Behind Dead Eyes (20 page)

‘It isn't your fault, Amy. You couldn't have prevented this.'

‘Sometimes I worry I will go mad because I find myself wondering … all the time … if he did kill Rebecca and
whether he was capable of killing me back then but just didn't go through with it for some reason. I keep thinking I should have done more to make sure he could never hurt another woman … that her death is all my fault.' The tears were flowing freely now.

In her distress, Amy's voice grew louder and other people in the café started to notice the woman who was crying by the window. ‘I get so frightened when I think about what he did to her. I keep thinking about it over and over again …' she sobbed ‘… because I know it could have been me …' She repeated the words in disbelief: ‘It could have been me.'

Tom returned home for a while to eat a sandwich and test his new, second-generation Dictaphone, which to his gratification was a no-frills machine similar to his old one. He put it to one side and settled down to make some phone calls.

His first was to the Meadowlands home. Tom spoke to a man called Dean who told him there was no way he would be allowed to interview the girls there, no matter who he
claimed
to be working for. Detectives had already been to Meadowlands following the disappearance of Sandra Jarvis and Dean did not want the traumatised girls in his care disturbed again. Although this was galling, he couldn't actually fault the man. At least Dean was looking out for the girls in his care. However, that didn't help Tom; he would have to figure out another way to get access to them.

There was something else that was troubling Tom after he hung up. If detectives had already visited Meadowlands in connection with the disappearance of Sandra Jarvis, how come there was no mention of this in any of the case files?

His next call turned out to be just as fruitless.

‘Physics Department,' answered the man on the other end of the line, ‘Doctor Alexander speaking.'

‘Professor Alexander …' Tom began

‘That's Doctor,' he cut in, ‘I'm a lecturer, not a professor.' It sounded as if he himself was acutely aware of the importance of this distinction, even if Tom was not.

‘Doctor Alexander,' Tom corrected himself, ‘I would like to speak with Professor Matthews please.'

‘And may I ask why you are trying to get in touch with the professor?'

‘I'm afraid that's private.' Tom didn't want to admit he was a journalist following up a murder case, needing to cross-examine its star expert witness. He knew academic institutions could easily be spooked where their reputation was concerned. ‘But it is extremely important that I speak to Professor Matthews. There really is a great deal resting on it. Might it be possible to have a quick word with him?'

‘Well as a matter of fact,' the tone was indignant, ‘it wouldn't.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because I'm afraid Professor Matthews is no longer with us.'

‘Are you saying the professor has left to work at some other university?'

‘No,' the tone was blunt, ‘I'm saying that he's dead.'

‘Don't
call me sir in here,' Kane warned Bradshaw, ‘it's my local boozer.'

‘Okay,' said Bradshaw but he couldn't ever imagine being comfortable using Kane's first name, even in here.

The mentoring, which consisted of a few platitudes about policing and a number of home truths about the limitations of the legal system, had already concluded by the time the second pint was pulled. DCI Kane didn't seem to mind that he might be almost over the limit but his home was just round the corner.

Bradshaw wasted no time bringing his DCI up to date with both cases but Kane seemed distracted that afternoon. Perhaps he thought he had already done his bit by assigning resources, in the form of Bradshaw and Tom Carney, to assist the councillor. Whatever the reason, he seemed keener to talk about Bradshaw's domestic situation than ongoing investigations. ‘You still seeing Debbie Harry?' he asked.

‘What?'

‘Blondie? You know, what's-her-name.' And he clicked his fingers impatiently for Bradshaw to provide him with an answer for once again he had forgotten her name.

‘Karen? Yes, s—' He stopped himself from saying
sir
just in time ‘… I am. She's moving in actually.' He tried to announce it casually.

‘Really? I thought you said you weren't shacked up together.'

‘We weren't,' confirmed Bradshaw, ‘but we're going to be.'

‘I'm surprised to hear that.'

‘Why?'

‘Because when I mentioned it the other day you reacted like a scalded cat. I thought you were more likely to give the poor lass the heave-ho than an engagement ring.'

‘We're not getting engaged.' Was Kane being deliberately dim? Bradshaw wondered.

‘Well, as good as, if you're moving in together. You can't finish with a lass if she's living with you and you can't date other people either because it would be pretty difficult to bring them back to your place. You might not see it as permanent but she bloody will, so you'd best wise up.'

Bradshaw realised Kane was right. Bradshaw had assumed this was the next stage in their relationship but if they didn't get on she could just move out again, yet Karen had reacted as if he had handed her an engagement ring.

‘Yep, it will all change now,' Kane told him.

‘How do you mean?'

‘Sex will go out of the window for starters. She'll spend all her time sitting on your sofa watching soap operas, dressed in her pyjamas and moaning if you want to watch the football. She won't have to make an effort anymore, so she'll probably put on at least two stone.' Kane saw the look on Bradshaw's face. ‘What's the matter, man? I'm only pulling your leg!'

‘It's just I never really thought of it as being permanent.' Bradshaw took a long sip of his pint.

‘Well that's alright, lad. Most of us blokes don't, do we? That's why we need the women in our lives to give us a bit of a pull in the right direction. Who hasn't been on the receiving end of the where's-this-relationship-going question? If it
was down to us none of us would ever end walking down the aisle, but you've got a cracker there. Everyone in the station fancies her.'

‘Yeah but … what if …?' He couldn't even complete the question.

‘She isn't the one?' Bradshaw's silence spoke volumes. ‘Ha! Don't worry about that, man. There's no such bloody thing.'

‘What?'

‘I used to be like you,' said Kane suddenly. ‘I know you find that hard to believe but I was, many moons ago. I was the romantic type see. I used to believe in all that guff once upon a time, you know, red roses on her birthday, wining and dining the lady, parachuting down with a box of Milk Tray in my teeth, all that shite.'

‘But you don't now?'

‘No,' he admitted, ‘and I stopped believing in it long before I reached your age.' He regarded the younger man carefully for a moment. ‘There's no such thing as the perfect bird, you know. They can be great fun, good company, kind-hearted, beautiful and filthy in bed but you'll still always find something wrong with them if you look for it.'

‘So what's the secret then,' asked Bradshaw, ‘since you're handing out the advice?'

‘Don't look for it.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Exactly that. Nobody's perfect so just accept that and don't rock the boat. You're looking at me right now like I am the least romantic bloke in the world but that isn't so. I am telling you that you can set your sights too high and mess up what you've got already and I ought to know. When a man who has been divorced twice gives you some advice, you should listen to it and take heed. It'll spare you a lot of aggro.'

‘So, why did you get divorced? If you don't mind me asking?'

‘Strictly between us?'

‘Of course.'

‘Stupid reasons. The first time, with Janet, it wasn't the job or the long hours or all the bad things we see. I'll tell you something shall I. Most of the guys on the job who say that's why their marriages broke up are lying. I mean for some of them it is undoubtedly true that the force caused them marital problems, I'll grant you that, but with a fair few of them it's just a handy excuse because they couldn't be arsed to keep their marriage going and they don't want to admit it.'

‘Is that what happened to you then?'

Kane sighed, ‘Truth is, I got bored.' He seemed to be reflecting on that for a moment before adding, ‘It was fine at first, then, after a few years, I'd come home and she'd be there doing the ironing or cooking the dinner and, I don't know, I just didn't fancy her like I used to and I felt a bit trapped. Then I met this WPC.' And he raised his eyebrows at his own folly. ‘She was young and fit and looked bloody good in the uniform, so I gave her the chat. I was older and higher up and she was flattered so I started seeing her on the sly.'

‘Did your wife find out about it?'

‘Oh yeah but not because I wasn't careful. Things were great with my little WPC for a while but there was something I hadn't bargained for.'

‘What?'

‘She was a bit of a bunny boiler.'

‘Oh.'

‘So, once I'd had my fun and the novelty started to wear off I tried to gently kick her into touch. I figured she knew I was married so …' and he shrugged to indicate he assumed she
would be reasonable about it ‘… but she went ballistic. I mean loopy. Swearing at me in the car park, calling me all sorts while people were walking by.' He still seemed a little shocked at the memory. ‘She was screaming, “You bastard, you used me and now you think you can just ditch me when you feel like it and go back to your bloody boring wife.” ' He exhaled. ‘I mean all of that was true if I'm honest but I didn't expect her to tell the whole world about it. It didn't help my career. You can have your bit on the side in our world as long as you're discreet about it. Her screaming at me like a nutter while the Detective Superintendent is parking his car a few yards away isn't discreet. I reckon that cost me a good three years on the promotion front and then of course there was Janet.' He seemed to need to take a sip of his drink to explain that bit. ‘My sweet little WPC found out where I lived and went round there to tell her all about us. I don't know what she thought she'd achieve but I came home to find my clothes packed in two suitcases on the door step and I was out of there, no second chances and no get-out-of-jail-free-card. My marriage was over,' he clicked his fingers ‘like that. And for what, a few sweaty tumbles in the back of a car and once in a hotel.'

‘That's rough,' offered Bradshaw when it seemed some modicum of sympathy was expected from him then, even though Kane had already admitted he deserved everything he got.

‘And I still see her around from time to time.'

‘Janet?'

Kane shook his head. ‘No, the bunny boiler. She's still a WPC, got a husband and a couple of kids now, or so I heard, but every once in a while she'll be in the same crowded room as me when there's some big event or other. I'd love to say
she's fat and ugly now but she isn't. She's still quite tidy. Of course I could never forgive her for what she did but you know the really strange thing?'

‘What?'

‘Despite everything, when I see her, I still get that little surge here,' he thumped his chest with his fist, ‘or maybe it's a bit lower down,' he admitted. ‘A combination of lust and excitement, which means if the opportunity arose I'd still give her one in the back of my car. Isn't that daft? When I know I should run out of the room and keep going till I'm way over the horizon. I can't help myself. Because I can remember what it was like when it was really good, you know. That lass cost me my marriage – actually no, that's not fair,
I
cost me my marriage – but you know what I mean, she contributed to it and I still look at her and think, “Yep, I would.” '

‘Blimey.'

‘I know, which goes to show how bloody stupid men are. The way we think, even when we know it's going to cost us thousands of pounds and endless grief, we still do these ridiculous things.'

‘You said you were divorced twice.'

‘Yeah, second time was Carol. It was nowhere near as dramatic. We got on fine at first but I rushed into marriage because I think I was trying to get back what I lost and a bit of me wanted to show the force I was respectable again, you know. I was being considered for promotion at that point, you see. Anyway, it turned out we didn't have that much in common really and, this is the killer, she was nowhere near as good company as my first wife. Neither of us were very happy but somehow we managed five years before we called it a day. No kids, thankfully.'

‘You with anyone these days?'

‘Nope, I've had enough aggravation for one lifetime, but I can still remember my youthful aspirations, which is why I am counselling you. I used to want the perfect woman too, you see. I was looking for someone who would be a soul mate, a companion, a lover, a friend, someone who could pick me up when I was feeling sad or depressed, someone who needed me but not too much, a lass who was the right height, with the perfect figure and the long hair, the beautiful eyes and legs that went on forever, who would give me blow jobs morning, noon and night then make me bacon sandwiches for breakfast. In short, I was looking for something that didn't exist so, unsurprisingly, both my wives came up wanting. That's why I ended up on my own when it comes down to it, Ian, because I had wholly unrealistic expectations.' He drained the last of his pint. ‘These days, I'd settle for the bacon sandwich,' he placed his empty glass firmly down onto the bar, ‘and the occasional blow job.'

When he was finally done, Bradshaw didn't know how to respond, so he stayed silent. Kane must have sensed his discomfort so he said dryly, ‘Anyway, I've enjoyed our little chat. You mark my words and feel free to ignore them, as I'm sure you will. I'm hardly the best person to give relationship advice now am I?'

Frank Jarvis stopped what he was doing on the allotment when he saw Tom. It took him a while to bring the older man up to date, the two of them sitting together outside Frank's hut while the sky darkened.

‘I'm a bit surprised you didn't mention this voluntary work Sandra was doing?' said Tom when he was done.

‘Didn't I?' asked Jarvis. ‘Isn't it in the case file?'

‘No,' said Tom, ‘it isn't it.'

‘Well it should have been.'

‘Interesting,' said Tom and he wondered who might have removed it and why. ‘Tell me about this place Meadowlands.'

‘I didn't know she was helping out down there. She didn't tell me,' Jarvis said. ‘I knew about the volunteering but it was several different places: old folks' homes, kids in care, that sort of thing.'

‘Why would she keep it from you?'

‘She knew I wouldn't want her working at a place like that.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because the girls at Meadowlands are very …' Frank searched for the right word and finally settled on ‘… damaged. I wouldn't have wanted her hearing about the stuff they'd been through, but that was Sandra. She was always keen to help anyone in trouble.' It was said with a hint of pride.

‘Did she go there regularly?'

‘A couple of evenings a week, occasional weekends.'

‘What did she do?'

‘Helping out generally, a bit of guidance, some teaching of basic skills like reading and writing, a little counselling, unofficially, obviously. She didn't tell me much about her voluntary work because everything is meant to be confidential, to protect the girls. You can't chit-chat about it over the dinner table. I found all this out afterwards.'

‘Did many people know your daughter was volunteering?'

‘I didn't broadcast it and she used her mother's maiden name.'

‘Why?'

‘Because she didn't want the staff to know her dad was leader of the council. They'd think she was getting special treatment,' he informed Tom, ‘or she was a spy.'

Tom admired the girl even more for that. ‘I want to go
down there, to speak to the staff and, if it can be cleared, some of the girls.'

‘Oh,' said Jarvis, ‘why do you want to do that?'

‘For the same reason I want to speak to everyone else that knew her,' said Tom, ‘to see if they can shed some light on the reasons for her disappearance.'

‘Fair enough,' said Jarvis, ‘but I suggest you call them first or they might not let you through the door.'

‘I already did,' said Tom. ‘Spoke to a bloke called Dean and he won't let me in. I can go through official channels, get DCI Kane to phone his counterparts in Newcastle, request formal interviews, but I figured you could use some of that famous influence of yours to open the door for me.'

Jarvis smiled then. ‘Consider it done.' Then he regarded Tom for a moment. ‘Is there anyone else who's giving you grief?'