No Spoken Word

by David Menon

  ‘So no kids from previous relationships kicking about?’ asked Joe.

  ‘None that have emerged so far but we’re still working on it’.

  ‘What were the problems they were having, sir?’

  ‘We don’t know the actual cause of what was going on, Joe, but it’s alleged that Sylvia Clarke was subjecting Maria Taylor to physical abuse. This is what was told to us by James Matthews who stressed that this was a recent development. He insists that it hadn’t always been the case and that their relationship was relatively problem free until recently’.

  ‘So’ said Barton, picking up the chain again. ‘A warrant has been issued for the arrest of Sylvia Clarke on suspicion of murder. All ports and airports have been alerted’.

  ‘Bank and credit cards?’ asked DS Bradshaw.

  ‘Flagged up but haven’t been used since the day before yesterday’ said DI Wright. ‘And that was for petrol from the local filling station’.

  ‘So Sylvia Clarke might’ve been planning a trip?’ DS Bradshaw pursued. ‘If she filled up the day before’

  ‘Correct’ said Barton. ‘Now we know that Maria Taylor had been making several calls in the last few days to a mobile phone that was sold as a pay as you go which you know means untraceable. Who was Maria making these calls to and why? Was she telling them that she was scared? Was she telling them that she knew she couldn’t trust Sylvia anymore? And how did she know this person?’

  ‘Or was Maria having an affair, sir?’ Bradshaw suggested. ‘That’s why she was confiding in someone?’

  ‘So why the secrecy over the mobile number? Why use one that can’t be traced to anyone? And, perhaps more importantly, why haven’t they tried to ring Maria’s number since yesterday afternoon about an hour before she was murdered? Did they know Maria was about to be murdered? Like I said before I don’t believe this has to do with any kind of crime of passion. But I may turn out to be wrong. It has been known’.

  NO SPOKEN WORD

  FOUR

  KGB safe house, Manchester.

  January 1959.

  She put her key in the lock and opened the door. She immediately knew something was wrong. There was just something about the silence that sent a shiver down her spine. She took off her hat and placed it on the small shelf beneath the mirror in the hall. Then she slipped off her scarf and coat before hanging them on the peg at the bottom of the stairs. She then took a deep breath before stepping down the hall and into the dining room to the left. He was standing there waiting for her. The natural light was fading and he’d already drawn the curtains closed on the window just behind him.

  ‘Igor?’

  ‘Hello, Oksana’.

  ‘I didn’t know that you were in from Moscow?’

  ‘You weren’t meant to know’.

  ‘You’ve only been gone a few days’.

  ‘It was long enough’.

  She crossed the ocean between them and tried to embrace him but his body remained stiff and unresponsive. There had been a time when all she had to do was look at him and he would be there for her at her feet. Even though they’d met when they were so young they had loved each other so clearly and so totally that neither would’ve guessed that this would be the place where they’d end up. She stepped back and for once in her life she really didn’t know what to do.

  ‘What on earth did you think you were playing at?’ Igor demanded.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Don’t play games at this late hour, Oksana. That would be really unforgivable’.

  It was in that moment that Oksana saw the extent of her betrayal. Igor, her dear, beloved Igor, looked so intent and yet so lost. She’d not only let the state down but she’d let Igor down too and there had been a time when she’d have done nothing that might even remotely hurt him or his feelings. But now she’d broken the heart of the only man she’d ever loved.

  ‘Moscow are not going to recall me?’ she asked with an almost desperate tone.

  ‘And what do you think would happen to you if they did? The torture and interrogation would kill you and you should know. You’ve tortured and interrogated enough in your time to know how little time people last before their bodies just give themselves up to the pain and the agony’.

  Oksana flinched at the thought of the suffering she’d put others through. ‘But they must’ve wanted to?’

  ‘I managed to persuade them to let me deal with it. I thought it would serve as one last act of mercy although you really don’t deserve it’.

  ‘I’m your wife, Igor’.

  ‘And you’re also a traitor to the Soviet Union’.

  ‘How did they find out?’

  ‘How do you think? Somebody betrayed you’.

  ‘It’s hard to know who your friends are in this business’.

  ‘We have no friends in this business, Oksana’ said Igor who was struggling with his emotions as he faced the woman he’d loved so dearly for all these years. ‘You should’ve remembered that’.

  ‘There is one thing’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Our son Sergei?’

  ‘He will be well taken care of and will lead a happy life even if it is without you’ said Igor. ’He’s settling in well at his new school in Moscow’.

  ‘Will you be able to find a moment to tell him that I love him?’

  Igor took a deep breath. ‘It’s time to turn around and face the wall, Oksana’

  Oksana turned around as her heart raced. She didn’t know what to feel as she heard Igor pull out his gun and fire the first shot.

  Igor stepped forward and fired two more shots from his revolver, one into Oksana’s head that would finish her off if she wasn’t already on the other side of life, and a further one into her back. He glanced at the blood that had covered the wall that Oksana had fallen forward against and then he blew the smoke from the end of his gun before placing it back underneath his waistcoat.

  Not even Igor’s diligent and expert training over the years could prevent him from missing the fact that there was someone upstairs who’d heard everything.

  And they would carry the secret for a lifetime to come.

  NO SPOKEN WORD

  FIVE

  Barton arrived at work and immediately rang his doctor’s surgery to try and make an appointment with his GP. After he’d pressed half a dozen numbers in response to various questions he was finally put through to a live human voice although it turned out that he might’ve been better off talking to a machine. He said he wanted to bring his seven year-old son Toby in to see their usual Dr. Austin and that he needed an appointment as soon as possible. The apparently soulless woman on the other end of the phone said she could do 18th at either 9.20 or 10.40.

  ‘The 18th?’ Barton questioned. ‘But that’s nearly two weeks away?’

  ‘So would you like 9.20 or 10.40?’

  ‘Did you hear what I just said?’

  ‘Did you hear what I just said? The 18th at either 9.20 or 10.40?’

  ‘But my son could be at death’s door?’

  ‘What is the nature of the problem?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it over the phone’.

  ‘If you ring each morning at eight you may be able to get a cancellation’.

  Barton was beginning to seriously lose his patience. ‘I’m a serving police officer. I never know where I’m going to be at eight in the morning?’

  ‘Couldn’t his mother bring him in?’

  This was the sort of thing that exasperated Barton. He’d heard it said that good customer service means this or that but it seemed to him that none of it involved actually listening to the customer or being sensitive to any bigger picture. And why don’t they read the bloody notes? He had a friend who suffered three miscarriages and each time she rang the doctor’s surgery she had to explain over and over again about the trauma she’d gone through.

  ‘If you read the notes on my son properly you’ll see that his mother died very suddenly and ver
y young three years ago. Yes, there are other people who can bring him in but as a single father I’m sure you can appreciate that visits to the doctor are the type of things I prefer to do myself’.

  ‘So what are you saying to me? Do you want the 18th at 9.20 or 10.40 or not?’

  Barton put the phone down on her. Toby had started his periodic bed wetting again and he was going to have to sort it out himself. They’d have to talk some more but then they already talked a hell of a lot. They were each other’s best mate and that was something Barton hoped would continue throughout their lives. But when a child wets the bed it’s usually because they’re anxious about something and Barton was annoyed with himself for not being aware of whatever it could be. What was he missing?

  ‘Excuse me, sir?’

  Barton looked up to see the new girl on the block Louisa Pilkington standing just inside his door. She was wearing a black leather skirt and a white polo neck sweater. The rest of her was all done to perfection too. She certainly liked dressing up for work and that didn’t displease Barton because he was growing tired of looking up and only being able to see a handful of testosterone filled suits. Did that make him sexist? No, it didn’t, but it did seem to him that in this day and age almost every thought process had to be put through the lack of potential offence grinder. Or perhaps all the racists, sexist homophobes had got away with it for so long that there was now a back lash against the pendulum that had previously swung way too far the other way.

  ‘Good morning, Louisa’ Barton greeted. ‘How are you? Are you settling in okay?’

  ‘Yeah great, thanks’ she answered warmly as she walked across to his desk. ‘I’ve brought you a brew’ She placed it down on his desk. ‘Little bit of milk and no sugar? That’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well yes it is and it’s very welcome but you don’t have to do that’ said Barton who drank a slurp of the tea. She’d made it perfectly to his liking. ‘But just because you’re the civilian member of our team with the word administration in your title doesn’t mean you have to make tea for me or for anybody else for that matter. I wouldn’t expect it off any of the others and I don’t expect it off you’.

  Louisa smiled. ‘Aren’t you sweet?’

  ‘Sweet? I’m a bastard underneath this facade’.

  ‘I don’t believe you’.

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Well not going by what they say about you round here’ Louisa went on. ‘You and DS Bradshaw have got quite a reputation for being eligible gentlemen’.

  ‘And DS Bradshaw and I are both widowers bringing up children on our own’ said Barton. ‘I wonder how much that’s got to do with our attractiveness to women?’

  ‘That sounds a bit cynical?’

  ‘Sorry. I just think that some women feel the need to ride in and rescue men like me and Adrian even though we really don’t need it’.

  ‘Well that says more about their needs than your needs’.

  ‘It does so you can see why men like me and Adrian are wary. We can raise kids by ourselves without any problem. We just need someone to be with and that’s not always easy to get across’.

  ‘Well here’s to you both finding happiness on your own terms’ said Louisa.

  ‘Thanks, Louisa’ said Barton who was feeling increasingly charmed by this young woman. But he decided that he wasn’t going to take it any further. The last thing she needed in a new job was to start seeing the boss. ‘So why don’t you tell me why you want to talk to me? And by the way, this tea is perfect’

  ‘Aw, thank you, sir. Well, I was thinking about the case and I was looking at the way Maria Taylor had been killed and it reminded me of the way an entire British family were taken out in the French Alps last year. Do you remember the case? It looked like a contract killing and it made the papers and everything?’

  ‘Yes, I do’ said Barton. ‘And if I remember rightly nobody has been apprehended for that crime’.

  ‘That’s right’ said Louisa. ‘I thought I’d look at what’s happened with the investigation into that murder to see if there are any obvious pitfalls that we could avoid falling into whilst we investigate the murder of Maria Taylor because as you said at the briefing yesterday you think this was some kind of professional job. And because there are similarities between that case and ours the biggest one being that the family were seemingly taken out by an assailant who just walked up and carried out the murder without anybody noticing. And you’re right, sir, the killer has never been caught even though they did arrest the brother of the man in the family but on not much more than he was close and may have had a motive from reasons to do with the family finances’.

  ‘So you’re thinking that if we go after Sylvia Clarke, just because she’s Maria Taylor’ partner and therefore closer to her than anyone, we might be missing the wood for the trees?’

  ‘It’s possible, sir’ said Louisa. ‘Although I see why she has to remain our prime suspect for the time being until we’re able to talk to her’.

  ‘It is possible and I like the way you think, Louisa. But Sylvia Clarke has gone AWOL. And if she’s guilty of nothing then why would she do that?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir, but the point lies in what she might be guilty of. It might not be murder. It might just be something that we’ve yet to be able to see’.

  ‘I agree, Louisa’ said Barton who was impressed with her and the way she went about her work. She was going to turn out to be a real asset to the team. He was going to encourage her tenacity. ‘So yes, look into those murders in the Alps. You have my backing’.

  ‘And something else, sir?’

  ‘You don’t let the grass grow’ said Barton who was still drinking his tea. She’d even brought it to him in his favourite plain black mug.

  ‘I didn’t come here to waste time, sir’.

  ‘Yes, that’s very clear’ said Barton.

  ‘The pay as you go mobile number that Maria Taylor had been calling in the days before she died?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well I called it’ she revealed. ‘I couldn’t see anywhere in the notes that it had been called so I decided to do it myself. I hope that was okay?’

  ‘Perfectly okay, Louisa’ said Barton, excited at the prospect of whatever the phone call revealed. ‘And what did you find?’

  ‘It was answered by Diana Matthews’.

  Barton sat back in his chair. ‘What? How do you know it was her?’

  Louisa held up her office issued mobile phone ‘Because I stayed silent after the phone had been answered until eventually this voice came on. I recorded it all’. She pressed play and Barton immediately recognised the unmistakable tones of Diana Matthews saying, with a certain amount of petulance. ‘Look, I know who you are and your work is done here. So go home and leave me and my husband alone. Do you hear me? And don’t even think about questioning our loyalty. Just look at our record of service to see how inappropriate that would be’.

  ‘Then she just hung up’ said Louisa. ‘Now, the only husband she could be referring to of course is her own James Matthews’.

  ‘Yes, and I recognised her voice immediately’ said Barton who couldn’t believe the gem of a lead this could turn out to be. That’s if he could work out what Diana Matthews had meant. ‘What does she mean by questioning our loyalty and their record of service? Are these people working for someone else? And why would she have that phone? There‘s a lot the Matthews aren’t telling us and I’ve suspected that all along. I’m going to bring them both in. That was good work, Louisa. I mean really good work’.

  ‘Thank you, sir’ said Louisa.

  Barton had been about to leave with DI Ollie Wright to collect James and Diana Matthews and bring them in for further questioning when he’d been diverted by a phone call telling him of the discovery of another body.

  ‘This is so close to Pennington Way that you can almost smell the evening meals they’re all cooking’ said Barton as he looked round and sniffed the air. ‘This must be one of the last areas
of park land left around here. The council must’ve had to put up some fight to stop the real estate developers from getting their hands on it’.

  ‘Well this one has had his last evening meal’ said the pathologist June Hawkins. ‘But I wouldn’t want to be round here late at night in the dark with all these tall trees and shadows from all the nearby houses’. She shuddered. ‘It would give me the creeps’.

  ‘But cutting up dead bodies doesn’t, June?’ asked DI Ollie Wright.

  June laughed. ‘I know. It sounds rather crooked, doesn’t it? But we all get frightened by different things. I don’t get spooked by spiders, no matter how big they are, but snakes are a different matter. They completely freak me out’.

  ‘Well yes this is all very interesting’ said Barton. ‘But could we get back to why there’s a dead body here?’

  ‘Because he’s been shot’ said June as deadpan as she could muster after the revelry of the past few seconds. ‘Late middle-aged, I’d say mid to late fifties, corcasian as you can see and he’d been shot in the back, twice’.

  ‘So he was running away from his assailant?’ asked DI Wright.

  ‘It looks that way, Ollie, yes’ said June. ‘And it also looks from the position of his body that he was running from the direction of the shop where Maria Taylor met her Waterloo. There’s a trail that your uniformed people are checking out but it looks like it goes all the way back to Pennington Way’.

  ‘So there were two assailants in the murder of Maria Taylor?’ Barton mused. ‘So why did one kill off the other?’

  ‘And why chase them across the neighbourhood to do so?’ said DI Wright. ‘Were they trying to silence him?’

  ‘Well if they were they’ve succeeded’ said June.

  ‘But what for?’ said Barton.

  ‘Well I can tell you something else’ June went on. ‘Our friend here was also carrying a gun’.

  June lifted the plastic bag with the pistol in it that she and her team had found in the right hand of the victim.