Sugar & Spice (37 page)

174

Matt had felt uneasy about letting the boy walk home on his own at that time of
night, but Danny had been adamant.
He wasn’t a kid, he’d said.
He was fourteen.
He could look after himself.
Matt smiled at the thought. He liked the boy. He could see echoes of his own
childhood in Danny.
The kid was cheerful.
He was happy-go-lucky.
He was thoughtful.
He was bright.
He was in the back seat.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
The boy’s bleary-eyed features appeared in the rear-view mirror as they sped
along the M2 at a steady eighty-five.
“I thought you might need some company. Where’s Claire?”
“At home. Like you should be.”
“I thought she was going with you.”
“Change of plan.”
Danny clambered into the front seat. “No point me being back here then.”
“Don’t go making yourself comfortable. I’m taking the next exit and you’re
going home.”
“Matt, face facts. You need me. I got the dirt on McKenzie, didn’t I?
“You’re still going home. What’s that in your bag?”
“A flask. Coffee?”
“Forget it. How the hell did you get in here anyway? I thought I locked it.”
“You did. Jeez, it was cold waiting for you. I nearly froze my balls off.”
“I don’t suppose they’ve even dropped yet.”
“Catty in the mornings, aren’t you.”
“Pass me that coffee a minute.”
“See you need me, Matt.
Matt took the plastic cup gratefully. He looked askance at Danny. “Now what
are you bloody grinning about?”
“You just passed the next exit.”

175

Leroy McKenzie was a dangerous man, Matt had stressed to Claire.
He agreed to meet her there on the way back from Liverpool. There was no way she
was seeing him on her own.
McKenzie extended a hand and she took it cautiously.
The hand of a rapist.
Another rapist.
She was becoming quite blase about meeting sex offenders.
Claire followed him through to the living room on the first floor. Dressed in
loose jogging pants and an athletic vest that hugged his torso, the muscular
frame was eye-catching, the biceps huge. She guessed there wasn’t an ounce of
excess fat anywhere on him. If he tried anything she wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Tea? Coffee?”
She didn’t want to stay that long, but remembered how Matt had handled Michael
Bates. “Tea, please.”
From the kitchen, “Like I said on the phone, I’m not proud of my past, but I’m
still a thousand times better than someone who hurts little kids. I was a father
myself once, you know. A baby boy.”
“Once?”
“Meningitis. Nine months old. So I know what it’s like to lose a child. That’s
why I agreed to meet you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“A long time ago. Milk and sugar?”
“Just milk. Nice photo. Is this you?” She picked up a framed photo from a
shelf. Workmen building coastal defences.
He reappeared with the tea. “Sorry, I don’t have a saucer. Not used to lady
visitors. Yeah, that’s me. Years back. Down your neck of the woods as it
happens. Reculver. Yt?”
“You were a builder?” She thought of Dunst’s profile. Then Ceri’s voicemail
saying the paint was a blind.
“Civil engineering is what they call it, but yeah, just a glorified bricklayer
at the end of the day. I was the only black guy on the firm. They gave me all
the shit jobs. The bastards.”
“Is that what you do now?”
“I wish. Haven’t had a job in years. Stupid when you think about it. Okay, I’m
a convicted rapist, but what difference would that make to me working in
construction? The tea okay? “
“It’s lovely, thank you. The baby… You were married?”
“Were being the operative word, yeah. She left me during my first stint
inside. I came out with nothing. No family. No job. Just these.” He held up
his arms. “The only good thing to come out of it all. There was a fantastic
gym there.” He flexed his biceps proudly. “Coldingley, in Surrey. You know
it?”
“Never heard of it.”
“Crazy place. The country’s first industrial prison, way back before they
started privatising everything. I used to make road signs there.”
“Road signs?” Claire felt uneasy. Road signs. Road markings. Was there a
difference?
“So what brought you to Milton Keynes?”
“Came to see the concrete cows one day and couldn’t find my way out.” He
grinned. “Work, what else? No one comes here by choice! No, seriously, it’s a
great place, despite all the jokes. It’s only a few years back unemployment was
unheard of round here. I had no problem finding work before… Well, you know.
Anyway, I did my time. Came out and moved to this cheap rabbit hutch, on my own.
Della left me the day I was arrested. Didn’t even hang around to see if I’d
get off.”
Claire wondered briefly how she would have reacted in similar circumstances, but
Leroy interrupted her thoughts.
“Now I’m stuck in this limbo. Benefits just about cover my rent and food. I
get a few notes for a lock-up I rent out. Can’t afford a car myself, so may as
well let someone use it. Still, I don’t suppose you came here to hear my sordid
life story. So, what exactly can I do for you?”
“It’s a long story. I’m still trying to come to terms with my daughter’s
murder. As you know, someone’s been charged.”
McKenzie put forward his palms defensively. “I didn’t know him, if that’s
what you’re wondering. Fact is, I hope they hang the bastard. Fucking nonce!
Sorry, excuse my language, but kiddie-killers? They don’t deserve to live.”
If they’re guilty, Claire thought. “Leroy, I… That is… Can I ask you
some personal questions?”
“I’ve got no secrets, Claire. I did what I did, and like I say, I ain’t proud
of it, but you can’t rewrite history. Ask me anything you like. If you think you
can handle the answers.”

176

“Jeremy Isaac was your solicitor, right?”
“Isaac? Oh yeah, back on my first arrest. Well, it was Crown Court, so a
barrister dealt with most of it, but yeah, Isaac was my brief back then. You
know him?”
“Jeremy’s office was broken into a few days ago.”
“Hey, it wasn’t me!”
“Of course not. I didn’t mean… The thing is, some files were stolen, and
yours was one of them.”
McKenzie shrugged indifferently. “Ain’t nothing in the files that ain’t a
matter of public record.”
“So no reason why someone would want your steal your details?”
“They just stole my file?”
“No, a couple of others. Jeremy thinks they probably picked up yours by
mistake.”
“Most likely. Who the fuck would want my details?”
“So there’s nothing in there likely to be of interest to anyone else?”
McKenzie shrugged again. “All that would be in it would be the legal bull
about the first rape. I had a different brief after that.”
“So Jeremy didn’t deal with all your cases?”
“Nope. Wish he had’ve. Hs a smart guy. Don’t take no shit from the old bill
if they overstep the mark. But when I was arrested the second time he was
unavailable. It was a straight guilty plea anyway, so it didn’t really matter.
Went straight to Grendon.”
“Grendon?”
“Grendon Underwood. Hey, lady, you don’t know much about Her Majesty’s
prisons, and that’s a fact.”
“I’ve never had the pleasure. Though I did visit someone in Canterbury jail
once. Thomas Bristow?”
If the name meant anything to McKenzie it didn’t show.
“Problem with prisons like that is they just bang you up and then throw you
out. That’s what happened to me the first time round. Two years inside, then out
on parole. I came straight through the gates, not having even seen a woman for
two years, and, well… I just couldn’t help it. Hey! I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to
make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay.” It was a lie. She felt sick. She eyed his huge biceps warily.
Did she have the mace in her bag? She forced herself to continue. “What
happened?”
“Three years. But thankfully they sent me to Grendon.”
“Thankfully?”
“It’s just up the road. Aylesbury. Much more comfortable than Coldingley. Home
from home, really. Not as good as Woodhill, mind. They’ve even got carpets in
the peters there.”
“Peters?”
“Hey, you really are from a different planet, lady! Peterbell: cell. Prison
slang.”
“But what was so good about Grendon?”
“Well, Grendon’s a nonces’ nick. Sex offenders get sent there to be sorted.
It’s not like any other nick I’ve been in. There’s five wings, and each wing is
divided into what they call communities, where the cons have a say in how things
are run. That is, providing they agree to the therapy.”
“Therapy?” Ruth Reynolds came to Claire’s mind. She shuddered at the
thought.
“Therapy, therapy and more fucking therapy. Sitting in circles telling each
other what we were in for and slapping each others’ wrists. There I was one day,
sitting next to some sick bastard who’d been doing it to his son. His own son!
Well I just belted him one. Would have killed him if they hadn’t pulled me off.
Lost a month’s remission, and nearly got ghosted.”
“Ghosted?”
“It’s when the screws come in during the night, while everyone’s asleep, and
you just disappear.”
Claire looked horrified. “In this country?”
McKenzie laughed. “Just to another prison. But a real nick. No frills. It’s a
big deterrent, I assure you. Now in some countries I hear they actually pay
prostitutes to visit men in jail. To make sure they don’t come out desperate
like I did. Sounds like a good idea to me. Twice I was locked up, and twice I
came out and raped again. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“It’s okay.” Another lie. “They caught you again, obviously.”
“Third time lucky. The judge sentenced me to four years. I just stood in the
dock and told him straight. It was all just so fucking pointless. I knew I’d
just rape again as soon as I came out. I wanted help, not punishment. Real help,
to stop me raping again.”
“But you’ve stopped now?” She paused. “Haven’t you?”
McKenzie leaned forward. “Sweetheart, don’t you worry yourself none. I’m in
control now. I don’t hurt nobody no more. Not even someone as pretty as you.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“Fact is, lady, I met a real doctor. He near enough cured me. Mind you, I’d
never have agreed to it if I’d known what it involved.”
“They forced you?”
McKenzie stretched out. “Listen, lady. When you’ve got a choice of spending
another year inside, or you can be free as a bird just by agreeing to have your
sweetmeat frazzled once a week, it’s not such a hard choice.”
“Your what frazzled?”
“Your sweetmeat, lady. Your John Thomas. Love puppet. Chopper. Screwdriver.
You want me to show you?”
Claire raised her hands . “It’s okay!”
“Well running ten thousand volts through your tackle is one sure way of
reducing your love drive, I can tell you. Not that it hurt, you understand. Sort
of like a cattle prod. But it was just so degrading.”
“This was after you left prison, right?”
“Part of my parole conditions. The judge took me seriously about wanting help,
and sent me to this place in Kent. You probably know it. The Quinlan
Foundation.”

177

Claire held her breath, thinking fast. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s a sex clinic. For sex offenders, I mean. I’d heard rumours about it
when I was in Grendon. They say there’s a museum there. A nonce museum. Can you
believe that? Mind you, Dr Q. himself is a real cool dude. For a white man.”
“Dr Q.?”
“Dr Quinlan. The boss-man. In a wheelchair, poor bastard. As old as the hills.
But he knows his stuff. A few sessions at the Foundation and I’ve never even
thought about raping a woman since.”
“Did Dr Quinlan treat you personally?”
“Funnily enough, no. Too old to bend over, I guess. No, this woman did it. I
forget her name. Irish sounding. Began with an R. What was it again? Damn, it’s
on the tip of my tongue.”
“Reynolds?” It was an involuntary response. She looked at the floor, biting
her lip.
“How on Earth did you know that?”
Claire racked her mind for a plausible explanation. “Irish sounding, you said.
There was an Irish prime minister called Reynolds.”
“Hey! Don’t go getting political on me, lady!”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, Ruth Reynolds, that was her. Dr Q. said it was part of the therapy to
have a woman doing it. Because rape was about men dominating women, so it sort
of reversed the situation. She dominated the men. Even me, and I’m not dominated
easily, I can tell you.”
“So what did she do?”
“Well, she stuck all these gadgets to my todger. It was quite embarrassing at
first, this dragon of a woman handling your best bits. Hunched up old witch, a
face like the back of a bus. But even so, things can happen.”
“Things?”
“Hey, lady! Now it’s you making me feel uncomfortable. But she was a strange
one, I can tell you. She hated me. Hated all men, you know?”
“I know the type. Thinks all men are rapists. Oh, sorry…”
McKenzie laughed. “Yeah, of course me being a real one didn’t help none. Are
you sure you want to hear all this?”
Claire was going nowhere till she had. “Try me.”
“Well, the bitch sticks this thing on your baby-maker and it kinda expands
when yours does, and measures how excited you are on a computer screen. Can you
believe that? I mean, she’s only gotta look down to work that out. If it’s
standing to attention then you’re excited, right?”
Claire couldn’t help but smile. “Then what?”
“Well they fit you out with all these probes and things, then show you dirty
movies. I mean real porn, not top-shelf in the newsagents rubbish. Whatever
you’re into, they’ve got it. It even made me feel dirty, some of it. So she
makes you watch all these porno’s just to get your flag pole waving. One time
I just couldn’t get it up, no matter what. And get this! The bitch only gave me
a hand job, just to get things moving! Jesus, that was so embarrassing! I tell
you, lady, beneath this glossy black exterior I was as red as a beetroot.”
“Did you ever meet any of the other patients at the clinic, while you were
there?”
“No way, lady. No way. Dr Q is very mindful about that. There’s only one
client treated at a time. It’s always spic and span. Nothing ever to show anyone
else has ever been there. Dr Q is a very neat and tidy man.”
“You have a lot of respect for Dr Quinlan, don’t you?”
“Hey, he cured me, lady. Never raped a woman since. Honest! He’s been very
good to me. Still is.”
“Still is?”
“Okay, may I shouldn’t be saying this, but he still helps me out. Stops me
wanting to re-offend.”
“In what way?”
“You won’t mention this to anyone? It’s a private arrangement.”
“Not a soul will know, Leroy.”
“I have a lock-up over on the Lakes. Our old house, in Bletchley? Well, Dr Q.,
he rents it from me. Fuck knows what for, but Dr Q., he says he wants to help
me. So he slips me a few smackers every week. After-care service, he says.”
“In Bletchley?”
“Prince William Close, on the Lakes Estate. Number five with the green
door.”
“You’ve lost me, Leroy. How does that help you not re-offending?”
McKenzie dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “So I can afford a prozzie once
a week, lady, how else? A guy’s gotta have regular pussy, you know.”