‘He wasn’t around much,’ she finally says. ‘You’d only just started school when he moved out. I think he had a few mental-health problems.’
‘Mental issues like mine?’
‘Similar. I don’t know for sure. We didn’t live with him by the time he passed away.’
I can’t help laughing. She may be an interfering mare with a holier-than-thou attitude, but lying is mostly against her nature. This must be killing her. My chuckle tails off as my teeth grind and I focus on the depth of the deception perpetrated by the pair of them. My mother said I could always trust her, and she would be in my corner forever. Well, I can’t tell her what I think of her dishonesty, but Lucy is still here. My words rise in intensity, and I roar the final syllable.
‘You lying bitch!’
‘Ellen, stop it.’
I swipe away my cereal bowl which has been on the table all day and watch it smash against the wall. I snarl down the phone. ‘Screw you. Tell me the truth.’
‘About what? Please, calm down, I only want the best for you. I wish you could see that.’
‘Our dad is alive.’
My eyes squint as I strain to hear down the line.
‘How? How could you possibly know that?’
‘Because he came to my flat.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh? Oh? That’s all you have to say after nearly thirty years of treachery.’
Her voice changes. She talks softly, almost tenderly.
‘Did he say where he’d been?’
‘He told me he was in a hospital of some kind.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘Only that he’d been ill.’
‘Right. Well, that’s true. He needed help and had become dangerous to others.’
‘I’ll say.’
A final pause. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘This isn’t the 1960s. I Googled him. What the hell is this? Some type of sneaky little family secret? Shush, don’t mention the double murderer in the family. You deceived me for decades.’ I start to shout again. ‘Lies and more lies. Is it any wonder I feel like I’m going crazy myself?’
‘Ellen, sweetie. Have you been taking your medicine?’
‘How dare you? If you cared for my well-being, you would treat me with respect.’
‘We tried to protect you, Ellen. He was unstable, even he knew it. Look, I’ll come and explain. I can be there on Friday around six.’
‘I never want to see you ever again.’
We are both stunned to silence by my words. I imagine them vanishing down the line, but I want them back. I’m lonely already. I don’t want to be more alone. I never have. Can’t someone just hug me? Isn’t there a person out there that can do that for me without wanting something else in return? Please say something, Lucy. Don’t hang up.
‘How are you for money?’ she asks.
I exhale. ‘Struggling, as usual. The alternator killed the battery.’
‘How much was it?’
‘Four hundred pounds. I put it on my credit card.’ I stare at a variety of unopened red reminders on the kitchen worktop.
‘I’ll come over and take you for dinner. Somewhere nice, and I’ll bring you the cash.’
A tear slides down my cheek. I roughly brush it off with my sleeve. I’ve had enough of weakness. I want answers, and I will make sure she gives them to me.
‘All right.’
‘Good. I’ll look forward to it.’
‘I should go. There’s a man I need to catch up with.’
‘Ellen. Don’t go looking for confrontation with our father, just take it easy. I can hear your anger. Have a bath and try to relax. You’ll understand when I explain.’
For once, she’s right. I don’t feel stable right now, but how dare she make demands? Perhaps a bath will help, but I’ll see my father and Hofstadt soon, and they will answer my questions too. It’s not vengeance that I seek. Only knowledge.
43
Acting DCI Barton
Barton stared at the piles of paperwork on his office desk. He heard the rapid pinging of his computer as more emails arrived. Organisation had never been his strong point. His way was to ignore the to-do pile, sit down before it fell over and hammer away until it was gone. Then let it build up again. Simples. He had a brilliant knack for holding the information of a case in his mind while it was under investigation, but the details raced out when it was over.
Barton’s door opened and a mature Asian lady with a tight smile stared at him. That smirk turned into a full-on beam as she saw the state of his desk. Barton recognised her as Superintendent Troughton’s secretary.
‘Chief Inspector Barton. How are you getting on?’
Barton leaned back in his chair and gestured with both hands to his covered desk.
‘Peachy.’
‘Well, I’m yours for the day. Use me as you wish.’
‘Well, Mrs Chan, I was about to have a bonfire, but I can be distracted.’
She chuckled. ‘Including Troughton, you’ll be the fourth Chief Inspector I’ve mentored. My first one was DCI Naeem, over ten years ago.’
‘Really? How come the secretary does that?’
Barton regretted the words, but Chan smiled. ‘Who do you think really runs the show?’ She dragged an enormous diary out of her briefcase. ‘Only kidding, but I’m an organised person, and that’s what you need to learn.’
‘I can see why anyone would struggle. It’s quite a transition,’ he said as she pulled up a chair.
‘You’re ahead of the game if you understand that already. Are you ready for some words of advice?’
‘If it means I don’t have to work twenty hours a day, I am.’
‘Excellent. Here’s the first thing. Doing this job, you are no longer a detective inspector. That’s a different role. Some of you accept that quicker than others. I know you’re only acting up and there isn’t a replacement in your old job, but you’ll still want to get involved in things that don’t need you any more. Trust your team, or you’ll drown under the workload.’
‘Right.’
‘You have confidence in the staff under you?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Perfect. Then what’s the easiest way to reduce what you have to do?’
‘Give it to someone else.’
‘Correct.’ She beamed at him. ‘I knew you weren’t just good for scaring villains.’
Barton raised an eyebrow at that comment.
‘Don’t lose your sense of humour now you’re behind a desk. And relax. Being a great DI is an excellent start to being a fabulous DCI, but that’s all it is. You still need to adapt to a new position, and you can’t do it in one day. It’s a tough job. You’ll make complicated decisions, which will affect many other people. Sometimes those choices may be the lesser of two evils. Safety of the public and those under you becomes paramount. Innocent until proven guilty may look different in this role.’ She glanced kindly at him. ‘Everyone has faith in you, John, or you wouldn’t be sitting here.’
Barton imagined himself shackled to the desk. ‘It’s hard to let go.’
‘Of course, it is. You’ll know when the time is right. Remember when you were in uniform and buzzing as you raced to an incident. That was the life you craved, and you enjoyed it. However, eventually you sought new challenges and went for promotion to sergeant and so on. People tend to stop where they’re happiest. Maybe being a DI is who you are and where you should stay.’
He opened his mouth, but closed it without replying.
She nudged his elbow. ‘I’m here to help you find out.’
The day progressed rapidly. He realised much of his job was now a filtering role. Crimes, tasks and queries came down the line and it was his job to allocate resources to them. There were a lot of people counting on him. Chan helped him sort his files out, digital and physical, and rattled through his emails without mercy. He was briskly tapping the keyboard at 4 p.m. when she stood to leave. She opened the door and turned to
Barton.
‘Happier?’
‘You know what? In time, I think I can do this.’
‘That’s the spirit. I expect, if you fill the role permanently, you’ll get a bigger team. Then there’d be further training for appraisals, performance reviews, budget-planning, community collaboration policies, and crisis management. The glory days are over.’
Barton failed to hide a grimace.
‘Do you know what I mean by that?’
‘Not really.’
‘Last piece of advice is that if there’s a buzz of adrenaline to any task, it’s probably best that you get someone else to do it. Your role is management.’
Zander knocked on the door she had opened and stepped out of her way. She studied him with a slight smile and left.
‘She scares me. It’s like she can read my mind. Did she tell you off?’ said Zander.
‘No, but it felt a little like that. What’s up?’
‘We’ve received the information from the familial DNA search. There were multiple matches, but one was close. It’s got to be a family member.’
Zander was almost hopping from foot to foot.
‘I assume we know the person,’ said Barton.
‘Yes, it’s Theodore Deacon.’
Barton stared blankly at him for a few moments, then his mouth fell open.
‘No way. Ted Deacon, the double killer?’
‘The very same. I checked, and he was released from prison quite a few years ago. Obviously, he’s on probation for a long time after what he did, so we have a current address. Strange and I were about to pay him a visit.’
Barton thought back to what Chan had told him and shook his head. ‘Hold on. Not just the two of you?’
Zander nodded. ‘He’s an old man in his early sixties.’
‘Yes, but he might have been involved in a triple murder in the last few weeks. Have you spoken to Probation?’
‘I couldn’t get through to his handler. You know how the probation changes have doubled their workload.’
‘Where’s the handler based?’
‘Huntingdon.’
Barton moved his mouse and clicked on the contact folder Chan had set up earlier for him. He found the number of Huntingdon Probation in seconds and dialled. After a few loops, it arrived at their reception. There was a confusing array of options after the offender supervision changes. Barton knew they were seriously struggling in what was already a stressful line of work. He finally got through to a manager.
‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Barton investigating a live murder enquiry.’
After a five-minute conversation, he replaced the receiver in its cradle. Zander had an amused air about him.
‘Didn’t you used to laugh at DCIs who threw their name and rank around to get faster results?’
Barton took his coat from the stand that had somehow survived the previous DCI’s departure.
‘I don’t recall that. Let’s go. Deacon’s offender manager is on holiday today, but her boss has agreed to look through the file. We’ll drive down there and have a chat. We can decide how we deal with Mr Deacon after that.’
‘I thought you were taking a less hands-on approach.’
‘I will be, but right now my in-box is empty.’
44
Acting DCI Barton
Zander and Barton arrived in quick time with only a twenty-mile stretch of three-lane motorway separating Peterborough and Huntingdon. They were told to wait in Reception. Strange had stayed back at the station after discovering the many tasks delegated to her. Barton grinned at the whistling Zander, who, unbeknownst to him, had the same waiting for him.
A middle-aged man in a crumpled suit opened a door, introduced himself as Al, the probation manager, and took them to his office.
‘Thanks for coming,’ he said without gusto once they were seated, letting Barton know he didn’t appreciate the lack of notice.
‘Pleasure. As I explained over the phone, we need to talk to Theodore Deacon with some urgency. I wanted some background first,’ said Barton.
Al flicked through the thick file in front of him while he came to a decision. ‘I gather from that you’re asking if it’s safe to visit his house?’
‘Yes. I don’t want to make a big deal of it because at this point all we have is conjecture. But I’d rather be informed beforehand of his risk levels.’
‘Good call, because I’ve checked the dates you supplied and I can confirm that he was categorically not involved with the first murder, that of Alan "Wee Jock” Mason.’
Barton sighed. ‘Where was he?’
‘Enjoying the facilities at a psychiatric hospital and had been doing so for some time.’
Barton gave Zander a look. ‘When was he released?’ asked Barton.
‘He’s been released since then, gone back in, and finally back out for some years now. Claire’s his probation worker. She doesn’t meet him at his house alone because of his profile, but we’ve had no issues with him at all.’
‘What did he do exactly?’
‘Nearly thirty years ago there was an incident at a hostel where a female was killed. Deacon did it, but the woman had attacked him and tried to gouge his eyes out first. She was known to the police and was extremely unstable. No one in their right mind would have begun a relationship with her, but he did. However, he broke down during the court case and was declared unfit for trial under the Mental Health Act. Later, schizophrenia and psychosis were diagnosed. They discharged him, apparently cured. This was before my time, but my predecessor said he caused no problems.’
‘Cured? Surely once that crazy, forever crazy?’ asked Zander.
‘We don’t use that term now. It’s unhelpful. We have a lot of service users with mental-health issues. I assume that with a combination of drugs and psychological assistance they believed he was ready to be released. Unfortunately, some time after that a man armed with a knife burgled him, but it was the thief who died.’
‘So again, there were mitigating circumstances.’
‘Not so much in that instance. The robber lost possession of his weapon in the struggle and fled, but, as opposed to letting him escape, Deacon caught up with him and strangled him to death.’
‘Blimey,’ said Barton.
‘Exactly. A neighbour backed up the story as he heard the commotion and watched the burglar climb from the window and Deacon then chasing him. Deacon’s solicitor tried to claim mental incapacity again, but the judge wasn’t having it, and neither were the jury. He received twenty years, and Deacon suspected the judge had considered life. They sent him back to secure settings at Rampton Hospital for a while but on medication he was able to serve out his sentence in normal prison conditions. He was a model prisoner, by all accounts, and they released him not long after the halfway point.’
‘Your case worker has no problems with him, then?’
‘No. She meets him without fail once a week to make sure he’s stable. It’s imperative he takes his medicine regularly.’
‘Could you ring him?’
‘Well, I could try. He didn’t want anything to do with modern technology when he first came out, but we insisted on a cheap phone. It’s often flat, or he’s a while getting back to us. It’s not such a huge deal with him being so compliant. We’ve found that routine is essential to him, and he wants no surprises, which I guess you can understand after what happened. He meets on time every week. Sometimes they arrange to have the next meeting at a café, which is where Claire saw him yesterday.’
‘No problem for us to call at his house for a chat?’
‘Hmm, in the circumstances, please do, but he might not answer the door. There’s an officer from Public Protection who works with Claire. They occasionally go to his flat together to make sure he’s not doing anything odd, but they make an appointment. They haven’t been for a while, but I’d describe him as harmless nowadays.’
Barton’s eye twitched at the words. ‘Why do you say nowadays?’
; ‘Well, he has killed two individuals. Most people wouldn’t do something like that in the situations he was in. He didn’t need to kill them. Anyway, he’s over sixty now, so his risk isn’t as high for violent crimes.’
‘He was in the mental health institute a long time. Did he ever get tried for that first crime?’
‘No, he was really unwell. The woman who died also had a history of violence and alcohol abuse. Eventually he’d been in the hospital for as long as he would for a conviction for manslaughter. The Crown decided it wasn’t in the public interest to have another trial, especially considering it may have been self-defence.’
‘What about relatives?’ asked Barton.
‘I checked that. None listed. Parents dead. No mention of dependants.’
‘How much longer has he got under probation?’ asked Zander.
‘Only a couple of years. He’s said he’ll continue to come in regularly afterwards as part of his routine. That in itself shows how committed he is to remaining out of trouble.’
‘What was he diagnosed with again? It sounds like it might be paranoid schizophrenia. Are you sure he isn’t still a danger?’
‘I’m obviously not a doctor, but my experience here has shown me that people with mental-health conditions on our books are generally only a danger to themselves. Some paranoid schizophrenics can be hazardous to those they believe are wronging them, but most display signs of deterioration beforehand and we notice they are struggling to cope.’
‘And none of that from Deacon?’
‘I had a flick through his notes before you got here. His diagnosis was broad and covers a whole range of symptoms and behaviours. It’s why they had such trouble getting the correct dose of drugs. Non-medicated, he sought arguments and had sexual relationships with unsuitable people. I suppose you could call them dangerous liaisons, as he was liable to explode. One doctor described him as a thrill seeker, but instead of abseiling or skydiving, he put himself in perilous situations. Another said he had an innate urge to survive, even if the cost was someone else’s life.’
The Ice Killer (The DI Barton Series) Page 17