‘Judith?’ she whispered.
‘Yes. My car’s just up here. We could sit in it for five minutes. That would be safe for you, no one would see us. Five minutes is all I ask.’
She stood, swaying slightly, then nodded. He led the way to the car and she sat beside him, still gripping the bag tightly on her lap with one hand, the other on the door handle. She looked around again, slumping down in the seat. He could feel tension radiating from her and hoped he could find words that wouldn’t make her bolt.
‘I met Judith. She is married and has a baby called Samuel. They’re both well.’
She kept her head lowered. ‘Is she in London?’
‘No. I don’t want to say where she is just now. I met her because I wanted to talk to her about Teddy Bartlett, a boy she was friends with at school. He was attacked fifteen years ago. His father has asked me to find the person who carried out the attack. This is Teddy.’ He placed the photograph on her lap. ‘Did you know him?’
She shook her head. Her fingers trembled on the door handle.
‘Teddy doesn’t look like that nowadays. He’s blind and severely disabled, living in a care home. Judith told me she used to bring Teddy home after school sometimes, when you and your husband and Joshua were out. I asked Joshua about Teddy. He said he didn’t know him. Do you think your husband knew him?’
He saw her mouth working. She glanced at him sideways. He wasn’t sure what he could see in her eyes, maybe despair, but also a furtive look.
‘We don’t know him. Please, leave us alone.’
‘I’m not sure I believe that, Mrs Saltby. I know that your family would have been very angry if Teddy’s visits had been discovered. I think someone in the family might have wanted to stop Teddy because he was leading your daughter astray, away from the righteous path. The irony is that she left you anyway.’
She looked at him fully then, running her tongue over dry lips. ‘You are a cruel man.’
‘I don’t think so. I think whoever put Teddy in a care home is cruel.’
‘I have to go.’ She depressed the door handle.
‘Okay, you go. Judith misses you. Here’s my card. You might want to contact me.’
He put it into her hand. She didn’t reject it. He watched in the mirror as she scurried away. She was a mouse-like creature, with her drab browns and timid movements, but her eyes held knowledge from a world beyond the confines of her controlled life. He sat, thinking about her. She held down a job, so she must have some abilities. She wasn’t just Dorcas Saltby, downtrodden wife and mother. In a solicitor’s office, she would hear about all kinds of disputes and unpleasantness. She would know that other lives were messy and unpredictable. Were the mother and son involved together in the attack on Teddy?
* * *
In the afternoon Swift was out on the river at Putney. He was still adjusting to his borrowed craft. His insurance claim was in progress but he was going to have to wait a couple of weeks for his new boat. The sun was shining through a light mist but there was a distinct wind chill and he was glad he had brought an extra fleece. He could see the majestic mirrored buildings of the City, beyond Putney Bridge. Buses in the distance looked tiny. Birds were busy, swooping and diving across the water, filling the air with their calls. He had passed the stone which marks the start of the Oxford and Cambridge University boat race and sculled steadily. His purpose was to exercise his wounded arm and put it to the test while allowing his mind to ponder the information he had on Teddy Bartlett. His arm was behaving, it was his thigh that started to play up, his old scar tissue tightening. He steered in by the river bank and massaged it, watching a pair of swans grooming themselves. His thoughts went back to the Saltbys, and Teddy’s visits to the Internet café. The possibility of a connection niggled at him. As one of the swans extended its wings and shook them vigorously, a potential line of enquiry occurred to him. He found his phone and rang Mark Gill, a friend and ex-colleague who still worked in the Met, in digital investigations. He and Mark shared an interest in pulp fiction and they briefly discussed their latest reading. They exchanged some other news and Swift explained he was interested in an Internet café called Cyberia.
‘Do you remember that guy we worked with on the Villiers case about twelve years ago? He was a computer specialist when the role was still being developed. He was annoyingly geeky but had amazing recall, never forgot a face or name. He used to get irritated when we didn’t understand his tech-speak. I remember talking to him once and he said he got into computers really young and he was delighted when Internet cafes opened in London. Ian . . . ?’
‘Ian Wareham. He wore a tie with a keyboard design on it. He works in fraud now. I can find you his number if you want to speak to him.’
‘Please.’
Mark gave him the number. They agreed to meet for a drink soon. Swift phoned Ian Wareham who answered immediately.
‘Yep?’
Swift recalled Ian had always been succinct. ‘Ian, hi. It’s Tyrone Swift here. I used to be in the Met. Mark Gill gave me your number. We worked together once, on the Villiers case.’
‘Yep, I remember.’
‘I’m a private investigator now.’
‘Cool, yep.’
‘I’ve got some information concerning a case I’m working on. It’s about an Internet Café in Fitzrovia called Cyberia. I wondered if you knew it.’ He could hear that Wareham was typing fast as they spoke, fingers rattling a keyboard.
‘It’s closed now.’
‘Did you use it?’
‘Yep. I kind of almost lived there. It was the first Internet café in London. Terrific place. Rock stars used to go there, Bowie, Jagger. Quite a buzz.’
‘What years would we be talking?’
‘I found it in 1995, a year after it opened and used it till around 2004. From 1997 I used to run courses for Internet virgins.’
‘Do the names Teddy Bartlett and Joshua Saltby ring any bells? Teddy definitely went to Cyberia and Joshua might have.’
‘Don’t think so but you know, it was a busy place, people came and went. Names weren’t important.’
‘Could you take a look at their photos for me? I can scan you one of Teddy. If you look at a website for a church called The Select Flock, then follow a link to Hope Chapel in Tufnell Park, there’s a photo of Joshua Saltby.’
‘The Select Flock?’
‘Yes, it’s a church. Saltby is the pastor.’
‘Okay. Yep, can do.’
‘Terrific. I’ll email you.’
It was wonderful dealing with someone who didn’t waste words. He turned the boat and headed back to Hammersmith, feeling energised. Within ten minutes of scanning Teddy’s photo, Swift received an email from Wareham:
I remember Saltby. Can’t say from when. I helped him with password access one day. He badly needed the help but seemed to resent it. Don’t recall Bartlett.
Cheers, IW.
Swift sat back in his chair. He had something tangible at last. Saltby had been a devout young man, according to his sister, so devout he had been promoted to church pastor. Yet he had strayed far from the strictures of home and church. His presence at Cyberia was astonishing and had to be connected to Teddy. Time for another visit to chapel.
* * *
Hope Chapel was even chillier that Wednesday evening. Late autumn was growing colder and overnight frost had been forecast. Swift walked up and down for a while, then braved one of the hard chairs in the back row, waiting for bible class to finish. The man in the dark grey suit who had given him a hymnal on his previous visit was watching him warily. He had approached Swift when he arrived.
‘Does the pastor take bible class at this time?’ Swift had asked.
‘That’s right. Class is held in the study room.’ He gestured to the small room at the front of the chapel. ‘You’re late, I’m afraid, and the pastor doesn’t like interruptions.’ He had a scrawny build yet his suit was a little tight for him, straining on the shoulders.
�
�That’s okay, I don’t want to attend class. I want to speak to Mr Saltby. I’ll wait here.’
‘I see. Can I help you? Is it concerning the church?’
‘Well, Mr . . . I don’t know your name. Mine is Tyrone Swift. I’m a private detective, here on business.’
There was a pause, a quick purse of the lips. ‘My name is Graham Manchester. You have business with Mr Saltby?’
‘That’s right. It’s about someone his family used to know, someone who was attacked some time ago.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Interest flickered behind his eyes.
‘Are you his deputy?’
He straightened, asserting himself. ‘I am the assistant pastor, yes.’
‘I suppose you know the Saltby family well.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve known them a long time. Who is this person you referred to who was attacked?’
‘His name is Teddy Bartlett. Judith Saltby knew him well. They were good friends.’
‘Judith Saltby has been gone from us for many years. I’ve never heard of this person. I must get on with my tasks now. Class will finish in fifteen minutes.’
Swift read his newspaper while Manchester busied himself with tidying. He could feel the man’s eyes on him. After a while a group of young boys exited the class and filed in silence down the chapel, eyes to the floor. They held their bibles against their chests in both hands. Swift rose and walked to the front as the last boy left the study room. Saltby was standing just inside the door, buttoning his suit jacket. He frowned when he saw Swift, stepped forward and glanced down the chapel. Manchester was observing them. He retreated through the door.
‘I have nothing more to say to you. Please leave this chapel.’
‘I think you do have things to tell me. I know you do.’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I’m going to see you off the premises.’
Swift took a step towards him. ‘Cyberia,’ he said softly, ‘and I don’t mean the place in Russia. A café called Cyberia.’
Saltby blinked and touched his throat. A lovely tell, signalling discomfort.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ll show you out.’
Swift shook his head. ‘Mr Manchester is more welcoming. He said he’s known your family a long time. Shall we ask him to join us? Maybe he knows you used to go to Cyberia and that you met Teddy Bartlett there.’
Saltby stared at him, panic flitting across his face. He was weighing up fight or flight. Swift put his hands out, palms raised, a gesture of appeasement.
‘Mr Saltby, I have a witness who met you in Cyberia and remembers you from your photograph. He happens to work for the Met police now.’
Saltby froze for a moment, then stepped back, allowing Swift into the study. He called out to Manchester, telling him he could go now, he’d lock up. He kept his voice under control but a tinny note had crept into it. Then he closed the door and stood for a moment with his back to Swift, holding on to the handle.
‘I think I’ll sit this time,’ Swift said, hooking a chair with his foot.
There was a scent of sweat and of hot wax in the airless room. A white candle was still smoking. Saltby pinched the wick firmly. Swift could see he was trying to marshal his thoughts. He sat, pressing his knees together.
‘You lied to me last time I came here. You lied about Teddy, even when I showed you his photo. Isn’t that a sin?’
Saltby’s eyes flashed. ‘I don’t need lessons about sin from you. And just because I went to Cyberia doesn’t mean I knew Teddy Bartlett.’
‘Oh, please. Judith told me that Teddy went there several times a week. My witness puts you there in the same time period. Of course you knew Teddy. Let’s find a way in. Tell me about how you ended up at Cyberia,’ Swift suggested.
‘I didn’t attack Teddy Bartlett.’ Saltby’s long face was drained of blood. He looked more than ever like an effigy on a tomb.
‘If that’s the truth, then you needn’t worry about telling me why you were at Cyberia. It might help you to be honest about it after all these years.’
Saltby swallowed. ‘This is very difficult.’
Swift said nothing. He could sense Saltby’s struggle and the need for confession and relief that was building in him. He watched the candle vapour curling to the ceiling and vanishing.
‘Very well, I’ll tell you why I went there.’ He made an effort, pulled himself up straight. ‘I came home early one evening and overheard my sister and Teddy. That was when I found out she was bringing him to the house. They were playing music, they didn’t know I was there. I stood outside her room. She’d left the door slightly open. I was about to go in and put a stop to it but then I saw Teddy. He was wearing one of her dresses and dancing around. It was the first time I’d seen him. He was . . . beautiful, entrancing. He looked so alive and full of energy.’ He looked down, then continued, almost whispering. ‘I wanted to see him again. I came home several more times after that to watch them, to watch him. One evening, I heard him tell my sister about an Internet café called Cyberia. He said he was able to chat online to other boys who wanted to wear women’s clothes.’ He stopped, wincing.
‘You wanted to do that too?’
A long pause. ‘I knew I liked boys, not girls, in that way and yes, I sometimes dreamed about wearing female clothes.’
‘That must have been hard for you, given your beliefs.’
‘Yes. I despised myself. I am full of disgust at myself now for those weaknesses but I have overcome my base self through prayer and commitment.’
‘So you went to Cyberia to see more of Teddy and to chat online? Teddy didn’t know who you were, of course.’
Saltby stood and fetched a bottle of water from a cupboard. He took a long draught. ‘Yes, I gave in to temptation. I went there and sat next to Teddy, got talking to him. He had no idea who I was. I introduced myself as Luke, my middle name. We had coffee and he showed me online conversations he was having. I knew nothing about the Internet and I couldn’t get the hang of it at first but once I did, I saw that there were lots of men who felt like me, like Teddy. There were photos to look at, men who dressed up.’
‘Did you fall in love with Teddy?’ Swift asked softly.
Saltby blushed. ‘I suppose you could say that. I liked him very much. Too much. We got on really well. He was a sinner and lost in so many ways and also a pagan. But he was the only man I’ve ever really grown fond of. I should never have allowed it.’
‘How many times did you go to Cyberia?’
‘Half a dozen or so. I was in torment. It was a terrible place, full of deviants and misfits. A godless place. I tried to stop going there, I tried to pray but of course the devil was distracting me, whispering in my ear.’
‘Did you see Teddy at other times?’
He shook his head. ‘No, only in Cyberia. I thank God that I was saved and came back to the straight path of righteousness.’
Swift pulled his jacket around him to ward off the creeping chill.
‘What saved you?’
Saltby reached for a bible. ‘This, and my mother.’ He placed the bible on his lap and crossed his hands over it. ‘My mother found me one day, trying on a dress. I’d gone to a charity shop and bought a couple. They were pretty, colourful. I was lured by the temptation. I hid them at the back of my wardrobe and put them on sometimes when I had the house to myself. I was so ashamed that she had found me out in my wickedness. I told her all of it, about watching Teddy and my sister and about the visits to Cyberia. We wept over my sin. We knelt and prayed together and I swore on the holy book that I would never do such a thing again. And I didn’t, I never returned to that place. I returned to goodness and the true path.’
‘It must have been quite a shock for your mother, discovering that both her children were transgressing. What did she do about Judith?’
‘She told me to say nothing to my sister. She was going to deal with her.’
‘How long after this did Teddy’s attack take place?’
&nbs
p; ‘A couple of weeks later. I only knew because my sister came home and spoke about it. Of course, she couldn’t explain the truth of why she was so upset. That is how lies and evil corrupt the innocent.’
Swift looked at him with pity and dislike. ‘Can you not say your sister’s name?’
‘She has chosen the wilderness. I was led there too through her sin but by God’s mercy, I was brought back to the fold. I was recalled to the words I should not have forgotten: “do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.” My mother made me repeat that verse from Corinthians, over and over.’ He held the bible up and kissed it fervently.
‘I suppose there must be verses about not attacking and blinding someone too. Or is that permitted if they are found unworthy?’
Saltby shuddered and looked up. ‘I didn’t touch Teddy Bartlett. I kept away from Cyberia and from him and anyone like him. I have forged my soul anew with God’s forgiveness and his grace.’
Swift stood and switched the light on, stamped his feet to encourage circulation. He couldn’t see Saltby having the fire and fever to almost kill someone. He was a zealot but an oddly dispassionate one.
‘Did your mother tell your father about your activities?’
‘No. She said that she had failed as the mother of her children, not keeping them from sin and wickedness. In our church, women set the moral compass for the family. She had to repent for her failure and put things right. She promised me she wouldn’t tell my father once I had given her my vow that I would never harbour those deviant thoughts again.’
Swift wanted to ask if thoughts were so easily banished but he didn’t want to encourage any further biblical quotations. He assumed that Mrs Saltby would also have been frightened of telling her husband of her terrible failure.
‘How did you find Teddy, during those visits to Cyberia? Was he depressed? Sad at all?’
Saltby looked uncomfortable, crossing and recrossing his legs. ‘You’re asking me so many questions. It’s in the past. I’ve tried hard to forget about it and now you’re dragging it all up.’
BLOOD SECRETS a gripping crime thriller full of suspense Page 15