Fearful Symmetry

by J. E. Mayhew

  The pipe shifted.

  She was almost horizontal now; her feet planted firmly on the crumbling stonework, suspended by the chain and the leverage of her legs. A crazy notion came to her that she could walk up the wall, like Batman in those stupid 1960s programmes she’d watched with her dad as a girl. Grinning she jagged her arms upwards, suddenly slackening the chain and flicking it up. The chain climbed up the pipe, clinking loudly in the echoing church.

  Now Ellen was a couple of feet off the ground, but the height had given her more pull. The pipe creaked. Ellen whimpered as more blood streamed from her grated wrists. She threw herself back again and again, and the pipe grumbled at her more. It hissed as chunks of stone and dust trickled out of the bolt holes. One bracket that held the pipe to the wall had twisted. She pulled back again, her yell bouncing off the rotting pews and the metal grilles on the windows.

  A scraping noise sounded behind, and she froze. The blood pulsed around her temples. Something had moved in the shadows at the corner of her eye. All she could hear now though was the beating of her heart and her ragged breathing.

  Was he back?

  Something metallic clanged to the floor and for a moment, Ellen imagined him, Ralph striding towards her with a huge iron bar in his hand. Then a blur of rusty red burst from behind the pews and Ellen gave a short, strangled laugh. She’d never seen a fox this close-to before. It gave her a brief, contemptuous look and bounded across the church and leapt up onto the window where the boarding had broken away. For the first time in weeks, Ellen smiled.

  That was her way out of this building.

  Turning back to her work, she gathered up the chain, pulling herself closer to the wall and the ever-yielding pipe. Her scream came from the very pit of her stomach as she hurled herself backwards. There was an indignant grating of metal, a ping of several bolts landing on the stone flags and then she was flying. It seemed like she was weightless and for a fleeting moment, Ellen thought this sense of freedom would last forever. Then gravity took over and she landed hard on the cold floor, gasping as the impact beat the breath from her lungs. She lay there for a second, trying to breathe and then with a gasp, she sat up.

  Scrambling to her feet, she gathered up the chain and followed the fox. But she couldn’t leap up onto the window ledge. She didn’t have the energy. Leaning against the wall, she sobbed. It couldn’t end like this. She was so close. Scanning around, she saw some old, wood-wormed chairs and dragged a couple over. The first one she trusted with her weight let her down badly, crumbling to dust beneath her feet and sending her careering off across the church. The second felt more secure. She clambered up and pulled at the broken planking that covered the window, making the escape hole big enough for her to slide through.

  Wriggling through, Ellen found herself facing a two- or three-foot drop. It wasn’t much but dangling face-first from that height made it feel much further. Extending her aching arms, she squeezed out of the window and fell face first into brambles and old bin bags that had been dumped there. She didn’t care, she was free! She could hear the rumble of traffic on the road just a few feet away. Her arms and face were bleeding and she staggered like a drunkard, falling back down into the brambles a couple of times as she dragged herself towards the low perimeter wall and the road.

  And then she saw him, Ralph, striding down the pavement towards her. She didn’t even look what was on the road as she ran out to get across and away from him. A horn blared and she heard a screech of tyres. She stood with her hands flat on the bonnet of a box van that had just managed to stop in time. The driver jumped out, a burly man in a checked shirt. Another car pulled over.

  “Are you alright, love?” The burly man asked, looking at the chain and the blood on her arms.

  “She’s fine,” Ralph called hurrying over. “She’s my sister, just a bit, you know,” Ralph pointed at his head and twirled his finger. The man frowned. A small crowd had gathered at the side of the road. Somebody pulled a phone out.

  She backed away from him. “I’m not his sister. My name is Ellen Kevney. He’s been holding me against my will…”

  Ralph jumped forward, trying to grab her but the man in the checked shirt pushed him back. “She doesn’t want to go with you, pal.”

  A woman came over and put her coat around Ellen’s trembling shoulders. “An ambulance is on its way love,” the woman said. She glanced up at Gambles. “The police too.”

  Ellen blinked as her captor ducked under the arm of an onlooker and ran. And then he was gone, sprinting down the street away from the crowd and away from her. She was free. Ellen Kevney slid down onto the road and sobbed with relief. It was over. She would hold her children again. She would hear their laughter. She would live.

  *****

  “Give me my phone back, you bitch!” Albert Green hissed, tugging at the door handle but Vikki Chinn had locked the car.

  “I’ve reason to believe that Tina White’s life is in danger and I’m holding onto it until we get to Hilbre Grove,” Vikki said, fairly sure she was on thin ice but what else could she do? If she gave the phone back to Green, he’d probably end the call and clear his browser. Possibly even destroy his phone, which would be evidence. But evidence of what? Was Tina White dead?

  Kath Cryer had described how the Whites had a studio in their back room, kitted out as a bedroom. Vikki was certain that Tina was still at her house. But in that case, where was Paul White? Vikki put her lights on and headed for Hilbre Grove.

  Chapter 40

  Josh Gambles paused for breath. He didn’t think anyone had followed him. Once the big man had squared up to him, Josh had realised the game was up. He couldn’t have got Ellen Kevney back if he’d wanted to. He pressed his forehead against a high brick wall and kicked hard. “Bloody people!” He shouted. Who would have thought it? He’d wanted Blake to find Kevney, but it seemed like Blake had been taken off the case after all. That strutting show-off Matty Cavanagh wasn’t the man to catch him. It had to be Blake.

  On the other hand, a moment like that would go down in folk history. What drama! The victim running into the road, the brave townsfolk of Rock Ferry ganging up on the killer and saving the damsel in distress. That’s a story that would be told in pubs up and down the Wirral for years to come. The kind of story that would add to his notoriety.

  He paused, noticing his surroundings for the first time. He had been on the New Chester Road in Rock Ferry when he’d seen Ellen and he’d run down towards the river, but his path was blocked by old, rusty railings and a thick thorn hedge dotted with saplings. Beyond them was the by-pass. The gods were smiling on him still, but he needed to hurry. This place would be crawling with police.

  Smiling, Josh set off at a jog up the road that ran alongside the by-pass; sooner or later there would be a bridge across. Blake’s house wasn’t far away and once he got wind of Ellen’s escape, the detective would guess where Josh was going next. “And if Muhammad won’t come to the mountain… or was it the other way round?” Josh forgot but he knew just how he could bring Blake right into the middle of the story again.

  *****

  Laura Vexley sat in Blake’s house, stroking Serafina and sipping a cup of herbal tea. She had hoped that it might calm her down, but it did little to drive away the memories of the previous couple of days. She’d been attacked and nearly killed in a car chase. There were moments when she felt excited at having shared something of Blake’s life. But there were darker moments when the adrenaline rush dragged her back to a time she had buried deep. Until now.

  Blake had told her all about his own past but that had been because circumstances demanded it. If she hadn’t been with him when they discovered the magazine clippings on the table, then she wouldn’t have known. But she could never tell him about her past. As gently as she could, she lifted Serafina off her lap and stood up, placing the cat back on the armchair. At least one of us is settled, Laura thought. It was a bad idea to stay here; the locks on the doors and windows were old. Gambles had
shown he could break in easily.

  A floorboard upstairs creaked. Laura crept out into the hall and looked up the stairs. Shadows danced on the walls, but she could see no movement. Outside the wind blew up from the river, making the leaves on the trees around the house hiss. Another creak upstairs convinced Laura that she wasn’t going mad. There was someone in the house.

  Snatching the car keys from the coffee table in the living room, Laura made for the front door. She didn’t look back until she was safely locked in her car. A shadow moved in the living room window. Laura searched around for her bag and phone but, with a sinking feeling, realised they were still in the house. The only thing she could do was to find Blake. She started the engine and reversed out of the drive, nervously accelerating a little too much the engine as she did. Her foot dabbed the brake but nothing happened. She pressed harder as the car rolled backwards out of the drive and across the narrow lane. With a yell, she slammed her foot on the pedal, but the car had picked up speed and rolled towards the river. Laura tore at the handle and began to open the door. The car bumped up and over the low wall that fringed the old promenade and upended, sending her tumbling back inside. Her stomach lurched and the grey clouds filled the windscreen, as the car plunged backwards down the promenade wall.

  Kinnear slammed the phone down. “They’ve got Ellen Kevney, sir,” he said. “She’s alive and well, considering what she’s been through.”

  “Great,” Blake said. “Where?”

  Kinnear tapped the map they were looking at, his finger landing on the Rock Ferry area. “She staggered out of an old, abandoned chapel on the side of the A41… nearly run over apparently. Gambles was there too but the public chased him off.”

  Blake frowned and looked closely at the map. “Gambles was there?”

  “Are you alright, sir?”

  “No,” Blake replied. “That’s too close for comfort…” His phone rang before he could say anything else and he saw Laura’s name flash up. “Laura. Thank God listen…”

  “I love your house, Will Blake,” Gambles said. “It’s so old-fashioned. Like it was stuck in a time warp. Wasn’t it your mother’s?”

  “Where’s Laura?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out. I was just saying to your cat. Serafina, isn’t it? I was just saying. This is turning out even better than I thought it would.”

  “Give yourself up, Gambles. Stop playing games.”

  “I stopped playing games a couple of years ago, Will Blake. You just weren’t paying attention. I think you better get over here quickly. It’s looking a bit ropey for poor old Laura. And the cat’s growling at me now. That’s bad manners. I don’t like bad manners. Or cats.”

  Blake slammed the phone down. “Kinnear get some officers down to my house. I’m going on ahead. Gambles is there and it sounds like he’s got Laura.” Emotions tumbling over themselves, Blake hurried out of Police HQ and into the carpark. The Opel Manta was still standing outside Blake’s house, sad and crumpled after the chase but Blake had taken a marked car and started the lights before he left the carpark.

  “I swear, Gambles, if anything has happened to Laura…” He muttered. And what about Serafina? He hated that cat at times; she was a legacy of his mother’s disappearance; a reluctant inheritance but she was part of the family.

  Even though he was concentrating on the road, weaving in and out of the traffic, something nagged at him. How did Gambles know the cat’s name? It troubled him. The idea that he’d somehow been eavesdropping left Blake cold. It was possible, he supposed. Blake powered through the tunnel, lights ablaze, siren shrieking. He changed lanes, overtook vehicles and the barriers at the tunnel exit went up automatically for him.

  Racing past Cammell-Lairds, he took the roundabout into Rock Ferry and turned left down the road Gambles must have run down earlier. He glimpsed police cars outside the ruined church but didn’t stop. The roads narrowed, slowing him down. He hissed with frustration as slow cars tried to pull in and allow him past. “Come on, come on…”

  Finally, he brought the car screeching to a halt outside his house and stared in horror. Laura’s blue Hyundai lay, upended in the thick mud of the River Mersey. The door hung open and the engine still roared. Blake half scrambled, half fell down the promenade wall to get to the car. He looked in, turning the engine off and frowned.

  “She’s not in there, Will,” a voice said above him. “I brought her inside. Come and see me!”

  Chapter 41

  Knots were never Vikki Chinn’s forte and now she struggled to get Tina White free. The woman’s arms had swollen, making the job harder. Her breathing was shallow, her lips cracked from days without water.

  Along with two officers assigned to watch over the crime scenes in Hilbre Grove, Vikki had broken into the White’s house when there was no answer. Paul White lay in the kitchen, a pair of scissors poking from his eye. Vikki was no expert but, from the state of the body, he’d been dead a while.

  She’d hurried through the house and found Tina unconscious on the bed. The poor woman was close to death having been bound and gagged for days.

  The ropes came free and Tina let out a small groan. “Come on Tina, ambulance is on its way. You’re going to be alright,” Vikki said. Tina’s eyelids fluttered but she didn’t respond. The camera winked at her and Vikki felt confronted by Albert Green’s evil. Had Joshua Gambles done this just to entertain the old man? Green was watching all the time. Watching this girl’s slow and miserable death. He took pleasure in it.

  Stepping outside, she returned to her car where Albert Green sat smiling at her. She opened the driver’s door. “Can I get out and go home now, Detective Sergeant?” Albert asked from the rear seat.

  “Not likely, sunshine,” Vikki Chinn said. “Albert Green, I’m arresting you for conspiracy to murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  Green’s face twisted into that mask of hatred again but Vikki just slammed the door shut before he could start ranting. The ambulance would be here soon enough and then she could take him back to the custody suite. An uncomfortable night would be the least of Albert Green’s worries over the next few days.

  *****

  By the time Blake had scrambled back up the promenade wall and got into the house, Gambles sat in a chair next to the sofa. Laura lay unconscious on it, a livid bruise on her forehead and a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth.

  Gambles held his hands up and Blake saw that one held a kitchen knife. “I didn’t do anything, Will, honest! I was just upstairs and she upped and ran out of the house. Reversed herself into the river. Not part of the plan.”

  “Oh, stop it. There is no plan,” Blake snapped. “Give it up, Gambles. This has gone too far.”

  Gambles’ face hardened. “It went too far years ago for me. You know, I hero-worshipped you? You were the one stable thing in my life. You and Searchlight. If the world seemed to be going to shit, I could pop you on the TV and everything would be fine.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” Blake scoffed. “For me, it was a white-knuckle ride every episode and then a sudden bump back down to earth when it was over. That programme ruined my life and you keep dredging it back up.”

  “You’d have grown into the role if they’d let it run. You’d be a celebrity by now and none of this would have been necessary.”

  “Is that what this is all about? Revenge because they axed Searchlight?”

  Gambles traced the knife point lightly across Laura’s exposed neck. “It wasn’t about that, Blake. It ISN’T about that. It’s about you. I did all this for you!

  Blake stared in disbelief. “For me? You think I’d approve of the suffering you’ve caused? of all the deaths?”

  “No, no. Of course not; You’re not a psychopath. That’s my job! You’re the genius detective. You solve all kinds of crimes but do you ge
t any recognition? No. Well, now you’ll be famous again. More famous than you’d ever be.”

  “You’re insane, Gambles, this is all about you.”

  Gambles smirked. “Well, yes. Can you imagine the hours of news that’ll be dedicated to this case? The Scissor Man. You’re wrong, you know. I did plan what I could of this. I chose the venues and made it as difficult as I could for you. I even injected a bit of sex to spice it up. The whole story has been like catnip for the journalists…”

  “This isn’t really about me. You did this for yourself, Gambles.”

  “At first, it was all about you, Will. You were my hero. My plan was simply to thrust you back into the public eye. But you disappointed me. You really don’t want to be famous, do you?”

  “I just want to be left alone to live my life. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Not really,” Gambles said, flatly. His eyes lit up again. “Peter Sutcliffe, the Yorkshire Ripper, he gets fan mail. They sent him money! Did you see the woman he was going to marry? Imagine becoming a folk hero like that.”

  “You’re sick.”

  “People will write about me. They’ll pore over the killings and recount them in every gory detail. They’ll want to interview me. I’ll refuse at first. Give it a few years. Scarcity bumps up the price, doesn’t it?”

  Blake took a step forward. “I swear, I’ll…”

  Gambles wagged a finger and hovered the blade over Laura’s throat. “One more step and I’ll stick this right in her gullet.”

  Blake froze. “So, what do you want?”

  “You’re going to arrest me.”

  “Okay,” Blake said slowly pulling a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket pocket. “Joshua Gambles, I’m arresting you for the murder of…”

  “No! No! No!” Gambles hissed, scowling at Blake like a petulant child. “Not here. This isn’t nearly dramatic enough. We need some height. And an audience! Turn around and put your hands behind your back. Now, can you cuff yourself? Do it!” He lowered the blade towards Laura’s throat. She moaned a little, twisting on the sofa. Blake turned around and put the cuffs on his own wrists behind his back. He felt Gamble tighten them. “And the keys?” Gamble said.