In the Light of Madness (36 page)

Wednesday said she did not recall one being found at the crime scene or on Darren’s body. She asked whether Judith had searched in the house, which only seemed to anger her more.

“I keep telling you, he was wearing it. Sterling silver with his initials on the back—DG. His dad got it for him.”

“I’ll get an officer to search through the evidence bags, and we’ll get back to you. I’ll get someone to accompany you home; you’re in no fit state to be out on your own.”

Judith made no comment as her head lolled from side to side. An officer escorted her out and Wednesday was glad to get away from the stale air.

She was about to take Lennox to one side, when Hunter strode up to them. He looked directly at Wednesday as he spoke.

“Cleveland is out of the hospital. I want you to interview him. We need to ascertain whether his assault was connected to his debts or the murders.”

He strode off without waiting for a response. Wednesday jangled her keys at Lennox. She wanted to get out.

“Hunter’s concerned about your liaison with Scarlett. He wants me to dissuade you from seeing her.” She didn’t look at him.

Lennox brushed his hand over his hair and stared out of the passenger window. Tall poplar trees lined the road, bending back and forth in the gusts of wind. People walking along the pavement with their heads hung low, scarves flailing and collars turned up.

“Did you tell him about me and Scarlett?”

“Certainly not. I want us to well work together, which so far I believe we do. So no, it wasn’t me.”

Lennox rubbed his chin, feeling the slight abrasion of stubble under his fingers. “You know it isn’t really a relationship. Just a mutual interest in physical exercise.”

Wednesday squirmed at his description and gripped the steering wheel harder. “It’s none of my business, but tread carefully with her. She’s not as resilient as she makes out.”

Lennox made no reply and continued watching the scenery pass by until they arrived at Cleveland’s flat.

Once inside the building, it took a while for Cleveland to hobble to the door. He peered through the spy hole before removing the security chain.

“Checking I’m safe?” he asked with a half smile.

“We’ve come to see whether you remember more about your attack,” replied Wednesday, looking past his shoulder into the kitchen and noticing empty takeaway cartons spilling all over the worktop.

“Well I can’t, so you’ve had a wasted journey.”

“You must at least know whether the attack was due to your debts or something to do with your school.”

He looked hard at her with his bloodshot eyes in discoloured sockets. She returned his regard and suggested they move their conversation inside.

“You’re a lucky man to work with such an attractive woman, even if she is bossy,” he said to Lennox, as they all moved to the lounge.

But Lennox did not bite, returning the conversation to the attack.

“You still remain a suspect in the murder cases, so I suggest you take things more seriously. Your flippant attitude is not ingratiating.”

“I didn’t realise I had to get on your good side. Are you here to arrest me?” He mockingly held his arms out with his wrists together, and cocked his head whilst looking from one to the other. “I didn’t think so,” he laughed. “You’re at a loss, no real evidence. You’re just stabbing around in the dark.”

His laughter progressed into a coughing fit which split the cut on his lip. As blood seeped out, he grimaced and swallowed some cold tea to rid himself of the nasty taste in his mouth.

“We understand you’re not a member of the golf club, but you would like to be. Is that correct?” Wednesday asked.

“I suppose it was Saunders who told you that. Well, I have no desire for such a membership. And I have enough well-to-do and aristocratic connections at the school to get me what I want.”

Markham Hall was not an upper class boarding school for the local gentry, as he seemed to be making out. Cleveland seemed to have a delusional streak where he and his school were concerned.

“Unfortunately, the CCTV footage from the golf club has yielded nothing of value,” she continued. “So, could you tell us where they attacked you first and how you came to be on the golf course?”

“All I can say is that there were two of them. They were wearing balaclavas and they were tall and broad. They took me from outside my flat and bundled me into a car or a van. I could sense they left me outside by the temperature, but as I was blindfolded I couldn’t say where.”

He rubbed his bandaged wrist as he spoke, then placed a cushion on his lap on which to rest his arm.

“Did you recognise their voices?”

Cleveland shook his head slowly before complaining of a headache and wishing to go to bed.

“So they said nothing to you at all. Not even that the beating was a message from someone?”

“Nothing at all. Why ever it happened is of no consequence. I’m afraid to go out now, so what they did worked.”

He looked pitiful and Wednesday knew they would get nothing out of him. Gripping onto the door frame with his bruised hand, he saw them out. Hearing their footsteps recede, he turned around to put the door chain on again and then moved to the kitchen. He picked up a bottle of whisky and poured himself a large measure before moving to the lounge to sit in a dark corner, facing the door.

Wednesday drove to her parent’s home feeling guilty at wishing she was going to her own place, but she had promised Oliver he could have a break at some point.

Oliver’s face lit up as he answered the door, welcoming her in with a meaningful hug. “Your mother will be pleased to see you. I think she may be bored of my company.”

Wednesday followed him into the lounge, where Joan was rifling through a cupboard.

“Found them,” she exclaimed as she brandished a couple of photo albums in the air.

Wednesday noticed her mother was dressed up and wearing her expensive jewellery. She had applied too much garish blue eye shadow and peony rouge on her cheeks. Her lipstick was a bold fuchsia pink and her nails were the same colour. It was a contrast from how she looked in the hospital, but Wednesday knew that her new appearance was not necessarily a good thing.

“I’m off to play dominoes in the pub. I’ll be back later.” He blew them both a kiss and scarpered, lest Wednesday should change her mind.

Joan’s face closed down for a few seconds before shuffling up to Wednesday and asking whether she thought he was having an affair.

“I doubt that very much, he loves you to pieces. He just wanted to spend some time with his male friends. It’s been a stressful time of late.”

Her words appeared to pacify Joan as she picked up the albums, suggesting they sit at the kitchen table to leaf through the pages. Wednesday made a pot of tea before they rummaged through images and memories of times gone by.

Joan gazed wistfully at pictures of her as a young girl who was as yet unaware of the trials that lie ahead for her. Her fingers traced the flat outline before she moved on to the next picture. “If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have become a mother,” she whispered as though talking to the people in the photographs.

“You’re a great mum,” replied Wednesday as she gently stroked her mother’s hand.

“Nonsense. I’ve had periods of absence in your lives. I disappeared when I was needed, I wasn’t there for many of your school plays or parents evening. And worse of all, either of you could end up the same as me.”

“We don’t know that, Mum,” she replied before lighting a cigarette and standing by the back door. She watched her mother flicking through childhood memories stored in a shoe box, spreading the pictures and greeting cards across the table and spilling a few unnoticed ones over the edge. She watched her mother brewing her own personal storm in her troubled mind.

“Scarlett looked so pretty with her hair in bunches and wearing that gingham dress. Pretty and innocent. Do you think she will be all right?”

“In what way?”

“People say how alike Scarlett and I are—and I don’t mean in looks. Do you think people see the same madness in her as they see in me?”

“I’ve no idea what other people see or think and you should know better than to worry about that. People will always gossip and speculate about the lives of others.”

Wednesday was feeling the tedium she imagined Oliver felt most days. No wonder he wanted to get out. To save her own sanity, she collected two more photo albums and pulled her chair closer to Joan.

“Let’s immerse ourselves in the recollection of happier times,” she said as she put her arm around her shoulder.

Lennox paced around his sparse kitchen with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Impulsively, he pulled out his mobile phone and called Scarlett. As he listened to the ringing, he had second thoughts and hung up. He flung the phone on the table and wandered over to the fridge, hoping to find something to fill the void. As he opened a bottle of beer, his mobile rang.

“Sorry I missed your call. I’m glad you phoned,” Scarlett said, having pressed call-back.

“I was at a loose end and wondered if you fancied meeting up?”

Scarlett invited him over, saying that Eva was out so they had the place to themselves. There was a different tone to her voice, but he could not analyse it.

After spraying on some cologne, he picked up a full packet of cigarettes and a bottle of Merlot, before heading to his car. He set off in an almost dream-like state, heading for an evening of untold joy and pleasure.

When Scarlett opened the front, Lennox almost thought he had gone to the wrong house. She was not the exuberant and dynamic woman that he knew. Her flamboyant gestures and decadent attitude had been replaced with a sombre, disconnected mood that was hardly what Lennox would have chosen in a companion for that evening. He wanted the physical delights that only a woman could offer.

“Are you all right?” he asked, following her to the kitchen.

“Work is getting to me. I’m having my articles quashed. The editor wants me to get insider info seeing as I live with the DI on the case. What do you think about focusing on a serial killer angle instead? Is that how it’s perceived by the police?”

“You know I can’t answer that,” he said, picking up the corkscrew that lay on the work surface.

“Okay then, but it’s a realistic train of thought. Two boys died in very similar circumstances, but the girl was different, almost more personal than the others.”

He knew she was talking sense, but he did not want to regurgitate the facts of the day, or resurface the images of the corpses in his mind. He poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. As he did so, Scarlett reached for his wrist with her hand and began rubbing her thumb along the underside of his arm.

“I need you to hold me,” she whispered.

Wednesday’s words rang in his ears. So this is what she was talking about, he found himself thinking. He gently untwined his wrist from her hand and moved around the table to sit down.

“Let’s go to the lounge, we’ll be more comfortable on the sofa,” she said, following him around the table and linking her arm through his.

Sitting on the sofa, she snuggled into him and rested her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat.

“Eva said you had family problems. Care to share?”

“She said too much, and no, I don’t wish to talk about it.”

“Are you planning to reform your family? Are you still in love with your ex?”

Lennox sat up, dislodging her from his chest and turning to face her. “My personal life is private, and I have no desire to discuss it with you.” He picked up his glass and downed a large mouthful.

“Well what did you come round for?”

“I thought that was obvious. The animal side of you is very tempting.”

Suddenly, Scarlett was on her feet, nudging the coffee table and knocking over her wine glass. All Lennox could hear was a jumble of words tumbling out of her mouth, whilst her arms gesticulated wildly like a windmill in a gale.