Deity

by Steven Dunne

  ‘I know that,’ chuckled Ray. ‘You think I don’t? That’s what makes it all the more delicious. See – they’re the innocent. That’s the drug – I’m not interested in punishing the guilty.’

  ‘The guilty?’

  ‘You, Damen. Mr and Mrs Watson. Alice Kennedy. The Blakes. You’re the guilty ones – all the parents. They’re the ones in the dock. They’re the ones who perpetrate this appalling fraud on their kids. Look at me, Mummy. Listen to my drivel. Yes, darling, of course I will. Everything you say is fascinating. Everything you do is interesting. Make it better, Mummy. Make it better, Daddy, Grandma, Grandad, primaryschool teacher. Course I will, darling, and even if I can’t, the effort I make will still make you think the sun orbits around you.’

  ‘Is that how your parents treated you?’ asked Brook. ‘Smothering you with their love and concern – what an ordeal for you.’ Ray didn’t appreciate the sarcasm but declined to reply. Instead, Brook went on: ‘Wait – no. Those were the parents of your friends. Those were the parents you wished you’d had so that for a brief glorious moment as a child, you might feel special. I bet those kids weren’t friends for long.’

  From below the table Ray produced a gun and turned it in his hand. ‘Recognise this, Damen? I found it in the attic. What’s a British policeman doing with a gun in his attic?’

  ‘What are you going to do with Terri?’

  ‘I was asking about the gun.’

  ‘It’s a souvenir.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘A case. An opponent.’

  ‘A souvenir?’ Ray looked at the M9 automatic in wonder. ‘Remember that bit in Badlands when Martin Sheen allows himself to be caught on the Canadian border – when he gives one of the pursuing officers his lighter?’

  Brook glanced again at the image of his daughter on the monitor.

  ‘Remember the contentment on Sheen’s face,’ continued Ray. ‘The peace. “Here, son, have my lighter. I’m famous. Share in my glory. Tell people about the day you caught a legendary killer and how he gave you his lighter.” ’ Ray frantically rummaged in his pockets and peered into the small shoulder bag lying on the table. ‘Now you’ve got me going. What can I give you to remember me by? It needs to be something personal. I know.’ He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a set of keys. ‘Adele’s house keys.’ He slid them across to Brook. ‘Put ’em in your pocket, Damen. I insist.’ Brook made no move to pick them up.

  ‘I said put them in your pocket.’ Ray’s hand hovered over the laptop keyboard until Brook pocketed the set of three keys. ‘You’ll thank me sooner than you think. Know what you can do with them? When her mum goes out, you can nip round there and lie on Adele’s bed. That’s what her dad used to do. Just to smell her, she said. Fucking pervert didn’t even pull himself off. How wrong is that?’

  ‘If you’re giving out souvenirs, I’d prefer a lock of your hair,’ said Brook. ‘Or that used plaster on your neck to match against the one you left at Kyle’s. I’d treasure that.’

  ‘You’re good.’ Ray grinned.

  ‘How is your neck, by the way?’

  ‘Better, thanks.’ Ray removed the cap and touched the skin-coloured plaster now visible on the back of his neck. ‘Old Len certainly took a gouge out of me, the sly old fucker. Who’d have thought he had it in him?’

  ‘So Len’s attack wasn’t faked.’

  ‘Far from it. I was walking along, innocently plotting the suicides of my classmates when I felt this searing pain in my neck. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground but when I looked up at the camera, not only was it fine, it was actually filming. Then it came to me. My hand was covered in blood and I nearly had a Soylent Green moment. You know, Charlton Heston, reaching out with his dying breath. “Soylent Green is made out of people.” ’ He laughed. ‘What a fucking ham. But I managed to stop myself and it turned out perfectly.’

  ‘What we see and what we seem is but a dream,’ said Brook quietly.

  Ray looked at him, an appreciative smile curling his lips. ‘I’m glad I prepared properly. That didn’t fool you for a minute, did it?’

  ‘Maybe just a minute,’ replied Brook. ‘I see you’ve got over your aversion to swearing. Don’t need to play suitable boyfriend any more, Ray?’

  ‘Don’t forget the tattoos.’

  ‘That was a nice touch.’ Brook nodded.

  Ray shrugged. ‘I can’t take the credit – Terri mentioned it. See, fathers of daughters always have the easiest buttons to push. Like Adele’s father, for instance.’ He took out a mobile phone and read from the screen. ‘I’m happy now, Dad. I’d rather die than live a minute longer under your roof. Goodbye. Adele.’

  ‘You’ve got Adele’s SIM card,’ said Brook.

  ‘Kyle and Becky’s too. They’ve helped me reach out to the vulnerable.’

  ‘First Jake McKenzie. Now Jim Watson.’

  Ray smiled. ‘I sent him that an hour ago. The phone company will probably be contacting you about it. Now, how do you suppose he’ll react to that a few hours after seeing his daughter say goodbye to the world?’ Brook didn’t reply. ‘You’re right, Damen. It’s a cheap shot and I wouldn’t normally bother with people that age – their failure is endemic. And for a grieving father of a beautiful daughter into the bargain, well, self-destruction is almost inevitable.’

  ‘Then why send it?’

  Ray pushed the gun across to Brook. ‘To show you how easy it is to put people out of their misery. Pick it up.’

  Brook looked at the gun. ‘You’re going to kill Terri, aren’t you?’

  Ray laughed. ‘Again with the drama. How many times? I don’t kill people.’

  ‘Then why all this?’ asked Brook, gesturing at the laptop.

  ‘To get control,’ insisted Ray. ‘So we can talk like civilised men. I’m the director. I have to have control. I wouldn’t kill Terri unless I had to – a great girl like that. Besides, she’s too old. She had her chance to make a statement but she blew it and now she’s got a lifetime of despair and decay ahead.’

  ‘Just like me,’ said Brook.

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Ray, looking first at the gun and then at Brook. ‘We haven’t… you know, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not that I couldn’t have. I could tell she wanted to but it didn’t seem right. Fucking the grieving daughter is a bit grubby.’

  ‘She stopped grieving for Tony a long time ago.’

  Ray laughed. ‘She’s not grieving for Tony, she’s grieving for you – or will be. You’re the big prize. Why do you think I’m here?’ Ray stretched his arms wide, reading the imaginary headline. ‘suicide detective takes own life. What better advert for all those lost souls out there? What bigger boost for Deity? Forget Tony, Damen. I’ve come for you.’

  Twenty-Seven

  DS GADD FLICKED THE TORCH up and down the metal barrier that separated the derelict hospital site from the road.

  ‘How do we get in?’ asked Smee. ‘There’s no gap.’

  ‘We climb,’ replied Gadd.

  A minute later the two detectives dropped down on to the weed-encrusted drive on the other side and began walking slowly towards the dark buildings which were surprisingly modern and spaced out across the site in small units. Inspecting the buildings in turn, they observed that most of the damage was superficial – windows and doors smashed, weeds and shrubs running amok – but two of the units had been severely damaged by fire. At one of them, the sign beside the overgrown parking bay informed them that this was the administration block.

  Gadd shone her torch across piles of blackened wood and the twinkling display of shattered glass on the floor. On they walked, occasionally kicking through the detritus of old cans, sometimes spooked by darting animals and the urgent diving of bats.

  At the far end of the site a final building loomed, which didn’t seem to have come under the same level of attack as the rest. All its windows were securely boarded or bricked up, and doors seemed to be securely fastened. Gadd turned the handle of one entrance. Althou
gh the door seemed to be unlocked, it wouldn’t open even under the shoulder of the burly Smee. The same was true of the other doors they could see. One had the sign, Hydrotherapy Pool, hanging off but it was just as uncooperative as the others.

  ‘The whole building seems to be sealed off.’

  ‘Land of the Pharaohs,’ said Gadd.

  ‘Hear that humming?’

  Gadd cocked an ear. ‘I hear it.’

  ‘Sounds like a generator.’

  On the other side of the building they came upon a low outhouse that might once have been a multi-bay garage. All the doors were gone and large holes had been sledgehammered into the walls. Gadd stepped into one of the bays. It smelled of human waste. The scurry of a rat turned her head and she resisted squealing with a male officer present. She was about to leave when she spotted another hole in the wall where an entire breeze block had been hammered out. There was something on the other side of the wall. She stepped closer to be sure she was right.

  ‘So you want my life in exchange for my daughter’s,’ said Brook. He spotted Terri’s handbag on the next chair and picked out her cigarettes and lighter. He lit up with a sigh. ‘I accept.’

  ‘Come on, Damen – that would be too easy. What parent wouldn’t die to save their child?’

  ‘I’ve met plenty in my line of work.’

  Ray smiled. ‘You’re just like Adele. You think about things.’

  Brook glanced at the monitor and took another pull on his cigarette. ‘Tell me about Adele.’

  ‘I dreamed up Deity for her. The others were just to make up the numbers. She was such a strong character, such a challenge. But gradually I was able to get under her skin. She was already disillusioned with life and the world around her. That’s when she showed me her poems. Can you believe it? She actually handed me her innermost thoughts for me to use against her. How naive, I thought at first.’ He shook his head.

  ‘And yet I was the naive one. She knew. She was nice to me but she wasn’t dumb. She knew I wasn’t what I appeared.’

  ‘The fox in the henhouse,’ said Brook.

  ‘The fox in the henhouse – I’m so liking that. Yes, that’s what I was – and Adele was the prize chicken. Once I had her, the others would be easy. So I made her a promise – to make her famous, to make her thoughts immortal. I told her she would make more of a mark with a single gesture than a lifetime of toil and protest.’

  ‘Is that when she gave you her boyfriend’s credit card to set up the website?’

  ‘What better way to put that sleazebag in the firing line? We knew it wouldn’t hold up but it would be fun watching Rifkind squirm. Her dad too. That’s when we put it to Kyle. We knew he was unhappy but he refused. He was in love with Jake. Can you imagine those two together? Forget it. Adele and me, we knew it was doomed so we waited.’

  ‘Waited for what?’

  ‘For the Kyle Kennedy train-wreck. And it worked out beautifully. Wilson saved us at least two weeks. The party was the next day so it was all systems go. Kyle wasn’t sure at first but after he’d seen Picnic at Hanging Rock, Adele was even more convinced we had him. Jake’s rejection just pushed him over the edge.’

  ‘Kyle didn’t apply for a passport, did he?’

  ‘Course not. I nicked a passport photo of him from his wallet and Adele got Rifkind to endorse it. She’d already borrowed both birth certificates on a previous visit and put them back on the night of the party.’

  ‘And Adele and Becky already had theirs.’

  ‘Exactly. It would seem like we’d left the country.’

  ‘And Becky?’

  ‘You saw the film in her bedroom,’ answered Ray. ‘What self-loathing. She was so desperate for fame she would have done anything.’

  ‘But suicide – that must have taken some persuasion?’

  ‘Not really. Fern let slip to Adele that Becky’s modelling career was in jeopardy and we knew we had our hook. The rest was just organisation. Adele made the leaflets. I wiped their computers so there could be no clues and made sure they brought their SIM cards, house keys and passports to the party. It had to be like we’d disappeared off the face of the earth.’

  ‘Why didn’t Jake see you at the Kennedy house?’

  ‘I hid upstairs. I knew Jake was invited but I was pretty sure after Wilson’s slapping that he wouldn’t show.’ Ray’s brow furrowed. ‘Guess I underestimated the power of love. Did Jake see them filming?’ Brook nodded. ‘Yeah, shame that. Those death masks would have had quite an impact if you thought they were real. I could tell you weren’t impressed on the news. I assume Jake survived his final text from Kyle.’

  ‘Only just. He took sleeping pills but we caught him in time.’

  Ray shook his head. ‘Pity.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘We watched a couple of films and waited until early morning then we walked across the fields to our rendezvous and disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘Just like Picnic at Hanging Rock,’ said Brook. ‘We know about Lee Smethwick. We know about the ambulance waiting.’

  Ray shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘We’ll find out where you took them any time now.’

  ‘I’m counting on it. I promised Adele – Lee too. It cements the deal. Lee had his uses, but you were always going to find him because he was a whack job.’

  ‘Was?’

  ‘He killed himself. That was always his plan.’

  ‘Because of the cancer.’

  ‘Partly, yes. You’ll see when you find him. It’s funny, it’s always the quiet ones. Lee had an aura, like an invisible shield, keeping normality at bay. And he loved Deity. He was desperate to be included. Well, he had the ambulance, he had the premises and a sackful of misappropriated drugs. And he insisted on showing me what he could do with those tramps. It wasn’t a great leap from there to tie his skills into Deity. Leave a good-looking corpse that lasts forever. What wannabe isn’t gonna love that reward for their misplaced vanity?

  ‘It’s interesting,’ he went on. ‘Lee with his Ancient Egyptian thing, wanting to live on after his body gave up on him. In their way, Adele and Kyle and Becky were just the same. Only they’ll live forever rattling around in cyberspace, same as Wilson. Once you’re immortalised in there, you can kiss obscurity goodbye.’

  ‘Where are they?’ said Brook.

  ‘They’re in the Village.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘I can’t tell you until Len’s done his work.’

  Brook narrowed his eyes. ‘Work?’ He took a moment to figure it out, then: ‘He’s embalming Lee.’

  ‘Right. In what the Egyptians called the Ibu …’

  ‘The place of purification.’

  Ray laughed. ‘Oh, brother. You’re living this case every second, aren’t you? I knew it. The first time I saw you at the press conference hiding behind those lifeless eyes I could sense something in you. And then I just had to find out all I could. And when I’d done that, I had to meet you. And when I’d done that – well, my work was done but after meeting you, it wasn’t enough. I saw the pain you were in. I saw you needed help.’

  ‘I’m flattered by your concern.’

  Ray clapped his hands together. ‘You kill me.’

  ‘I will if you’ve hurt Terri.’

  Ray’s grin faded and he nodded at the gun. ‘Speaking of help – it’s time to die.’ He held his finger dramatically above the Enter button on his laptop. ‘Point that at me and your daughter goes before you.’

  Brook picked up the gun and flicked off the safety. ‘You know about guns?’

  ‘Internet,’ replied Ray.

  Brook picked up the M9 and examined it. He had never used it before, didn’t even know if it would work. ‘The firing pin was disabled, you know.’

  Ray held Brook’s gaze. ‘You think I didn’t try it out first? You don’t know me, Damen.’ He grinned. ‘Shit, I don’t know me.’

  ‘You fixed it,’ said Brook. Ray continued to smile. ‘Internet, right? H
ow do I know you’ll keep your word, Ray?’

  ‘If I can keep a promise to a dead man, I can keep a promise to a friend in his final moments.’

  Brook nodded and moved his hands over the gun. He checked the magazine. It was full. ‘A friend – so much more effective than a cyberbully.’

  ‘Isn’t it!’ exclaimed Ray. ‘Russell made me realise and, well, Deity’s results will speak for themselves.’ He lifted the camcorder to his eye. The red dot appeared. ‘I told you it would be classy, Damen. The Deer Hunter directed by Michael Cimino – Oscar winner, no less. De Niro finds Christopher Walken playing Russian Roulette in a bar in Vietnam and tries to save his friend.’ Ray sniggered. ‘He fails.’ He held a hand ready to start the scene. ‘Ready for close-up. And – action.’

  Brook lifted the gun to his temple and took a final look round his sparse kitchen. ‘One thing I need to tell you, Ray.’ He glued his eyes on to his opponent’s. ‘I’m not your friend.’

  Then Brook pulled the trigger. There was a loud click and Ray burst out laughing. Brook tossed the gun on the table.

  ‘Your face!’ Ray giggled and pointed. ‘What am I like? I don’t know shit about guns, Damen,’ he continued, barely able to speak, ‘except it didn’t work when I fired it either.’

  Brook stood and walked to the cupboard. Ray readied a finger over the keyboard. Brook ignored him and took out the leaded tumbler and filled it full of whisky. ‘Drink?’

  ‘I’m driving.’ Ray motioned Brook back to his chair. Brook glanced up the stairs to his bedroom door then took a sip of whisky before reluctantly returning to his seat.

  ‘Want to know something, Damen? I knew you’d pull the trigger.’

  ‘Want to know something, Ray? I knew the gun wouldn’t work.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Because now I’ve seen your personality disorder at close quarters, I know a bullet’s too quick.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that someone as sick as you needs to see the terror in people’s eyes as they die. You need to know that last second of life is as precious to them as it is worthless to you. You need the dying to see you watching on, living the life that they cling to. And you need to make that sensation last so you can feed on that energy in an effort to revive your own dead soul, if only for a few minutes.’