Influence (19 page)

‘Forgive
me,’ he said stretching and adjusting his seat to point towards Lizzie. ‘I
haven’t worked shifts for a while and it takes some readjusting. I hear your
going to be just fine, that’s good news.’

‘Thanks,
yes I was pleased to hear that one myself, sorry you are?’

‘Yes,
sorry, my name is Richard Dunphy, DCI Dunphy,’ he said and flashed an
identification card hung round his neck after detangling it from his tie.

‘Dunphy?’

‘Yes,’ he
smiled, ‘I heard you were a sharp cookie. You’ve met my daughter Hilary, and I
should thank you for whatever it was you did in school for her to talk so
highly of you.’

‘It was
nothing, she’s a nice girl.’

‘Yes, it’s
her gift and her curse I fear. She trusts too readily and when people take
advantage of her she gets hurt, very sensitive you see. I should probably
explain, I’ve recently been drafted in from the Met to head up the murder
investigation of Robert Adams,’ he paused. ‘I hope you don’t mind me speaking
so clinically, twenty five years in the Force induces certain habits.’

‘No, it’s
fine, in fact it’s refreshing. How is the investigation going?’ Lizzie adjusted
her position to face the man better, a shock of pain surged through her.

‘Should I
get someone?’ DCI Dunphy asked.’ Lizzie shook her head and took a sip of water.

‘The
investigation isn’t going well I’m afraid. Gone completely cold in fact,’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows at this. ‘You’re surprised at my honesty?’

‘I am a
little, yes.’

‘That’s
my
curse, I am incapable of bullshit, if you’ll pardon the profanity?’

‘I’ll live,’
said Lizzie, smiling.

‘It’s also
my
gift
as it means I am also impervious to it, which you can imagine
comes in handy in my profession.’ He reached down at his feet and produced a
fat black folder.

‘I guess
so. So are you here to talk to me about last night or about Robe, Robert?’
asked Lizzie.

‘I’m here
to listen to anything you wish to tell me,’ he said leaning forward in his
chair.

‘I’m not
sure I can shed an awful lot of light on either,’ Lizzie tried not to commit to
anything that might trigger his bullshit alarm.

‘You’ve not
had much luck lately have you? Do you think these things could be related?’

‘Do you?’
asked Lizzie, realising she was avoiding the question.

‘It would
be a mistake to discount anything in my experience. I’m open to suggestions in
other words,’ he said.

‘Are you
guys that hard up for leads?’ Lizzie hoped her attempt to flip the conversation
wouldn’t appear suspicious.

‘I’ll be
honest with you Lizzie, there never has been a lead. Murders without apparent
motive are the most difficult of all to solve. If there is no logical chain to
connect people and circumstance we are left floating in conjecture, do you
understand?’ Lizzie paused to consider. She picked at the tape holding the drip
line in place on her forearm.

‘I think
so,’ she said, ‘I suspected as much but it’s disappointing to hear you say it.
Where does that leave things?’

‘Firmly at
my feet I’m afraid. You see, in the past few months the local police have
failed to interview a single suspect, have failed to establish any plausible
motive, and I won’t even go into the fiasco behind the forensic work on this
case. Pressure from the top for results has resulted in my… secondment. I’ve
been brought in from the Met as I have considerable experience in this
particular field and since things had stalled so badly they needed a fresh pair
of eyes on it,’ he said.

‘That’s
good then?’ said Lizzie.

‘Time will
tell. I’ve spent the last month going over the statements, and to be honest
I’ve actually been quite impressed with the quality of work, forensic carnage
aside, impressed and disappointed actually. I had hoped to identify some
obvious oversight, but alas the investigation has been run more or less as I
would have done from the start. So it’s thinking outside the box time, which
brings me all the way back to the question you sidestepped most proficiently,’
he smiled. He had a kind face and a gentle way about him, even though she had
met Hilary only once she could see an instant likeness in her father. ‘I
think,’ said Lizzie choosing her words carefully, ‘That if last night had been
connected to what happened to Robert we would have to have been having this
conversation through a medium or Ouija board.’ DCI Dunphy studied Lizzie’s
face, the only sound came from the heart monitor, Lizzie suddenly wondered if
he was using it to assess her pulse for some fluctuation which might betray
her. But in the end she had not lied to the man, not really, or at least not
completely. She was as much in the dark as he was.

‘DC
Thomson, will pop in later this afternoon to take a proper statement from you
about last night Lizzie. She’s very nice just tell her what you can okay?

‘I will,’
she said. The detective stood and straightened his tie. ‘Can I ask you
something?’ said Lizzie.

‘Of
course,’ he said picking up his black leather folder and tucking it under one
arm.

‘Why
Queen’s Grove House?’

‘I don’t
follow,’ he said furrowing his brow.

‘For Hilary,
why have you enrolled her there? Is that not a little… I don’t know, odd?’ Lizzie
hoped she wasn’t being rude. DCI Dunphy nodded, thinking, and sat again.

‘It does
seem odd doesn’t it? We moved from London you see. My secondment is more of a
permanent deal, nobody has said as much, but after a while in the organisation
you get a feeling for these things. Hilary wasn’t against the idea of moving,
she was getting a hard time of things at her last school and saw this as an
opportunity at a fresh start. I spoil her, I can’t help it, I told her she
could pick any school she wanted. When she learned of the case I was going to
be working on, it followed that she learned about Queen’s Grove House; she
immediately loved the sound of it. I was against the idea of course, apart from
the obvious conflict of interest, and any concerns about safety, it’s a fair
hit on the pocket with my salary. But, in the end, as always, she got her way.
I made it clear to her that she mustn’t divulge my connection to the case, I
also insisted that she stay away from anyone involved, although as I understand
it your intervention blew that one out of the water.’

‘Yeah.
Sorry about that,’ said Lizzie.

‘No, I’m
glad. Besides, you’ve left now haven’t you?’

‘I have
yes. And don’t worry I won’t say a word.’

‘Thank you
Lizzie. It was nice to meet you, and if you ever want to chat about things,
about anything you
will
come and see me won’t you?’ he gave Lizzie a
knowing look.

‘I will, I
promise,’ she said sincerely.

Jerk, he’s
forgotten his damn key again, he thought. If we have to get into another debate
about respectful cohabitation, he’s gonna get it this time. He pulled on a
T-shirt and checked the time on the clock on the shelf. I am going to kill him,
he knows I’ve got a damn test tomorrow.

All things
considered he wasn’t that bad a guy to live with, sure he was out most nights,
but then that meant he had the place to himself, and the forgetting the key
thing only happened now and again, but why did it always seem to be on the
worst possible night?

‘I’m coming
damnit,’ he yelled at the door, beaten hard for the fourth time. He searched
around for something to put on his legs, but when the door was slammed for the
fifth time he gave up on it and stamped into the hall. ‘Next time I’m leaving
you out there all night you inconsiderate-’ he heaved the door open to deliver
the rest of his sentence straight into his face, but it was not his face.

His sleep
addled eyes strained to focus, but the dark on the doorstep and the light in
the hall made it all the more difficult. ‘You? He said, recognition dawning.
‘What the hell are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?’

‘Yes I do. My
apologies for the late hour, couldn’t be helped, had to try a few doors before
we were pointed in the right direction.’

We? He
suddenly noticed the man standing further back. ‘May we come in?’ It wasn’t
really a question, the visitor was already in the hallway, the man who
accompanied him slipped in through the doorway before had a chance to shut him
out. There was a look on that man’s face he didn’t like, or rather a lack of
look, his face was a pool of still water, utterly expressionless.

‘You’re
alone?’ asked the visitor.

‘Yes, I
mean, no. Well he’s due back any time.’

‘We’ll be
ever so quick then,’ the door was closed over, and he suddenly felt a great
menace in the atmosphere.

‘Look guys,
I don’t mean to be rude, but it really is late and I have a test in the
morning.’

‘A little
rude, yes. I mean at this hour it might well be an emergency that brings me to
your door.’

‘Okay, is
it an emergency?’

‘No,’ The
visitor grinned at him.

‘Then, what
do you want?’ He felt utterly exposed, half-naked and outnumbered, completely
at a disadvantage.

‘We need
two favours, neither of which requires any great effort on your part. First of
all I need to introduce you to my friend the Serf here,’ the one with the
expressionless face stepped forward. The half-naked man backed up sensing
danger, but his back found only wall. The Serf took hold of his shoulders. For
a moment he stood there allowing himself to be held by the Serf, but then he
felt it, an attack, not physical, something worse, something deeper.

He screamed
in pain, and grabbed the arms of the Serf trying to wrench him off. He was a
big man and his strength should have been more than sufficient to break free,
but the Serf, even in the limited body of Vince, held him firmly in place, then
pushed the large man to a sitting position on the well-worn hall carpet. He
continued to scream.

‘Why is it
taking so long?’ asked the visitor holding his ears. ‘What does he know?’

‘The
scrolls have been united,’ said the Serf, ‘but he doesn’t know where they are.’
There was a bang from the ceiling, a disgruntled neighbour.

‘He’s
making too much noise, cover his mouth.’ The Serf release one of the man’s
shoulders and placed a hand across his face, muffling, but not ceasing the
yelling. With one arm now free the man’s survival instinct took over. He hauled
himself to his feet, the small body of the Serf, as freakishly strong as it
was, carried little weight. He slammed his fist into the side of the Serf’s head,
a blow that might have killed a man.

The Serf
did not flinch.

He hit him
again and again and felt a bone in his hand shatter. His muted screams still
produced considerable volume.

‘This is
pointless. We’ll wait for the second one. Time for the other favour,’ the
visitor said to the man, but doubted he heard over his own screaming. The Serf
took his cue, and moved its other hand from the man’s shoulder to the back of
his head and twisted.

Normally
this would have spelled a quick and merciful end to human life with one quick
movement, but the large man’s strength was impressive and his grip and
resistance caused the Serf to break the man’s neck in a slow agonising coil.

She sat at
the kitchen table, the envelope propped up against the potted plant in the
centre and stared at it, sipped her coffee, and stared some more.

Janice came
into the room every five minutes or so under the pretence of fetching this or
that, or washing and drying a single cup. She understood waiting and staring
would not alter the envelope’s contents, but she was not ready to face whatever
reality awaited within.

Lizzie left
the room and the unopened envelope, much to Janice’s frustration. She showered,
trying to put the envelope out of her mind which proved impossible. She dried
herself in front of the bathroom mirror, and examined the mark on her ribs
which in the days following her attack had grown black and furious, but now had
faded to a yellow indifference. The injury to her eye had required three small
stitches where the socket had been fractured, these had since been removed
leaving a small pink scar which she had been assured would fade over time and,
with luck, might even disappear altogether. For the first time in her life she
wore makeup on a daily basis, concealer mostly, but the newly formed habit had
grown and she had taken to adding eye liner.

Over the
first few weeks the makeup did little to disguise the injuries, it could hide
the colour but not the swelling. Now that her face had returned, more or less,
to its normal dimensions the makeup illusion was more effective. Like her ribs,
her face had gone from bad to worse after she left hospital. She could avoid
mirrors but she could not escape the expressions on Janice and Maggie’s faces
every time they looked at her. She had spent weeks indoors and had had little
contact with anyone. Vic had called unexpectedly one night and she happily
chatted to him at length about everything and anything but her attack or his
brother. Vic seemed to know instinctively what she needed, bless him.

Lizzie
brushed her hair noticing that it was just about long enough to tie back now.
She gave it a try and was pleased to find that only a few strands could not
reach the elasticated band and hung around her freshly prepared face.

Lizzie
found that Janice had replaced her at the kitchen table, coffee in hand staring
at the envelope.

‘What do
you think?’ asked Lizzie.

‘I think if
you don’t open it soon my head is going to explode like that guy in that
movie.’ She didn’t want to pressure Lizzie but since the moment the large
envelope had thudded to the hall floor it had been like an insufferable
unanswered telephone, ringing and ringing, ignored and grating. She had tried
to be patient, tried and failed.

‘Time to
rip of the plaster?’

‘Only if
you’re ready of course,’ said Janice springing to her feet freeing up the chair
for Lizzie. She sat while Janice poured her a coffee. She flexed the envelope
which had a cardboard backing to protect the documents inside, she had received
a similar one last year and she remembered ripping it open the moment it had
arrived, expectant and excited. This year was different. Janice stood side on
to Lizzie watching her carefully peel away the tab of the envelope. She wrung
her hands and bit on her finger as Lizzie turned the envelope upside down allowing
the documents to slide onto the table in front of her. She set aside the
unimportant covering letter and found the only sheet amongst the pile that
mattered. Janice studied Lizzie’s face as she looked over her results trying to
find any indication of success or failure however Lizzie’s demeanour gave away
nothing. ‘Well?’ said Janice, in a high pitched squeak she did not intend.
Lizzie placed the sheet on the table with the discarded pile.

‘Two A’s
Two B’s,’ said Lizzie without any discernible emotion.’ Janice processed the
information and quickly calculated what that meant.

‘That’s
good Lizzie, that’s really good.’ she tried hard to sound as sincere and
encouraging as she could, but her faced stretched downward and her eyes filled,
‘Oh Lizzie, I’m so sorry,’ she began to blub.

‘That’s
enough of that,’ said Lizzie getting to her feet. She consoled Janice with a
cuddle, realising the backwardness of the situation. ‘I got the marks I need
for Edinburgh, this is no disaster. Besides after the few months I’ve had it
will be nice to change things up.’ Lizzie almost meant what she said.

‘Can you at
least appeal?’ asked Janice.

‘No, I
could only appeal if my prelim results had been better. It really is okay
Janice, really. Listen I think I’m going to get out of the house for a while,
maybe I’ll pick up something nice for dinner, maybe you could pick up a bottle
of wine? Trust me these results are better, a lot better, than they might have
been, so let’s celebrate, okay?’ Janice dried her eyes with the back of her
hand.

‘God, look
at the state of me, sorry. You know, every now and again your mum just comes
out of you, right now for example,’ she kissed Lizzie on the forehead. ‘You
want me to drop you off somewhere?’

‘Actually,
could you? I think it’s time I visited Vic.’

The summer
holidays left Queen’s Grove House looking like a haunted mansion from a film,
all empty and foreboding. It was a glorious afternoon, which Lizzie resented as
it failed in any way to reflect her mood. She wasn’t as devastated as she might
have thought, but it still stung. Lizzie waved to Janice as she turned the car
and drove back up the drive. Lizzie made her way round the side to the
accommodation hall, the low hum of a gardener’s mower from a distant part of
the grounds echoed off the walls as the sun beat down. She removed her jacket
and tied it round her waist.

During
their telephone conversation Lizzie had asked Vic if he would be going home,
like the vast majority of students during the summer break, but it turned out
that his mother had taken a turn for the worse and was currently in “respite”,
whatever that meant, at a facility in London. Queen’s did cater for student
stays during the summer months on exception and Vic had said he thought it was
pretty cool, since he had the full run of the place.

She found
the door to the accommodation hall wedged open with a “Caution Wet Floor” sign
and the smell of pine disinfectant almost burned her eyes as she climbed the
freshly scrubbed stairs. One of the fluorescent tube lights in the common area
was on the fritz and it flickered and buzzed its death throes. It was so quiet
she could still hear the mower outside. She made her way down the hall towards
Vic’s room; she was a good twenty feet away when she heard the sounds of
distress from within.

Lizzie’s
decision to leave the house today was based on a determination to break recent
bad habits. She was weary of feeling so bloody tired, and utterly drained at
being so pissed off all the time, and more than anything she was tired and
pissed off at being so afraid. So it was anger, not fear that flushed through
her as the sound of a lamp, or something similar, smashing to the floor echoed
down the hall. Lizzie ran to the door and tried the handle, locked. She put her
ear to the door, she could make out someone struggling and moaning. She backed
up to the opposite wall and threw herself at the door.

The lock
immediately yielded, which Lizzie had not anticipated, she had overestimated
the cheap fixtures of the building. She stumbled headlong into the room and a
piercing scream filled her ears. She kept her feet but slammed into the foot of
the bed where Vic lay straddled by a dishevelled Hilary.

Lizzie
wasn’t sure from whom the scream had erupted. It could just as easily have been
either of them by the looks on their faces. ‘JEEEESUS LIZ,’ yelled Vic, Hilary
tried to climb off of him but was unable due to Vic’s arm being buried up her
top.

‘Your watch
Vic, ouch careful, it’s stuck on my bra,’ said Hilary, her voice a mix of
whisper and growl. He tried to yank it free but he was anchored, Casio
incarcerated by cleavage. Lizzie wanted to look away from the car wreck
unfolding in front of her, but she could not. Hilary stepped off the bed taking
Vic’s arm with her, her superior size and strength gave Vic no choice. She
wrenched her own arm into her jumper and a loud snap eventually separated them.
It was unclear whether it had been her bra, his watch or his arm that had
fractured. Lizzie could only stand there and struggle to hide her amusement.
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to shield her grin as Hilary,
red faced and flustered, gathered a few items of clothing which appeared to
have been blithely discarded in their passion.

‘I’ll speak
to you later,’ Hilary called to Vic who lay on the bed with his hands across
his face. ‘Lizzie, um, could I speak to you quickly?’ Hilary was unable to look
Lizzie in the eye, she took a bag from the hook on the door Lizzie had just
crashed through and stepped into the hall. Lizzie followed her out, closing the
door over. Hilary walked to the common area before turning to Lizzie. ‘I’m so
sorry you had to see that,’ she said finally looking up at Lizzie. Not nearly
as sorry as me, Lizzie thought.

‘It’s quite
alright Hilary, these things happen,’ Lizzie congratulated herself at her
straight face.

‘It’s just
that Vic, well he had sort of intimated that you, and him were, sort of-’
Lizzie’s snort cut her off.

‘Oh Hilary,’
she said shaking her head, ‘you have nothing to apologise for, nothing
whatsoever, Vic has quite an imagination. So, you and him huh? I think it’s
great, really.’ A look of relief dawned on Hilary’s face.

‘Yeah, he
is
pretty great, I don’t know how things will work out, but I have a good
feeling,’ said Hilary dreamily. There’s one other thing though Lizzie.’ She
went quiet trying to formulate the words, but Lizzie grasped her concern.

‘You’re
dad, he can’t know about this?’

‘Exactly,’
she said, surprised. ‘So he told you?’

‘He’s very
forthcoming your dad.’

‘Yeah, he
does that. It’s bloody annoying.’

‘Don’t
worry, your secret’s safe with me,’ said Lizzie patting Hilary reassuringly on
the shoulder. Hilary threw her arms unexpectedly around Lizzie, almost knocking
the wind out of her.

‘I wanted
to come see you in hospital, but dad thought it would be inappropriate. Are you
okay?’

‘I’m just
fine, thanks. I was in and out of the hospital in no time.’ Lizzie patted her
back, a sign that the embrace had lasted quite long enough. Hilary released her,
and picked up her things.

Lizzie
found Vic trying to piece back together his bedside lamp.

‘Sorry for
bursting in on you there, I didn’t realise you had company. How long’s that
been going on?’ asked Lizzie.

‘With
Hilary? Pretty much that day we met her. So... you’re alright with it?’ said
Vic sheepishly.

‘I wish
people would stop asking me that question, but yes Vic I think it’s fantastic.
I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important? I mean are you guys... You
know…’ Vic blushed fiercely.

‘Not yet, we’re
working up to it, not really ready you know?’

‘Well
that’s good you’re taking it slow, don’t go pressuring her.’ Vic laughed.

‘Pressuring
her? Are you kidding me? If it was up to her we’d probably be on to whips and
chains by now. She’s an animal. On the one hand she’s the most amazing thing
that’s ever happened to me and on the other she scares the living beejeezus out
of me.’ Lizzie laughed this time and considered that it had been silly to think
it might have been the other way around.

‘Did you
get your results?’ asked Vic, knowing that she must have but it seemed a good
way to change the subject.

‘I did
yeah, you?’

‘Yes, and?’

‘Edinburgh
next year, you?’

‘Two C’s,’
the grin on Vic’s face suggested that his results had been satisfactory.

‘Didn’t you
sit four subjects?’ asked Lizzie.

‘Yeah, but
let’s focus on the positives. So, no Oxford next year?’ Vic forced his grin
from his face in sympathy, Lizzie shrugged.

‘You want
to get out for some fresh air?’ she asked.

‘Sure,
since you scared away my girlfriend I have some free time. Oh before I forget I
was home last week to pick up some things and I had another root around Rob’s
room. I found another journal in his desk drawer, was sort of tucked inside a
text book.’ He pulled the thin book from a pile on his floor and handed it to
Lizzie. She sat on the bed and started to flick through it. ‘As usual it’s full
of nonsense, but there’s one or two bits in English and one section mentions
this council again.’ Lizzie hastily searched through the book for the
appropriate entry. She noted that the book was only one third complete meaning
it must be the most recent of them.

‘That’s
it,’ said Vic as Lizzie turned a page. She placed her thumb between the pages
to keep the place and closed the book over.

‘Maybe we
should just leave it Vic, I mean it must be upsetting for you.’

‘I’m fine
Liz,’ said Vic sincerely, ‘but if you’d rather not, I understand, after what
happened to you. Actually, can I ask what exactly did happen? You never really
said on the phone,’ Lizzie sighed.