by Ian Skewis
September 8th
Alice felt restless, moved by the plight of the wind howling as if in anguish around her home, her sanctuary, the rain lashing, the trees creaking outside like spines of newly opened books.
Alice flicked through the pages of her memory and found something she had forgotten about. A chapter in her life that had been dog-eared for another time, which up until now she had dared not read. She got up from her sofa as if transfixed, walking on autopilot out of the living room, and made her way through the house until she came back to her favourite place, the conservatory. Her mouth twisted at the sudden and all too clear recollection of what took place there one night long ago. Something bitter sprang to life in her gullet, tightened its grip and squeezed the brine from her eyes – she was drowning in guilt that had been hidden in the depths for years.
Her husband, William, had been a popular bloke, solid and likeable, a hard-working trawler-man who could tell a good yarn or two – Will to his friends. A player of games, pool or darts usually, and always with a beer in his hand. Nothing wrong with that, she had thought at the time. Goes with the territory. Besides, he earns a good wage, enough for both of us – so I’m not complaining. And if he gets his kicks from time to time at other ports then I don’t mind as long as I don’t know.
She had always expected that one day she would find out about his extra-curricular activities and that it would hurt, but Alice felt well able to get over it; after all, they had made an unspoken pact about it. He was a player, but never a cheat.
However, she had not bargained on what his tastes were.
As she recalled the moment, Alice felt her stomach lurch, just as it had then, the bile rising in the gorge of her throat. She stifled a cry, placing a hand over her mouth. Then she shuffled towards the window and watched the branches of the trees violently thrashing against the glass. Alice denied herself the urge to stand outside, feel the wind and the rain push and pummel her body, the branches whipping across her back, again and again, flagellating the dirt from her soul.
Then something within her seemed to subside, as she accepted her guilt, her own culpability, and she watched, detached, as the pages turned and the memory unfolded before her.
‘I’ve done something terrible,’ he had confided in her, his thick fingers trembling, his brow forming a deep ravine.
She placed her hand on his arm and noticed the smell of salt water and beer that was sweating out of him. Cautiously, quietly, she asked, ‘What? What have you done?’ As she did so, she attempted a smile, but Alice had never seen such a look on his face, never seen him look so serious.
‘I went with a boy,’ he said softly, his lips trembling now too, large brown eyes cast downwards in shame.
Alice’s heart jolted inside her breast. She composed herself and replied, ‘You went with a boy? What do you mean – another man?’
She watched him closely as he seemed to think about this, and then he nodded.
‘I’m sorry, Alice, I’m so sorry,’ was all he could say, before he broke down into weeping. Alice stroked his head and reflected distantly that this was not the kind of game she was expecting.
Their marriage survived, but things were never quite the same after that. Then he disappeared. She spent the rest of her life frozen in that moment, never able to move on. Now her son was gone, too.
But there was something else.
‘A boy,’ he had said.
Did he really mean a boy – a child? And if so, who? Alice spent years trying to figure that one out, regretting that she had not been assertive enough to follow it up. She allowed herself a margin for error. I must have misunderstood him. He was drunk. He meant another man. He did confirm that when I asked him.
But since then she had wondered what became of him. The police never tracked him down. Did he run off with that man? Alice guessed she would never know. That was, until Helen said something odd about Caroline.
‘She was with a man that day. An older man.’
If not Alistair, then who?
Alice didn’t recognise Helen’s description. But she had said his name was either Mark or Matt. It took her a few hours, but she recalled that someone called Matt had once worked for her husband. And he, too, disappeared around the same time.
Chapter Fifty
September 8th
The car pulled up outside a nursing home. Jack and Colin both got out and bounded past it. They went up a nearby flight of stairs as fast as their unfit legs could carry them. Once at the top, they saw a car park. And the back of a pub. A door was swinging to and fro in the wind and the rain, banging against the wall. They exchanged a look and entered cautiously.
Jack shouted, ‘This is the police. DCI Jack Russell and… DCI Colin Clements.’
He glanced knowingly at his partner, and saw a smile spread across his face. Just then, footsteps were coming towards them, and a sound like metal scraping against metal.
From out of the shadows came a man dressed in white, two knives in his hand. Jack and Colin braced themselves and watched cautiously as the chef sauntered past them, oblivious to their presence, sharpening his blades. They saw he was wearing headphones.
Without a moment’s hesitation, both Jack and Colin went straight back out again.
‘Where to now?’ asked Colin, breathlessly.
‘He can’t be far. Campbell said he only left moments ago.’
A police car sped past, its siren wailing.
‘Follow that car?’ asked Colin with mock politeness.
Jack grinned like a boy at a scrumping spree. His phone began to ring. ‘Your turn to drive,’ he said, climbing into the passenger seat and answering the phone. Colin drove hastily after the police vehicle, manoeuvring through the streets precariously, the wheels skidding loudly.
‘Bloody hell,’ growled Jack.
Colin laughed. ‘This is great,’ he announced. ‘The old team back again.’
Jack said, ‘That was Campbell. They’ve lost him.’
Colin caught up with the other police car, which was now parked in a street, and they both got out. There, running in the rain towards a lock up, were Campbell and Driscoll.
‘Where did he go?’ Colin shouted, jogging heavily after them.
Driscoll gesticulated wildly to an abandoned warehouse.
‘Got back-up?’ Jack wheezed, already out of breath.
‘On their way, chief,’ said Driscoll, and they stopped at the lock up doors. Driscoll looked at Colin and then at Jack.
‘You can almost hear the cog wheels turning,’ remarked Colin, exchanging a conspiratorial look with his boss.
Suddenly, Matthew appeared from behind the building, running at speed down the hill and past their cars, just as another police siren could be heard in the distance, growing louder.
‘After him,’ shouted Jack, and the two officers ran down the hill. Jack watched them. Colin turned to him questioningly. ‘You go on, Colin,’ he breathed. ‘I’ll catch up in a minute.’ Colin nodded, and Jack watched him disappear in the rain.
A short while later, Jack arrived, and there was Colin handcuffing Matthew and reading him his rights. The other police car had pulled up and Matthew was escorted inside.
‘Well done,’ said Jack, placing a large hand on Colin’s shoulder. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t keep up. Guess you’ll just have to write in your report that you caught him in the end, without me.’
Colin smiled and said, ‘No, Jack. We’re a team.’
Jack caught sight of Driscoll watching them both. He had a sneer on his face. Reluctantly, he got into the police car, Campbell following him.
Colin caught his gaze and shrugged, before heading back to the car.
Jack stayed there a moment, in the rain, as it poured down, the sound like white noise all around him. There in the corner of the street, next to the derelict warehouse, stood Jamie, hands in his pockets, mid-length hair wet and bedraggled.
And he was smiling.
Chapter Fifty-One
Sept
ember 8th
Matthew White was sitting patiently in the interview room at Hobbs Brae Police Station, watching as the small, red-headed detective and his fellow officers cast doubtful looks in his direction. He was well aware that DCI Clements had taken an instant dislike to him. The prejudice was all too firmly set in his marbled red-and-white stony face, and in those small eyes that hunted greedily for any signs of suspicious behaviour. He could tell from the way he slowly paced around the room that the detective was toying with him, but Matthew wasn’t one for being easily intimidated. Nor was his solicitor. She was seated beside him, her paperwork on the desk. She was middle-aged with too much eyeliner, which made her stare seem like that of a ferocious animal. Probably intentional, Matthew surmised. Her heavy jaw was thrust forward, as if she was about to bite someone’s hand off. He noticed that she wore a Cartier wristwatch. Now that’s intimidating, he thought, with a smug smile.
‘Matthew White, you have been detained as a suspect in our ongoing investigation to find the whereabouts of Alistair Smith. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, my client understands why he’s here,’ answered the solicitor gruffly. ‘And he’s been advised of his right to silence,’ she added, with a firm smile.
‘So, you’ve been hiding for some time now,’ the detective said, deliberately ignoring her.
‘I haven’t been hiding,’ replied Matthew confidently, lazily fingering a plastic cup of water in front of him.
‘We questioned all of your employees and not one of them knew where you’d gone. Neither did your family.’
Matthew glanced at his solicitor, who nodded. ‘I don’t have to tell them everything,’ he replied with a smile.
He watched carefully as Colin grinned broadly, and said lightly, ‘No, of course you don’t, but it makes sense – don’t you think? – to let your staff know where you’re going to be, in case any business pops up that you need to deal with. And wouldn’t your family be pleased to see you?’
‘I have a supervisor to deal with work matters,’ said Matthew, taking a swig of water. ‘And I can see my family when I please.’ Touché, he thought to himself.
He saw Colin stop, and begin to walk anti-clockwise. ‘Odd that you didn’t give your supervisor any instructions while you were away, but, never mind.’
‘Like I said, I don’t have to tell them everything.’
‘Well, they only phoned you seventeen times so I guess it was nothing urgent. In the meantime, can you explain about your affair?’
‘My what?’
‘Your affair – with Caroline Baker.’
‘You don’t have to answer that,’ said the solicitor coolly.
‘It wasn’t an affair. We were lovers.’ Matthew saw the look of mock surprise on the detective’s face. He knew he sounded a bit stuck up but he didn’t care. The feeling of dislike was mutual and he saw no point in hiding it now.
‘Lovers? I see,’ replied Colin. ‘The reason we ask is because she went missing in these parts and we believe you may have been the last person to have seen her.’
‘Surely Scarface would have been the last person to have seen her,’ replied Matthew, catching the eye of the solicitor, who flinched slightly and shook her head.
‘Who’s Scarface?’ asked the detective.
‘Alistair,’ replied Matthew, with an insubordinate smile.
‘He didn’t mean that,’ the solicitor interjected. Matthew saw the warning look in her eyes when she turned to face him. ‘Did you?’ she asked meaningfully.
‘Guess not,’ he said reluctantly.
‘Why did you come here, if not to see your family?’
Matthew didn’t want to reply so he didn’t bother, and instead regarded the detective with a look of contempt. He watched as Colin smiled patiently and turned to the other two officers.
‘Can someone jog Matthew’s memory?’
‘Nothing wrong with my memory,’ chided Matthew, but it fell on deaf ears. The solicitor cautioned him by placing a hand on his forearm and giving him another look.
‘Matthew White checked in to the Warm and Friendly hotel on the night of September the first, sir,’ said the officer, who Matthew observed had greased-back black hair. He had a slight smirk on his face. Matthew took an instant dislike to him, too.
‘That’s right. September the first,’ repeated Colin. ‘The same night Alistair Smith disappeared.’
Matthew deflected the insinuation, leaned forward and said, ‘But Caroline was found again, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes, but Alistair Smith was not,’ replied the detective pointedly.
Matthew felt uncomfortable for a moment and tried to cover it up with a polite cough. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said, but he was aware how empty it sounded. He felt his solicitor looking at him.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re concerned about his well-being, Matthew.’
He could feel the detective was watching him closely, looking for tells, but he avoided his eyes.
‘And here’s another strange thing,’ continued Colin. ‘You checked in to the hotel under an alias. You called yourself Jason Black. Why?’
Matthew looked to his solicitor again. She nodded. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know that I was here, so I used a false name.’
‘Well, this is all so damnably intriguing,’ said Colin loudly, as if performing in front of an audience. ‘Why did you use that particular name?’
Matthew shrugged. ‘No reason.’
He saw the detective smile shrewdly. For a moment he felt a chink in his own armour, but he wasn’t going to be outwitted and so he sat up straight and composed himself.
Just then, the door opened.
‘For the benefit of the recording, DCI Jack Russell has just entered the room,’ announced Colin, stepping aside.
Matthew froze as Jack strode in and sat down in front of him.
‘Hello, Matthew.’
Matthew just looked at him. He was pissed that not one but two grunts were now harassing him. He turned to his solicitor and she gave him a shrug.
‘You were arrested today because you tried to evade our officers when they came to routinely question you earlier. Do you understand?’
Matthew snorted. ‘I’m not stupid.’
He watched as Jack leafed through some paperwork he had brought in with him.
‘So you left your place of work on the morning of September the first with no instructions to your supervisor, then you made your way here, checking in to the hotel that night. You used an alias – Jason Black. Correct?’
‘We’ve done this bit.’ Matthew sighed.
‘Why did you choose that particular name?’
‘My client has already answered that question,’ replied the solicitor.
‘The reason I ask is because the name is identical to that of a child who died in this vicinity several years ago. The official story is that it was a domestic accident, but this was just a cover. In actual fact, the child was murdered and the perpetrator was never found. So, I repeat, why did you choose that name, Matthew?’
‘You don’t have to answer that,’ said the solicitor sharply.
Matthew sighed loudly and said, ‘I knew the kid’s mum. And my mum had to console her. It just came into my head. Don’t worry, I didn’t do it. I was only a kid myself at the time.’ He watched as Jack slowly and deliberately leafed through his paperwork again.
‘For what purpose did you come here?’
‘To protect Caroline.’
‘Why?’
‘I wanted to make sure that she was all right. I knew that we had split up but I wasn’t convinced about her… boyfriend.’
‘To clarify, that’s Alistair Smith you’re referring to?’
‘Yes.’ Matthew attempted a helpful smile, but felt a nervous tic in the corner of his mouth. ‘I wanted to make sure he was looking after her properly.’
‘I see,’ said Jack, looking right at him, his voice reasonable, but his eyes intense, his face serious.
&nb
sp; Matthew suddenly felt intimidated. He shifted in his seat.
‘We observed your car on CCTV on the night in question. To all intents and purposes, would it be fair to assume that you were following Alistair and Caroline?’
‘You don’t have enough evidence to come to that conclusion,’ the solicitor said impatiently.
Matthew hesitated. ‘Like I said, I was worried about her.’
He watched as Jack locked his fingers together and peered at him over his knuckles. ‘What is it that you were so worried about, Matthew?’
‘Alistair’s not a nice person. He’s been in trouble with the police.’
He saw Jack turn slightly and raise an eyebrow at Colin.
‘So, naturally, you had some concerns,’ he agreed. ‘And yet Caroline Baker has been with Alistair for over a year and is now carrying his child. Would it be out of the question to suppose that she was a good enough judge of character after all this time, and that perhaps your own concerns for her well-being were unfounded?’
‘I don’t think she knew about his past. He’s not exactly going to tell her about it, now, is he?’ Matthew smiled triumphantly. One nil to me, smart arse, he thought.
‘Did she know you were following her?’
‘No,’ answered Matthew quietly.
‘Could you repeat that, please?’
Matthew sighed impatiently, said more loudly, ‘No, she did not.’
‘Why?’
‘She didn’t want me around,’ explained Matthew reluctantly.
Jack seemed to bat an invisible ball to Colin, who jumped in with, ‘Maybe you should just have phoned her.’
Matthew observed Jack raise his eyebrows in expectation but he wasn’t in the mood to play games.
‘Oh,’ exclaimed Colin, ‘she didn’t want you to phone her. How come? Were you being a pest?’
‘I object,’ said the solicitor loudly.
‘No,’ replied Matthew steadfastly. ‘She just wanted some time to herself.’
‘With Alistair, you mean,’ said Jack.
‘I suppose so,’ Matthew replied, already tiring of the good cop, bad cop scenario.