“Nothing in particular.”
Matt bristled. “That’s nothing in particular, sarge. Why are you giving Steadman such a hard time? He’s done you no harm.”
“Never said he had. Needs you to stick up for him yet again, does he? Did he come crying to you? Matty, darling, that horrible Herbie’s been calling me names.”
Matt grabbed his former friend round the throat – alliances forged during training rarely survived when only one party was promoted – and, using just one hand, dragged him to his feet.
“Keep your voice down,” growled Matt. He turned to the other table, which had fallen silent. “You lot – clear out.”
He waited for the men, muttering in disappointment, to disappear through the doors. The sharp-nosed woman behind the counter didn’t need telling to make herself scarce. She and her tea-towel vanished into the kitchen.
“I’m more concerned about what you’ve been calling me,” said Matt. “Why would you think I’m his boyfriend?”
He loosened his grip slightly so that the gasping Watkiss could speak.
“I read his journal when you sent me round to get his clothes.” He lowered his eyes in shame at the confession. “Steadman thinks you’re beautiful. I assumed he’d told you.”
“He hasn’t – and he’s not queer.”
“Well, what is he then? Only women are beautiful.”
“Who else have you told?”
“No one. I swear.”
“Keep it that way. Johnny’s going through a bad time. The girl he wanted to marry has given him the elbow . . .” Watkiss thought better of making a wisecrack. “And this Bravard or whoever he is seems intent on killing him. Cut him some slack. You know what writers are like. I’ll deal with it in my own way. And keep your opinions to yourself. They shouldn’t interfere with police business.” He shook his head in disgust. “Reading other people’s diaries? That’s low, Herbie. I thought you were better than that.”
Two more constables, at the end of their shift, came into the mess. Matt let go of the coughing Watkiss and walked out.
“What?” said Watkiss to the pair of spectators. He wiped his eyes. His throat was on fire. “Never seen a lovers” tiff before?”
Johnny knew it would be quicker to go on foot rather than taking a taxi. In spite of the sultry heat he ran all the way, dodging dawdling pedestrians, and – ignoring horns, hooters and bicycle bells – switching to the gutter when the pavements were blocked. The drains smelled worse than ever. He cut across Ludgate Circus into Pilgrim Street and only slowed down when he reached Carter Lane. His overworked lungs felt as though they were banging against his healing ribs.
He thumped on the door of Number Five. When it opened, he pushed past Haggie and, wiping his face with a handkerchief, stopped by the picture of the Garden of Gethsemane – another scene of betrayal.
“Who d’you think you are, bursting in like this?” The dogsbody was indignant. “And stop dripping sweat on the floor. I polished it today.”
“Shut up, if you want to keep your job,” panted Johnny. “The police are on their way. One word from me and you’ll also be charged with child abduction. Where is he?” The doorman hesitated. “Where is he?”
His shouting brought Adam Wauchope out of the dining room.
“Mr Steadman! What an unexpected pleasure. We’re in here. Haggie, be a good chap and fetch another cup.”
Johnny followed the cleric into the dining room. Daniel was sitting at the table, looking scared.
“What’s the matter?”
“Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I was worried about George. Adam told me that he was here, so there was no longer any need to bother you. I was going to leave another message, but Adam said there wasn’t time.”
“I bet he did. I’m sorry, Daniel, I really am, but George is dead.”
The boy opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The colour drained from his face.
“He’s lying, Daniel.” Wauchope moved towards Johnny. “How dare you come in here spreading such evil lies.”
“Shut the fuck up. Are you in on it too? Is there anyone in this house who doesn’t like boys” bottoms?”
“Ironically enough, Yapp didn’t.”
“Is that why he was killed?”
“The opposite, I’m afraid. Dr Callingham, having followed Yapp here, made the wrong diagnosis.”
“He thought Yapp was abusing Daniel?”
“Indeed. Father Gillespie will explain everything. He’ll be here shortly.”
“I do need to speak to him, but I’ll do it at my convenience, not his.”
“I’m awfully sorry, but I must insist that you wait.” As the pot-bellied priest moved towards him, Johnny put his hand in his pocket. The moment Wauchope laid a hand on him the cosh cracked his skull. The pompous priest crumpled to the floor.
“Come on, Daniel. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You’re not safe here. Why d’you think everyone’s so keen for you not to talk to me? Why come to me at the News if you don’t think I’m on the level?”
The boy got up from the table. Haggie came into the dining room carrying a cup and saucer. Seeing the unconscious man he knelt down beside him.
“What you gone and done that for? You could have killed him.”
“He’s still breathing, more’s the pity. Besides, he had it coming.”
Someone put a key into the lock of the front door. “Is the basement door open?”
The caretaker, glancing at Daniel, nodded. “Thank you. I’ll make sure you’re not implicated.” Johnny grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled him towards the kitchen stairs. “Don’t make a sound.” Footsteps, followed by raised voices, could be heard as they sneaked out and ran towards the passage that would take them to St Andrew by the Wardrobe and, for the time being at least, a place of safety.
* * *
Joshua Bravard – he had never liked his first Christian name – refilled his glass with champagne. He was dressed in a silk bathrobe of a geometric pattern. The doors to the terrace, which had a splendid view of the Thames, were open. The curtains swayed in the welcome breeze. He picked up the telephone.
“Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr Henry Simkins?”
“Yes, you do. Make it snappy. I’m off to the theatre.”
“Joshua Bravard here. Did you call me this afternoon?”
“No, I didn’t.”
For once he was so surprised he was momentarily lost for words. “Thought not. Naughty Johnny. Trying to pull a fast one yet again. Would you like to teach him a lesson?”
“There’s a lot of things I’d like to do to him.”
“It sounds as though you’re a man after my own heart. I’m sure we’ll get on swimmingly.”
“I assume you’re not ready to give yourself up?”
“Never. And you’ll never get to meet me if you don’t understand that. As you know, I kill people who don’t do exactly what I want.”
“So you’re still planning to kill Steadman?”
“Of course. Would you like to watch?”
Simkins had many faults, but sadism wasn’t one of them. The thought sickened him. Besides, he couldn’t help liking Johnny. Surely the two of them together could defeat this maniac?
“I’d be delighted. Would I be able to write about it?”
“Of course. I’m relying on your powers of lurid description to make me infamous.”
“Where are you?”
“Before I tell you, I want your word that you’ll come alone and not alert the police. We will meet in a public place so you have no need to be alarmed.”
“Very well. However, I shall leave an envelope with the address on my desk and give instructions that it be opened if I haven’t telephoned by eleven this evening.”
“A wise move, if I may say so. I’m at the Savoy. I’ll be in the American Bar. I’ll no doubt recognise you from your byline photograph. A handsom
e fellow like you must be accustomed to fighting off the ladies.”
“Very kind of you to say so. What time?”
“Should we say seven thirty? We can have dinner in the Grill Room, if you wish.” An image of St Lawrence sprang into his mind. However, Simkins was not going to share his gruesome fate. He had something else in mind for him.
They caught a taxi in Queen Victoria Street. It was only when they were heading West, along the embankment, that Daniel spoke.
“Is it true?” His eyes begged Johnny to deny it. “I’m sorry, Daniel. He died last night.”
“I knew there was a good reason why he didn’t turn up this morning.” Tears began to run down his face. He made no attempt to wipe them away. “I loved him so much.”
“Everything all right, Guvnor?” The cabbie met Johnny’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.
“What’s it look like? Just drive.”
The only safe place he could think of was Stone’s mansion in Holland Park. He could hardly take Daniel home with him when Bravard was no doubt sharpening his knives at this very minute.
A maid opened the door. Daniel, overawed by the palatial surroundings, momentarily stopped sobbing. The chequered marble floor reminded him of St Paul’s.
“Johnny! What a lovely surprise!” Honoria Stone threw her arms around him. “Victor said you’d declined the invitation. And who do we have here?”
“This is Daniel Callingham. He needs somewhere to spend the night. It isn’t safe for him to go home.”
“From what I’ve been hearing, that makes two of you.”
“Indeed. Daniel’s just had some very bad news. A friend of his died today.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Daniel.” It was his turn to be pressed to her breast. However, he put his arms round his hostess and started to cry again. Honoria stroked his curly hair. “We should call his mother.”
“May I speak to her first?”
Honoria nodded her approval. Johnny entered the kiosk under the stairs.
“Mrs Callingham. It’s John Steadman. Daniel is safe and well.”
“Thank God.” God had nothing to do with it, thought Johnny. “Can I speak to him?”
“Of course. For both your sakes, I think it wise if you remain ignorant of where we are until tomorrow. Is there someone who can stay with you this evening?”
“There’s my sister – if you think it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Whoever murdered George is a desperate man. His life depends on Daniel maintaining his silence. He’ll do anything to ensure that.”
“So you’re sure George was killed? Very well.”
“My guess is that it will all be over tomorrow and we’ll know then the exact reason why your husband died.”
“Thank you, Mr Steadman. I underestimated you.”
“Here’s Daniel.”
While Daniel tried to reassure his mother, Honoria studied Johnny like a matron assessing whether a boy was fit enough to start a new term at boarding school.
“You’ve lost weight, Johnny.”
“Loss seems to have become my speciality of late.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You must tell me all about it after dinner. Let me go and make the necessary arrangements for your stay and we’ll talk later.”
“There’s no reason for me to stay.”
“Yes there is. The boy needs you. He’s in a house full of strangers.” As always, she was right. Her unconditional kindness reminded him of his own mother.
Daniel and Johnny waited in the drawing room. “Everyone’s been lying to you,” said Daniel. “It happens all the time,” said Johnny. “What have you been lying about?”
“The key you showed me at my father’s funeral. It was how George and I used to meet. There’s a tunnel that connects St Paul’s and St Vedast’s. It’s not very long. It runs from crypt to crypt. There’s a door behind an arras in St Vedast’s.”
“Why would Father Gillespie give it to me?”
“He was trying to cast suspicion on George.”
“Well, he was molesting you.”
“He wasn’t! We were making love. I seduced him. Gillespie’s the molester.”
“What?”
“He found out about me and George. He said he’d tell the police if George refused to share me with him. He fucked me every Wednesday afternoon in George’s room at Wardrobe Place. It drove George mad.”
“I’m not surprised. Did your father know this?”
“He suspected that I was having sex with a man, but I swore it wasn’t George. I knew he’d stop me seeing him if I did. He said I was mentally ill. He threatened to send me away to school in France. I said I’d kill myself if he did.”
“Can you imagine how much that must have hurt him?”
“He was hurting me! He couldn’t accept that George and I loved each other. He said that boys often developed crushes on other boys at my time of life but they soon grew out of them. He even said he’d fallen for a boy at school but, until that moment, hadn’t thought of him for years.”
“Did you know he was going to kill Father Yapp?”
“Of course not. I was shocked when he said he’d followed me to Wardrobe Place. He planned to force him to resign but was stymied when Yapp denied everything. What else could he do? He was innocent. My father didn’t believe him, but he was afraid that if he went ahead and exposed him the newspapers would get hold of the story and ruin all our lives. After all, Greek love is against the law. It’s ridiculous – you can’t legislate for human nature.”
“Why protect Gillespie?”
“I had to protect him to protect George. I didn’t want George to lose his job and go to prison. That’s why I let Father Gillespie fuck me.”
“That’s a great sacrifice for a boy of your age to make. You must have really loved George.”
“I still do.” He started to cry again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. I’ll never find someone as good as him.”
“Now that George is out of harm’s way, we can ensure Gillespie hangs for what he’s done. He’s a rapist and a murderer.”
“He didn’t rape me – I let him do it.”
“It’s rape– and sodomy.”
“You still don’t understand, do you?” The boy wiped his face. “I liked it.”
Johnny was shocked. Why were public schoolboys so precociously self-assured? He cast his mind back to when he’d been fifteen: there were times when he was so randy he’d have fucked almost anything. However, apart from pleasuring himself, he’d never given in to his rampant libido.
“You were betraying your boyfriend with a man older than your father.”
“I had no choice. By betraying George, I was saving him.”
“Daniel, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before . . .” Perhaps his confession would prompt the boy to come clean about how he really felt. “Before I do, you must promise not to repeat it.”
“I like secrets. Go on. I won’t spill the beans. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“I was raped by a policeman in December. It was the most painful experience of my life. It wasn’t about sex. It was about domination.” Paul Bern, Jean Harlow’s husband, sprang to mind. Being sodomised was far more humiliating than blowing out your brains. “My guess is that Gillespie was acting out of spite. He took pleasure in making George suffer. I think George reached the end of his tether. He realised that your father had killed the wrong man and confronted Gillespie, who had no choice but to silence him.”
“I’m very sorry that you were raped – don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s plenty of men out there who’d like to do the same to you – but Gillespie didn’t hurt me. I wish my father had succeeded in killing him, though. If he’d killed the right man, George and I could have lived happily ever after.”
Johnny doubted that very much: most homosexuals, forced to pretend they were something they were not, lived loveless lives of misery and despair.
“Why
d’you think your father chose such a haphazard way of killing Yapp?”
“It worked, didn’t it? Where better to do the deed than the scene of the so-called crime? Well, the seduction at least. My father couldn’t accept what I am. He said I’d grow out of it. He seemed to shrivel when I laughed in his face. Perhaps he blamed himself. I rather admire him for, as it were, killing two birds with one stone. He punished the man he thought had polluted his son and ended his own life at the same time.”
“Perhaps he was afraid of facing the death penalty.” If you were contemplating murder, thought Johnny, any scruples about committing suicide would pale into insignificance.
“Or he couldn’t live with the thought that his son was a shirt-lifter.” Johnny stared at the boy’s tear-stained face. There was defiance in his bloodshot eyes. He hoped it was shock that explained his apparent callousness. “At least this way he spared my mother the stigma of suicide. She still thinks it was just a terrible accident.”
“Aren’t you going to tell her the truth?”
“Why should I? She won’t like it.”
“Would you rather she read about it in the Daily News?”
“Can’t you expose Gillespie without bringing me or my father into it?”
“I don’t know, Daniel. Once Gillespie is arrested, God knows what he’ll tell the police or say in court. I’ll do my best.”
“I’d be very grateful.” The boy’s smile seemed to light up the room. It was like a candle to a moth.
“Why did you come to see me at the News this evening?”
“I couldn’t think who else to turn to. I knew something must have happened to George. He never let me down. I’ll never stop loving him.”
“Of course you won’t – but George wouldn’t want you to spend your life in mourning. Believe me, you’ll meet other people – and fall in love with some of them – but your life will be so much easier if you fall for a woman. Don’t you want to have children one day?”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think so. Men can’t have babies, can they? Besides, I’m still a kid, and look at the trouble I’ve caused. I do know what I am. George showed me how beautiful forbidden love can be. Whatever the bible says, and even though I’ve lost George, I intend to regain that paradise.”
The Whispering Gallery Page 22