A Confusion of Murders Read online

  Lev is forced to turn around to answer him, which gives me a better view of his face.

  ‘No, is my cat, is vicious basterd.’ He pulls the cap lower, but it doesn’t hide the four deep scratches down one side of his face. They’re more like gouges than scratches and are crusty with blood. He puts his head down and hurries down the stairs without saying anything more.

  ‘Didn’t look like cat scratches to me,’ says Ian as I put his chips on his desk. ‘Looked more like fingernail marks.’

  ‘Ian,’ Lucy admonishes, ‘you shouldn’t say things like that.’

  Ian shrugs. ‘Only telling it how I see it and I can tell you that was no cat. Looked like someone has raked their fingers down his face.’

  ‘You don’t know that, you only got a glimpse of him.’

  ‘Exactly. If it was a cat why’s he trying to hide them?’He puts a chip in his mouth. ‘Christ these are hot.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s on account of them just being cooked?’

  He holds his mouth open to cool the chip. ‘There’s no salt on these is there?’

  ‘In the kitchen.’ I put Lucy’s chips on her desk.

  ‘You going in there? Could you bring it back with you?’

  I’m not visiting Dad tonight; I tell myself it’s because I already have something else arranged but I don’t want to go to that either.

  I don’t want to see Dad; there, I’ve admitted it.

  The visit on Monday and last night was okay, Dad seemed pleased to see me, but he doesn’t know who I am. On Monday I asked him if he knew who I was, and he just looked at me. I asked him if he thought I was family and he said, ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so.’ After more questioning it turns out he thinks I’m a nurse, but he was getting a bit upset, as if he knew he should remember but couldn’t. I felt ashamed of myself for asking him and I’m not going to ask him again.

  Last night he started talking about mum. He thinks he’s in a hotel and mum’s going to be joining him soon, he’s been talking to her over the radio. He was quite excited about it and was looking forward to seeing her. I started to get upset then and he patted my hand and said why I was crying?

  ‘We’re going to have a lovely holiday. Your mother’s really looking forward to seeing you.’ When I left he gave me a hug. ‘Drive carefully, Louise.’ He knew who I was then, just for a while.

  Anyway, I’m not going tonight and I’m using the excuse that I have to go to Linda’s clairvoyant night. I don’t want to go to that either but if I don’t I’ll have to go and visit Dad.

  Getting changed out of my work clothes, Ralph’s comment comes back to me about looking like I’m not eating. Come to think of it my jeans feel quite loose and a month ago they were quite snug. I decide to weigh myself and hunt the scales out from under the bed where they were banished to a long time ago.

  I blow the dust off them and switch them on. I remove my jeans, bra and pants and the hair slide out of my hair too. Then take my watch off as that probably weighs a pound or two. I get on the scales and am pleasantly surprised when I see that I’ve lost about ten pounds. Ten pounds in less than three weeks; there is an upside to being miserable. My meals have been just the same but thinking about it I have been leaving food on my plate. Apart from the chips at lunchtime; I didn’t leave any of those.

  Sprocket comes in and waddles over and sniffs the scales, he’s looking a bit podgy so has obviously been hovering up the leftovers. I get dressed again and take a look at myself in the mirror; yep, a definite improvement. Feeling ridiculously pleased with myself I shut a howling Sprocket in the kitchen and leave the house.

  Apart from the medium I’m the last to arrive at Linda’s, five people are settled cosily in the lounge waiting to contact the dead. I only said I’d come to make up the numbers. Linda’s really into the spiritual scene and quite often has Sally the medium round; she’s been trying to get me to come for ages and she caught me in a weak moment. Already regretting it I stump up my ten pounds and sit down next to Linda.

  Sally arrives in a flurry of chiffon scarves and jangly beads, her blonde and grey shaggy hair making her look like a nervous afghan hound.

  ‘So sorry I’m late my dears, I was just getting into the car and a lady in spirit insisted on getting in with me. We had quite a chat and she was very eager to come through to one of you here tonight.’

  What a load of old cobblers.

  A dining chair is placed in the centre of the room facing us and she settles herself down in a cloud of patchouli oil. The room isn’t that big, and our knees are nearly touching hers, it all feels claustrophobic and stifling.

  ‘I’ll just give you an idea of what’s going to happen.’

  The room is quiet, everyone except me is hanging on her every word.

  ‘People in spirit send their messages through me, I have no control over what they say and sometimes it can be a bit vague as they’re not always as clear as I would like. Sometimes they’ll have a message for someone which might not make sense at the time but will later. Not everyone will get a message but don’t take it personally. Spirits can be quite shy! So,’ she says, scanning our faces, ‘shall we begin?’

  Everyone nods enthusiastically. Except for me.

  Sally closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in through her nose; her bracelets jangle. The room holds its breath.

  ‘I’m getting a name.’

  Her voice sounds a bit quivering, is it because of the length of the journey from the other side? I stifle a giggle.

  ‘Does the name Judith mean anything to anyone?’

  Silence. No one speaks.

  ‘Joyce? Joan?’ a grey-haired lady with pearls shows a flicker of recognition and Sally pounces.

  ‘And what’s your name?’

  ‘Anne.’

  ‘Anne, is your mother in spirit? Is her name Joan?’

  ‘My mother’s dead but her name’s not Joan.’

  Sally makes a noise which sounds like a tut to me. She breaths in deeply through her nose and fixes Anne with an intense gaze.

  ‘Although I had an auntie called Joan,’ Anne says uncertainly.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ says Sally, ‘but she was like a mother to you, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Um...’

  ‘She’s telling me about some keys.’ Sally looks up to the ceiling. ‘They’re in a drawer in a sideboard. Does that mean anything to you dear?’

  ‘Um, not that I can think of...’ She looks apologetic that it doesn’t mean anything.

  Sally looks at the ceiling again. ‘Yes, Joan I’ll tell her.’ She looks at Anne. ‘Joan says you need to find the keys in the sideboard and when you find them you’ll know what to do.’ She looks heavenward again. ‘Okay, God Bless.’ Sally fixes Anne with a smile. ‘She’s gone now. It may not mean anything to you yet but take that with you and I promise that it will all make sense.’

  Sally swiftly moves on and the next spirit to come through is someone’s father, then someone’s sister, then a cat called Billy. They all have messages and if it doesn’t make sense they’re told to ‘take that with you’. As far as I can see no-one has heard anything that means anything to them. Having trouble keeping a straight face I’m fighting to stop myself from looking up to the ceiling to see who’s there.

  There won’t be a message for me, I’m quite sure of that. Sally’s quite clever at reading people and getting information out them but I’m very good at not giving anything away, other than that I think this is hokum.

  We eventually break for wine and nibbles. How can I make an early getaway without upsetting Linda? Listening to the conversation it seems that the more everyone talks about their messages the more convinced they become that a loved one is talking to them.

  ‘Enjoying yourself?’ Linda hands me a glass of wine.

  ‘Yes, it’s really interesting. Not what I was expecting.’ A complete lie but I don’t want to upset her.

  ‘Maybe you’ll get a message in the second half.’

  ‘Mmm.’

 
‘Sheila can’t believe it.’ Sheila is Linda’s neighbour from across the road. ‘She says there’s no way that Sally could possibly have known her cat was called Billy or how much he meant to her. I think she’s feeling a bit spooked.’

  ‘Yes, it’s uncanny.’ I take a glug of wine. Billy started off as ‘does anyone know a William?’ and Sally finally arrived at Billy after a lot of prompting and leading questions. Apparently, Billy the cat is looking after Sheila from the other side.

  I watch Sally scoffing a sausage roll, her plate is piled high with food and she’s on her second glass of alcohol free wine. A free supper plus a tenner a head and she’s making a lot of money for an evening’s work. Well, hardly work, I reckon anyone could do it if they’ve got the nerve.

  Another refill of wine and we’re off again.

  ‘I have a Betty coming through, can anyone take that?’

  Silence. I sneak a look out of the corner of my eye; no one is going to take it.

  ‘Betty anyone? She’s very insistent – she has a very important message for someone.’

  Well if it was that important she’d surely have a name to give it to. I’m determined not to speak.

  The others are looking at each other desperately trying to think if they know anyone called Betty. The silence is becoming embarrassing.

  ‘LOUISE!’ Sally almost shouts my name and I jump.

  ‘Betty has a message for you – do you know a Betty who’s in spirit?’

  ‘Yes.’ I’m not going to feed her. I won’t tell her my mother was called Betty.

  ‘Betty is very worried for you. She’s quite agitated and you need to listen carefully.’ Sally looks at me intently. ‘Are you listening?’ she peers into my eyes earnestly and her beads jangle with the effort dislodging a flake of pastry from her chiffon scarf.

  ‘Yes,’ I say begrudgingly.

  ‘She says there is danger near to you and you must be careful.’

  Everyone gasps, except me.

  ‘Betty says,’ Sally pauses for dramatic effect, ‘that you must be careful who you trust, that people are not what they seem. She sees that you are struggling at the moment, but you must not worry, everything will be alright. But different. She is watching over Tom.’

  She somehow has my parent’s names, probably from chatting to Linda. I nod thoughtfully as if it means something to me and luckily it seems my turn is over as she turns away, looks up to the ceiling.

  ‘Roger? I have a Roger coming through. He’s saying something about a watch in the attic, can anyone take that?’

  A tiny, birdlike woman called Moira pipes up. ‘I had a great uncle Ronald, he had a fob watch that he always wore.’

  Sally turns to her. ‘Yes, dear, that’s right, it’s Ronald. He’s telling me about the watch he always wore.’

  ‘Yes, yes he did.’ Moira twitters excitedly forgetting that she just told Sally that herself.

  ‘Was the watch lost when he passed? He’s saying that the watch is in a trunk in the attic.’

  Moira looks confused. ‘Oh, I though he left it to my brother...’

  ‘Yes dear, he did,’ says Sally firmly, ‘but there’s another watch and it’s in the attic and you must look for it or ask your family if they can look for it.’

  Moira looks totally lost now. ‘Oh, but...’

  ‘It may not mean anything now but take it with you dear.’ She pats Moira on the arm.

  She turns to me again. ‘Louise,’ Betty is being very insistent and won’t leave until you listen.’

  ‘I have listened.’

  ‘No. Betty is very insistent. She says that you’re not taking her seriously and you must.’

  I look at her and try to look as if I believe what she’s saying.

  ‘Betty says that Tom is happy in his own way and if it comforts him to think he’s in a hotel then where’s the harm in that. ‘I keep my expression neutral. ‘She’s been talking to him and she thinks that it’s helping him. She wants me to tell you again, there is danger near to you, beware who you trust.’ She looks at the ceiling. ‘Yes, dear, God Bless.’ She focuses on me again. ‘It may not mean anything now, dear, but take it with you.’

  I don’t need to take it with me. I never told anyone about Dad thinking he was in a hotel or that he’d been talking to mum.

  Maybe there’s something in this clairvoyant malarkey after all.

  Since Ralph gave up smoking, most afternoons at about three o’clock he prowls the office like a caged animal. He looks at a few folders here, noses out of the window to see what’s going on in the precinct, looks over Ian and Rupert’s shoulder to see what they’re working on and is generally annoying. Ian says it’s his way of releasing the pent-up energy he’s built up by not smoking. The first week he did it there were no end of rows but now we just ignore him.

  The front door intercom buzzes and as Ralph is on his afternoon prowl he answers it. He presses the buzzer release button and we hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

  Detective Inspector Peters comes into the office and a large, stern looking WPC clomps in behind him. Ralph greets them, and they follow him into his office and close the door. After a few minutes there are more footsteps on the stairs and Lev appears in the doorway. He looks furtively around the office then sidles over to Ralph’s office, knocks on the door and goes in and closes the door.

  They must be quite cosy in there as it’s a small office for three men and a woman who’s more than a bit on the large side.

  We hear raised voices and suddenly Ralph’s door is flung open.

  ‘If I no under arrest I no answer questions.’ Lev marches out of the office.

  Detective Inspector Peters follows him out. ‘Mr Dromska, if you could come to the station voluntarily I’m sure we can clear this up in no time.’

  Lev swings around and folds his arms defensively, ‘Is nothing to clear up. I am going back to work. I told you. Basterd it scratch me.’

  ‘Would that be your cat Mr Dromska?’ asks Peters.

  Lev looks uncomfortable. ‘Er, no. Is cat I see in street. It attack me. Now I go to work.’

  ‘Mr Dromska. I must insist you accompany me to the station.’

  ‘NO! I going back to work.’ His face is red, highlighting the scratches.

  The Detective Inspector sighs, ‘I’m afraid you leave me no choice. Levi Dromska, I am arresting you on suspicion of kidnapping. You do not have...’

  The rest of his words are lost in the kerfuffle as Lev makes an attempt to escape by running towards the stairs. Peters nods at the policewoman who swiftly rugby tackles Lev and wrestles him to the floor with a painful sounding thump. Her mousy square hair doesn’t move at all, and as she’s twice the size of Lev he doesn’t stand a chance.

  ‘No! I done no wrong!’ he wails. She ignores him and pins him to the floor with her knee. ‘It’ll go much easier for you, sir, if you come quietly.’ Her voice is gruff. I can’t take my eyes off the soles of her shoes; they’re enormous and must be at least a size nine. She expertly cuffs him and with a swift movement hauls him to his feet with one hand as if he were a rag doll.

  Detective Inspector Peters watches impassively and once Lev is on his feet he nods as she manhandles Lev out of the office and down the stairs.

  ‘Mr Edwards.’ The Detective Inspector nods at Ralph. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Righto,’ says Ralph. ‘By the way, has anyone ever told you that you look just like that Bryan Ferry bloke?’

  ‘No Sir. Never.’ He deadpans then turns and heads down the stairs.

  ‘Surprised at that,’ says Ralph as he watches him leave. ‘Likeness is uncanny.’

  Ian suppresses a snigger.

  The rest of us are in shock and sit at our desks open mouthed looking at each other. Ralph strides across to the window and, as one, we all jump up and scuttle over to join him.

  We watch through the window as Lev is bundled into the back of the police car, the WPC’s large hand expertly holding his head down as she pushes hi
m into the back seat. She walks round to the driver’s side, gets in and drives off.

  ‘Fuck me,’ says Ralph in disbelief. ‘That’s a turn up for the books.’

  ‘Kidnapping?’ says Lucy. ‘Do they mean the murdered woman?’

  ‘Dunno, they were a bit cagey, wouldn’t tell me anything but it must be. We don’t get many kidnappings around here, do we?’

  ‘Don’t they have to have evidence to arrest someone?’ I say.

  ‘Would have thought so.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s been some sort of mistake,’ says Rupert, ‘I can’t believe Lev has anything to do with it.’

  ‘Well there’s no smoke without fire,’ says Ian. ‘I told you those scratches looked a bit dodge. And he did try to hide them. And he lives around the corner from the dead one and the missing one.’

  ‘We’ve got our very own scoop,’ says Ralph thoughtfully. ‘Can we print this Rupert?’

  ‘No, Ralph. We can’t. The most we could print is that an unnamed man is helping police with their enquiries. Innocent until proven guilty. Lev is a work colleague you know, we shouldn’t be so quick to condemn him.’ Bless him, Rupert is so honourable.

  ‘No, no, of course not.’ Ralph seems disappointed. ‘Christ,’ he goes on, ‘that WPC was a big piece wasn’t she. Wouldn’t want to meet her down a dark alley.’

  Lucy and I exchange glances and shake our heads in unison.

  Chapter 10

  Dad’s been in hospital for over three weeks now and he doesn’t seem to be improving at all, in fact he’s worse, lost in another world. He’s had a barrage of tests and, yet they still can’t find anything physically wrong with him.

  A conversation that I had with Sister Kathy comes back to me now. Dad had only been in there for a few days and I asked her what she thought was wrong with him and she told me that it was best to wait and see. As usual I never know when to let it drop so I pressed her, and she reluctantly said she thought he had dementia.

  Shocked, I said that it couldn’t be because everyone knows that dementia takes years to show and Dad had become ill so quickly. She gave a sad smile and said she’s seen it many times and it can be really quick. I refused to believe her then, but now I’m having my doubts.