Fearful Symmetry

by J. E. Mayhew

  “Jacket pocket. Your left.”

  Again, he felt Gamble reach into his pocket. “Do anything silly and I’ll stick your girlfriend.” He pulled the keys out and Blake heard him back off and return to his seat next to Laura.

  “Now what?” Blake said.

  “We’re going on a little drive. Call off any men who are out there. I’ll be walking out of this house behind you with this huge kitchen knife just ready to whip out your kidneys if anyone tries to intervene, Okay?”

  Blake turned round and held his hands in the air. “Okay. But I want paramedics for Laura as soon as we’re clear.”

  “She can have the Easter Bunny and Father Christmas for all I care. You know, I’ve been paying special attention to you for several years. I’ve been watching you, and making background checks on any new friends or associates in case they messed up my plans. I could tell you things about her but maybe later. Now move slowly.”

  They shuffled out, Gambles with his hand firmly on Blake’s shoulder like they were engaged in some strange dance. Two police cars had arrived and the officers stepped forward. “He’s got a knife in my back, don’t come any closer. There a woman in the house in need of medical attention. Get an ambulance up here as quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” one of the officers shouted and ran back to the car. The others stayed where they were, shuffling back to give Gambles and Blake space to pass.

  “I want them gone,” Gambles said. “Right down the promenade so they can’t rush me. “Move back!”

  “You heard him,” Blake said to the officers. “Fall back to the far end of the prom. Go.”

  Reluctantly, the three remaining men slid back, looking for some chance to free Blake but not seeing any. Gambles pushed Blake over to one of the cars. “Ah, the keys are in it. Excellent. Get in the back.”

  Blake slid onto the back seat and Gambles climbed into the front. He started the engine and began to drive. “Where are we going?” Blake said. He considered overpowering Gambles or even just stunning him with a headbutt. The chances of it being successful seemed very slim and it would result in the car crashing and possibly hurt innocent bystanders. For now, he just had to go with the flow. One of the cars from the house was following them but Gambles didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

  “There are some flats near here, aren’t there? In Birkenhead. I think we’ll go there. We can get nice and high-up for the cameras. It’s important to have a stage, you know.” Gambles fiddled with the car dashboard and finally worked out how to put the blue lights on and work the siren. “Do you know, I’ve always wanted to do this!” He shouted and put his foot down. He glanced back at Blake. “I was going to be a copper, just like you but I never had the chances. My monster of a father, lazy teachers and as for that cow of a social worker! Nobody cared, you see. But in my head, I’d convinced myself that you did.”

  “That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. You’ve taken lives. There are plenty of people like you who have had a bad start and yet they rise above it.”

  Gambles ignored him. “My favourite part of Searchlight was the update from last programme. I loved it when you told people how you’d followed a lead that a caller had given and caught a suspect. I thought one day you’d burst through my front door and stop my dad from hurting me. It never happened, though.”

  “Is that when you gave up trying?” Blake said, trying to goad the young man. Another police car had joined them and Blake was pretty certain there’d be a helicopter above them.

  “I never stopped trying,” Gambles snapped, glancing at Blake in the rear-view mirror. “If anything, I intensified my efforts.”

  “Really? How? By helping Albert Green abuse your friends?”

  “When I was thirteen, I saw your face in the local paper. I was living on the Wirral then. I tried to contact you. My letters never reached you and I couldn’t get through on the phone or by email. Nothing worked. So I started to commit crimes to get your attention.”

  “You’ve only yourself to blame for this predicament, Gambles. I don’t remember anyone trying to contact me.”

  “I saw what the trouble was, the crimes I had committed were too petty; shoplifting and dealing a few drugs wasn’t going to get you on my trail. Sadly, I ended up in detention. But it was there I realised that I needed to do something much more serious.”

  “Well, it worked. You got my attention. Now why not just drive to the station and hand yourself in. I’ll even caution you if that gives you a thrill.”

  “No,” Gambles snapped. “I’ve crafted this story and it won’t end with an anti-climax like that, believe me.” He turned off Price Street and Blake saw the block of flats looming above them. Gambles parked the car at the door of the flats and climbed out. Blake considered kicking at Gambles from the back seat when he opened the door but again, the possibility of any kind of follow up seemed impractical. He slid out and stood before Gambles who quickly huddled behind him, knife poking into Blake’s back. Four marked cars screeched into the carpark, lights flashing. The officers got out, barking commands but Blake called out to them.

  “Stay back, he’s got a knife. We’re okay as long as we do what he says.”

  “We’re going up in the world, Will Blake,” Gambles said dragging Blake back towards the door of the flats. He pressed all the doorbells and looked to Blake. One intercom clicked on.

  “DCI Will Blake, Merseyside Police, could you open the door please?” Blake said using his most officious tone. The door buzzed and Gambles grinned pulling Blake in.

  They took the lift to the top floor and they stumbled around for a few moments looking for a door that led up to the roof. “It’ll be locked, Gambles,” Blake said. “You haven’t thought this through. Just give up. Let’s go downstairs again…”

  “No,” Gambles said, as they approached the door. “There’s something I want to tell you and I want us to be up there when I do.”

  Chapter 42

  The door gave in surprisingly easily; years of rust on the hinges and weather beating against the fibreboard had left it brittle and hanging from its frame. Gambles almost fell over, dragging Blake with him. The brisk wind slapped Blake in the face and blew his hair back as they staggered out. The roof was lined with water tanks for the flats below and a knee-high wall edged the space. Blake felt dizzy as he looked across Birkenhead to the river and the city of Liverpool beyond.

  “Go on then,” Blake said, leaning against one of the water tanks. “What have you got to tell me?”

  Gambles strode to the edge and for a moment, Blake thought he was going to jump. Instead, he paced back and forth. “I came out of prison three years ago and you were still here on the Wirral. You hadn’t moved or done anything with your life.”

  “I had a career,” Blake said. “I was caring for my parents. Those were pretty important to me.”

  Gambles snorted. “Parents,” he said. “Overrated. You were in Take a Break magazine with a beautiful wife and a little girl when I was a kid. You had the perfect life…”

  “I never had the perfect life and what’s so amazing about being in bloody Take A break?”

  “To be known,” Gambles said, crouching and looking over the edge. “To be seen and noticed. Those are things everyone wants. Look around you Blake. Who lives in these flats? Do you know? It’s a huge pile of rooms containing a bunch of nobodies. Anyone of them could die and you wouldn’t know or care. But to have been known. That’s something.”

  “Sounds a bit needy to me,” Blake said.

  Gambles strode towards him, still brandishing the knife and Blake backed away, expecting an attack. Instead, the young man rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the handcuff keys. “Turn round,” he said. Blake frowned and did as he was told. “Now. When I was just out of prison, I searched high and low for you.” The cuffs clicked and Blake felt them slip off his wrists. He turned, ready to headbutt Gambles and drag him downstairs but something in the man’s eye stopped him.

  Gambles walke
d away from him. “And I found you. It took a bit of detective work, believe me. But I’m a clever man. I was quite pleased with myself when I found you trapped in your parents’ house. Your father had just passed away and you were coming home to an increasingly chaotic household as your mother slipped away into dementia.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I was there. That night when you came home to the open door. I was there. I saw her wander out.”

  “Bastard!” Blake launched himself forward, grabbing a fistful of Gambles hoodie and lifting him up off the ground. “You’re lying!”

  “That’s it! See? You feel alive now, don’t you?” Gambles yelled. Blake looked down and realised he had Gambles half dangling over the edge. “Go on,” Gambles hissed. “Do it. Cast me to the four winds and watch me fly.”

  Blake panted through gritted teeth. “You’re lying.”

  “I’d never lie to you Detective Blake,” Gambles said, raising his hands. “She was wearing her dressing gown. The pink one with the blue piping up the collar.”

  “You could have read that in any one of a dozen press releases,” Blake growled, shaking him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because it’s true. You know it. I saw her walk out. I even spoke to her. She told me to look after Serafina and I realised she thought I was you! Imagine the honour. I saw she wouldn’t last the night. She didn’t want to…”

  Kinnear burst up the stairs and onto the rooftop with three uniformed officers. “Sir? You’ve got him. Now bring him over here to us.”

  “And.. what? You… just let her die? Or did you kill her?” Blake snarled, pushing Gambles further over the edge. Gambles gave a high-pitched shriek and started giggling.

  “I did you a favour, Will!” He spat. “I set you free!”

  “I was a ghost! A bloody ghost trapped in my mother’s house! Not knowing what had happened to her…”

  “Sir,” Kinnear said. “Let him go. It’s not worth it.”

  “Where is she, Gambles? Tell me what you did or, so help me, I’ll drop you off this building.”

  “Sir, NO!” Kinnear shouted.

  “But I’m not scared, Will Blake,” Gambles said, softly. “Kill me and you’ll never know. Let me live and I might tell you, one day. Kill me and I’ll become a legend, the stuff of nightmares to frighten the kids of Wirral at bedtime. Let me live and we’ll become celebrities together. There’s a kind of symmetry to that, don’t you think?”

  Blake straightened up, staring deep into Gambles’ eye. “So, either way, I lose?” Blake said, lifting him higher.

  Later

  Chapter 43

  Kath Cryer stood in the hospital, tugging at her sleeve. Donald Pleavin lay in the bed, looking washed out. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he was trapped in a bad dream. Wires and drips snaked from his arms. Helen Pleavin sat at his bedside. She smiled at Kath when she arrived.

  “How is he?” Kath said.

  “He’ll pull through,” Helen said, with a gentle smile. “But he’s got to take things easy.”

  “I came to apologise,” Kath said. “I never meant for this to happen.”

  Helen Pleavin gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’ve nothing to apologise for. Donald painted himself into a corner with his terrible behaviour. He would have had this heart attack at some other point without your help. It serves him right.”

  “And how about you?”

  “I’m fine. Never felt better. I’ll see he gets better, then he’s on his own.”

  Kath raised her eyebrows.

  “Your DC Kinnear is a man of wisdom,” Helen said. “It’s a leap of faith but I know Donald will never change and I need to be able to breathe. Jean Quinn has offered to share a flat with me. She doesn’t want to go back to her house after all that happened there.”

  “Well, good for you.”

  “How is Tina White?”

  “She’s sitting up but still in shock. I think she’ll pull through. She was badly dehydrated but she’ll recover.”

  “Physically, yes,” Helen Pleavin said. “I don’t know how she’ll recover from her ordeal. Imagine her being trapped like that, knowing that her husband was dead in another room…”

  Kath shuddered. “Sometimes, it’s just best not to imagine anything, Helen.”

  *****

  Laura Vexley sat next to Blake on the crumbling prom outside Blake’s house. She’d been discharged from hospital with a couple of stitches and a letter saying to come back if she started throwing up or feeling dizzy. Now they sipped coffee in the freezing February morning and watched the steel waters lap against the slick, grey mud of the Mersey. “I don’t ever want to be involved in one of your cases again, Will Blake.”

  Blake gave her a sidelong glance. “You don’t want to sign up as a PCSO, then?”

  “Think I’ll stick to psychotic cats,” she said, stroking Serafina, who stalked up to her almost on cue.

  “Well, if you change you mind, just let me know,” Blake said. “I’d write you a glowing reference.”

  “So, how are you doing?” she said.

  “Me?” Blake said. “I’m fine. I nearly threw a murderer from a great height, but… you know, decided not to. It would have been a poor career move…” He thought back to that moment. It was touch and go. Part of him wanted to see Gambles’ remains splattered in a bloody starfish at the foot of the block of flats. But he’d pulled back, thinking of a better revenge.

  Dragging Gambles back from the edge, he slapped the knife from the man’s grip and dumped him on his backside.

  “Kinnear. Is there a PCSO downstairs?”

  “I dunno, sir.”

  “Find out and get them sent up.”

  Gambles frowned and then his eyes widened as the realisation hit him. “Blake, no! You can’t do this!” He scrambled to get away, clawing for the edge to throw himself over but Blake gripped him tight.

  A few minutes later, a breathless PCSO appeared at Blake’s side.

  “PCSO Hilary Stone,” she said. “What can I do, sir?”

  “Kinnear, give Hilary your cuffs. She’s going to make a citizen’s arrest.”

  Blake could hear Gambles’ petulant scream as he stumbled down the stairs to the bottom of the flat, “No! No! Come back and arrest me! It’s got to be you!” He sounded like a toddler having a tantrum. It would be gratifying if only so many people hadn’t had to suffer.

  “So now what?” Laura said, snapping Blake to the present.

  “I don’t know,” Blake admitted. “I need to get out of this house. So that’s a priority. But Gambles said he knew something about my mother’s disappearance…”

  “Will, he’s messing with your head. Don’t listen to him.”

  “Maybe but before my mum disappeared, she kept going into the garden and telling me there was someone out there. I thought she was imagining it but what if it was Gambles?”

  “You’ll never know, Will, but if you give Gambles this hold over you, then you’ll be shackled to him forever. You’ll never get any peace.”

  Blake shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s what Gambles wants; fearful symmetry: he and I as two players in some depressing double act. But I don’t have to play his game. He craves attention and I don’t have to give in to that.” He smiled. “Tyger, Tyger,” he muttered, scratching Serafina behind her ear. “There’s only room for one predator in this house.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Jon Mayhew lives on the Wirral with his family and has done all his life. A teacher for many years, he enjoys traditional music and plays regularly in ceilidh bands and sessions. Jon is also an award-winning author. His dark children’s books are published by Bloomsbury.

  Find out more at www.jemayhew.blogspot.com

  Find JE Mayhew on Facebook and twitter.

  The first DCI Will Blake novel A Poison Tree is available here:

  http://mybook.to/PoisontreeBlake

  Get a free DCI Will Blake preq
uel on Bookfunnel:

  https://dl.bookfunnel.com/gs5oc6n68k

  Acknowledgements

  As ever, there are so many people I want to thank. You, for reading this book.

  Once again, none of this would have been possible without the kindness, patience and support of Barry Hutchison, AKA JD Kirk. You’re still a true gent.

  My wife and business partner, Lin for reading the various iterations of this tale and for listening patiently to my ideas and then picking holes in them. And for listening to the audio book of Poison Tree

  Rod Yates for giving me the low down on local policing. The usual disclaimer: if there are any inaccuracies, they are there because of me not wanting to let facts get in the way of a good story!

  Kate Bendelow, author of The Real CSI who has been generous to a fault with her time, once again.

  A Shout out to my local Wirral readers: Clare Hulme, Jan Jones, Amy Rebecca Thomas, Laura Colwell, Suzanne Thomas, Frauke Hoffman!

  Meg Cowley is ever-patient and produces killer covers.

  And everyone in the Collective – you know who you are…

  Cheers!

  Table of Contents

  Saturday 8th February

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Sunday 9th February

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Monday 10th February

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17