Hold Your Tongue

by Deborah Masson

  ‘The thing is I never had to watch them for long. Like I said, everyone lies. Unspoken truths. If you listen, the world is silent with them. Look at Lexie. There was a bit about her and her stage-show success before she moved here. About her hoping to emulate that here while her husband worked. Start lessons for under-privileged kids. My “Full of Grace”.

  ‘She was selling herself as this graceful dancer, her body a temple. And all the time she was shoving buckets of coke up her nose, poisoning that body.’

  Dempster smiled. ‘Just after Lexie came the perfect opportunity to point the finger at someone else.’

  Mearns wanted to scream, moaning instead, louder this time.

  Dempster didn’t seem to notice, too lost in his memories. ‘That day in the office. Pure chance that I was sitting there when Eve started on about hunting down vets. Hardy came winging into my mind and made sense on so many levels. But I couldn’t be the one to bring him to you. So I tipped off Ferguson, told him to say it was all his idea, that I’d keep quiet. He didn’t suspect a thing when I told him he deserved a break and should shine. I knew his blustery arrogance wouldn’t let him refuse.’

  Mearns felt sick to learn how they had all been played.

  ‘Then we had Jenkins. A so-called friend. I never had friends and never wanted them. Susie was all I needed. Jenkins was on to me. She made the connection to MacNeill with the drugs, suspected he may have supplied Lexie, or at least that his cronies had. Say what you like about her, but you’ve got to admit she was bloody sharp at her job. She met with one of them, offered a good payout if he spoke. Anonymous. He would’ve been able to tell her I knew MacNeill a lot better than she realized. She started digging into my past. But I didn’t have one, at least not as Elliott Jones. She had to go. It served two purposes. The dealer shut up.’

  Mearns was reeling. Jesus, Jenkins was just trying to do her job. To tell the truth, as seemed so important to Dempster. And he’d killed her for it. How must’ve Jenkins felt the night she became the third victim?

  ‘Of course, I didn’t need Jenkins’ tongue. Wednesday’s Child. It’s who I am.’

  Mearns couldn’t start to see the sanity in that answer. Didn’t try to.

  ‘Still, I was surprised at how hurt she looked at the end. Like she believed we were friends. Or maybe she was just shocked that someone had got one up on her. Nothing compared to Sanders’ expression though.’

  Mearns closed her eyes. Glad Eve wasn’t here to listen. She looked towards the window. Where was she?

  Eve was limping uphill, breathless, cursing her useless leg. Cooper was nowhere to be seen as Eve followed the edge of the red-brick wall, skimming her hand along it, using it for leverage against her pathetic speed.

  She struggled into the car park, the lit foyer empty, only the lift, an artificial plant and the stairwell off to the right-hand side visible. Cooper was still standing at the door pulling at the oversized handle of the heavy double glass as if surely it had to eventually open. It clattered, but nothing. Eve started buzzing every button on the wall by the door as Cooper continued yanking on the door – not stopping to buzz more than a second at each. Avoiding the penthouse, so as not to alert Dempster to the fact they were coming. ‘Come on, someone has to answer.’

  Mearns was able to wiggle her fingers, careful not to move anything that Dempster might see. She listened to him still talking.

  ‘I liked Sanders. She was a good woman. But she lied for Eve. A lie that cost her the life she’d known. I knew her death would shatter Eve.’

  Mearns wanted to shout at him, wondered if she might be able to try and talk at least. To tell him that it was his lies, about who he was, that it was him going behind Eve’s back that had put Sanders in that wheelchair, but, even if she could, she knew that him talking incessantly was the only reason she was still alive.

  ‘And then there was Sarah. The children’s charity worker. Miss “I’m saving the children one by one”. She put on a great act. Yet away from the limelight, the glory, I found out she was dipping into the fundraising pot any chance she got.’

  Mearns was shocked at that. There’d been nothing to suggest it in the investigation they’d carried out after her death. She didn’t ask how he found out.

  ‘So you see, she deserved what I did to her after all.’

  Mearns felt nothing but disgust.

  ‘Who next? Ah, yes. Shelley. I can’t deny she did work hard for a living. I read about her in an article exploring the pressure of being a single parent on the breadline. But not working as hard as she’d have her poor mother think.’ He shook his head. ‘I went to pay a wee visit to her work. To see if she really was telling the truth. Quick glance through the window and I could see work was the last thing on her mind. Yet she made that old woman look after her son all hours so that she could roll around the office with one of the partners that worked there any chance she got.’ He tutted. ‘How can you care for your little boy when your lie keeps you away from him? And not even for something that will benefit him. The work – yes, that’s commendable. But sex?’

  Three-year-old Kai. Motherless because Shelley might have tried to have a little snatched time for herself. A lie, maybe, but one to be killed over? No. Never.

  They were nearing the end of the rhyme. She was beginning to doubt that Eve had understood her underlying message on the phone. Please God, let him keep talking.

  ‘You’ll be wondering what this has all been for. Maybe it’ll bring Susie back to me.’ He laughed, a sharp, harsh sound that was nothing like the gentle laugh she’d often heard from Elliott’s mouth. ‘Come back from the dead. But I guess that would make me crazy.’

  As crazy as they come, you psycho. ‘Tough time.’ Mearns struggled to form the words, slurring, her voice alien to her.

  Dempster raised his eyebrows. ‘I see the drugs are wearing off. You think I had a tough time?’

  Mearns concentrated on answering in as few words as possible. ‘Bullied. Susie. Father killed mother.’ She felt exhausted, unsure Dempster would even understand what she was trying to say.

  He stood still. ‘As if anyone could ever understand what I’ve been through. Losing Susie destroyed me.’ He looked at her, and Mearns was shocked to see a smile slowly growing across his face. ‘But my father killing my mother? That was the biggest lie of all.’

  Chapter 52

  Then

  It’s dark at the kitchen table. My nose twitches at the smell of cinnamon. Mulled wine that was made earlier. I hate cinnamon.

  It’s quiet. There’s snow on the lamp posts and I wonder if there’ll be enough to build a snowman in the morning. That’s what Susie would’ve been wondering too.

  My deep sigh is loud in the dark room as I turn towards the glass door. Mum and Dad sprayed white foam into the corners of the glass, and through the spaces above the fake snow I see the tree in the corner. It’s old, the decorations Susie made at school still hanging from it. Mum and Dad couldn’t throw them out. I lean against the cold wooden chair and close my eyes.

  The moan disturbs me.

  She’s moving. Mum. The back of her white nightdress looking rust-coloured in the shadows as she drags herself across the linoleum. If only she’d stayed in bed.

  I take another bite of my biscuit and watch her matted hair as she crawls across the floor. Like a slug leaving a trail in the dark. I can hear the glass crunching beneath her. I stand, careful not to scrape the chair legs against the linoleum. I don’t want Dad to wake up. I walk over, crouch and move the glass handle away from her side. It’s the only thing that didn’t break when I smashed the water jug against her head. I bend over, tuck her wet hair behind her ear like she’s done to me many bedtimes after a bath. I whisper, ‘It’s all your fault.’

  I roll her on to her back. It’s hard, but I manage, weight on my side. I need her to see me, to see that I’m my own man. Not dependent on her. That Susie was right. I’m not Wednesday’s Child. Not full of woe. I’m happy. Especially with what I’m
about to do.

  Her breath comes in short rasps and her eyes are wide, pleading, trying to understand what happened, what is about to happen. I jab my finger towards the ceiling and put it to my lips, smiling. I signal for her not to wake him.

  I get up and go to the kitchen drawers. In the top one, I see the pink plastic spoon next to blue, the only ones Mum and Dad kept: a reminder of our baby years. In the next drawer, I curl my fingers around the worn wooden handle of the breadknife. It will do. She has to pay, and today is the perfect day. My birthday. I see the kitchen tongs and smile as I lift them from the drawer too and move towards her, the knife blade shining.

  ‘Please, I love you,’ she says.

  She’s a liar. I kneel, drop the blade and tongs by my side and clamp my hand over her mouth. I stare into her eyes. She’s struggling to keep them open, blood pouring from her head wound. I listen, still not believing that I haven’t heard movement from upstairs. Nothing.

  I sit on top of her and open her mouth, my dirty nails digging into her tongue’s strong, slippery flesh. Pulling at it, I lift the tongs and hold her tongue fast. With my other hand, I lift the knife and cut.

  Her eyes fly open. Her hands claw at mine but slip in the fresh blood that I know is filling her throat, killing her. Choking her with her lies.

  I feel her kick her legs against the floor, impressed at what little strength she has left, she’s using it to jerk her groin upwards in the vain hope of throwing me off.

  The knife’s edge is blunt. I press harder and drag it back and forth, faster, with one hand, the other hand squeezing the tongs together. She stops fighting, the shock numbing her. Her wet eyes never leave mine, but I don’t stop.

  I hear the creak of the floorboards overhead, soft footsteps making their way down the stairs. It’s the cry that makes me look towards the door, deep into Dad’s terrified eyes.

  For that, I am sorry.

  Chapter 53

  Mearns couldn’t breathe. The enormity of what Dempster had told her. He looked exhausted. She was now able to rotate her wrists in the shackles behind her.

  ‘She bought the blinds. The ones that killed Susie. She dragged my dad down with her grief and her hate. But he was too good a man to leave her. It was all her fault. And yet she blamed me. She had to die. Dad covered for me that night. Let me go free.’

  The sacrifice Ronnie had made for his ten-year-old son. Ten. Dempster had killed his mother on his birthday. That was what Mearns couldn’t remember earlier. About today – it was Dempster’s birthday.

  Why had Ronnie let him go free, taken the blame? For the guilt he felt over not being there to save Susie, to save his wife? Or because he truly believed that there was good in his son, that the horror of what he had done was an illness that he could somehow recover from, given the chance? A better life. But all he’d done was to allow Dempster to go on and kill again.

  Mearns flinched as Dempster lifted his hand, feeling her body awakening, praying he hadn’t noticed, her hands working behind her, trying to break free of the cord. He cupped her face as he had done often, catching the tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Why me? Sunday’s Child?’ Her voice was stronger now, less slurred.

  ‘You’re how I imagined she might have been as an adult. Brave, dedicated, conscientious, kind. You came into a situation others wouldn’t have, you’ve worked tirelessly to be accepted and make your mark on the team and you’ve been kind to others, even Ferguson. Perhaps not Eve, but I’m with you there. Don’t get me wrong, you’re not perfect – not like my sister. Never as happy as she had been, but enough for my needs.’

  For his needs? For her to fit the rhyme? That’s all her life would come to? ‘What needs?’

  Dempster looked thrown for a second, confused, before regaining control of himself. ‘It’s my birthday today, on the same day of the week Susie was born. Don’t you think that has to mean something?’ He looked as excited as a schoolboy. ‘Maybe it will bring her back to me.’ Dempster laughed, a crazy tinkling sound. ‘Or maybe I’ll be joining her if Eve gets to me before I get to her. Either way, me and Susie? We’ll be together again. I’ve always believed that.’

  In that moment and in that face, Mearns saw madness. True madness, for the first time. She looked at Dempster, a man far removed from who she thought he was. How could she have not known?

  She was crying, feeling snot bubbling at her nose, wondering if it really was there. The feeling. Or if it was just her imagination. She wasn’t supposed to die here. ‘What was my lie?’

  His gaze pierced through her. ‘Me.’

  The answer hit Mearns hard in the stomach. The fact she’d kept her relationship with him a secret from everyone. She watched him lower his hand and pull a bag from behind him – the bag they’d joked about, laughing about him taking it for granted that he’d be staying over. He rummaged in it, pulled his hand out, a scalpel in it, and what looked like pliers.

  Pliers. Mearns remembered what Dempster had told her about his mother.

  She moved against the restraints, loosened but not enough. Kicking her legs out in her mind, them barely moving in reality. Fighting to live. Wanting to live. Thinking about Eve as Dempster leaned towards her, smiling.

  Eve and Cooper took the stairs, the lift still out of action. Cooper went two at a time, Eve not far behind him. Clenching her teeth against the pain, willing her limb to move faster, knowing she would pay for the adrenaline spurt later. She cursed the fact Mearns was on the top floor. Each and every step felt like she was dragging a burning limb. Just when she thought she could take no more – would have to leave Cooper to go ahead alone – they reached the top. Eve’s arm stretched out, breaking the crash of the double door as Cooper broke through it into a small hallway, a lift door and the door to what must be Mearns’ flat in front of them.

  She prayed the door would be unlocked. She watched Cooper take hold of the handle, push. It didn’t budge. She was beside Cooper, batting his hand from the handle, wanting to take control. She looked at Cooper, both of them knowing they had no time to worry about the noise they would make alerting Dempster to the fact they were there. Eve had to let Cooper do what he was about to do, her leg too sore to cope. She stepped aside as Cooper took three steps back from the door, until he was hard against the opposite wall, and charged, his left shoulder turned inward to take the hit.

  Nothing.

  He staggered from the door, ready to try again. Eve hoped they wouldn’t have to try too many times before the door gave way.

  Dempster was dragging Mearns to her feet. The noise from the door deafening, echoing around them in the flat. She was here. Eve. She was here.

  Mearns could move a little more but didn’t, keeping herself relaxed, like a deadweight, making it harder for Dempster to move her. He started to pull her over towards the window, leaning her against the side that didn’t open while he went to lift the handle on the side that did. Her heart was racing. What was he doing? She told herself he was trying to get as far away from the door as he could, nothing else. He pulled back the window, cold air rushing into the room, the curtains billowing either side of the glass.

  He crouched beside her, out of breath, struggling to lift her, trying to pull her out on to the narrow balcony. Mearns wondered if she’d be able to stand, keeping herself heavy in the meantime, hearing the wood start to splinter on the front door as the constant thuds pounded against it.

  Dempster moved away, over to where the bag and its contents lay across the floor. He picked up the scalpel, came towards her. She jumped against the glass as the front door finally gave way, the crack sounding like it had taken part of the wall with it.

  Eve froze in the doorway, Cooper by her side. Mearns was on the floor by the window, Dempster’s forearm wrapped around her neck, the scalpel blade at her throat.

  ‘Stay there,’ Dempster shouted, a tremor in his voice.

  Eve didn’t move, scoping out her next move. ‘There’s nowhere to go, Dempster. Back-up’s on i
ts way.’

  Dempster looked surprised that Eve knew who he was. She hoped she was right about the back-up as she watched the grip on Mearns’ throat tightening. Dempster was shaking his head. ‘I don’t need to go anywhere. I have everything I need right here. It’s the end – Jo is the final show.’

  Eve kept eye contact with Dempster, risked taking a step into the room, stopping as she looked to the point of the blade pressing into Mearns’ throat, a bright-red dot of blood appearing against the white of her skin. Eve looked into Mearns’ eyes, her terror clear.

  ‘Why?’ Eve asked the question, not knowing whether to try to get Dempster talking or not.

  Dempster smiled. ‘Why? Isn’t that for you to figure out, Detective?’

  ‘Do you think this is what Susie would’ve wanted? What your father would’ve wanted? He wanted you to make a new life for yourself. A good one.’

  ‘Nice try. Don’t forget I know how you work. I spend every day of my life feeding a story to the press, manipulating them. This is all for Susie. Mearns knows that. As did all the other women. My father will too.’

  ‘Tell me. I thought you were my friend.’

  Dempster looked surprised by the raw emotion in Eve’s voice. ‘You don’t need to know. But you will. First I need to finish what I started.’

  Dempster raised his hand, clutching at Mearns’ cheeks, pressing against them until she couldn’t hold her mouth shut any more. She was white, her eyes wide. He was going for her tongue.

  And then Eve saw Cooper moving, running towards Dempster, who let go of Mearns and was springing to his feet in preparation for Cooper’s onslaught. Eve shouted at Cooper to stop, brushing his clothing as she tried to hold him. She watched as Cooper’s feet slipped on a patch of water on the floor and he fell backwards, cracking his head against the corner of the coffee table, thudding against the wooden floor. Blood spread out across the floor. Eve saw everything in slow motion, forcing her feet to move, wanting to run to Cooper, needing to get to Mearns.