Truth or Dare (30 page)

‘M
y father was a modelmaker,’ said the Lawgiver. ‘A craftsman.’

Looker tried to listen but found it more difficult to focus on the words when there was another human face in front of him rather than just a mask. He knew what he was about to hear was important, so important that his reaction to the words would determine whether he lived or died. Since the Lawgiver was now unmasked, he guessed that his chances weren’t good.

‘Your father?’ said Looker, playing for time while he adjusted to the new situation.

‘Yes,’ said the Lawgiver, ‘my father. I’ll tell you about Diana but first you have to understand. My father. The family. Philosophy.’

There was near pleading in his eyes as he spoke, thought Looker. Near pleading to be understood, or near madness. He wasn’t sure which.

‘Right. Okay. I’m listening.’

‘Good. My father. The craftsman.’ Pride in his voice as he spoke. ‘And an Objectivist.’ More pride.

‘A what?’

The Lawgiver looked at his prisoner as if he had committed a disgusting social faux pas. ‘Typical. Typical…’

Looker sensed he was about to lose him, tried to bring him back. ‘What is it? I’ve never heard of it.’

‘It’s a philosophy,’ said the Lawgiver, as if explaining to an inferior. ‘An honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work. Ayn Rand.
The Fountainhead
. The opposite of liberalism.’ He sneered round the word. ‘Freedom through work. Strength through work. You work or you don’t exist. There is no such thing as society.’

‘Right,’ said Looker. ‘I’ve heard all that before.’ Cobbled together from the Nazis to Thatcher, he thought.

‘He was like a god in our house,’ the Lawgiver continued. ‘A god. The strongest man I ever met.’ His eyes misted over, a wistful smile appeared on his face.

Keep him talking, thought Looker. He’s on a nostalgic track. It might soften him. ‘What about your mother?’

The smile disappeared. ‘A ghost,’ he said. ‘Nothing. She served our father. That was her role in life. All she had to do.’

‘Right. Sounds… like an interesting set-up.’

‘It worked. Worked perfectly. The way it should have done. Until…’ He sighed.

‘Until what?’

‘Until he was no longer required. Times changed. Craftsmanship became a thing not to be prized any more. No longer recognised and praised.’ He stepped back into the shadows, his features darkening too. ‘He… drank.’ The word released from his lips reluctantly, like it was enveloped in shame. ‘A lot. Declined.’

‘Couldn’t he have got another job?’

‘No.’ Fire in his voice, his eyes once more. ‘He had a code to live by. What is a man if he has no code to live by? No morality? No ethics? Nothing.
Nothing
.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t.’ His voice was heavy with grief, reliving it all once more. ‘He… died. Took his own life.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Looker.

The Lawgiver looked directly at him, as if seeing him properly for the first time, as if he had forgotten he was there. ‘Are you. You never even knew him.’

Looker fell silent. Knew that anything he said now would be wrong. Dangerously so.

‘I grew up with hatred inside me,’ the Lawgiver continued. ‘Hatred at what the world – the system – had done to a proud and gifted man.’

Looker remained silent. Waited.

‘My mother brought us up after that.’

‘Us? That would be…’

‘Diana and I. My sister.’

‘Ah. Right.’ Looker waited again.

‘And my mother…’ The Lawgiver’s face twisted once more, anger to the fore. ‘My mother was wealthy. Came from a rich family. But my father was too proud to take her money. Too proud. It wasn’t the woman’s role. It was the man’s to provide for his family. To make his way in the world. The way it should be.’ He sighed. ‘But she secretly gave him money for us to live on. And he took it. He had to. It was that or we starved. The shame of doing that contributed to his suicide.’ Another sigh, angrier this time. ‘My mother, and her money, helped to drive him to his death.’

‘What happened to your mother?’ asked Looker, wondering when he was going to get to Diana.

‘She died. When I was in my late teens. Just… faded away, it seemed. And I inherited everything.
We
inherited everything. Diana and I. And that’s when the trouble started.’

Looker said nothing. This was the part he had been waiting for.

S
perring opened his eyes. ‘You should see the other fella…’

Phil smiled weakly at the weak joke. Sperring looked awful. Almost flat on his back, only his head propped up slightly, tubes and wires coming from his body. His already bulky torso was enlarged by the heavy dressing on his side that extended round his stomach and chest. His face looked grey, lined, like he had aged ten years overnight. From the grimaces that twisted his face when he tried to speak or make the most infinitesimal movement, it was clear he was in considerable pain. There would have been a time, Phil thought guiltily, that he might have enjoyed his junior officer’s extreme discomfort. But not any more.

Sperring was in a private room. Phil didn’t know whether the man liked the seclusion or whether his solitary existence would start to irritate him. He imagined it was the former. Probably.

Phil sat down on the bedside chair, pulled it close to the bed. ‘How you feeling?’

‘Like I’ve just been stabbed by psycho.’

Phil returned the smile to his face. ‘Well… that’s to be expected, I suppose.’

‘Yeah. Occupational hazard, and all that.’ He started to cough and tried to stop himself. Phil could see how much the action hurt him. But Sperring had only prolonged and exacerbated it by trying to stop it. He allowed himself to cough properly. Rode the wave of pain.

‘Jesus,’ he gasped, pressing a hand-held button with his thumb. ‘Morphine. Or something like it. Brilliant stuff, though. See why the junkies get hooked.’

Phil waited for his equilibrium to be restored to a semblance of normality, continued.

‘So apart from the pain and the permanent discomfort,’ said Phil, aiming for lightness, ‘how you feeling?’

‘Never mind all that,’ said Sperring. ‘I’ve got to talk to you. It’s important.’

‘What about?’

‘There’s something I have to tell you.’ Grimacing and gasping through the pain, the drugs not yet fully hitting their target.

‘Tell me.’

‘It’s… important.’

‘You said. Is it about the Lawgiver? Something from last night?’

Sperring frowned. ‘What? No. I don’t know. Last night’s a bit of a blur. I can’t remember what happened. I was in the toilets, I turned…’ He attempted a shrug. ‘Nothing. I’ve tried to think, tried to remember, but it just won’t come.’ He sighed. The drugs seemed to be kicking in now. ‘You know, I used to think that when people said that they were talking bollocks. Something as important as that, as traumatic as that, course they would remember. But they’re right.’

‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’

‘I think I’m on to something. I need something chasing up.’ He managed a feeble smile. ‘I don’t seem to be in any fit state to do any chasing.’

‘Okay, then. Tell me.’

‘Moses Heap.’

Phil sighed. ‘Ian —’

‘Just listen to me. Hear me out.’ He tried to move forward, impress upon Phil the urgency and importance of his words. The move only resulted in pain. He lay back again, gasping.

‘I can’t deal with anything that doesn’t involve the Lawgiver at the moment,’ said Phil. ‘I haven’t got time for this.’

‘Please,’ said Sperring, ‘just hear me out. Letisha Watson went to see him yesterday. At the studio.’

Phil shrugged. ‘So?’

‘So, it’s important. I’ve been…’ Sperring looked slightly shame-faced. ‘I’ve been trailing them. Her. Him.’

‘What?’ Phil’s voice rose. ‘You were supposed to be working on the Lawgiver investigation, not carrying out your own vendetta.’

‘It wasn’t a vendetta.’ Steel had entered Sperring’s voice. Despite his pain, his situation, he was still a forceful personality. ‘It was work. I had… an intuition. I thought there was more to them than they were letting on. The fact that when we brought Heap in he just hid behind that fucking bent mouthpiece Looker confirmed it, in my book. So I went digging.’

‘When you were supposed to be doing something else.’

Sperring sighed. ‘Yeah, all right. You’ve got me bang to rights. It’s an honest cop, guv. Now can we get over that and can you listen to what I’ve got to say?’

Phil held up his hands. ‘Go ahead.’

‘I was following them because I suspected something more was happening. I don’t know when or what but I knew it. I could feel it. I was sitting outside the studio. Waiting for… I don’t know. Something to happen.’

‘And did it?’ It was clear from Phil’s tone of voice that he expected a negative answer.

‘Well,’ said Sperring, ‘that’s the thing. I’d just got the call to come back to base. But before that, I saw Letisha Watson going into the building. She didn’t look in a good way. She looked round, all anxious and nervous. Then she went in.’

‘Then what?’

‘Don’t know. Got the call to come home.’

Phil shook his head. ‘Moses Heap isn’t the Lawgiver. I think we’ve established that.’

Sperring gripped Phil’s arm. Despite his pained and precarious state, there was real force behind the clasp. Eyes imploring, he continued. ‘Boss, listen to me. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know when my copper’s instinct is on to something. And I was on to something. I know I was.’

The grip lessened, fell away.

‘Okay,’ said Phil finally. ‘I’ll check it out. I’ll pay them a visit when I’ve got time.’

‘Go now.’

Phil stared at him.

‘Sir.’

Usually, Sperring would have given a smile when he said that. Or even a sneer. But there was nothing in his eyes now except honesty. ‘Now. Please. We’ll miss something if you don’t. I feel sure of it. Whatever’s happening there is happening right now. We leave it, it’ll be too late.’

‘Right,’ said Phil. ‘I’ll pay Letisha Watson a visit.’

Sperring relaxed. ‘Thank you, boss. If I’m wrong, feel free to take it out of my wages.’

Phil smiled. ‘Oh, I will. One way or another.’ He stood up. ‘I’d best be off. But look after yourself.’

‘Like I have a choice.’

‘I’ll come back and see you. And I’ll bring grapes next time.’

Sperring smiled. ‘Fuck the grapes. Just bring me a bottle of Bell’s.’

T
he Lawgiver was just getting into his story.

‘Diana started… living it up, you could say. Enjoying herself. She said she had hated being cooped up with me and my oppressive father. That’s what she said. Her words exactly. And her doormat mother.’ His voice shook as he continued. ‘She said she hated the way I was trying to suck up to my father, be like him.
Be
him. She said she could see the damage it was doing to me, twisting me out of shape…’ He shook his head. ‘She had no idea. No idea. Yes, I wanted to be him. But that was because he was a great man. I
loved
him.’

The words echoed round the dark space. Died away.

‘Diana said she hated her childhood,’ he continued, his voice lowered now. ‘Wanted to get away. Just… get away. I wanted to keep the place as it was. Honour my father’s memory. Keep the house and the workshop as it was. Make sure his work, his life wasn’t forgotten. Keep his memory alive.’ Another shake of the head. His voice dropped even lower, like he was only talking to himself. ‘Diana and I argued. Some… awful things were said. Hurtful things. Deliberately so.’ He sighed. ‘I told her she was just some… slag. Some drunken, pill-popping slut who went round town fucking anyone who would have her. She said horrible things to me.’ His voice trailed away.

Looker sensed he was getting to it, the heart of the Lawgiver’s story. He knew he had to proceed carefully. ‘Such as?’ he said, voice low, like a priest in confessional.

The Lawgiver sighed. He kept talking in the same small voice, as if accepting his role as confessor. ‘I was a… weirdo. A freak. I… that my obsession with my father had twisted my mind. That my father and the things he used to do to me had twisted my mind. That’s what she said.’

Looker remained silent, knowing there was more to come.

‘That I used to spy on her in the bathroom. And in her bedroom.’ His voice even smaller now, like he was no longer confessing to someone else, but only to himself. ‘That I used to… to try on her underwear when she was out.’

Gotcha, thought Looker. This is it. ‘And did you?’ he asked.

The Lawgiver nodded. ‘Yes. And she knew, of course she knew. Because of the… way I used to leave her, her knickers…’

Silence in the dark space as the whispered words echoed away.

The Lawgiver sat down on a nearby chair, shoulders slumped, head in hands, body forward.

‘Well… I hit her for that,’ he said. ‘I had to. I couldn’t have her…’ A sigh. ‘I had to.’ He looked up. ‘I didn’t mean to, not as hard as I did, but… I was angry…’

His shoulders began to shake as the sobbing started, reliving the moment once again.

‘She fell backwards, down the stairs… into the workshop.’

‘Was… was she dead?’

The Lawgiver nodded. ‘Her neck was broken. She… she was… she didn’t get up again.’

Looker waited. The air felt suddenly cold.

‘I was terrified, didn’t know what to do. I went to pieces…’ He sighed. Looked up. Eyes red-rimmed, wet. ‘But I knew I had to do something. So I… I imagined what my father, what he would have done. Tried to be like him. Used his strength to guide me.’

‘So what did you do?’ Looker was dreading the next part. He had a good idea what was coming.

‘I used his tools.’ There was pride in his voice now. Self-congratulation at his resourcefulness. His eyes were shining. ‘Dismembered her. Right here, right in this workshop. It seemed fitting, somehow. I mean, she’d gone, my sister, she was just meat now. Components. To be disassembled or reassembled. Then I wrapped her up neatly in parts and took those parts to the incinerator. And that was that.’ He gave a little smile.

‘And nobody questioned you?’ asked Looker. ‘Nobody called, came to see where she was? None of her friends were interested or suspected anything? Surely she was missed.’

‘Not really,’ said the Lawgiver dismissively. ‘A few people called – on the phone. No one came round here. I just told them she’d taken her inheritance. Gone round the world. World tour. No idea when she’d be back. Eventually they just… forgot all about her. Moved on to leech off someone else.’

‘So you got away with murder.’

The Lawgiver stood up. ‘No,’ he said, finger pointing at Looker. ‘No. That’s where you’re wrong. Dead wrong. Here’s the thing.’ He put his hand over his chest, his heart. ‘I can still feel her. In here. Inside me. Always. With me all the time.’ Eyes shining with a twisted kind of joy. ‘After she left, after I got rid of her meat, I fell apart. Like when my father had died, bad as that. But she came to me. Told me what to do. What my calling was. It was Diana who told me to become the Lawgiver. To get justice for those who’ve been denied it. Like my father. Like Diana. That’s what she told me to do. And that’s what I did.’

The Lawgiver smiled at Looker, like his logic was irrefutable.

‘Bollocks,’ said Looker.