When Evil Wins (12 page)

“Of course you do officer. How can I help?”

“If you don't mind, could you take a look to see if you can identify her? I hope you have a strong stomach. Our initial conclusions indicate that she jumped from the top of this building.”

“Oh.” Jameson looked around the room. There was no one missing as far as he could tell.

Jameson left the Morecambe suite with the police officer. Exiting the lift on the ground floor, they walked towards the entrance of his building. Through the building’s glass frontage Jameson saw a blanketed body and his stomach began to feel heavy, almost as if it had suddenly been filled with un-risen dough. They left the building and walked over to the covered body, its shape being brought into sharp relief as a police car’s blue strobing lights played across it.

“Are you ready for this, sir?” the policeman asked, bending over, reaching for the corner of the blanket that obviously covered the head of the body that lay beneath.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Richard said. The policeman pulled back the blanket revealing the smashed and bloodied face of Richard’s secretary.

“Oh my God!” Richard said utterly shocked. “Officer, I do know this person, it’s Amanda Strickland, my secretary. Please put the blanket back.”

Amidst an awkward silence, which was occasionally broken by muffled whispers, the police took statements from everyone; once completed the party goers were allowed to leave, each being informed that they should consider staying in the country, should they have any other plans, until the investigation was concluded.

Richard approached Janus. “What's going on? Why did Amanda do that?”

Janus noted a level of uncertainty in Richard's voice; it was something that was uncharacteristic of his boss.

“Do what, Richard?” Janus asked. All that he had managed to ascertain from the interview the police had had with him was the fact that there was a body, on the pavement, outside of Richard’s offices.

“It’s Amanda,” Richard replied. “She’s thrown herself from the top of my building; committed suicide,” he said shakily. Janus was stunned by the revelation.

“I don’t — I don't know, Richard,” Janus stuttered an answer, his mouth working before his mind had taken on board what he’d just been told. Shaking his head in shock he said. “I wasn't aware she had any problems.” Janus was beginning to feel sick; a clammy coldness enveloping him.

“Neither did I,” Richard said. “You don't think it was working for me that made her do this do you?”

“Of course not,” Janus replied, trying to stay the sickness that was beginning to eat away at him. “Who wouldn't want to work for you?” he carried on.

“Are you just saying that?” Jameson needed to get to the facts to convince himself.

“No, Richard, it's the truth. In this industry there is no better place than with Jameson Publishing,” Janus answered honestly, barely controlling his emotions.

“Thank you, Janus. Are you sure that anyone I ask will say the same?” Richard said, in his newly uncertain manner.

“Of course, absolutely, Richard,” Janus replied not being able to say anymore.

“Well,” Richard said, accepting Janus's statement, “all there is now are the conclusions the police will draw and that will be that,” Richard finished, shock now dampening his emotional self.

Richard walked away from Janus, without a further word, and indicated to Liz that they should be going home to wait for the police to determine what exactly had happened that night, the couple exited the function suite.

Janus was alone in the room, the rest of the guests having already left. He wondered how such a good evening could come to such an awful end.

Why would Mandy do that?
he thought, wiping the cold perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief. No doubt the police would work it out.

Janus left the building and managed to summon a cab to take him home. It was too late to catch the train; and catching a train was something he couldn’t do, not after this. And even if there were trains running he was too affected by the evening's horror to contemplate navigating the tube and overland rail system.

During his journey back to Leigh Janus went over the whole evening in his mind. He hadn't seen Mandy leave the Morecambe suite. His last recollection of her was of finishing their discussion about her champagne consumption and her then going off to dance.

In all the times he had spoken to her, had meals with her, gone to the pictures with her, there was nothing to indicate she was in any way depressed or suicidal. But she had jumped from the top of the building all the same, according to the police.

No matter what he thought, he would have to wait for the police to finish their investigation.

Janus's gut feeling told him there was something else going on and Mandy had died because of it, whatever it was.

Perhaps Liz's accident was part of the whole… the whole… He couldn't even put it into words. Was there anything to comprehend? Was there something going on?

Both incidents battled for supremacy in his mind. Surely there could be no link, a car accident, and then Mandy's apparent suicide; two people from different backgrounds and two dissimilar incidents.

Janus felt sure that the police would not connect these two accidents of life; if that's what they were, so why should he feel the need to? The police ought to know what they're doing, he told himself trying to be convinced by his supposition.

The longer he sat in the back of the cab on his journey home the idea and feeling that there was a link increased. However hard he tried to put the possibility and the thought out of his mind, Janus could not shake it off, the idea of a connection was becoming paramount, but what was it? What was the link? Somehow Liz and Mandy were part of it.

Although the journey, at that time of night, was around an hour to his house, it was over almost before it had begun; the incessant gnawing of his thoughts having blotted out the entire trip.

The cab driver drew up outside the entrance to his flat. “That'll be ninety-seven quid mate.”

Janus handed over the money and after giving his thanks he entered his front door. Once inside he dropped down on his sofa attempting to shrug off the awful evening. But even in attempting this he couldn't stop thinking about Mandy's death, it was ingrained, and essentially, it was wrong.

At the time the guests had been able to leave the party the police still hadn’t finished with the body. This very fact meant that each and every person, on their leaving, had to navigate a path around Mandy’s deformed cadaver as they left. They’d had no choice; the dead body was only a few feet from the building’s entrance, next to the alleyway that led to the fire exit.

As the guests walked some turned away, looking elsewhere, trying not to see Mandy's legs protruding from the bottom of the blanket; others had stared and frowned as if their minds were trying to reconcile what they were seeing now with the pleasure and celebration of the party they’d attended.

This was not an evening to remember, and as to the twenty-fifth anniversary of Richard Jameson's publishing company, this would not be a calendar date to revere. Mandy's death had destroyed the occasion as she had apparently destroyed herself.

Janus felt like a Jonah, it seemed to him that every time he’d been present, over the past few months, something awful had happened. And each time the outcome had affected Richard Jameson, his friend and mentor, in some way.

Janus sat on his couch trying to be positive, sitting back struggling to relax. Certainly terrible things had happened, but they must all be coincidences, he was sure – well almost sure.

As Janus wondered how Richard was taking on board all that had happened, exhaustion overcame him and he entered unconsciousness, completely drained by the evening’s events.

Janus walked through Richard's front door. The late afternoon light was streaming through the glass patio doors at the rear of the house. It illuminated the hall and open plan lounge and was brighter than Janus recalled from past visits. The Jameson's front room to his left was a picture; all the colours seemed greater, as if the contrast had been turned up. The house plants were in flower and more orange, the rubber plant was greener.

Janus made his way down the hall into the lounge area, it was empty. He could see the intensely blue sky through the patio doors, small flecks of white insinuating clouds. There was no one in the conservatory.

Suddenly little Stephanie appeared; entering the scene from the left, waving a welcome to Janus. Janus lifted his hand in response and waved back, almost in slow motion. But before he could finish his gesture a flame spewed out from the floor, oranges and yellows engulfing the nine-year-old daughter of Richard and Liz Jameson.

He heard the crackling of the child’s hair as it ignited and smelt something akin to ammonia; he saw the skin of her face blacken as it peeled back under the intense heat.

But she was still waving and smiling, but with a rictus grin now. No lips gracing her face any longer, still walking towards him, and somehow it was no longer Stephanie, the face belonging to someone else, someone else he felt he ought to know; someone from his past laughing at him.

***

Janus was propelled from his sleep by the sheer horror he had been witness to. He opened his eyes feeling dazed by the images, almost paralysed, but as he got control of his grasping breaths, the feeling of paralysis began to lift.

Light was seeping through his windows as morning had arrived and he was still on his sofa; he must have been dreaming — he sincerely hoped he had been dreaming. Shaking his head he tried to displace the remnants of the awful images from his mind's eye.

The longer he was awake the more the dream faded. The imagery becoming less real and diminishing but the emotion remained, the horror stuck with him, inducing a cloying sickness in his stomach.

What was going on? Was this a portent or just a bad dream? He didn't know for sure. He knew he was prone to visions, but he hoped there was no prophecy that could be attached to this one.

Janus wondered whether he ought to call Richard and tell him about his vision; but if he did would Richard take any notice?

Janus felt it would probably not be enough for the pragmatic man to even start to entertain the idea that there was any jeopardy for him or his family.

After having a shower Janus made his way to the kitchenette to put the kettle on for a strong cup of coffee. He hoped this would unclog his mind and enable him to think clearly about the recent events and draw some conclusions as to what had happened; if there were any to draw.

As he poured the boiled water into his cup the telephone rang out making him jerk, spilling the steaming liquid across his hand and kitchen work surface. Quickly wiping the scolding water from his hand with a dishcloth, he made his way to his phone.

“Hello?” he said; without any energy.

“Janus, this is Richard.”

“Hello, Richard,” Janus said, feeling a little more alive.

“Janus, I've just finished on the phone to the police; Chief Superintendent Harris, in fact.”

“Oh God, Richard, what’s going on? Why is there a Superintendent involved?”

“I don't know, Janus, but the Superintendent told me that it looks like they will be taking Amanda's death as suicide.”

“Really?” Although Janus had thought this would be the outcome he still felt incredulous.

“They haven't concluded their investigations yet,” Richard carried on, “but it seems there is a family history of depression. Amanda's mother killed herself about ten years ago; Amanda was only thirteen at the time.”

“What about her father?” Janus asked.

“The father left the family when she was two. They haven't been able to track him down yet.”

“What does this mean?” Janus said.

“I think it means that the police will put it down to suicide.”

“But Mandy? She was the life and soul,” Janus said, vehement in his statement.

“I know, Janus, but you never can tell what's under the surface. People are complex entities, mostly unfathomable in my experience.”

“Richard, this was Mandy, a girl who greeted you every morning; someone who smiled whatever the situation. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes I do, Janus. But what can be done about it? I can't bring her back, I wish to God I could, but it is beyond my power. There is truly nothing I can do about it.”

“I know, Richard; it's just a shock,” Janus said.

“It is; it's a shock to everyone,” Richard agreed.

“Richard… I had a dream last night… ”

“A dream?”

“Yes… no… Forget I said anything.”

“Are you sure?” Richard was aware of Janus's abilities.

“Yes. What happens now?” Janus changed the subject quickly. No matter how close he was to the Jamesons, the dream would have to remain just that, his dream.

“I've decided to close the business for a week. All the staff need some time to get over this awful incident. You take it easy. I'll call if there are any further updates.”

“Okay. Thanks, Richard,” Janus said.

Richard Jameson put the phone down and Janus was left with a burring in his ear. A few moments later he replaced his receiver.

Suicide and the police had said so.

Janus could not believe it.