an agitated state, but he did admit to moving the body to Hammond’s house with the hope that it would look as if Harris had been visiting Hammond when the fire broke out. Kathleen’s statement supported Kelsey’s claim, but she insisted she did not know of Kelsey’s intention to leave Harris’ body or to kill Hammond in the fire. The phone message she had left on Kelsey’s phone did not mention names and therefore it was not enough to prove she was lying.

  Hammond felt a twinge of guilt as he deliberately failed to mention his fling with Kathleen. The truth was, Hammond could not explain why he had behaved with such recklessness, he saw that Morris had also failed to mention it in his report and wondered whether it had been deliberate

  For Hammond and his team, their involvement in the investigation was over. The investigation on the child trafficking was to be handed over to a specialist department. Attempts had been made, but they had not traced Goodchild although the wreckage of her car had been discovered several miles from her home on the evening of her escape. An examination of the car found a considerable amount of blood soaked into the driver’s seat. A thorough search of the area had been conducted although her body had not been found.

  The meeting concluded after several hours and the file was handed over to the Prosecution Service. It was likely that other charges would be added later but there was enough to indict Bradley Kelsey for multiple murders.

  Once the room had cleared, Hammond remained in his chair, lost in space for some time. He felt as if the conclusion to several months of agonising deliberation had been somehow inadequate. Almost like a Greek tragedy ending with a happy ever after. What Hammond would have otherwise wanted, he didn’t know but he kept referring back to the same question. Had it all been worth it? If he hadn’t accepted Harris’s request for help, he would still have a home, Harris would still be alive and more, poignantly, Galvin would probably be seated at the same table, repeatedly asking questions and comparing his infants’ progress.

  Even with the child trafficking operation now exposed, it was unlikely that it would be stopped. Goodchild had said herself that business was booming. For as long as there was demand, there would be a supply. Hammond wondered again the identities of the clients, he found himself imagining the possibility that it could be people he worked with, people he respected. You could never tell what happened behind closed doors. Friendly faces were a perfect disguise for corrupt thoughts.

  The grief that Hammond had been carrying for the last two weeks since Galvin’s death drowned him with the unyielding thought that he was as equally responsible for Galvin’s death as was Kelsey. The exact circumstances of Galvin’s death were yet to be determined, but it was believed that somehow, Kelsey had managed to get out of his handcuffs whilst Galvin had been occupied with his phone call, and had armed himself with a hammer. The murder weapon was easily identified but Hammond was mystified as to how Kelsey had managed to free himself of his restraints. Several theories had been floating around the station. One idea was that Kelsey had carried a universal key with him, but this was, in Hammond’s opinion, improbable. Firstly Kelsey would have had to expect an imminent arrest in order to have the key in the first place, secondly, he was taken by surprise by Galvin in the basement, he would not have had a key easily to hand. The other theory was that Kelsey had pushed his hands downwards as Galvin had fastened the cuffs so that they were locked further up his arms. This would have made them looser around his wrists when he had wriggled them down. During the time Galvin was occupied with his phone call, Kelsey may have been able to lubricate his fastenings with kitchen detergent and work his hands loose. Hammond had no confidence in this hypothesis either, there was no residue of any soap on the cuffs when they were examined later. The most probable theory was that Galvin simply hadn’t fastened the handcuffs correctly. Nevertheless, how it happened, in Hammond’s mind was irrelevant. For it had been his own arrogance that had placed Galvin there in the first place. For the hundredth time, Hammond questioned his own behaviour during the course of the last five months, he had made so many mistakes, mistakes that had risked the lives of his family and his colleagues. He had ignored the warnings offered to him by Dunn and Beech and instead he had headed a one-man crusade. Too many people had suffered as a result.

  He eventually pulled himself out of the chair and went to get a cup of coffee. As he exited the room, he bumped into Morris. His despondency must have been evident, for Morris encouraged him into the next office. Over the last few weeks Hammond’s opinion of Morris had altered, he wouldn’t go so far as to say that he liked him. Morris was too vain in his opinion, but there had grown a sense of camaraderie between them that had strengthened into a mutual respect.

  Morris sat down in the chair beside him. His eyes wandered over Hammond, noting the circles under the eyes. “There have been too many mornin
gs when I have walked into this office and asked myself what I am doing here. The criminals will continue their antics no matter what we do, and we continue to pursue them but for what? What difference do we make? Honestly.”

  He had leaned back in his chair and looked at Hammond with a questioning gaze. For a moment Hammond thought how to answer but he wasn’t sure how to respond, so he shrugged mutely. Morris sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I seriously considered giving it all up, just walking away...” His arm stretched out to the side of him and pointed to the door to clarify his meaning.

  “To do what?” Hammond was genuinely interested.

  “I don’t know, rent an allotment and grow vegetables at the weekend, maybe try a bit of sport coaching, work for people who show their appreciation.”

  Hammond uttered a short laugh, he couldn’t vision Morris growing vegetables, not unless he was ordering the carrots to un-canker themselves.

  “But you haven’t, you’re still here.”

  “Yes, and I am glad of it, but it took me to see Galvin die before I realised why I was doing this job in the first place. There are nasty people out there who deserve to be locked up and I want to make their lives as uncomfortable as possible. Galvin was a good man. So young, How old was he? Thirty-two? So much life and enthusiasm wasted. He looked up to you Hammond, did you realise that? He wanted to be like you...poor misguided fool!” Morris smiled as he said the latter words.

  The two men sat there quietly, lost in their own thoughts. Hammond looked up at the pictures on the walls and noticed that the photographs of Morris’ wife had been removed. The silence was broken as Morris spoke.

  “It is going to take a while until the internal investigation is concluded but I want you to know you have my full support. Your methods may be questionable but you succeeded in solving two murders and exposed a criminal organisation. I have to give you credit where it is due. You proved me wrong.”