The Voyeur

by Kimberley Shead

  When he appeared, she stood away from the wall, took a breath, and took a few steps towards Albie. He’d tidied his hair, changed his shirt, hopefully put on more deodorant, and had splashed his face with water. Only they knew he hadn’t slept last night. He wore it well, she just hoped he could hold the façade together for the interview.

  Tanya had her hand on the door handle when Albie reached out and touched her arm.

  “Watts, wait a minute. Josie’s been advised to have a person present throughout the interview. Whoever’s on call will be here soon. So it gives us a few minutes to go in prepared. I’ll lead, but I need you to step in if she gets emotional.”

  Close up, Albie’s eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. She wondered whether he should even be here, let alone lead the questioning, but she wasn’t ready to have that conversation with him. She was just grateful he’d given her permission to take over if needed. Traits of empathy and sympathy were not qualities Albie possessed in quantity.

  “Whatever you say, Sarge. So we read her rights but inform her that she’s free to leave at any time.”

  “Right. What we really need from Josie is a link of some kind that we haven’t spotted. Glad I’ve got my eagle eyes with me. If anyone’s going to find links, it’s you.”

  The door at the end of the corridor slammed shut.

  “Ah, DS Edwards. It’s been a while.”

  Albie smiled at the on-call solicitor and shook her hand.

  “Miss Soul. So glad you could join us. This is my colleague PC Watts. I’m not too sure if you two have met.” The woman in her late thirties glanced at Tanya over the top of her glasses, snorted, and gestured to Josie.

  “I’m sure you can give me five minutes to acquaint myself with my client.” Without waiting for a reply, she edged the door open and held out her hand. “Hello Miss Jeffries, I’m Clara Soul…”

  The officers watched the door close in their faces, and Albie smiled. “You’ve never had the pleasure then?”

  “Can’t say I’ve been fortunate enough to meet Miss Clara Soul before, no Sarge.”

  “All the more reason why you need to jump in if I get a bit heavy. Miss Soul fights dirty and she’s not a fan of mine.”

  The door opened.

  “Ready for you when you are, Sergeant.”

  They smiled at each other for the last time that day and marched into the room.

  While Albie went over the formalities, Tanya placed pictures of the three victims on the table. Their faces stared out up at Josie, all smiles and full of life.

  “Do you recognise any of the people in these photographs?”

  Josie nodded and dabbed under her eyes with an already damp tissue.

  “Could you answer the question aloud, Miss Jeffries?” Albie gestured to the tape recorder.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me who these people are and how you knew them?”

  Josie dabbed around her nostrils and winced. Her nose, red and patchy, looked tender.

  Tanya pushed the box of tissues forward. “Take your time, Miss Jeffries. A sip of water?” She placed a cup in front of Josie and filled it half-way.

  Miss Soul muttered to herself and jotted something in her notebook.

  “Emily Dyer, Mitchell Dyer, and Tyler Duke.” She took a deep breath before making eye contact with Albie. “Emily was a close friend. Mitchell was a friend of my son’s and like a nephew to me. And Tyler Duke was my ex-husband.”

  “What’s your reason for questioning my client about these people?”

  Albie smiled at Miss Soul. “We’ll get to that in due course.”

  “You’ll get to it now, DS Edwards, or I’ll advise my client to leave. At the moment, you are wasting everyone’s time. Most importantly your own.”

  Albie drew his attention back to Josie. “Miss Soul is right, you are quite welcome to leave at any time. However, I know how much you want to help us find the person responsible for what happened to these people. Are you ready to continue?”

  “Yes.”

  Miss Soul put a hand on her arm. “Let’s make this quick and painless shall we, Sergeant?”

  “Can you think of any reason for the attacks on these people. Or do you have any idea who is responsible? Quick enough to the point for you, Miss Soul?” Albie ground his teeth and ignored the subtle nudge from Tanya.

  Clara continued to write on her notepad in an attempt to hide a smirk.

  “Look, I know all of these people well, but have no idea why they’ve been attacked. Emily was always getting in trouble and owed money down to her habit. Tyler, well, he was a bully and so were the people he knew. I have no idea about Mitchell. It’s probably the council rehousing child abusers, always on the Fennick Estate. It’s where they house all the scum. Then they act appalled when crime rises on the estate.”

  “So you don’t see any connection between yourself and what’s happened?” Tanya sat forward in her chair, and before Albie could stop her, continued. “Perhaps some new information will encourage you to give the questions more thought.”

  Miss Soul stopped jotting. Albie kept his eye on Josie, who dabbed her eyes and nose once more before settling her stare on Tanya.

  “I’m afraid there’s no easy way to say this, Miss Jeffries. This morning we got a warrant to enter your premises in connection with these attacks. We had to call off the search while a team came in and did a sweep of your maisonette for cameras and microphones after an officer found some in your living room.”

  Josie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widened, and she lifted her hands to her face. “So what are you saying? Someone’s been watching us at home?”

  “We believe their focus is you, Josie. Now is there anything they may have seen between you and any of the three victims?”

  Josie pulled more tissue from the box and tried to stem the tears that flowed freely now. “Emily and I have always rowed ever since she started using. It was generally about money or Mitchell.” She gulped down a breath. “The last time I took Mitchell from her flat, she’d passed out. I cleaned Mitchell up and she broke in and attacked and threatened me before taking Mitchell home.”

  “And Tyler?”

  “Every time he came round he’d attack me. Start a fight, say he wanted time with Joshua. You’ve got to understand what a narcissist he is…” She lowered her head and coughed. “I mean was. He just got a kick out of using me as a punching bag at every opportunity. Hence ex-husband.”

  “Mitchell?”

  “Poor kid. He didn’t ask to be born and has spent his whole life playing second fiddle to heroin. But he’s never hurt me. He just gets mouthy sometimes. Gets that from his mum.” Tears fell to the table from her chin and she slumped. All she wanted to do was cry herself out. By rights there should be no more tears left.

  Tanya smiled as Albie turned to her and winked before addressing Josie.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Jefferies. All the devices have been removed from your flat. You are free to return home. Or perhaps we could phone someone for you?”

  “No phone calls.” Josie could just imagine the ‘I told you so’ look on Irene’s face if she asked to go back. “I’m fine going home.”

  Albie stood and held the door for all the women as they filed through. Miss Soul grinned at him, and he had to use every ounce of moral strength he had left not to let the door slam in her face.

  47

  Shadowing a shadow. Never an easy task, but Reggie knew it was necessary. He’d hidden from sight like a predator stalking its prey. He justified his behaviour by imaging himself as a modern day Philip Marlowe. A private investigator adept at following a lead while remaining undetected.

  Reggie sat at the corner table of a quiet café watching rain drizzle down the outside of a misted window. Steam escaped his hot mug of coffee, which he sipped while he pretended to scan the local paper. With one swipe of the arm of his raincoat, he cleared a semi-circle of the window so he could watch shoppers pass by. Most were in a hurry to get out of th
e rain, heads down, umbrellas angled low, and collars pulled up round their necks. A couple pushed through the door of the cafe an arm’s length from where he was sitting. The woman struggled with her brolly. She grabbed the metal stem with one hand, but the spring release caught her finger and she swore. Her friend muttered about the bloody weather and cheap umbrellas under his breath while he dripped on the floor and counter before sitting down and scanning the menu tucked between the condiments in front of him.

  Reggie took another sip of coffee, then turned his thoughts to the previous evening. When Nick had phoned to say he’d be late, Reggie had tried to fight the urge to go through his son’s room. He reasoned that if Nick wasn’t thinking clearly, he could go downhill pretty quickly and he didn’t want to be responsible for having him sectioned again. This time he had no qualms about invading his privacy. Reggie had taken the stairs two at a time. He’d been waiting for this opportunity since his son had moved back home and he wasn’t going to battle with a sense of morality now.

  As normal, darkness settled on the room like a cloak. The gloom was filled with boxes and technical gear. Nick loved to collect. Piles of magazines, plastic figures, old coins, stamps, sticks books, clothes from different decades, photographs, and bones. It was the obsession with bones which really freaked Reggie out. Obviously it was only animals, birds and fish. But even so, there was something macabre about his fascination. He scanned the room, bent to his knees, and dragged a large chest from under the bed and he threw the lid open. It was full of labelled and organised boxes and not for the first time, Reggie thanked whoever was listening that his son’s hoarding remained within the four walls of his bedroom.

  It was an hour before he came across the photograph, purely by accident. His hand had scraped against it while he was clearing away his mess. Reggie had looked down and seen the corner poke out from beneath the mattress. He didn’t know if it was inquisitiveness or chance, but he lifted the mattress and swept beneath. The photograph he held in his hand was the only one he’d found, but it was the only one he needed.

  Now, while he drained his coffee cup, the small photograph rested on the table in front of him. Deep blue eyes stared back from an elfin face. Fine light brown hair curled around the light blush of cheekbones on pale skin. The index finger of his left hand traced the outline of her face, and his right hand felt for his wallet in his jacket pocket. From it he pulled a worn folded photograph. Placed next to the other image, it looked old and faded, colours murky in shades of brown, but there was no mistaking the likeness between the two women. The face shape, eyes, lips, and even their hair, although one had a dated tight perm. It was true that if you were looking closely for differences you could find them, but they were few and subtle.

  He fiddled for change in his pocket and brushed away a tear that threatened to leave his eye. It had come as a shock to him when he’d first glimpsed her through the telescope. Reggie had thought it was a figment of his imagination. The therapist had said at the time it was possible that he would see Lana everywhere after her death, and he had, but never so clearly as now. Side by side, the pictures brought back an array of thoughts and memories, the sound developing into a crescendo, fighting to be heard in his head.

  Since Lana, he’d tried to live life in the here and now. He never looked back. Past mistakes stayed there. Reggie remembered exploding with aggression when psychiatrists had begun to prod around in his son’s head from a young age. He had strong views about not dredging up past events. They had no capacity to change.

  He shook his head as if it would erase images of the previous evening. Nick following the girl from the estate. Reggie following from a distance, hidden in shadows, crouched behind the bushes. Watching. Waiting. He hadn’t understood, not at first. Then he’d seen her, sashaying along the pathway. She giggled to someone on the other end of the phone, and Reggie was nineteen again. In love. It was in that moment fear had started to seep under his skin and whisper into his mind. And it hadn’t given him a rest all night. He knew he had to talk to someone, and he knew who. Leaving enough change on the table to pay for his order, he made his way towards the door, turned up his collar, slipped on his checked flat cap, and walked out and into the rain.

  48

  Brrrrring! The alarm only had to chant once this morning. Nick had been awake for an hour, had his breakfast, and was in the middle of watching his own personal TV show. He felt behind him on the bed until he found the mobile and switched off the alarm without taking his eyes from the screen. He was mesmerised. In the last half an hour, Josie had woken, washed, thrown on a thin silky dressing gown, and was now sitting at the dining table nibbling toast and sipping tea. He zoomed in and focused on the split at the front of her dressing gown, his eyes travelling to the apex of the material, close to her crotch. He licked his lips and made a silent plea for the sash to loosen. He’d come very close to an orgasm earlier as he’d watched her wash in the bathroom, her tactile caresses making his pleasure mount. Although he could make out her actions, grainy images dulled his experience. An unconscious movement drew him back to the screen. She’d raised her left foot, her heel rested on the edge of the chair. She drew one bare leg up and hugged it towards her chest. Just this change of position gave Nick the view he’d been waiting for, and within a few minutes his orgasm was complete. This time there was no guilt. Only a desire for repetition.

  49

  “How could you miss this?” DI Masters grabbed the bulging manila file from the top of the cabinet, shook it at Albie, and slid it across the desk. He stuck out his hand to stop the bundle from careering into his stomach. He kept his head lowered and scanned the name, scribbled in faded black marker, on the file’s sleeve. LANA LANSBURY. He nibbled the skin at the edge his thumbnail and studied the string of woven paperwork.

  “Well?” she asked, this time through gritted teeth.

  “We didn’t miss it. Tanya looked into the caretaker after an anonymous caller tipped us off.” Albie pushed his chair back to stand.

  DI Masters pointed to the chair. “Where do you think you’re going? I haven’t finished with you yet. First, do you know who gave me the file? No? Well it was DS Fawn.” Albie clenched the arms of the chair. His knuckles whitened as he fought to keep a poker face. “Explain one thing to me. What is more important to you than solving this case? It better not be anything to do with Miss Devine, DS Edwards.” Albie hung his head and bit his lip. “I need fully committed officers working on this case. What I do not need is a repeat of five years ago.”

  She put both her hands on the table and leaned forwards, waiting for him to raise his head. “Now you need to take that file apart. Do. You. Understand?” She stood, picked her bag up from under her desk, unhooked her jacket from the back of the door, and left the room without a backward glance.

  Albie sat and mulled over the one way conversation and the accusations he’d just had to take. Thoughts intersected each other. His head felt close to boiling over as his anger rose. Questions bounced around his head. But above all, what the fuck was Tanya doing letting Fawn get her hands on the file before her? Of all people, Fawn wanted to see him suffer. She called him out on every order he gave or decision he made. Why did DI Masters have to bring up the past? She was the main reason Liv and he had spent so much time together on this case. With each question he had asked, heat had pricked his face and his jaw had tensed. He picked up the file and strode from his boss’s office to find Tanya.

  Tanya slouched over her desk, reading through interview notes taken from the original door to door inquiries. She felt his presence before she heard him and looked over her shoulder as Albie paced the corridor towards her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said before he’d reached the work station. He bent his six foot body to sit on the cushioned office chair next to her own. “I was just half an hour too late.” She pointed to the file under his arm as he threw it down on the desk between them. “I had to see Frank…”

  Albie began to unknot the frayed stri
ng holding the file intact. “I hope you’re up for a late night.” He opened the file, handed her a pile of paperwork with a smile and a wink, then focused on ploughing through the contents.

  Tanya had just brought back their second cup of whatever she’d picked up from the machine. It could have been coffee or tea, even hot chocolate. They all tasted similar. The only drink he knew it wasn’t was the soup which tasted like a thick hot vegetable jelly with bits that resembled plastic herbs floating on an artificial froth. Albie picked at the bulging manila file on the table, and his hands slipped into an inside pocket under the flap. Albie pulled an A4 envelope from the pocket and shook the contents onto the table. A strip of photos from a booth fell face up, and Albie picked it up and studied the pictures.

  Tanya caught the ghost of a smile touch his lips, but it vanished in an instant. As if released from a spell, Albie dampened his bottom lip with his tongue and opened his mouth to speak.

  “Take a good look at this photo.” He said and pushed the image across the desk towards her. “Take your time and ignore the poor quality. Does it remind you of anyone?” She smudged the silky black and white print between her finger and thumb, then focused on the face staring up at her. She gulped a mouthful of drink, flipped the print, and read the hand-written inscription on the back. Margate, Aug ‘65 Lana.

  “Well. What do you think?”

  “This is some kind of joke, right?” She waited for an explanation. “It could be Josie Jeffries, in a time warp. Where did you get this? Is this Reggie’s wife?”

  “It looks that way.” He spread the rest of the paperwork across the table. “Take a look at this.” He handed a hand-written statement signed by Andy Reynolds to Tanya.

  “I’m sure they said there were no witnesses or statements connected to Lana Lansbury’s death.” She scanned the page and began to read aloud.