The Echo (10 page)

"I don't know."

"Can you give me a name?"

"No."

"Where did this murder happen?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Then I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think we can be of any assistance."

Deacon had visited Westminster pier where the cruisers docked, but had looked in vain for someone to question about a pavement artist who had once earned charity there. He was impressed by how hostile the river seemed in winter, how stealthily its water lapped the hibernating pleasure cruisers, how black and secretive its depths. He remembered what Amanda Powell had said-
"He preferred to bed down as near to the Thames as possible."
But why? What was the bond that tied Billy to this great sinew at the heart of London? He leaned forward and stared into the water.

An elderly woman paused in her progress along the walkway. "Premature death is never a solution, young man. It raises far more questions than it answers. Have you taken into account that there may be something waiting for you on the other side, and that you may not be prepared yet to face it?"

He turned, unsure whether to be offended or touched. "It's all right, ma'am. I'm not planning to kill myself."

"Not today perhaps," she said, "but you've thought about it." She had a tiny white poodle on a lead, which wagged its stumpy tail at Deacon. "I can always tell the ones who've thought about it. They're looking for answers that don't exist because God has not chosen to reveal them yet."

He squatted down to scratch the little creature's ears. "I was thinking about a friend of mine who killed himself six months ago. I was wondering why he didn't drown himself in the river. It would have been a less painful way to die than the one he chose."

"But would you be thinking about him if he hadn't died painfully?"

Deacon straightened. "Probably not."

"Then perhaps that's why he chose the method he did."

He took out his wallet and removed the first photograph of Billy. "You might have seen him. He was a pavement artist here in the summers. He used to draw pictures of the nativity with 'blessed are the poor' written underneath. Do you recognize him?"

She studied the thin face for several seconds. "Yes, I think I do," she said slowly. "I certainly remember a pavement artist who drew pictures of the Holy Family, and I think this was the man."

"Did you speak to him?"

"No." She returned the photograph. "There was nothing I could say to him."

"You spoke to me," Deacon reminded her.

"Because I thought you'd listen."

"And you didn't think he would?"

"I
knew
he wouldn't. Your friend wanted to suffer."

On the off chance that Billy had been a teacher, and in the absence of a national register which he had established did not exist, Deacon wined and dined a contact at the National Union of Teachers' headquarters, told him what he knew, and asked him to search the union backlist for any English teachers whose subscriptions had lapsed in the last ten years without good reason.

"You're pulling my leg, I hope," said his acquaintance with some amusement. "Have you any idea how many teachers there are in this country and what the turnover is? At the last count there were upwards of four hundred thousand full-time equivalents in the maintained sector alone, and that's excluding the universities." He pushed his plate to one side. "And what does 'without good reason' mean anyway? Depression? That's very common. Physical disability inflicted by fifteen-year-old thugs? More common than anyone wants to admit. At the moment, I'd guess there are more inactive teachers than active ones. Who wants the hell of the classroom if there's something more civilized on offer? You're asking me to search for the needle in the proverbial haystack. You have also, and rather conveniently, forgotten the Data Protection Act which means I couldn't give you the information even if I could find it."

"The man's been dead six months," said Deacon, "so you won't be betraying any confidences, and his subscription was probably stopped at least four years before that. You'll be looking at lapsed membership between say, nineteen eighty-four and nineteen ninety." He smiled suddenly. "All right, it was a long shot, but it was worth a try."

"I can give you several more apt descriptions than long shot. Try damp squib, nonstarter, or absolute no-no. You don't know his name, where he came from, or even if he was a member of the NUT. He might have belonged to one of the other teacher unions. Or to no union at all."

"I realize that."

"Matter of fact you don't even know if he was a teacher. You're guessing he
might
have been because he could recite poems by William Blake." The man smiled amiably. "Do me a favor, Deacon, go boil your head in cooking oil. I'm an overworked, underpaid union official, not a ruddy clairvoyant."

Deacon laughed. "Okay. Point taken. It was a bad idea."

"What's so important about him, anyway? You didn't really explain that."

"Maybe nothing."

"Then why the pressure to find out who he was?"

"I'm curious about what drives an educated man to self-destruct."

"Oh, I see," said the other sympathetically. "It's a personal thing then."
 

Dr. Henry Irvine,
  St. Peter's Hospital
  London SW10

10th December, 1995

Dear Dr. Irvine,

Your name has been given to me in connection with a prisoner you interviewed at Brixton prison in 1991. His name was Billy Blake, and you may have read about his death by starvation in a garage in London's docklands in June of this year. I have become interested in his story, which seems a tragic one, and I wonder if you have any information that might help me establish who he was and where he came from.

I believe he chose the alias William Blake because there were echoes of the poet's life in his own. Like William, Billy was obsessed with God (and/or gods), and while he preached their importance to anyone who would listen, his message was too arcane to be understood; both men were artists and visionaries, and both died in poverty and destitution. It might interest you to know that I wrote my MA thesis on William Blake, so I find these echoes particularly interesting.

From the little information I have been able to gather so far, Billy was clearly a tortured individual who may or may not have been schizophrenic. In addition, one of my informants (not very reliable) says that Billy confessed to strangling a man or woman in the past. Is there anything you can tell me that would confirm or refute that statement?

Whilst I fully accept that your interview(s) with Billy were of a confidential nature, I do believe his death demands investigation, and anything you can tell me will be greatly appreciated. I have no desire to compromise your professional reputation and will only use what you send me to further my research into Billy's story.

You may already know my work but, in case you do not, I enclose some examples. I hope they will give you the confidence to trust me.

Yours sincerely,

Michael Deacon

Michael Deacon

17th December, 1995

Dear Michael Deacon,

Thank you for your letter of 10th December. My report on Billy Blake has been in the public domain since 1991 so I cannot see that it's a breach of confidence to give you the information you want. Also, I agree that his death demands investigation. I was upset when my further access to him was denied after I advised that Billy's self-mutilation was more likely the result of private trauma than criminal offense, because I firmly believe that further sessions would have allowed me to help him. While I offered him free treatment when he left prison, I could not force him to accept it and, inevitably, I lost touch with him. Your letter is the only follow-up on his case that I have ever had.

To put my role into perspective, the police were not satisfied that Billy Blake's first crime was the theft of bread and ham from a supermarket. They recognized that he was using an alias, and they were suspicious of his mutilated hands which defied fingerprint analysis. However, despite lengthy questioning, they failed to "break" him and fell back on the charge of shoplifting to which he had already admitted. I was asked to write a psychological report prior to sentencing because of the bizarre nature of the man. In simple terms my brief was to discover if Billy was a danger to the community, the argument being that he would not have scarred his fingers so badly unless he was afraid of a previous, violent crime being brought home to him.

Despite having only three meetings with him, Billy made an extraordinary impact on me. He was desperately thin with a shock of white hair and, though clearly suffering acute alcohol withdrawal symptoms, he was always in command of himself. He had a powerful presence and considerable charm, and the best description I can give of him is "fanatic" or "saint." These may seem strange epithets in London of the nineties, but his commitment to the salvation of others while suffering torment himself makes any other description invalid once the more obvious mental disorders were ruled out. He was rather a fine man.

I enclose the concluding paragraphs of the psychiatric report and a transcript of part of a conversation I had with him, which may interest you. I confess to having missed the William Blake association, but Billy's conversation was certainly of a visionary nature. If I can be of any further assistance please don't hesitate to contact me.

With best wishes,

Henry Irvine

Henry Irvine

P.S. Re: the transcript-It was., of course, the answers Billy declined to give that tell us most about him.

Psychiatric Report
  Subject: Billy Blake **/5387
  Interviewer: Dr. Henry Irvine

In conclusion:

Billy has a fully developed understanding of moral and ethical codes, but refers to them as: "ritual devices for the subjugation of individual to tribal will," from which I infer that his own morality is in conflict with social and legal definitions of right and wrong. He exhibits extraordinary self-control and gives no insight into his background or history. Billy Blake is almost certainly an alias, although questions about specific crimes elicit no reaction from him. He has a high IQ and it's difficult to assess his reasons for refusing to talk about his past. He has a morbid interest in hell and mortification, but poses more of a threat to himself than to the community. I can find no evidence of a dangerous mental disorder. He seems to have a clear rationale for his choice of lifestyle-I would describe it as a penitent's life-and I consider it far more likely that some private trauma, unrelated to any crime, motivates him.

He presents himself as a passive individual although I have noticed signs of agitation whenever he is pressed about where he was and what he was doing before he first came to police attention. I agree that there may be a crime in his past-he is quite singleminded enough to mutilate himself to achieve a purpose-but I think it unlikely. He quickly developed a strong resistance to my questions on the matter, and it is doubtful that further sessions will persuade him to be more forthcoming. It is my considered opinion, however, that he would benefit from therapy as I believe his "exile" from society, involving as it does an almost fanatical desire to suffer through starvation and deprivation, will result in his unnecessary and premature death.

Henry Irvine

Transcript of taped interview with Billy Blake-12. 7. 91 (part only)

Irvine:

Are you saying that your personal code of ethics is of a higher order than the religious codes?

Blake:
I'm saying it's different.

Irvine:
In what way?

Blake:
Absolute values have no place in my morality.

Irvine:
Can you explain that?

Blake:
Different circumstances demand different codes of ethics. For example, it isn't always sinful to steal. Were I a mother with hungry children, I would think it a greater sin to let them starve.

Irvine:
That's too easy an example, Billy. Most people would agree with you. What about murder?

Blake:
The same. I believe there are times and occasions when murder, premeditated or not, is appropriate. (Pause) But I don't think it's possible to live with the consequences of such a crime. The taboo against killing a member of our own species is very strong, and taboos are difficult to rationalize.

Irvine:
Are you speaking from personal experience?

Blake:
(Gave no answer)

Irvine:
You seem to have inflicted severe punishment on yourself, particularly by burning your hands. As I'm sure you already know, the police suspect a deliberate attempt to obscure your fingerprints.

Blake:
Only because they can conceive of no other reason why a man should want to express himself upon the only thing that truly belongs to him-namely his body.

Irvine:
Self-mutilation is normally an indication of a disordered mind.

Blake:
Would you say the same if I had disfigured myself with tattoos? The skin is a canvas for individual creativity. I see the same beauty in my hands as a woman sees when she paints her face in a mirror. (Pause) We assume we control our minds, when we don't. They're so easily manipulated. Make a man destitute and you make him envious. Make him wealthy and you make him proud. Saints and sinners are the only free-thinkers in a governed society.

Irvine:
Which are you?

Blake:
Neither. I'm incapable of free thought. My mind is bound.

Irvine:
By what?

Blake:
By the same thing as yours, Doctor. By intellect. You're too sensible to act against your own interests therefore your life lacks spontaneity. You will die in the chains you've made for yourself.

Irvine:
You were arrested for stealing. Wasn't that acting against your own interests?