A Journal of Sin

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘The cafe? It’s not behind on any payments is it? My husband told me he’d paid all the bills off.’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with the cafe itself. And you’re not in any trouble.’

  Louise paused, giving Sarah the impression she was waiting for the follow-up sentence, the one that would explain why she wanted to know her financial history, but it wasn’t forthcoming.

  ‘I borrowed the money. From Tom, Tom Bletchard. It’s all being paid on time; he didn’t mention this, did he? Didn’t ask you to ask me about it?’ Louise’s pale face flushed red. ‘I can’t think why he would.’

  ‘Louise, relax. Tom didn’t say a thing. That’s a big gesture. You must know him well?’

  ‘He’s always invested in the town. He knew Chris and I were looking at starting up our own café – well, it was a restaurant at first – and he offered to lend us the money. Free of charge too, not a penny of interest. They’re a nice couple.’

  ‘We were reluctant to take it at first. It all seemed a little too good to be true. Our credit wasn’t great, so we couldn’t borrow from the bank until we improved it and saved a huge deposit. We’d saved, and we’d planned to keep saving, but if it wasn’t for his generosity, I’m not sure we’d ever have made it. Now here we are, three years on and still going strong. Some days are better than others, but it’s something we can be proud of.’

  ‘Know his wife well?’

  Dales turned around and shot Sarah a questioning look over Louise’s shoulder.

  ‘Used to. She’s not well and Tom doesn’t like us visiting. It used to be nice. We’d take them some cake from the cafe and spend the afternoon chatting. He doesn’t even like her walking the dog on her own anymore. We hardly see her these days.’ Louise looked flustered and glanced at the door. ‘You must be busy; I should get out of your way.’

  ‘Are you worried about her?’

  ‘No. Why would I worry? She’s in good hands. She’s at that age; it’ll happen to us all. ’ Louise laughed, rubbed her forehead and fidgeted like the room’s humidity had rocketed.

  ‘Do you believe that?’ She felt Dales looking at her and imagined the speech he’d be giving her after this, but her curiosity wouldn’t let the situation go.

  ‘I believe he wants what’s best for her and sometimes things aren’t as simple as they look from the outside. I have to get back; lock up when you go.’ She choked a little saying the last few words, before walking out the door. Sarah wanted to follow her, ask a few more questions and drill down into the details.

  ‘You’ve got to let that go. She’s let us have her place and you leave her nearly in tears?’ Dales stood behind the till with a range of cleaning cloths and sprays on the counter in front of him, his blue shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie thrown over one of the white chairs.

  ‘You’ve got to agree it’s strange. Tom goes around lending people money for no reason other than good will? For the benefit of the town?’

  ‘It’s strange, but still possible. A lot of rich folk give away their money as they get older. Come on, we’ve got work to do. The team will be here soon.’

  The cafe was more than enough. They moved the white wooden tables aside and arranged rows of matching chairs in preparation for the initial briefing. Two long tables were placed by the far wall near to the plug points, leaving the left corner free to place any seized exhibits, in lieu of any lockable cabinets.

  ‘It’s worth a once-over before the boys arrive,’ said Dales.

  ‘You’re well trained.’ Sarah flicked the lights on. Then off again. Then back on.

  ‘What are you doing?’ He gave her a deadpan look as he dusted the top of the coffee bar.

  ‘It’s just nice to be able to do it.’ She started to laugh uncontrollably and continued flicking the lights. Dales set the microwave for twenty seconds with nothing in it, before going back to his dusting. He tried to keep a straight face, but it didn’t last. ‘I think the dust is getting to you.’

  ‘Then maybe you should pitch in.’ He threw her a cloth and she rubbed down the chairs.

  ‘When are the team arriving?’

  ‘In a couple of hours. We’ll clear up here and head back to yours for a cuppa before then.’

  ‘Mine for a cuppa? We’re in a coffee shop. I’ve no doubt the MCT’s expenses budget can stretch to a couple of teabags.’

  ‘Have you ever had a tea in a place like this? It’s not the same. It’s probably all that fruity stuff anyway.’ He turned around and looked at the chalkboard drinks list. ‘Roeyboos? What’s that? Elderflower? If I wanted elderflowers, I’d go to a vegan commune.’

  ‘You should try it. There are plenty of health benefits to herbal and fruit teas.’

  ‘I’ll pass for now.’ He picked up a broom and swept the floor. Sarah finished up the chairs and wiped down the tables.

  ‘You know, when we first met, I never expected I’d see you sweeping the floor. I almost want to find you an apron and some marigolds. A pair of pink ones would suit you down to the ground.’ She enjoyed the much needed light-hearted moment.

  ‘No mentioning this to the boys. Are we done?’

  ‘I think so. The Gladstone and Dales Cafe is open for business.’

  Dales locked the door behind them and they drove back to Sally’s place. All she wanted to do was to rush inside, charge her phone and call the girls.

  ‘I can’t wait to get home and call the kids.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be chuffed to hear from you.’

  ‘Chuffed? Kids haven’t been “chuffed” about anything since Oliver Twist’s day.’

  They pulled up outside. Dales stepped out of the car and looked at the door. He held his hand up for Sarah to stay where she was.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘The door’s ajar and the front gate’s off the top hinge. Stay here.’

  ‘What? I’m coming in.’

  ‘There may be something you don’t want to see. Stay here.’ He shook his pepper spray.

  ‘I’m coming in. If something’s happened to Mum, I’m coming in.’ She clambered out of the car and scanned the windows looking for any movement. Nothing, no sign of Sally or anyone else.

  Dales opened the door. Silence.

  ‘Mum?’ Nothing. She ran into the lounge. The shelves were face down on the floor, draws pulled open and the sofas moved. Dales ran upstairs, whilst Sarah burst into the kitchen. Mum must be upstairs, please God be upstairs, she thought.

  ‘Sarah!’ She ran up the stairs like a stone skipping on water.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Back bedroom.’

  Dales was crouched down on the far side of the bed. Everything had been pulled out of the drawers and the contents of the wardrobes were all over the room. She stepped over clothes, old jewellery boxes and various other trinkets.

  ‘Mum? Is she?’ He listened at her chest. She lay on her back in the few feet between the edge of the bed and the wall. Her head was at angle, an inch away from the radiator. Had she struck it, the bone on metal contact may have been fatal.

  ‘She’s breathing; starting to rouse.’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Sarah, dear? What happened?’ She spoke with a clear voice, an encouraging sign.

  ‘You’re at home, Mum. You’ve had a fall.’ The less she knew the better at this stage. Being told she’d been burgled could send her into shock, or worse. ‘Are you hurting anywhere?’

  ‘This is DS Steve Dales of the Major Crime Team. I need an air ambulance to Sunbury, 16 Hawthorne Road. We have an elderly female who has taken a fall …’ His voice drifted onto the landing as he gave further details to the operator on the other end of the line.

  ‘How about in your back, mum? Any pain in your back?’

  ‘No, dear, I’m fine.’ Sarah saw a dark, wet patch on the carpet to the side of her head. She dabbed her fingers on it; her tips were covered in blood.

  ‘Ok. Try not to move. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get some help.’ Dale
s came back in. ‘Have they given an ETA?’

  He sighed. ‘They said as soon as they can. They’ll have to find a spot to land nearby too.’

  ‘There’s a junction at the top of the road which should be enough space.’

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘She’s able to focus and speak clearly. No mention of any pain, but I’m reluctant to move her.’ She didn’t want to mention the blood in front of her mother; there was no way of telling how much blood she’d lost.

  ‘Hello Sally, it’s Steve Dales here. I’ve called an ambulance. They’ll be here very soon, okay. Try not to move.’

  ‘Sarge, I need that phone.’ He passed it to her and she dialled 999 as she went onto the landing for more privacy. ‘Hello, you received a call from this number just now from a DS Dales.’ The operator confirmed the log and said an air ambulance would be on its way. ‘I’ve an update on injuries: she’s bleeding from the back of her head. It’s hard to say how much or the type of wound as I don’t want to move her.’ Despite frantically panicking underneath, she had to deliver the information in a clear and concise way. She’d been taught the ABC of radio transmissions: Accuracy, Brevity and Clarity. It was easier said than done when the injured party was your own family.

  ‘We’ll update the crew. Thank you.’

  ‘Is there an ETA?’

  ‘It’ll be as soon as we can.’ Who knew how long that would be? Sarah walked back into the bedroom and passed the phone to Dales.

  ‘I’ll wait downstairs,’ said Dales, touching her arm in a supportive and comforting gesture. ‘Stay up here with her.’ Sarah crouched over her mother.

  ‘Oh, I’ll be okay dear. It’s just a fall. I don’t want to bother a doctor.’ She moved as if to try to stand up, but Sarah stopped her.

  ‘It’s no bother, Mum, that’s what they’re there for.’ She was from the generation that didn’t make a fuss, so Sarah had no way of knowing where she was hurting and she wasn’t likely to tell her. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I can’t quite remember. I know I was here, in the bedroom and then. Then there was someone else here too.’

  ‘Someone else?’

  ‘A strange man. A strange man was in here, dear.’

  ‘Slow down. I can only write so fast.’ Will’s hand ached. He’d written page after page of shorthand notes, untidy diagrams and so many symbols and markers he’d forgotten what they all meant. If she was telling the truth, it would all be worth it. He’d have the story of his career.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I do get carried away when I know I’m doing the right thing.’ Grace adjusted her blouse and powdered her cheeks in her compact mirror. ‘Police officers can’t just go around doing they what want. Someone needs to keep an eye on them and thankfully I’ve been doing just that.’

  ‘Thankfully you have, Mrs Stapleton. The world needs more people like you.’ Will looked over his notes to ensure he’d drained every possible piece of useful information from her.

  ‘I’m glad someone’s noticed. People around here have just let that woman do whatever she pleased. We haven’t been told what’s going on, haven’t been allowed to bury him and there’s still a killer out here somewhere. It’s dangerous, but she’s in no rush to do anything.’

  ‘I can’t argue with that. Well, we have to be on our way. We’ve got a lot to do.’ Will put his notebook back in his satchel.

  ‘She’s just trouble. That poor Sally was cursed the day she had her. Now she’s fooling around with that John, there’s no telling what they’re up to. They’re a devious pair those two.’ Will backed away.

  ‘Ok, thank you very much for your time; we really do have to be getting on now.’

  ‘Of course, dear, you must be busy. So what time is the broadcast?’

  ‘The broadcast? Oh, we shan’t be using you in the broadcast, my love, it’s just good information to know.’

  ‘Oh. I was hoping, you know, I’d be on the telly? I thought that’s what this was all about?’

  ‘We can’t use everyone and, with this information, I think it’s best we pursue those naughty coppers, don’t you?’ He wondered if he’d ever get rid of her.

  ‘Of course, of course. I’ll be on my way then?’

  ‘It was a pleasure meeting you.’

  She walked away disappointed. She wouldn’t get her fifteen minutes. When they were in cuffs themselves for failing to properly investigate a murder, she’d know she did the right thing and she’d make sure everyone else knew too. For now, she’d retire to her cottage, sit back in her comfortable seat and turn on the television to watch the world shine its light on other people.

  ‘What’s that look for?’ said Matt. They’d broken open the last of the sandwiches from the cool box and handed the last one to Will. He looked at the hand-scribbled label.

  ‘Cheese crunch? Just what’s in a cheese crunch sandwich?’ He refused it, preferring to go hungry rather than find out.

  ‘Dry cheese and thick-cut onions. Beggars can’t be choosers.’ Matt took the sandwich, tore open the cling film and took a large bite, making an audible crunch. ‘Did that last one say anything useful? You were there a while.’ He spoke between chews.

  ‘We wondered whether you were enjoying yourself a little there?’ Alan laughed and Matt followed suit.

  ‘She’s just given us our story.’

  ‘Please. Think of everything we’ve talked about, and tell me that it’s a story about how she lost her cat or has been seeing visions of her dead husband swimming past her ground-floor window.’

  ‘What’s even better than covering a murder?’

  ‘Keeping our jobs.’

  ‘Covering a botched murder investigation. That little old lady has been watching our PC Gladstone since day one and she’s told me exactly where to go to expose it all.’ Will’s mouth was wet with excitement. He couldn’t keep still, as if he’d just drank a pot of coffee all in one gulp.

  ‘Right. Enough of this. You don’t work for some risky, controversial YouTube news channel. We’re not here to break conspiracy stories, or to expose anything, we’re here to report on the floods. Do you know the effect that kind of thing can have? First off, you’ll be fired. Chances are Matt and I will be right behind you, which is something you should consider if you care about anyone other than yourself. On top of that, once they round up the murderer, how do you think an expose by a national news channel is going to affect the trial?’

  Will could tell he’d pushed Alan past his limit, but that wasn’t about to stop him. ‘Aren’t we? Our exact job is to do just that. I’m exposing shoddy police work that may lead to the acquittal of a murderer. That’s news. If I report on their incompetence and someone walks free, is that our fault, or theirs for fucking up in the first place? So, your take on the whole thing is that it’s okay for a dead body to be kept in someone’s house, is it? What you’re saying is that if a relative of yours died, you’d be happy their body was kept in a stranger’s shed? And I don’t think they’ll be much of a trial once a half-decent barrister gets hold of all of this.’

  ‘I agree, that’s all bang out of order, but there are ways to do these things. At least check in first. Please. Will? Will?’

  Will walked away and started packing the equipment. Matt collapsed the boom mike and placed it back in the helicopter. ‘We’re going. We’re going to find the body and get some more answers from this amateur cop. It’s up to you whether you come with us, but just remember who leads this team. Now are you in?’

  ‘I’m calling the gaffer.’ Alan pulled out his phone and Will snatched it off him.

  ‘You’re not calling anyone. I’m in charge here, I lead the team. Since when has any of this been up for debate? We’re going to this address and we’re going to do our job, report things the people have a right to know. The boss will find out when the rest of the world does.’

  Dales started in the lounge. Drawers had been yanked out and flung across the room. Cabinet doors had been opened so hard they hung on one hinge.
He’d covered Sunbury for years and hadn’t heard the name of the town even mentioned in the office. A burglary, in a low-crime town, in the middle of a murder investigation, was far too much of a coincidence.

  The kitchen hadn’t been searched and the rear door was intact. Chances were, the offender had entered through the front door and, given as there were no signs of damage to it, Sally had either left it open or let the person in. Sarah kept the journals in the larder. Not wanting to use the handle, he reached up to the corner of the larder door, using the tips of his fingers to get a grip and swing it open. He flicked on his small, pen-sized MagLite and walked down the rickety steps. Using the light switch would have been easier, but he risked wiping off any fingerprints.

  So much information was available about forensic evidence, both the evidence-gathering techniques and how to get away without a trace, that it was a wonder scientific techniques caught any criminals at all. The professionals knew what they were doing, of course. Organised criminal gangs and the old-timers worked it all out years ago, and some were taking to cleaning rooms from top to bottom before making their escape. However, most crimes weren’t committed by professionals; they were passionate, unprepared emotional responses to the confusing, difficult world we inhabit. A burglar’s need for heroin money, a lover’s jealous rage or a dysfunctional and uncontrollable sexual urge.

  The torchlight caught stacks of cardboard boxes, a couple of old bicycles and a range of other knickknacks Sally couldn’t bring herself to throw away. Thick wooden shelves lined the walls where foodstuffs and oils were once kept, now replaced with tat, old and unused kitchenware and piles of photo albums. It was dustier than Louise’s cafe, but he wasn’t about to break out a broom and make it sparkle. The green lockbox had gone. He covered every inch of the room before he gave up looking for it. He knew who he was bringing in for this.

  A helicopter slowed down overhead. He went back to the bedroom.

  ‘They’re just landing.’

  ‘Oh, thank god. They’re here, Mother. They’ll check you over and make sure you’re alright.’ Sarah was relieved they had arrived so soon, both so her mother could be seen to and so she could start looking for whoever had done this.