Antman (52 page)

*  *  *

'What a stink in that place,' said Chris after they'd left the college. 'Domestic violence is so cowardly. It makes me mad.'

'Mrs Blatt didn't actually accuse him of hitting her or the boys,' said Tom.

'She didn't need to. Didn’t you see her body language when we interviewed her?'

Soon after the unproductive interview with Blatt, Chris plugged in the laptop and wished she'd left it forgotten in the boot of the car. There was another great mass of e-mails from Bradshaw, all of which she had to ignore if they were to pursue this stage of the investigation to the bitter end. Among them was a solitary message from Morrison. Apart from a terse preamble about Bradshaw threatening various forms of extreme action against his renegade DCI, he wrote that an American had apparently asked for the fax number of her workplace. Morrison had taken the trouble to transcribe the fax for her and finished with the cryptic 'Am working on Gavin's background.' There was one supportive detective constable, she thought, with the one grain of reassurance in this bleak, flat landscape of despair. She read the message from Blatt, as she thought.

Chief Inspector, my apologies for being impatient. I have a heavy work programme and not enough time for it. I'll send the information as soon as possible. The last known address I have for Gavin is 12 Menihott Road, Huntingdon. Please e-mail if you need further help or information.

Yours,

Lionel B.

'How are you feeling?' Tom asked her.

'Not too bloody chuffed, as you might imagine. We seem to be several steps behind in this case.'

'You're wondering about Blatt. Do you think he's our murderer?'

'I don't know. He's not a very nice man to women. Talking of which, I've had another bucket-load of messages from Bradshaw.'

'Impatient?'

‘
Well past impatience. He's lost it completely with me. He knows how to deal out shit.'

'So we're on borrowed time.'

'It was borrowed time before. I'm well out of credit. Added to which, Bradshaw will want to know how we didn't find out about Gavin.'

'It can happen to anybody.'

'It's happening to me.'

'Let's catch up. We need to meet Gavin and ask him a few questions.'

‘
We have to reach a result, Tom. Gavin's our only lead.'

Before they set off, Chris received a phone message from Morrison. All efforts to find Thompsen had failed. The address turned out to be lodgings and the property was empty, pending demolition. The former owner was deceased.

*  *  *

'Have you any thoughts about this second brother?' Chris asked, as she took the A14 from Cambridge towards Peterborough.

'I'm keeping a reasonably open mind till we see him.'

'I've had some dealings with establishments in the vicinity of Cambridge before – half full of nutty academics and students with over-developed grey matter, having breakdowns.'

'Go easy on the academics. Remember you're sitting next to one.'

'Precisely.'

'Remember what Shakespeare said: "
The lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact.
" There's a fine dividing line between the sane and the so-called mad.'

'Bulls eye.'

'You're taking me the wrong way. I mean the definition of mental illness is problematic. Any of us has the potential to go down that road.'

'Speak for yourself.'

Chapter 34

The Black Fen Unit was a small, nondescript building like a run-down motel, adjacent to a Community Mental Health Resource Centre. Chris parked in the visitors' car park while Tom went in to assess the lie of the land. By the time Chris joined him he was engaged with a trio of staff, all deeply suspicious of him and his motives for coming. The atmosphere relaxed considerably when Chris flashed her warrant card. Within five minutes they were sitting in a triangle of easy chairs, in the simply but comfortably furnished visitors' room. They introduced themselves. Chris had brought Gavin a box of chocolates and some fruit, which he seemed to appreciate. After some vain attempts to get Gavin to tell them about himself, she asked about John Thompsen.

'When did you last see your brother, Mr – er – Gavin?'

Gavin sat staring at the floor.

'Not getting us very far. He only responds if you ask a question which is directed away from himself.'

'Gavin, we want you to help us find your brother. Can you remember where he was living when you were last in touch?'

Another silence. To avoid prolonging it indefinitely, Chris changed tack. 'Can you tell us about John's life in the children's home?'

It was as if a button had been pushed. Gavin spoke like a machine, his voice a monotone.

'They picks on John. We was both fostered, then sent to the Home, then adopted. John has a better memory than me. He learns the catechism off by heart. Father stops beating him then.'

Gavin stopped.

‘
Who does he mean by Father?' mouthed Tom.

'The priest,' she mouthed back. Tom nodded. He wasn't as close as Chris to the whole Roman Catholic business.

The silence went on for a couple of minutes before Chris spoke, realising he wasn't going to restart spontaneously.

'Did you like the Home?'

'John didn't talk about it much.'

'You were there as well.'

'Some of the time. It was hard, being sent to the Home in them days.'

Chris shook her head: 'Please, tell us.'

'The houses was separate. They put John and me in separate houses. We never saw each other outside school. The Reverend Mother had it in for John. He called her prune face or some such. She used to take girls up to her room for punishment and do things. She never did that with the other boys, but she made him eat stuff. Disgusting.'

'Did she do things to you?'

Silence. Gavin might never have heard the question. He sat staring at the floor. After a pause, he carried on speaking.

'She had a fall, the Reverend Mother. Nobody saw it. They said she fell down the stairs and that she'd been drinking. John never talked about it, except once, years later, when he'd been drinking, he said he never meant to do it. I wanted somebody to kill her.'

‘
Why didn't you tell somebody how bad it was?'

'Nobody would believe us. Some of the kids did and they got punished for lying. Nobody said anything till we were grown up. It became all right to sprag on staff. They was too old to get you. Three of the girls grassed Mother Bernadette then. It was too late because she was dead.'

'Can you remember anything about secondary school?'

‘
We moved back with Dad and stayed with him near his work.'

'Do you mean Farnborough?'

Gavin nodded. ‘We went to the same school – a boys' boarding school run by one of those religious orders, brothers and fathers wearing cassocks and dog collars all the time. We didn't sleep there like the boarders. I was the quiet one. John had all the attention. The dormitory at the Home smelled of sweat. We was dying slow. School was escape. I worked hard at school to escape. I saw the inside of the office of Father –' Gavin paused. 'Can't remember his name, the headmaster. It was dark. He sits behind the desk. When he stands up I knows he's going to shout. He hurts my head.'

'He hit you?'

Gavin paused and eventually nodded. He continued to speak, slowly and mechanically. Tom thought, this is like drawing nails from a plank.

'There was only one teacher John liked. Mr Regel. I liked Mr Regel but he didn't talk to me. I wasn't interested in science. Once they lost some soap and toothpaste from the washroom. They searched everywhere. They found it hid under John's mattress. They had a big assembly. Father always had one. The big school in the big hall. Father give the boy one last chance to own up. He warns he'll go to Hell. My legs is shaky. He come off the stage and walks down the rows of boys. He pulls John out and starts shouting at him. He grabs him by the hair. He pulls him down the hall and shouts a lot. John was crying. I was crying. I didn't see John for ages after that. He stayed in the sick room. They didn't let us see the bruises.'

Another long silence, which Chris broke. 'Is there anything else you'd like to tell us, Gavin?'

Gavin made no movement which indicated he had heard the question.

'Some information about your family perhaps. Something you feel we should know.'

It was as though they didn't exist. Chris touched Tom's arm: 'I think we'd better be going.'

She started to walk away. ‘We must be off now, Gavin. Thank you for seeing us.'

They walked slowly to the door. Gavin's silence and lack of movement was absolute. Outside the door, a member of staff was within calling distance and they were soon off the premises.

'He's shut us off,' said Chris. ‘We've no way of accessing his world.'

'Correction, he's already left ours.'

*  *  *

Morrison rang Chris's mobile as she reached the car. She caught Tom's glance, raised her eyebrows and breathed, 'Blatt's been in touch with the Station with some dates.' She switched off. In the car, she turned to Tom.

'The good news first. You probably guessed – Blatt one, police nil. He's produced a list of venues. He was in Texas on all but one of the dates I gave him – the date of Brandt's death.'

'Yes?' Tom looked expectant.

'He was in England, yes, but reckons he was fully engaged at a meeting in Cambridge.'

'Oh.'

'Now the bad news. Bradshaw is doing his nut about my continued absence.'

She didn't answer, started the car, then changed her mind. 'To hell with it. I'm ringing Blatt to thank him for the information.'

She picked up her mobile and dialled. To her surprise, she was straight through to Blatt.

'Thanks for sending the details of your movements.'

Tom was round the other side of the vehicle and didn't hear the entire conversation. Then he heard her say, ‘We're trying to trace a school teacher of one of your sons. Do you know anything about a Mr Regel?'

Chris was surprised at Blatt's positive response.

'I do actually. He was in a similar field to my own. He had an affinity with the boy.'

She tried a long shot. 'I wondered if on your visits to Cove, you kept in touch with John's former school. Assuming Mr Regel is still alive, do you know where he might be living?'

'Funny you should say that. You'll be aware, no doubt, the school wasn't far from my previous lodgings in Cove, where I visit on occasions. I did see the old boy from time to time. Last time I saw him in the street was a few years ago. He looked shaky but he was still walking to the shops.'

'You don't happen to know where he lives?'

'I'm not pouring cold water on the idea, but –' he hesitated. 'I think it's unlikely he's still alive. Sorry I can't help further.'

*  *  *

When Chris came off the phone, Tom was intrigued. 'I didn't know you intended to ask Blatt about the teacher,' he said.

'Neither did I. It was a spur of the moment decision.'

'It's odd, Blatt was almost too cooperative.'