Beautiful Child

by Menon, David

  ‘She’s a wonderful woman, my wife,’ said Adrian after he’d finished the call from Penny, ‘I’m so bloody lucky I can’t tell you.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’

  Adrian looked up at hearing the tone in Matt’s voice. ‘What’s all that about?’

  ‘Do you have to say that every time you’re here?’

  ‘I don’t’ Adrian protested.

  ‘You fucking do,’ said Matt. ‘You may use a slightly different form of words but it amounts to the same thing. I know I’m only your bit on the side, Adrian, but you don’t have to rub my nose in it.’

  ‘I didn’t think you had a problem.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Matt insisted, ‘but I do have a problem with you not showing me any sensitivity at all. You could’ve gone into another room and taken that call instead of asking me to keep quiet in my own fucking bedroom.’

  Adrian paused as he looked at Matt. Then he said ‘I’d better get dressed and get going.’

  ‘Yes’ said Matt, flatly. ‘You wouldn’t want your KFC to get cold.’

  *

  Sara brought Michelle Clarke in to take her fingerprints and a DNA sample. Mrs. Clarke protested but Sara said that it was no worse than what they’d asked of her husband who was still in custody. She’d learned from her experiences with Lady Eleanor Harding last year that the more you bring suspects into the station the more they seemed willing to tell the truth. It would seem elementary for a police officer to be able to deduce these things but Sara had always operated on the principle that she wasn’t always right. It was her job to tease the answers out of everyone she needed to tell the truth and if that meant interviewing them in their own homes then that was better. But if it meant bringing them down to the station and putting on the whole official big shit thing then that was good too.

  ‘Right, Mrs. Clarke,’ said Sara as she walked into the interview room where Michelle Clarke was sitting. ‘Let’s talk for a few minutes.’

  ‘Detective Inspector, I have three sons who will want feeding when they get home from school in a couple of hours time.’

  ‘Well I won’t keep you longer than necessary, Mrs. Clarke.’

  ‘I don’t even know why I’m here,’ said Michelle, defiantly. ‘You should be out there finding my mother’s killer.’

  ‘That’s what we are doing, Mrs. Clarke,’ said Sara.

  ‘So you say,’ Michelle replied. She bowed her head. If only she could turn the clock back and tell her mother that whatever had happened between her and Warren, they could talk about it. They could work things out. It was tearing away at her inside.

  ‘Yes, Mrs. Clarke,’ said Sara. ‘I say.’

  ‘Well at least can you give me an idea as to how long you’re going to keep me here?’

  ‘That depends on your answers to a few questions,’ said Sara, ‘and I must say, I’m surprised you haven’t asked after your husband’s welfare, Mrs. Clarke?’

  ‘Are you going to charge him?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ said Sara. ‘we’re still working on it.’

  ‘I wish you luck.’

  ‘Mrs. Clarke, you surely don’t mean that?’

  ‘My husband was sleeping with my mother, I don’t owe him anything.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t want him falsely accused?’

  Michelle shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t expect me to care about the duplicitous bastard.’

  ‘I think that’s understandable in the circumstances’ said Sara. ‘but I need to find your mother’s killer. And I can’t rule anyone out.’

  ‘Anyone?’

  ‘Including you, Mrs. Clarke.’

  Michelle sat back in her chair. ‘I was nowhere near my mother’s house that night.’

  ‘But you were angry with your mother over her affair with your husband and the fact that she’d cut you out of her will. That’s a pretty toxic mix. Who knows what that might’ve led you to do?’

  ‘Look, detective, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I was estranged from my mother when she died,’ Michelle admitted as she fought back the tears, ‘but to think that I could kill her is… well, not only absurd but deeply hurtful.’

  ‘Do you believe your husband could’ve done it?’

  ‘For what it’s worth, no I don’t.’

  ‘How did you feel about your mother cutting you out of her will?’

  ‘How do you think I felt? I was disgusted by it.’

  ‘And when your husband told you the news did you attack him with a carving knife?’

  Michelle shifted in her chair. ‘He told you that?’

  ‘I’m asking you, Mrs. Clarke’ said Sara. ‘Did you or did you not attack your husband with a carving knife?’

  ‘Yes, I did! I was angry, I was furious. Who could blame me?’

  ‘Nobody’ said Sara. ‘Anybody would’ve been angry in your place.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Mrs. Clarke, another set of prints were found in your mother’s house. Were they yours?’

  ‘No, they weren’t mine!’

  ‘Then do you know who they belong to?’

  Michelle looked up at Sara and was about to say something but stopped herself.

  ‘Mrs. Clarke?’

  Michelle put her head in her hands and then reared it back up again. ‘Oh Christ I’m no good at this.’

  ‘No good at what, Mrs. Clarke?’

  ‘I’m saying nothing more unless my solicitor is present.’

  ‘Now why would you need a solicitor, Mrs. Clarke?’ asked Sara, who could smell the blood.

  ‘I said I’m saying nothing more unless my solicitor is present.’

  *

  Michelle Clarke adopted a visibly different demeanour now she was sitting there alongside her solicitor. Sara and Joe Alexander were on the other side of the table that filled the space between them. The solicitor didn’t look much at Sara. He was young, maybe late twenties, a sharp enough dark blue suit but he looked as if he still wasn’t at ease with these kind of adversarial situations. Well he’d better get used to it, thought Sara. It was his job after all. She’d had many a lad like him for breakfast and still been hungry afterwards. She’d had a rather physical session with Kieran last night. They’d gone at it so much they both nearly passed out and when she came to work this morning his cum was still dripping out of her vagina. They’d almost wrecked her bed but it was the session in the shower first thing that she’d particularly enjoyed. She was rather partial to doing it in unusual places. She loved doing it outside, in the back of a car, she liked to get it from behind whilst standing at her bedroom window looking out. She’d done it on a train, on a plane, in a pub car park, in the sand dunes at Blackpool. She’d lost count of all the men she’d had and all the different places she’d done it in and if that made her a slag in some people’s eyes then she didn’t care. If she was a man she’d be called a player. She had been thinking lately that she wanted more than just sex and conversation but Kieran was such a bloody good fuck that she couldn’t help herself. And he was fun too. He made her laugh. She’d admit to thinking of him as special but she didn’t know if she could let herself think anymore about him. What if he broke her heart just like Tim Norris had done all those years ago? She’d carved out a nice, independent life for herself. She’d have to be very sure about a man before she compromised all that.

  Sara got the preliminaries over with by introducing the solicitor and detective sergeant Joe Alexander for the benefit of the tape.

  ‘Now what is it you need to tell us, Michelle?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Last year,’ Michelle began, ‘we had some building work done on our house. We had the extension put on at the back and we had the attic converted into a study for our boys. Three desks, three computer terminals, various books to help them with their school work. They love it up there. Sometimes I have to drag them down screaming to have their dinner. Anyway, the firm we employed to carry out the work is run by a man called Nick Jackson. Nick is the same age as me and he w
as married when he was very young but he’s been divorced for years. He has a daughter who’s at Manchester University. We hit it off straight away and we were attracted to each other. I’d lost all respect for my husband and I didn’t love him anymore. Nick is everything that my husband isn’t.’

  ‘So you were cheating on your husband when you found out that he was cheating on you?’ said Sara.

  Michelle jammed her finger on the table. ‘With my mother! That makes it just that little bit different, don’t you think?’

  ‘It must’ve felt like the ultimate betrayal,’ said Joe who could see tears falling down her cheeks but it was almost as if they didn’t belong to her. She’d detached herself from any guilt over her own affair and was passing it all onto her husband for his affair with her mother. It made Joe wonder about his own relationship with Carol. What really went through Carol’s mind about him and what they were getting up to? If the shit was to hit the fan would she blame him for it all as a means of excusing herself? She was the one who was married after all.

  ‘And then there is the business with the money,’ said Michelle. ‘I knew Warren’s business was in trouble. I knew we’d stretched ourselves too far but he’s always been a bloody fool where money is concerned. The business is a good one and he’s got a lot of regular customers. He just spent too much.’

  ‘What are you trying to justify here, Mrs. Clarke?’ Joe asked.

  ‘I’m not trying to justify anything … ‘

  ‘…it sounds like you are to me’ said Joe.

  ‘Look, my relationship with my husband had broken down to an extent that I never thought was possible,’ said Michelle, ‘I had nothing but contempt for him.’

  ‘Whilst you were starting a relationship with someone else’ added Joe.

  ‘Yes, but these things are never that cut and dried, are they?’

  ‘We’re the ones who are asking the questions, Mrs. Clarke,’ said Joe.

  ‘Look, I’ve never been involved in anything like this before’ said Michelle, earnestly.

  ‘Like what, Mrs. Clarke?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Nick has been in the building trade for a long time and he knows people.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sara asked.

  ‘I wanted to hurt my husband,’ said Michelle. ‘I wanted to teach him a lesson. Nick knows people who could do that.’

  ‘So, are you saying to us that you arranged some kind of hit on your husband?’ said Joe.

  At that point the solicitor whispered a conversation with his client but Michelle brushed him aside.

  ‘I knew he was going to see my mother that night,’ said Michelle. ‘I wanted them both to suffer. I agreed a fee of two hundred pounds.’

  ‘To do what exactly?’ Sara wanted to know.

  ‘To beat him up,’ said Michelle. ‘I knew my mother would’ve left the back door open for him. There’s an alleyway down the side of her house and the back can’t be seen from the street. I wanted them to beat him up there.’

  ‘Where your mother would be able to see what was happening?’ asked Joe, incredulously.

  Michelle put her hand over her mouth and looked up at the two detectives appealingly. She nodded her head.

  ‘Did you meet with the men yourself?’ asked Sara.

  ‘No’ said Michelle. ‘Neil handed over the money on my behalf.’

  ‘Mrs. Clarke, have you heard anything from the men since?’

  ‘No,’ said Michelle, composing herself as best she could, ‘but Nick has. They told him in no uncertain terms that murder wasn’t part of what they do.’

  ‘And what do you deduce from that, Mrs. Clarke?’ asked Sara.

  ‘That those two men must’ve seen who did kill my mother,’ said Michelle, her voice faltering, ‘and it obviously scared them off. You see, the fee was two hundred pounds but the deal was that it was split in two. I gave them a hundred up front and the other hundred would be paid …’

  ‘…would be paid when, Mrs. Clarke?’ Sara pushed.

  ‘On completion’ said Michelle. ‘Now Warren wasn’t beaten up that night and I know he wasn’t threatened by anyone. They must’ve got there early and seen everything.’

  ‘Yes’ said Sara. ‘Unless they were the ones who murdered your mother and they were just covering up for themselves.’

  ‘But they’re small time according to Nick’ said Michelle, ‘they’re rough round the edges and like a good fight but murder? They’d have had no reason to murder my mother.’

  ‘Well can you think of any other reason why someone would murder her? She could’ve seen them and they panicked. It’s happened before.’

  Michelle broke down and wept. ‘Oh my God!’ she cried. ‘Her death could be… I mean, if I hadn’t arranged… it could be all down to me that she’s dead!’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Angela had decided to tell Paddy about the murder of Rita Makin but first she was going to get through her latest session with him first. She was also going to tell him about Father Philip Evans and his offer of help in trying to trace what had happened to Paddy’s mother and she would ask Paddy if he remembered a Canon Brendan O’Farrell or Father O’Farrell as he would have been known then. Although Canon O’Farrell had said that he hadn’t been working at the church at the time when Paddy was left at its orphanage, Angela hadn’t believed him. Something told her he was lying. And she’d like to find out why.

  ‘So tell me about your life with Eileen and her boyfriend, Paddy?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Well like I said last time, Doc, I hadn’t realised I was getting into a kind of threesome,’ Paddy recalled.

  ‘But it wasn’t the kind of threesome that most of us know about?’

  ‘Why, have you had one, Doc?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, Paddy, no,’ said Angela, smiling, ‘but coming back to your past. What did Eileen’s boyfriend get you to do?’

  1974

  Paddy had spotted the young lad whilst he was hanging on the corner of the street eating what looked like a vegemite sandwich. Paddy hated vegemite. It was like spreading your bread with cold black tar and it didn’t taste much better. But a young lad like the one he was now walking towards would taste very good to Eileen’s boyfriend, Glenn. He was probably a couple of years younger than Paddy so he’d be at the top end of Glenn’s age range, but he was still within Glenn’s strict limits.

  ‘How’s it going?’ asked Paddy as he stopped once he was beside him.

  The boy looked up suspiciously. ‘Alright. Who wants to know?’

  ‘I’m Paddy. What’s yours?’

  ‘I’m Davey. Are you at Allerton High? I haven’t seen you there before?.’

  ‘No’ said Paddy. ‘But I used to be.’

  ‘I’m in year 10.’

  ‘Year 10? So, fourteen, fifteen?’

  ‘I’m fifteen in two weeks.’

  ‘Oh beauty,’ said Paddy. He’d virtually lost all trace of his English accent now. He sounded like a real meat pie Aussie. And that wasn’t surprising seeing as he spent most of his time with Eileen and Glenn and they weren’t exactly the brains of Melbourne. Paddy knew enough about stuff to appreciate that. He hardly even remembered his mother’s face either. Except in those times in the middle of the night when the demons came flying at him and ripped his eyes out. If the bloody bitch walked back into his life now he’d probably turn and walk away. She’d done her damage. She could never even begin to take back the years that he was continuing to lose.

  ‘Why are you talking to me?’ Davey wanted to know.

  Paddy tried to answer the highly suspicious look on Davey’s face. ‘Can’t a bloke talk to another one anymore? I was just being friendly. Don’t chuck a mental on me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Davey, ‘it’s just that my Dad says I’ve got to be careful what with all those boys going missing.’

  ‘Your Dad’s right, Davey’ said Paddy, ‘you’ve got to watch yourself with those perverts around.’

  ‘My Dad says they should be bloody stru
ng up,’ said Davey who tried to inject his voice with as much grown up venom as he could.

  ‘Your Dad’s right,’ said Paddy who couldn’t help smirking at the irony of what this young idiot was saying. God, he wished he’d finish those bloody vegemite sandwiches. The sight of him tucking in and making his tongue and teeth temporarily dark was making him want to bloody puke. ‘I couldn’t argue with him.’

  ‘My Dad’s a policeman,’ Davey announced, ‘I reckon I’ll join him in the force when I leave school.’

  ‘You’ve got it all planned out then?’

  ‘Yeah, mate,’ said Davey, ‘and my Dad reckons that the state of Victoria force is the best in the whole bloody country too.’

  ‘Does he now?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Davey, ‘He’s going to help me when the time comes. Says it’ll make him proud to see me put on the same uniform as him and help to keep the mongrels off the bloody streets.’

  ‘That’s good, mate,’ said Paddy.

  ‘He also says it’s a great way to get the chicks.’

  ‘Is that right? Well that’s good too then, mate.’

  Paddy wondered what his own father would’ve wanted for him. It certainly wouldn’t have been to see him as a procurer for a child killer. But what would his father have wanted? He must’ve had a father. Everybody has to have had one. But he couldn’t remember anything about him. What could’ve happened to him? Did his mother dump him somewhere too?

  ‘Anyway,’ said Davey who’d finished his sandwiches and picked up his school bag, ‘I’d better get going. Bell will be going in five minutes for this arvo’s lessons. I’ve got geography. I bloody hate geography. Who wants to know where anywhere else is when you live in Australia is what my Dad says. Anyway, see ya later.’

  ‘Wait, I’ll walk on with you, I’m going that way,’ said Paddy who looked up and saw that the car was in place. After the row of shops they’d just been standing near there was nothing on their side of the road except for a park for the next half a mile. On the other side was just some plain unused land. There weren’t many houses in the immediate vicinity. Nothing that gave Paddy too much of a concern.

  ‘What do you do?’