Bedlam (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

He’d always believed Kit was alive, despite the lack of support from those around him, so he wasn’t entirely sure why confirmation of the fact, by a girl who clearly had issues of her own, meant so much to him. A rational person might suppose that she was merely telling him what she assumed he wanted to hear, in the same way she had offered her body in some desperate attempt to win his approval. But McNeil had vetoed rational when Kit disappeared into thin air.

Although it pained him to admit it, he’d been more than tempted by Nell’s advances, and it had taken some resolve not to act upon it. He had been faithful to Kit for an entire year, but he was human, and now the memory of how Nell had made him feel was in his head, it simmered gently, taunting and teasing. As if in punishment, guilt and self-loathing also marinated in his gut. He was glad Kit had not been witness to his betrayal, but there was something about Nell, something that connected them from the moment he’d laid hands on her. He couldn’t explain it. Perhaps she could.

“What do you know about Kit?” he asked.

He avoided looking directly at her, curled as she was in the corner of the sofa, hair brushed, Kit’s dressing gown replaced by one of his washed-out football shirts. Instead, he paced the flat, picking up the scattered clothes, stacking dishes in the sink, keeping his distance - anything to avoid having to sit near her.

“I know she is lost and you seek her.”

He turned on the tap, ran hot water into the sink and began to wash dishes that had lain for a week. He was pushing through the barrier of fatigue and the fog of medication. Both were trying to shut him down. He had to keep busy to stay awake long enough to hear her story. He sensed he was in for a long night of reading between the lines. Nell spoke in riddles. He took the shrink’s advice and downed another pill. Maybe the instant buzz he’d get would help to clear his vision.

“You could have got that from the newspapers,” he called through the open door.

“She was quite beautiful,” murmured Nell.

McNeil allowed the mug he was holding to slip from his hands. It landed in the water with a splash and he turned with a frown.
“Was?”

He stepped back to the lounge, leaned against the doorframe and waited. He wanted to see as well as hear her reply, though he doubted it would make much difference. Despite his years of interrogating suspects, he still had no idea whether she was telling the truth or not.

Nell shrugged. “She is less so now.”

“You’ve actually seen her?”

“Of course.”

“When?”
He held his breath, felt hope kindle, and willed it into a flame.

“Time is inconsequential,” she murmured.

“This week? Last week? If you’ve seen her, you must remember when.”

She shook her head vaguely. “This life, the last life, the next life … I really can’t recall.”

“Okay, forget that,” he continued impatiently. “Where is she? Where did you see her?”

“In a place of waiting.”

McNeil pinched the bridge of his nose firmly between finger and thumb. A sudden pain shot through his head and he sucked in a breath.
Cherry blossom, skipping ropes, feet jumping up and down, hitting the ground with a rhythmic thud.
“Waiting for me?” he gasped.

Nell smiled sadly. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you, but no. She does not wait for
someone
, she waits for
something
to happen. She has quite given up on you, Joe. You would do well to choose another.” She patted the sofa, an invitation for him sit alongside her.

McNeil scowled and shook the pain, the bizarre image and her invitation away. Theirs would be an uneasy alliance. “What do you mean,
waiting for something to happen
?”

Nell frowned. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“I’m trying. To understand the end, you must go back to the beginning … always back to the beginning.” Her voice drifted wistfully.

McNeil stepped closer and dragged in a calming breath. “Look, we don’t have time for this. If she’s being held somewhere, if she’s in danger, then you need to help me find her. Can you show me where she is? If we go now in the car, could you direct me?”

“It’s not as simple as that …”

“Nell, it is. It can be that simple. Just show me where she is.
Please
, Nell.  I won’t involve you. I won’t betray you. I’ll protect you, whatever happens.”

“You say that but you have no idea what will happen, what has
already
happened.”

“Then tell me!” He raked his fingers through his hair with frustration. They were going around in circles. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to put his hands around her throat and squeeze the truth out of her. Instead, he squatted before her and took her hand in his. He ignored the silent sense of foreboding that seeped skin to skin.

“I … I cheated,” she whispered. “I broke a promise and told a lie, and it can’t be undone … no matter how much you might want it.”

“Nell,” - he squeezed her hand reassuringly - “it doesn’t matter what you’ve done. You can put it right. It’s never too late.”

Nell pulled her hand from his grasp and shook her head sadly. “But what about what you did …?”

“What
did
I do?”

The buzz of his phone interrupted her response and McNeil cursed as he checked the display.
Dennis
. He hesitated, unwilling to lose momentum with Nell and equally reluctant to get into another argument with Dennis. He caught Nell’s eye, held a cautionary finger to his lips, pushed himself to his feet and took the call.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you, Joey?”

“Home.
Where do you think?”

“Alone?”

McNeil turned away from Nell. “No, I have a flat full of strippers here. We’re having a party. What do you think?”

“Don’t try and be clever, Joey. I’m too bloody knackered for that.”

“Tell me about it. It’s late, you got me out of bed. What do you want, Dennis?”

“Something’s come up on the case. I need to discuss it with you.”

“So, discuss.”

“No, I mean face-to-face. There are some things you need to know, things that don’t add up. I’ll be around in ten minutes. Stay awake till then.”

McNeil shot a quick glance at Nell. “Look, mate, now’s not a good time. I’ll catch you first thing at the station.”

Dennis grunted. “Ten minutes, Joey. This is important.”

McNeil switched off the phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. He considered his options. He needed to hear Nell out. He was so close. He could either do it in the car, on the run, or he could bide his time and bluff it out with Dennis. He was tempted by the first. But common sense prevailed.

“DI Todd is on his way. He can’t find you here.”

She nodded her agreement and rose from her seat. “I’ll go.”

“No, you won’t. We’re not finished.”

“Does that mean you believe me?”

“I want to.”

“That’s good.” She smiled at him. Her hair curtained her face as she dipped her head, and she brushed it back with a sigh as if exhaustion was ready to claim her, too.

“Stay in the bedroom. Sleep if you want. Just don’t make a sound. If he finds you here, it’s not just your head in the noose.” He held open the door and she brushed gently past. He felt a surge of hopeless regret as Kit’s scent wafted out of the room to be replaced by Nell’s.

Distant banging on the door to the street intruded on his melancholy. He ignored it as he watched her pull back the quilt and slip silently into Kit’s side of the bed, her hair spread out in the space next to his, her cheek resting gently on the pillow. 

“Why do we have to do this?" he asked wearily. “Why can’t you just tell me where she is?”

Nell raised her head and looked directly at him. “You don’t need me to tell you. You know where she is, Joe. You’ve known all along.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“You need to get a decent intercom or a ground floor flat,” grunted Dennis. “I’ve been laying siege to your door knocker for a full five minutes.”

McNeil stepped back as Dennis shouldered his way in. His bloodhound nose twitched and his eyes narrowed as he assessed the space suspiciously.

“Yeah, I expect the whole building heard you. I look forward to the notes of complaint.” McNeil risked a quick glance at the bedroom door. It was firmly closed. “So much for ten minutes, Dennis. You were already parked up outside when you rang, weren’t you?”

Dennis ignored him. “You’ve tidied up.” He sniffed noisily. “Cleaned as well, or have you taken to wearing perfume?”

“Air freshener, Dennis. It covers a multitude of sins.”

Dennis raised a sceptical brow.

“I thought I’d better show willing,” McNeil continued, “before the landlord got on my case.”

“And the heating’s finally working.”

So it was. McNeil shrugged his confusion. He hadn’t noticed. It had been ice cold when he and Nell had arrived, and they’d both generated a little heat of their own since then.

“Sit down, Dennis.” He gestured to the sofa. “I’d offer you a drink but I’m on the wagon and it’s late, and like I said earlier, this isn’t a good time.”

“You seem on edge, Joey. Did I interrupt something?”

“No. I’m knackered, Dennis, same as you.”

Dennis swung his gaze around the room again. He paused at the bedroom door and McNeil held his breath. There was no sound. Dennis leaned back and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, using the movement to iron the cricks from his neck and peer through the open door into the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you’ve been cooking as well.”

The feint aroma of mushroom soup lingered. McNeil’s own attention was also drawn to the kitchen. He couldn’t recall where he’d left the evidence bag containing Nell’s gown. “I do eat, Dennis. I am human.”

“Contrary to popular belief.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. Just the lads fooling around.”

“Go on.”

“They reckon you’re a little too obsessed with the undead, with things that go bump in the night. That you’ve got a bloody notion in your head that this whole business is connected to Kit. Must admit, you turning up with a blood-stained collar didn’t help.”

“And how did they know that? I didn’t speak to anyone at the station except for you and Mather and …”

“And who?”

McNeil cursed silently, reluctant to mention Charlotte. He had no legitimate reason for his visit to records.

“Maybe it is all connected,” he suggested quietly.

“And maybe half of Bedlam’s police force is out chasing vampires and you’ve been recruited by the Count himself.” Dennis
guffawed his derision. “Joey, let it go. You bring it on yourself.”

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested there was something weird about her. I said all along that she wasn’t dead. All I did down there beneath the viaduct was point out the obvious.”

“You’re absolutely right. I was wrong, I admit it, and I’m sorry if I inadvertently stuffed up your head.”

“You didn’t. I’m not as stupid as you all seem to think. I know the difference between the living and the dead.”

“Do you?”

“For fuck’s sake, Dennis, stop messing about. What’s this all about? You said it was important, to do with the case. You got me out of bed. Are you going to tell me what’s going on or would you rather just play ‘let’s kick a guy while he’s down’? Because I’m telling you, Dennis, there’ll come a point where I start to kick back.”

“Whoa, settle down. No need to be so touchy. You’ve got to admit, though, the whole business with the girl was bloody weird. You spotting that she was alive when the medics didn’t. Bet that doesn’t happen very often, eh?”

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Right.
Well, get to the point, Dennis.”

Dennis settled himself and stretched out his legs. He didn’t look like he was going anywhere soon and McNeil could feel edginess threatening his performance. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the façade when all he wanted to do was show Dennis the door and get back to Nell. Dennis was fishing, for some reason. The sooner they got down to it the better.

“It’s been a rough couple of days. How do you feel now, Joey?”

“Okay. Why?”

“You don’t look it.”

McNeil could feel the now familiar buzz generated by the meds. It filtered through him like warm anaesthetic, smoothing off the edges. He rolled his neck and shrugged dismissively. “Like I said, I’m knackered, and you’re keeping me up.”

“There’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“Like what?” McNeil kept his eyes firmly on Dennis and resisted the urge to check the bedroom door again. He thought
he heard a noise, was sure it was his imagination, but all the same he remained distracted and tried hard not to show it.

Dennis sighed. “I don’t know.
Anything that might explain your recent behaviour.”

McNeil shook his head. “No.”

“Because if there was anything, anything at all, you’d be as well to speak up now, you know. I can’t help if you don’t let me in on the secret.”

“There is no secret.”

“Nothing that’s troubling you?”

“Just you, Dennis.”

Dennis narrowed his eyes and McNeil stared straight back.

“Okay,” he said eventually, “if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“We got some results back.”

“Yeah?”

“Drug screens on the girl.”

McNeil dropped into a chair. Now he was interested, and relieved that the focus had shifted away from him. All the same, Dennis wasn’t stupid and McNeil knew he was definitely suspicious.

“She was so full of chemicals they reckon it’ll take her days, possibly weeks, to fully detox. She’ll be unstable, dangerous even, until she does. She’s not to be trusted under any circumstances. We need to get her back as soon as we can, for
her own benefit as well as the general public’s.” Dennis cocked his head and studied McNeil. “You can’t help me with that, can you?”

McNeil shook his head.

“No, I didn’t think so,” muttered Dennis. “Most were hallucinatory, injected, if the track marks are to be believed, and I guess that would help explain her behaviour.”

McNeil shrugged. “You’re not telling me anything I didn’t already suspect. I told you to do a drug screen.”

“Yes, you did, Joey.” Dennis considered him a little longer and McNeil began to perspire. He swallowed to lubricate his drying throat. “Another good call. Mather might just owe you an apology.”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

“Best not. The balance isn’t tipped in your favour at the moment. Anyway, most of the drugs were run-of-the-mill - uppers, downers, in-betweeners - you get the picture, but one was harder to identify, a little-known plant extract.”

“Most drugs are derived from plants.”

Dennis arched a brow. “And you’d know all about that?”

“I’m a detective, I know as much as you.”

“Yes, well. The boffins had to dig deep to find a reference. They do love a mystery. They said that in the right quantity this little bugger could kill. In slightly less than the right quantity it could mimic death.”

“So what are you saying? Someone wanted her dead and made a mistake, or someone just wanted her to look dead?”

Dennis shifted so he could study McNeil comfortably without craning his neck. “You tell me.”

“Huh?”

“Despite all the medics at the crime scene, you were the only one who spotted she was alive. How did you know?”

“How did I know?” McNeil raised his brow in disbelief. “She opened her
fuckin’ eyes. It was a bit of a clue. I’m a detective. I’m good with clues.”

“Jim Alderson, the guy from the lab, told me a great long story about how a derivative of this particular drug was used in the past as a method to spirit convicts out of prison.
A bloody risky business, of course. Who knows how many scaffold dodgers failed to wake up again after sipping the concoction. Unless someone in collusion on the outside got to the poor bugger in time, they ended up six feet under in an unmarked grave.”

“Benjamin
Rath …” muttered McNeil.

Dennis cocked his head. “Yes, he used the very same thing on his victims. Jim had all the details. Bloody funny business, that. Where did you hear about him?”

“Police college.”

“You must have a good memory.”

“I was thinking about him this morning.”

“Right.
I was thinking about tiling the bathroom this morning, but it takes all sorts, I suppose?”

“Don’t worry, Dennis. I don’t while away my time obsessing over body snatchers and serial killers.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Just popped into your head, did it?”

“Not exactly.
I was at the spot where he supposedly murdered his wives. Dr Richardson has his office at Gilmour House.” McNeil smiled slyly, a consequence of the meds and his recollection. “No shit, Dennis, that place has an atmosphere. Send the lads down there and they won’t be taking the piss out of me anymore. They’ll be too busy looking over their shoulder. I’m surprised the outraged of Bedlam didn’t turn up with flaming torches and raze it to the ground when they discovered what Rath had been up to.”

Dennis frowned. “Dr Richardson?”

“The shrink. Christ, Dennis, keep up, you’re worse than me. Go home and get some sleep or Mather’s going to be on your case as well as mine.”

Dennis leaned forward and loosened his tie. He was obviously there for the long haul. “The shrink’s name is Freidman. Leonard Freidman. Just like it said on the card I gave you. By the way, he called this afternoon to let me know you’d
DNA’d this morning’s appointment.”

“I didn’t see Freidman. I saw Richardson.”

Dennis sighed. “If you didn’t want to go, you just had to tell me. There was no need to fabricate a fictitious meeting.”

“What the hell do you mean,
fictitious
? I did go. Maybe the Freidman guy was busy. Maybe Richardson stepped in. I don’t know. All I do know is that he screwed with my head and I might just have to go back to get unscrewed.”

Dennis scowled. “Joey, Freidman doesn’t operate out of Gilmour House. You’ve been to the Department’s medical offices before. You were there last year.”

“I just figured they’d moved or Mather had upped the stakes. Fuck, Dennis, you gave me the card. I went to the address written on it.”

“Where’s the card?”

McNeil stood, retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair, and rifled in the pocket. In his haste to prove his account he pulled out the entire contents. The folded photocopy of the water bailiff’s statement, the crime scene photo of Nell and the business cards all fluttered to the floor. He placed his foot on the statement, scooped up the photo and left Dennis to pick up the cards. Dennis clumsily fumbled them up off the carpet, shuffled them right way up and paused to study the uppermost one.

“What are you up to, Joey?” He held up the card that had been pushed in McNeil’s hand by Clarissa Temple. He shook his
head in obvious disbelief at McNeil’s recklessness and handed it back.

McNeil shrugged carelessly. “Hedging my bets,” he murmured.

“Heading for a fall, more like. Don’t go there, Joey. I’m telling you as a friend and one who knows. It’s not worth the risk.”

“If you were a friend, you’d know after a year of chasing dead ends and shouting in deaf ears, I’m about ready to risk anything.”

“That’s what worries me, Joey, and sitting here now, I can tell you I’m seriously worried about you. That’s why I’m here, because I’m your friend and I can see what you obviously can’t.”

McNeil smiled sourly. “And what’s that, Dennis?”

Dennis opened his mouth to respond but paused as his attention was drawn to the details on the second card. “This isn’t the card I gave you, Joey. I’ve never heard of Richardson.”

McNeil wasn’t listening. His entire attention had slipped to the crime scene photo in his hand. He felt a stabbing pain in his head and winced to clear it.

“What’s wrong?” asked Dennis.

“Nothing,” mumbled McNeil as he folded the photo and slipped it in his pocket.

“Are you sure? You’ve gone a funny bloody colour.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dennis, how many times do I have to say it? I’m okay.”

“Fine,” snapped Dennis. “The card I gave you, where is it?”

“What?”

“Joey, bloody concentrate will you.”

McNeil rose from his seat, crossed to the window and leaned his head against the glass. It was snowing again. He wondered when it had started, whether Nell’s footprints had been sufficiently covered when Dennis arrived. He wondered what Dennis really wanted. He needed him to leave, soon.