by Mark Roberts
The sinisterness of the old building was diluted by a bright blue board near the front door bearing a rainbow and in white letters:
THE SANCTUARY
Caring ~ Creating ~ Challenging
Clay followed in Stone’s tracks through the snow and paused at the blue board. A white dove sailed through the sky above the curve of bright colours.
PROPRIETORS: MRS DANIELLE MILLER & MR ADAM MILLER
CONTACT 0151 496 8437
Stone knocked again as Clay joined him on the middle stone step. A light came on behind the stained-glass arch above the door. Transparencies of childlike paintings of animals, trees and flowers had been stuck on to the glass panels to either side.
‘Who is it?’ A man’s voice, a Welsh accent.
‘Mr Adam Miller? Police.’
‘I’m not Adam Miller. My name’s Gideon Stephens, I’m—’
‘Hey, Gideon! Police!’ said Clay. ‘Open up!’
A bolt was drawn, but when the door opened, the chain stayed on the latch. Dark-haired and pleasant-looking, Gideon peered through the gap. Clay showed her warrant card.
‘Come in quietly, we don’t want to wake anyone up.’ From the other side of the door, Clay detected a tremor in his voice. He was in his late twenties and handsome enough to be on TV selling kitchen roll to bored housewives, she thought. But his face was knotted with a mixture of fatigue and anxiety, an expression she knew well from her own reflection in the mirror, and she felt sorry for him.
‘What’s this about?’
‘We need your help. We’ll tell you inside,’ said Clay.
He smiled at her. I know you, though we’ve never met. She read the thought on his face, and there was a transparency about him that promised helpfulness.
As Stone closed the front door, Clay took in the spacious hallway, the framed, unsophisticated pictures on the wall to the left and right of Gideon’s back.
A light came on at the top of the wide staircase, on the landing above, and a middle-aged woman in a silk dressing gown appeared.
‘What’s going on, Gideon?’
‘It’s the police, Danielle...’
‘The police?’
‘I haven’t got a clue.’ He turned to Clay as the woman hurriedly made her way down the stairs. ‘Follow me.’
‘Danielle Miller?’ asked Clay. The woman’s face creased with concern.
A man appeared at the top of the stairs behind her, knotting his dressing gown. He looked at Clay.
‘Adam Miller?’
He nodded as he padded down the stairs after his wife. ‘Yes,’ he replied, eyeballing her. ‘How could any of our residents be of interest to you?’ His face was long and narrow and covered in a thick, dark stubble that ran round the back of his head and chin.
On the wall, in the middle of the hall, was a framed picture of two men standing on a boat. Clay did a double-take of Adam and the picture and guessed it was a much younger Adam with his father.
Danielle reached the bottom of the stairs and, stepping alongside Clay, pulled a face. ‘We’ll take you into the kitchen. Get the kettle on, Gid!’
‘Does Gideon really need to be here?’ asked Adam. ‘He’s an employee...’ As he passed the framed picture, Clay saw how much he’d come to resemble his father.
Gideon threw on the kitchen light and Clay followed him in. ‘I’ve come to see all three of you. You may all be able to help.’ She glanced around the kitchen, at the top-of-the-range fixtures and fittings, all onyx work surfaces and polished chrome, and priced it at £40,000 plus, recalling a similar kitchen she’d seen in a recent issue of Ideal Homes.
Adam Miller indicated the long table at the centre of the room. ‘Can I see your warrant card?’
‘I’ve already seen it,’ said Gideon. Clay caught the smile on Danielle’s face.
‘Well, I haven’t!’ insisted Adam.
Clay showed him and, as he over examined it, she made a snap judgment about the three of them. Pain-in-the-arse husband, wife-at-the-end-of-her-rope, flirty young man.
Stone sat next to Clay, across the table from Gideon, Danielle and Adam. He slid the leaflet from The Sanctuary’s open day across the surface. As Adam took a pair of reading glasses from a case in his dressing-gown pocket, Danielle snatched up the leaflet away from him. On a grim night, the dynamic amused Clay.
‘We had a great day,’ said Danielle. ‘The open day in June, Gid!’
‘Everyone was in such a good mood,’ replied Gideon. ‘Nothing happened, nothing went wrong on open day, DCI Clay!’
‘We’re not here about events on the day itself,’ said Stone. ‘We found it in Louise Lawson’s bedroom.’
Danielle looked up from the leaflet, the colour draining from her face, anxiety consuming her features. ‘Don’t tell me something bad has happened to her?’
‘She’s in the Royal at the moment,’ Clay replied. ‘She has a minor head injury from a fall she had on the street in the early hours of this morning.’
‘Louise on the street at that hour?’ Gideon’s voice was full of doubt. ‘She was... Why?’
‘Let the police officer speak!’ Adam said.
‘She was escaping from the scene of a crime, in her home on Pelham Grove. Her father was murdered in his bedroom.’
‘Oh God, no!’ Danielle’s face turned pale, her eyes filling with shock.
‘How?’ The boom in Adam’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
‘This is a brand-new and ongoing murder enquiry. We can’t reveal any details. The reason we’ve called here is because the leaflet on the table before you is the one link we could find between Miss Lawson and the outside world. We need information and we need it fast.’
‘Fire away,’ said Danielle. She sat up in her chair, her hands folded on the table in front of her, and Clay did a quick appraisal. Well spoken, well preserved, a woman in her late fifties who, with a coat of make-up, could pass herself off as a forty-something; quite a looker in her youth. Clay turned to Adam and wondered what the attraction was. Although he was younger than his wife, looks-wise she was out of his league. She guessed it had something to do with her own first impression of the building they were in: money.
‘We know Louise volunteers every day, including weekends,’ said Clay. ‘You must know her really well. Has she ever expressed any concerns about her father?’
‘Can you be a little more precise?’ asked Danielle.
‘Did he have any enemies? Does Louise have any enemies?’
Stone caught Adam’s eye and The Sanctuary’s joint owner held his gaze. Stone guessed that he didn’t like being questioned by a female police officer.
‘There’s this. Us. Our residents. And there’s her father,’ said Adam. ‘That’s her world, beginning, middle, end.’
‘That’s what you think, Adam,’ said Danielle. She reproached him with her eyes and he paid her back with silent contempt. ‘But you don’t know. We don’t know anything much about her life outside The Sanctuary.’
25
6.31 am
‘I can’t imagine Louise having any enemies,’ said Danielle. ‘She’s the sweetest woman in the world. But when was sweetness a defence against the world?’
‘How about her father?’ asked Stone.
‘She doesn’t talk about him much,’ said Adam.
‘But you don’t really talk to her much, do you, Adam?’ said his wife.
‘She talks to me about him,’ said Gideon. ‘He’s a fit old man, a creature of habit. Was.’ The information of Leonard Lawson’s murder connected with Gideon and he looked down for a moment, then up again. ‘I knew him...’
‘Are you all right, Gid?’ Danielle looked at him fondly, almost touched his hand.
‘Yeah. Jeez, I’m sorry, folks, it’s just... I’ve never known anyone who got murdered.’
‘You knew him?’ Clay almost sang the question. You knew the people-swerving recluse? she thought.
‘Oh, yeah. I knew Leonard. When the weather’s bad or... or it’s d
ark, Louise can get a little nervous about going home round the park. If I’ve bicycled into work, I often walk her home, or if I’m in the car, I’ll give her a lift.’
‘Well, I do offer!’ said Adam.
‘Let him speak, Adam!’ said Stone. Shut up!
‘I always make sure she’s over the door, and wait... used to wait for her father to answer my knock. The bell had been broken twenty years or more. Thank you very much for escorting my daughter home and delivering her safely to me. Every time, the exact same words. Every time, I’d reply, You are more than welcome, sir!’
Gideon turned his face away suddenly, as if he’d been slapped by an invisible hand. ‘God in heaven, the poor old man.’
‘All right, Gideon, take your time.’
Danielle stood up and walked to the sink. A tap gushed and a few moments later she returned with a glass of water. ‘Take a few deep breaths,’ she said, lifting a lock of hair from his eye. ‘Have a drink. Compose yourself.’
Clay saw Adam look darkly at the show of tenderness.
‘Poor Louise, she’ll be devastated. She didn’t say much about him. She’s a modest woman, not given to boasting,’ said Danielle. ‘But her father was a high-achieving academic in his time.’
‘Does Louise ever talk about her mother?’ asked Clay.
‘Only that her name was Denise and she had no memory of her.’
DN. Clay thought about the dedications in Leonard Lawson’s books. Denise Lawson? DL?
‘Anything else?’ she said, looking at Gideon, Danielle and Adam. ‘About her father?’ Silence. ‘Her home life?’ Clay waited. ‘Her past?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Danielle. ‘I’ve known her for years, but when you’re faced with it, you only know so much about a person, what that person wants to reveal.’
‘I understand,’ replied Clay, veteran of thousands of interviews.
‘I know what she’s like here, but the very little I do know... I guess I’ve run out of ideas.’
‘Anything? Anything else?’ urged Clay. Danielle looked at Gideon and Adam.
‘She’s a devout Christian, goes to church most days,’ said Adam. ‘I see her in the Anglican Cathedral on a regular basis.’
‘You’re in the cathedral on a regular basis?’ Clay asked, wondering why the detail surprised her.
‘I’m a volunteer there. I’m an interpreter of the building. I’m a Christian.’
‘Do you talk to her in the cathedral?’ Clay asked, hopefully.
‘No. I’m a very busy man. When I see her at the cathedral, I’m usually showing Japanese tourists around.’ He glanced at Gideon. ‘I work hard and there’s always work to be done.’
‘I’m a complete atheist,’ said Danielle.
‘That’s irrelevant,’ said Adam. ‘We’re not talking about you, Danielle.’ The words skimmed like razor-sharp stones across icy water. ‘But what is relevant is Louise and she has a series of mountainous problems ahead of her.’ He pulled his dressing gown together at the throat and looked at Clay. ‘Her home’s a crime scene?’
‘Yes.’
‘In which case,’ said Adam, ‘she’ll need somewhere to stay. She can stay here. My father always told me, give shelter to the needy.’
Clay drank in the mutual astonishment of Danielle and Gideon.
‘I gather we’re all she’s got now,’ he continued. ‘She can come and stay here in our flat on the top floor.’
Danielle placed her hand on the back of his, smiled at him. He looked at her hand and she withdrew it.
‘She’s given us tens of thousands of pounds of unpaid labour over the years. It’s the least we can do. I have nothing further to add.’ Adam stood up. ‘If she’s here in the evenings, she can help with bathtimes and bedtimes.’ He looked at Stone. ‘May I go? I have a very busy day ahead.’
‘Yes, you can go,’ said Clay.
He walked towards the door. ‘Being here, it’ll keep her mind occupied.’
When he’d gone, Gideon looked at Danielle and said, ‘OMG!’
‘Tell her, tell her she can stay with us for as long as she likes,’ Danielle said to Clay. ‘Tell her we’d love her to stay.’
Clay stood up. ‘We have to get going.’ She handed her card to Danielle. ‘If you need to contact me about anything, please do so immediately.’
As she headed back to the front door, Clay took in the various artworks around the hallway and gathered that self-expression was highly valued at The Sanctuary. A horse with legs fatter than its body. A man sitting in front of a bank of fog. A house with massive black blobs for windows and a tiny yellow square for a door. A brown chimney that looked like it was falling apart.
Adam, twenty-something, smiling in the sunshine of an upmarket marina, his father’s hand at the junction of his neck and shoulder.
At the front door, Clay turned to Danielle and Gideon. ‘Thank you for your time.’
From upstairs, the creak of a foot on a loose floorboard. Clay paused, looked up, expecting to see Adam, and made out the shape of a man. He stepped from the shadows and stood in the soft light at the top of the stairs. His hair was dark, his eyes open but empty. Dressed in plain black pyjamas, he stared into space, his face childlike, handsome, his gaze almost Christ-like. It was hard to call, but Clay pinned him in his late thirties, even though his expression took years off him.
Gideon walked quickly up the stairs, two at a time. ‘Abey!’ he said, his tone reassuring.
‘He sleepwalks. Every night. He comes to the same spot at the top of the stairs.’ Danielle checked the clock on the wall. ‘Six forty-five. Quarter to the hour every time. Different hour every time, but always quarter to.’
A wave of compassion flooded through Clay as the thought occurred to her: Almost there, but always short of the complete lap of the clock. She wondered where he’d be and what he’d be doing at that hour had he not had learning difficulties?
In Clay’s eyes, gentleness lay around the man like an invisible veil.
He’d be with his children, getting them ready for school, preparing himself for another busy day.
‘Come on, Abey.’ Gideon laid his hands on Abey’s shoulders, turned him around and gave him a gentle push between the shoulder blades.
‘Louise says she doesn’t have favourites,’ said Danielle. ‘But he’s her favourite by far. He follows her round like a shadow,’ she whispered. ‘He’s like the son she never had.’ She opened the front door.
Stepping outside, Clay took out her iPhone and asked, ‘Before I text DS Riley with your offer of accommodation, are you absolutely sure Louise can stay here?’
‘In spite of his religious faith, my husband’s not a naturally charitable man, DCI Clay. For him, The Sanctuary’s a profit-making business. Adam came into a lot of money when his father died and he saw a gap at the high end of the care market for people with learning disabilities. I’m not going to veto an opportunity for him to do something for someone else just for the sake of it. It’s a very pleasant surprise.’
‘We all have depths,’ said Clay. Some clear, some dark. ‘Sometimes we surprise ourselves as much as we surprise those closest to us.’
‘Bring her in later this morning.’ Danielle smiled. ‘We’ll be happy to give her shelter.’
26
7.15 am
Riley stared out at the sky across the Mersey and made a decision about the Louis Vuitton bag and the Jimmy Choo shoes that she was watching on eBay. Either or? No. She was going to put high bids on both and snuff out the competition.
Louise woke from her fitful sleep and cleared her throat. ‘Gina?’
Riley turned, walked over to the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘How long was I asleep?’
‘Half an hour...’
Louise touched the white plaster on her forehead. ‘It must have been the bump to my head...’ Riley leaned closer to her, watching her with an intensity that made the silence palpable.
‘Do you want to tell me something, Louise?’
‘I had the most bizarre dream. About my father’s picture. About The Tower of Babel. I only share my dreams with those who are in them.’
‘Was I in your dream?’
The buzz of an incoming text – ‘Eve Clay’ – split Riley down the middle. ‘The Tower of Babel?’ She kept the theme alive as she opened the text.
Adam and Danielle Miller, owners of The Sanctuary, have offered to have Louise stay with them for as long as she likes. Encourage her to say yes and to go there asap. It literally is her sanctuary.
‘Tell me about your dream,’ said Riley, holding Louise’s gaze.
‘The whole of the bedroom wall facing his bed was completely covered, from ceiling to floor, with The Tower of Babel. You were walking beside me. We were walking towards the Tower of Babel. I asked you what had happened. You said Bruegel had risen from the dead and painted a mural on the wallpaper to replace the picture that had been stolen from my father.’
A dreaminess settled on Louise’s face as she seemed to turn over some details in her mind. Riley glanced down at the screen of her phone, closed the text and discreetly pressed record.
‘What happened next, Louise, in your dream?’
‘The whole room altered. It stopped being my father’s bedroom with a painted Tower of Babel on the wall and became a three-dimensional version of the scene itself. We walked. The earth was scorched. We headed towards the entrance. And the noise. The closer we came, the louder it became. It was horrific. Thousands of voices clamouring inside the tower and pouring out like red-hot windstorms. You put your hands over my ears. Your face was pinched and your eyes were slits, your hair was streaming behind you and you moved your lips and it looked like you’d mouthed the words Jesus wept, and I screamed back at you, That’s a fact!’
When Louise paused, Riley passed her a glass of water. As the old lady sipped delicately, Riley made a mental note never to underestimate the power of another human being’s inner life.