The Kindness of Psychopaths

by Alan Gorevan

  “You will be.”

  Wall smashed his fist into the judge’s stomach. It was a monster blow, a devastating car crash of an impact. A single blow would have been enough, but Wall hit him three times, rapidly, with all the strength of his left arm, which was his weaker arm. The last blow was greeted by a crunch of bone – the ribcage shattering.

  The judge collapsed on the floor.

  Ignoring Dinky’s laughter, Wall stepped closer to the pathetic form on the floor beneath him.

  The judge tried to speak. Wall didn’t feel like listening.

  He unleashed a kick that damn near took the judge’s head off. The click of teeth on teeth, a drip of blood down his chin. Then Wall stomped on the judge’s head until there was no need to check his pulse.

  Chapter 49

  Joe and Dunne grabbed lunch on the way back to the station. It was just sandwiches, which they picked up in a shop. Joe still hadn’t taken Dunne to the Chinese restaurant. This time Dunne paid.

  They ate in the car, parked outside the station. Dunne’s eyes again seemed to be a different colour. The hazel had changed to brown. She told Joe a little more about her career. Some of the drug cases she’d been involved in. She said she was glad to be in Dublin, that her previous boss in Cork had an unhealthy interest in her.

  “Did you report him?”

  Dunne shook her head. “I took care of it myself. I made my feelings known and he got the message.”

  Joe didn’t want to push her, so he left it at that.

  After eating, they headed inside. Dunne made for the toilet. Joe went up to the incident room. O’Carroll had scheduled a meeting for 1:30 pm to discuss the case. This time, he was leading the investigation himself as the Senior Investigating Officer.

  Joe wondered if he’d ever be given a chance to lead an investigation again, after what had happened with Aidan Donnelly.

  He made his way to the back of the room and poured his third cup of coffee of the day. The position gave him a good vantage point to survey his colleagues. There were fifteen of them packet into the room. Annie-Marie Cunningham and Kevin Boyle were conniving on one side. O’Carroll was speaking with some uniformed officers by the white board. Their voices were hushed.

  Dunne came into the room a moment later. Joe brought his coffee over to a seat at the back of the room. He rested his hand on the seat next to him, saving it for Dunne. She walked up to O’Carroll and they shook hands. As everyone else took their seats, O’Carroll turned to address the room.

  “Alright, first of all, if you haven’t met her yet, please welcome Detective Garda Alice Dunne, who’s just been transferred here from Cobh, County Cork. Alice has worked on a number of serious crimes, particularly drug cases. Alice, welcome to Donnybrook.”

  A round of applause broke out.

  Dunne nodded. “Thank you very much, Detective Inspector O’Carroll.”

  She glanced around the room. Her eyes ran over Joe briefly, but they didn’t linger on him.

  O’Carroll said, “Please call me David. Now, have a seat and let’s see where we are with this thing.”

  Dunne didn’t look Joe’s way. She lowered herself into the seat next to Boyle.

  Joe watched in amazement as Boyle leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Dunne laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

  “Joe,” O’Carroll said. “Would you mind bringing everyone up to speed?”

  After clearing his throat, Joe made his way to the front of the room, and summarised what they knew about Barry Wall’s escape. O’Carroll stood at the side of the room, watching.

  O’Carroll nodded enthusiastically when Joe got to the bit about the bomb. “So we might have caught a lucky break.”

  Joe took a breath and prepared to disappoint him.

  “I think he’s alive,” Joe said.

  O’Carroll gave him a look like he’d just been handed a turd pie.

  “What was that?”

  “I’ve thought about this a bit more, and I think it’s unlikely that Wall is dead.”

  O’Carroll crossed his arms. “That’s not what you said last night. We have witnesses placing Wall in the vehicle that exploded.”

  “Yes, but nothing conclusive. Upon further reflection, I think this might have been part of his plan. He’s too smart to blow himself up minutes after escaping from custody. The bomb was waiting for him on the outside. His accomplices must have prepared it for him.”

  “That doesn’t change anything,” O’Carroll said. “So what really happened? A lookalike coincidentally got blown up in the same area?”

  “No coincidence,” Joe said. “It was a diversion. Or a way to get rid of the guys who broke him out. Or both. I think we need to be watching Aidan Donnelly. I think Wall faked his own death so he’d be free to go after him.”

  “Alright,” O’Carroll said. “That’s one theory. Take a seat.” His brow furrowed with thought. “So if it was a diversion, he would have got to Donnelly by now?”

  “Yes,” Joe said.

  O’Carroll looked around the room.

  “Where is Donnelly? Anne-Marie?”

  Cunningham cleared her throat. “I tried to contact him this morning, but he didn’t answer his phone.”

  “Okay,” O’Carroll said. “Locate Aidan Donnelly immediately. And keep me posted.”

  Cunningham nodded and touched her hearing aid. When stressed, Joe had noticed that she did this more often.

  O’Carroll said, “Joe, I want you and Alice at the airport. If you’re right about Barry Wall being alive, then I don’t want him to escape the jurisdiction.”

  “He’s not going to run for it.”

  O’Carroll ignored Joe. He said, “I have a feeling Wall is going to try to get to Spain. Right out in the open. This guy thinks he’s smarter than we are. That arrogance makes him brazen.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Just fucking do it,” O’Carroll snapped. “Excuse my French, Alice. I rarely have call for such foul language. Only Joe is able to bring it out.”

  Dunne smiled. “French duly excused.”

  O’Carroll strolled over to the desk and gestured to a pile of papers sitting there. “Alright, everyone, take a set of notes. I’ve assigned you all locations to watch, and provided photos of Barry Wall and some background notes on the case.”

  Once Joe had drained his coffee, he got up and took a sheaf of papers. He flicked through it, then turned to O’Carroll.

  “Am I missing something? No one is assigned to watch Aidan Donnelly’s home?”

  “You heard what I said a minute ago. Anne-Marie is going to contact him, to warn him of the very unlikely event of Barry Wall targeting him. We certainly can’t afford full surveillance.”

  Joe was about to argue when he sensed someone close by. He turned his head and saw Dunne. Sunlight from the window fell on her face, making her eyes glow like fish tanks.

  “Ready to go?” she said.

  “I am.”

  Joe walked out of the room, hurried downstairs and out the back door. Dunne followed close behind. He heard her legs working quickly as she struggled to keep up.

  “Will we both use your car?” she said.

  “No, you go ahead.” Joe unlocked his Honda and pulled the door open. “I have something else to take care of.”

  “You heard O’Carroll’s instructions.”

  “Which are bullshit,” Joe said, getting in the driver’s seat. “If Wall is alive, he’s not going to the airport.”

  “You’re sure he’s after Donnelly?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.”

  Joe closed the door. He rolled down the window.

  “You don’t want to get into trouble. You might as well go to the airport, like O’Carroll said. I’ll catch up with you later. Or you can hang around with your new friend, Kevin Boyle.”

  Dunne gave him an incredulous look.

  “You sound jealous.”

  “Just watc
h yourself around him. He’s dirty.”

  Dunne started to say something, but Joe was already accelerating. He pointed the Honda out of the car park and towards the inner city.

  *

  Once he got to Aidan Donnelly’s building, where he’d spent the night, Joe parked in the same place, and sank down low in his seat. Just like last night, nothing seemed to be happening.

  After an uneventful half hour, watching the block of flats, a knock on the window startled him. Alice Dunne was leaning over the front passenger window. Joe opened the door.

  “Get in quick.”

  “Alright, alright.”

  She sat down and closed the door.

  “Do you want to blow my cover?”

  “Blow your cover? How could I blow your cover when no one knows who I am?”

  “You’re drawing attention to me.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have left me like that,” Dunne said. “It was unprofessional.”

  Joe still felt annoyed that she had snubbed him in the incident room. He knew it was childish, and that made him feel even worse.

  “So I’m not very professional. Stay away from me.”

  “You think you’re a rebel, don’t you?”

  “I think I’m trying to get results.”

  “No, you imagine you’re Bruce Willis or something.”

  Before Joe could reply, his phone rang. It was Lisa.

  It was half three already. Christopher. Joe was meant to talk to the school principal today.

  Dunne said, “Is that David?”

  “No.” Joe answered and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Joe?” Lisa said. “I didn’t hear anything from you. I wanted to check how you got on at the school.”

  “I haven’t got there yet.”

  There was a long pause before she spoke. “Why?”

  “I was kind of busy.”

  “I truly thought you were going to do what you said this time.” Lisa laughed bitterly. “God, I’m stupid.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m going to do it.”

  “Do you even care? Have you forgotten last night? Do you remember our son trying to end his own life?”

  “I remember, believe me. I’ll go to the school now.”

  “Forget it. Christopher has probably left already. I hope he gets home safely.”

  “I’ll catch up with him,” Joe said, but Lisa had already ended the call. “Shit,” he muttered. He turned to Dunne. “I guess you heard that.”

  Her face was blank. She said, “I guess I did.”

  “I have to go. You better go back to your car. I guess you’ll have to make your own decision about whether to stay here or go to the airport.”

  Dunne got out of the car. As soon as she’d shut the door, Joe pulled away from the kerb. Fast.

  Chapter 50

  Christopher was late getting out of school, because class didn’t finish on time and then Mrs. Dresden, the music teacher, asked him to stay back. Christopher watched the other students file out, chatting as they went. Clara didn’t even glance at him as she passed.

  Mrs. Dresden had questions about why Christopher had sat out practice for the concert. Where was his violin?

  “It’s a long story,” Christopher said. “My dad is meant to be talking to Mr. Littlewood today. He can explain.”

  Mrs. Dresden raised a single eyebrow when she heard the principal’s name.

  “I hope that’s true,” she said.

  Why does she think I’m lying?

  “It is true.”

  Where was Joe? Had he talked to Mr. Littlewood already? If so, Christopher had heard nothing about it. Maybe Kavanagh was in the principal’s office, getting his head shouted off right now? Getting expelled, with any luck.

  “Go on, then,” Mrs. Dresden said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’d tell you to do your practice, but it seems that you can’t.”

  “Not right now. But I’ll imagine practicing in my head. I read in a magazine that imagining practicing is almost as good as actually practicing. Actually, that study was about exercise, but I figure the same should apply to music.”

  Mrs. Dresden gave Christopher a wary glance as he got to his feet. He lobbed his schoolbag over his shoulder and made his way out of the room, down the corridor and out the door of the school.

  He checked the time on his phone as he made his way down the steps. He’d lost a few minutes. With any luck, everyone would have gone by now.

  Christopher ambled down Clyde Road. The wonderfully bright summer day had receded into cloud.

  A misty rain began to fall.

  At the corner of Pembroke Park and Herbert Park, he stopped dead. He could hear the familiar sound of two boys’ voices. They were around the corner, just out of sight.

  He’d nearly walked into Kavanagh again.

  He pressed himself against the hedge outside the house on the corner.

  Kavanagh and Harrison were talking about football. They clearly hadn’t been spoken to by the principal. Or if they had, they didn’t care. They sounded completely carefree. Christopher would have to wait for them to go on ahead. Otherwise they’d torment him again.

  All the despair and fear that Christopher had felt the previous day came rushing back.

  He was alone.

  Joe had promised that he would sort this out, but he hadn’t. He had done nothing because he didn’t care.

  After a while, Harrison and Kavanagh parted ways. It took a long time for the two bullies to say goodbye, as if they missed each other already. Maybe they were better company than whatever awaited them at home. Christopher smiled bitterly at the thought.

  Finally, Harrison took off, heading for his house. When he was gone, Christopher glanced around the corner and saw Kavanagh walking towards Herbert Park.

  Christopher had to do something.

  He wasn’t going to harm himself. Disappointing Mum was something he never wanted to do again. He’d never take pills again. But he had to do something.

  He unzipped his school bag. He felt the reassuring solidity of the kitchen knife, still there. Its cold, sharp blade looked brutal in the dull light.

  He left the knife where it was and closed the bag again.

  If he wanted to give Kavanagh a scare, now was the best time to do it. There was no one around. The rain, which was growing steadily heavier, ensured that Herbert Park would be quiet. Maybe even empty.

  Except for Kavanagh.

  He would be alone.

  People always said bullies were cowards when they were alone. Christopher hoped that was true. How would Kavanagh fare without backup? He was bigger and stronger than Christopher but maybe he was also more of a coward, if that was possible.

  Kavanagh entered the park.

  Christopher waited a full minute and then set off after him.

  The rain began to fall faster, the droplets becoming fatter, hitting harder. Christopher stopped at the entrance gate to the park.

  Looking around again, he saw no one.

  This was his chance.

  The long path stretched ahead, cocooned on both sides by trees. Ahead was a club house, next to a football pitch. The duck pond, where Christopher had spent many early mornings and late afternoons thinking about ending his own life, lay to the left.

  Kavanagh didn’t seem to notice the rain. He just kept walking along, not even increasing his pace. Christopher had a raincoat Mum had got him. It rolled into a ball to save space when not in use. He unzipped his school bag and pulled it out. He slipped it over his shoulders, then closed his bag most of the way. It was still partly open so it would be easy to get at the knife.

  Christopher couldn’t wait to see the look on Kavanagh’s face.

  He took a breath and hurried forward, closing the distance to Kavanagh, while trying to keep his footsteps silent.

  Now approaching the clubhouse, Kavanagh seemed not to hear Christopher’s footsteps. He had his earbuds in.

  Christopher was two metres away from Kavana
gh and his heart was thumping at an insane pace.

  Kavanagh’s head moved in time to the beat of his music. He looked just like a pigeon. Christopher might have found it funny if he wasn’t so scared.

  The previous day’s humiliation came back to him. And a hundred days like it before that. Could he really threaten Kavanagh? What if Kavanagh’s revenge was worse than anything Christopher had suffered so far?

  Christopher was right behind Kavanagh when he decided that this was a mistake.

  He needed to get out of there.

  Before he could slip away, Kavanagh turned his head and saw Christopher out of the corner of his eye.

  Christopher reached into his bag. He pulled the knife out and brandished it in Kavanagh’s face.

  Kavanagh wheeled around. He saw the blade but punched Christopher in the face. The blow knocked Christopher backwards.

  The knife disappeared into the wet grass.

  Kavanagh grabbed Christopher by the scruff of his neck and lifted him to his feet, then began to pummel him with his fists.

  “You little shit. You thought you were going to cut me, did you?”

  Christopher tried to wriggle free but Kavanagh held his jumper tight.

  “I’m sorry. Just, please, let me go.”

  “No way,” Kavanagh said. “This time, you’re dead.”

  Chapter 51

  Joe drove as fast as he could, but other motorists seemed to take a perverse delight in slowing him down, and every traffic light seemed to work against him. He was tempted to turn on the siren and the flashing lights, but the circumstances didn’t call for that. After all, he was only going to talk to his son’s principal.

  As he approached the Highfield Academy, it began to rain, and he flicked on the windscreen wipers.

  He wanted to show Lisa and Christopher that he meant what he had said about taking care of this. He hoped the principal would still be there.

  As he drove down Clyde Road towards the school, he passed the turn onto Pembroke Park and saw a boy in the Highfield Academy uniform heading for the park. Christopher? Joe figured the principal could wait a few minutes. Joe should talk to Christopher first. Check how his day went and see if anything had happened.