Don't Turn Around (19 page)

T
he arm
of the sofa dug into Sam’s head as he turned to pull the blanket over his shoulders. Desolation swept over him. For weeks after Tina’s death, he had expected the police to come knocking at his door, and was continuously looking over his shoulder. As much as he tried to dodge the responsibility, he knew he was to blame. Sam replayed it in his head so many times with an alternate ending. Returning alone, telling Frank that Tina was not around, maybe even warning her off. If he hadn’t hit her, maybe she wouldn’t have gone into the bathroom to mop up the blood, maybe she would just have taken her money and left before Frank got to her. Maybe if he hadn’t straddled the pillow over her head, and leaned with all his might ...

Sam turned over and stared at the static of the television screen, seeing Tina’s face in the visual snow. His stomach churned. He was too scared to go to sleep and too scared to stay awake. Tina’s tortured soul came back to haunt him when he slept and in every waking hour.

Frank had said he would call, as he dragged out the heavy suitcase, still wearing his predatory smile. That was the last he had seen of him. He had mentioned taking Tina for a swim but Sam didn’t want to know. He just wanted her gone. But she had never left, not really. She was living and breathing in the walls that surrounded him.

The sleeping tablets in the top shelf of the bathroom cabinet called to him. That’s what he needed, a very long sleep. Sam dragged his feet to the dingy room, replaying past events with each step. He glanced at the row of empty hooks where the shower curtain used to be. A new shower curtain would carry the nightmare of Frank’s shadow, hiding and waiting for his prey. He shook the bottle of pills, and left them on the arm of the sofa in the living room. There were enough to send him to sleep for good. His mother would be horrified. According to her faith, his tortured soul would spend all of eternity in hell.

It pained him to think about her. She had always tried to do her best by him, but her religious views were stifling. That was why he had dyed his hair, packed his bags, and left without saying goodbye. Armed with a handful of newspaper clippings of someone else’s crimes, he had smoked dope with his friends as he bragged about how he had evaded the police yet again. But it was all lies. Sure, he had been arrested, but only for pick pocketing; a compulsion born out of necessity to feed his cannabis habit. It had been cruel of him to abandon his mother like that, but it was too late to go back to her now. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. He was totally alone.

A sob caught in the back of Sam’s throat and he curled up in a ball on the sofa. He should just finish himself and get it over with. He had the guts to kill someone else, but not himself. Well if he didn’t do it, Frank would do it for him. The thought of death being so near instilled a crippling fear into every cell of his body. He cried himself into a stupor, and woke to find himself naked in a prison cell. Hunched into a ball and hugging his knees on the hard floor, he listened as high-heeled footsteps slowly echoed down the corridor, approaching the cell door. The latch dropped and Tina’s bloodshot eyes bulged through the hatch, the remnants of a shower curtain masking the peeling skin of her face. Tina rasped, clawing through the narrow hatch. ‘Lemmie in, let the dog see the bone ...’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do it,’ Sam whimpered, hiding his head in his knees as he clenched them tightly to his body.

An odious smell lingered as Tina hammered on the prison door,
bang bang bang
. ‘Sam, let me in.’ On and on the voice thundered from the other side, ‘I know you’re in there, open the door, it’s twelve o clock.’

Sam woke with a start, his heart pounding wildly. Impatient fists hammered at his front door. ‘C’mon kid, answer the door, I need to talk to you.’

Sam’s heart fell back into his chest and he rubbed his clammy face with his hands. ‘OK, OK, I’m coming.’ Frank was back. That part of the nightmare was real.

As he expected, Frank was standing there with a broad smile on his face, wearing a new suit, and no doubt fisting a pocket full of cash.

Sam faked a smile for the sake of self-preservation. ‘Frank, when did you get back? You look great. Come inside.’

Frank’s face fell as he looked Sam up and down. ‘I’m afraid I can’t say the same for you buddy, you look terrible. And what’s all this?’ he said, pointing to the blanket-covered sofa.

‘I’ve been sick, the flu. I couldn’t move,’ Sam lied.

‘I’m really sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can get you?’

‘No thanks, I’ll be OK. Where have you been?’

‘Oh, here and there. I’ve been thinking of investing in some properties abroad and I went out to view them. I met a very nice lady out there. Let’s just say she took good care of me.’

Sam smiled. ‘Nice one,’ he said, wondering how the rich old bag would feel if she knew that the last person Frank had slept with was a corpse.

‘You sure I can’t get you anything? You’ve gone very pale.’

‘I just need some sleep. Sorry I didn’t hear you banging at first. I took some pills and I’m still a bit groggy. You said you wanted to talk to me?’

Frank smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which were burrowing their way into Sam’s brain, trying to pick out the truth behind the veneer. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. I just wanted to see if you were OK. I’ll call back tomorrow.’

Sam’s emotions ran riot as Frank patted his shoulder. His very presence was hypnotic. If only things had been different. But it was all fake. His dark looks drew people in, and his charm ensnared them.

Sam was a rat in a trap and he didn’t stand a chance. He touched Frank’s forearm as he turned to leave. ‘Frank, before you go, can I ask … Tina, did you …’ Sam swallowed hard. ‘Did you have any problems getting rid of her?’

Frank rested his hand on Sam’s briefly. It was warm to the touch and Sam could smell his aftershave as he whispered, ‘I told you I’d make her disappear and I have, so don’t you worry about it. The police haven’t been sniffing around have they?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘There you go, my friend. I told you nobody would miss her. Now clean this place up, it stinks. And have a shave while you’re at it. I’ll be round tomorrow to tell you about my plans. There’s a certain lady I need to even the score with, and it’s been a long time coming.’

S
tifling a yawn
, Jennifer sat on the plush rug in her living room and leaned against the sofa with her mug. The hot chocolate was comforting as it hit the back of her throat; reminding her of a ritual she had enjoyed with her mother when she was alive. It was a nice memory; sneaking out of bed when her mum came home late from work, both sitting on their carpeted floor nursing hot chocolates as they swapped whispered stories of their day. With the house asleep, it had felt like they were the only people alive in the world.

Jennifer was starting to relinquish the bitterness that haunted her. She wasn’t the only person with a rough childhood, it was time to stop being a victim. Her eyes rested on the tape recorder in front of her. She examined the tape, rolling her finger over the smooth edges. To think, her mother had touched it before her. Jennifer had thought long and hard about how Elizabeth had gotten hold of such vital evidence. Their own ancient tape machine held three cassette tapes. It had been known to break down, and a few years ago if one tape jammed, they would save the other two for court and bin the third. Things had tightened up a lot since then, and now everything had to be accounted for. Jennifer would not have put it past her mother to save the mangled tape and fix it at home. She wound the spool back and sure enough, she saw the tell tale sign of indentations in the narrow brown plastic tape.

Jennifer sighed. She had put off playing it for long enough. She pushed the tape into the Walkman and closed the lid. Her finger hovered over the ‘play’ button, praying she would find some answers. Was she ready to hear her mother’s voice? She briefly closed her eyes. Remember why you’re doing this, focus on the interview, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she pressed ‘play’.

P
S Knight
: The time is 13.47 and my name is Sergeant Elizabeth Knight. I am interviewing. For the purposes of the tape can you give me your name and date of birth?

Sam Beswick: Um, Sam Beswick 14th February 1973.

J
ennifer paused the tape
. Her mother’s voice sounded just like hers. Authoritative and professional, it made her want to sit up and take notice. The quality was not brilliant, but enough to make out the break in the boy’s voice. At least that’s what he sounded like, a frightened little boy. She forwarded the tape past the intros. Sam had chosen not to have a solicitor present, despite her mother’s advice. Jennifer opened her journal and began to transcribe the interview.

P
S Knight
: Sam, tell me what you know about the death of Martina Jackson, known to you as Tina. Start from the first contact you had with her, right up to present day.

Sam Beswick: Oh God, this is awful. I feel sick.

PS Knight: Take some deep breaths.

Sam Beswick: Deep breaths. Yeah. Okay. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to do it yeah? It’s all Frank’s fault, it was his idea.

PS Knight: Please go on.

Sam Beswick: I killed her. There. I’ve said it. I killed Tina.

PS Knight: OK Sam, can I stop you there? We can refer to Martina Jackson as Tina from now on. Who is Frank and what is his involvement in this?

Sam Beswick: Frank Foster. He calls himself the ‘Grim Reaper’. He lives in my block of flats. He put me up to this.

PS Knight: Do you have a date of birth for Frank? Approximate age?

Sam Beswick: He … he said his birthday was Christmas day, but Frank lies. That’s why I didn’t believe him at first. I guess … thirties, maybe forty, I dunno.

PS Knight: Usually there would be another officer making notes, but upon your insistence, I am solo. In order to make sense of what you’re telling me, we need to start from the beginning and work our way to the present day. That way we won’t need to keep going back and forward. Do you understand?

PS Knight: Sam look at me. I need you to speak your responses instead of nodding your head. For the purposes of the tape, do you understand?

Sam Beswick: Yeah, I get it.

PS Knight: Thank you. Now to go back to my original question. Tell me what you know about Tina’s death starting from the beginning up to the present day.

Sam Beswick: It was all Frank’s idea. I thought he was bluffing. I guess I should have known, because his face used to light up when he’d talk about killing. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking about a murder.

PS Knight: You were telling me about Frank.

Sam Beswick: He … he told me to offer Tina some money to come back to my place. He said he’d hide and when we had … well, Tina was a whore. I think they went back a long way. Anyway, Frank brought in this massive suitcase and said he was gonna bump her off. I didn’t think he’d go through with it. You’ve got to believe me, (inaudible) I didn’t know.

PS Knight: What happened next?

Sam Beswick: I brought her back and Frank hid in the bathroom. But I knew he was listening and I couldn’t, you know, do it. Tina got real mean, pulling at my pants, telling me to hurry up. I didn’t want her touching me so I hit her, you know, to get her off me. She went into the bathroom to clean up. Frank was waiting. I thought maybe that he’d let her go, say it was a wind up. The next thing I know, she’s screaming …

PS Knight: Go on.

Sam Beswick: (Sigh) Oh man, this is hard. If I say all this now, I don’t have to keep talking about it, do I?

PS Knight: I can’t promise that, but if you give us a clear account now, then it’s less likely you’ll need to go over it as often.

Sam Beswick: Frank came out of the bathroom holding Tina up off the ground. She was kicking like crazy. He had her in a kind of bear hug, with the shower curtain wrapped around her head. There was blood on the inside of the curtain, but I guess that’s from where she split her lip. I almost shit my pants when I seen her, I couldn’t believe he was going through with it. He threw her on the bed and made me tie her up. When I saw how strong he was, I … I couldn’t leave. It was awful, I’ve never hurt anyone before, you've got to believe me. Oh God! (Sobbing).

PS Knight: Sam?

Sam Beswick: (Sniffled) Everything was going so fast, I couldn’t stop it. You know like when you’re on a fairground ride with your friends and you’re meant to enjoy it? They’re all smiling, but it’s frightening the crap out of you, and you don’t want to start screaming because you might not stop? … No, I don’t suppose you know how that feels at all.

PS Knight: You were saying she was on the bed?

Sam Beswick: Um, yes. Frank gave me a pillow and told me to put it on her face and sit on it. He told me he’d killed someone like that before. I didn’t want to, but he said if we let Tina go, her pimp would slice me up. But he kept saying it with a smile on his face. It was really creepy, like he’d lost his mind.

PS Knight: What happened next?

Sam Beswick: I did as he said. After a couple of minutes I stood up. Frank … he pulled back the pillow and said she was dead. That’s when I threw up. I wanted to call the cops but Frank started flashing his knife about. I thought he was going to kill me too.

PS Knight: And what did you do then?

Sam Beswick: Nothing. Frank, um, he cleaned up the flat and got rid of the body.

PS Knight: Sam, I sense you’re hesitating there. Did anything else happen that you’re not telling me about?

Sam Beswick: No. He ... he just got rid of her. I stayed in the bathroom the whole time. After that, he just took off. In one way I was relieved, but in another way, I needed him around to tell me it would be all right. I didn’t know what to do. I’m not a bad person. I wish I never met Frank Foster.

PS Knight: I’m not judging you Sam. My job right now to get an accurate account of what happened.

Sam Beswick: Uh huh. After it happened, I couldn’t sleep in that bed anymore. I couldn’t sleep at all. I got stoned a lot, to block it out. I couldn’t understand how he could be so happy about it. He draws pictures of dead people. He’s really fucked up.

PS Knight: Why didn’t you call if you knew what he was planning?

Sam Beswick: I already said, I didn’t think he’d do it. Tina would leave, we’d have a laugh, and that would be the end of it.

PS Knight: And afterwards?

Sam Beswick: For the first few weeks I was numb. I kept seeing Tina everywhere. It was really messing with my head. I even thought about topping myself. Then Frank came back. He seemed like his old self. I thought maybe things would get better. But then he started planning on doing it again. That’s when I came to you.

PS Knight: OK, I’ll need to talk to you about that, but I need to ask you a question first. Was there anything more than friendship between you and Frank?

Sam Beswick: What sort of a question is that?

PS Knight: I wouldn’t ask you anything that wasn’t relevant.

Sam Beswick: (Chair screeching) Oh man, oh man, when he finds out I’ve come to you …

PS Knight: Sit down Sam. I can’t talk to you when you’re standing up.

Sam Beswick: I don’t want to be anywhere near him when he finds out. Are you listening to me? He’s a psycho! A complete psycho!

PS Knight: Either you sit down now or I’m terminating this interview.

… thank you. Now, you were about to tell me about your relationship with Frank.

Sam Beswick: (inaudible)

PS Knight: Speak up please, I can’t hear you.

Sam Beswick: When I first met him he acted as if he liked me, but now I think he’ll kill me. Nothing happened between us though. I think he’s been playing games with me all along.

PS Knight: Sam, why did you ask to speak to me?

Sam Beswick: I found your card in his jacket pocket. I figured he must have been carrying it around for ages, it was so worn. It felt like a sign, finding your name like that. I knew what I had to do.

PS Knight: You said Frank has killed people in the past and he’s planning another murder. What do you know about it?

Sam Beswick: He’s planning another one and wants me with him. I don’t know who it is, but it’s something big. I … I guessed if I could stop him, I could somehow make up for killing Tina. But it’s all his fault, now I’m gonna end up going to prison, aren’t I? (Sobbing.)

PS Knight: Sam, I can see you’re upset, but I need as much information as I can so we can begin to put things in place.

Sam Beswick: (Sniffles loudly) I don’t know much more. He’s pissed off with some woman, wants to teach her a lesson. I told him to go it alone, but he said if I even thought about going to the cops he’d kill me. I told him I’d rather die than grass on him, but he’s on to me, I know it.

PS Knight: I need more than that. In order to arrest Frank we need evidence, and so far all you’ve given me is hearsay.

Sam Beswick: I’ve put my balls on the line coming to you, so don’t sit there and say you’re gonna do nothing about it! Don’t you see? He’s a murderer! Oh God, what if he finds me?

PS Knight: Sam, calm down. We’ll act on your information, but I need to know more. Start by telling me about his past murders, and we can work from there.

Sam Beswick: He’s got a sketchbook. He keeps it hidden. He showed me a couple of drawings. One was of this old guy, tied in a chair. He had a rag in his mouth and there were flames coming from the chair.

PS Knight: Give me as much detail as you can remember from that picture.

Sam Beswick: It wasn’t like it was a photo or anything, it was just a sketch. He was sitting in a wide chair with arm rests. There wasn’t any detail of the clothes he was wearing, just his face. Frank said the guy was a paedo and deserved to die.

PS Knight: Did he say where he was from?

Sam Beswick: Frank travels all around. He was a delivery driver for a while and it took him all over. The guy in the chair looked old, and I’d say he had white or grey hair. I don’t know when it happened, but I would say it’s been in the last few years.

PS Knight: Would you recognise the man if we showed you a picture?

Sam Beswick: Maybe. I only looked at the picture a couple of times, but his face stood out. I think I’d remember him.

PS Knight: You said that Frank tells tall tales, makes up stories. Why do you believe he’s killed before?

Sam Beswick: It’s the look in his face when he talks about it, and – I remember now – he said his mum was reading about it in the local paper when she was alive. He used to live somewhere else with her before she died. It can’t be too far away.

PS Knight: Can you remember anything else about that sketch? Even the smallest detail?

Sam Beswick: No. Nothing. There was one other picture he showed me. It was a woman, she looked dead too. She was lying back on a sofa, her hand was outstretched like she was reaching for something. I mentioned it to Frank and he laughed and said he had killed her by leaning on a cushion over her face. He thought it was really funny. He said she was an old bitch and had been rude to him. When he talked about stuff like that, he would smile and hold his head to one side like he was talking about going to a wedding, or a good night out. I had to try to smile along with him, like it was the most normal thing in the world to kill someone for being rude to you.

J
ennifer paused
the tape as she gathered her thoughts. The interview was intense, yet her mother was doing everything she could to keep it calm and controlled. She must have been under pressure knowing her superiors were listening in. She stood and stretched her legs. Her hand ached from transcribing, but she needed notes she could refer back to, particularly if she was following the lines of enquiry from home rather than the police station where is should be progressed. DI Allison claimed he was her friend, yet he showed a complete lack of faith when she came to him for help. She rubbed the tiredness from her face. She wanted to make coffee, to take a break and process the interview. But she had to keep going, to bring herself back into the interview room with Sam and Elizabeth. It was the only way she could pick up any clues to the current day murders that took up her thoughts during every waking moment. It was not as if she was going to get any sleep that night anyway. She sat back down and pressed ‘play’.