Past Darkness (16 page)

T
he storm lasted throughout the night and into the early hours of the morning. It had little effect on Karl’s usual sunny disposition.

‘The noise last night,’ he grumbled, sipping his early morning coffee at the kitchen table. He looked like a bear forced out of hibernation. ‘Sounded like the end of the world.’

Naomi smiled, kissed him and sat down opposite, a bowl of cereal in her hands. ‘I slept like a baby. I hardly heard the storm.’

‘It wasn’t the storm I was referring to, it was your bloody snoring.’

‘I’ll have you know, Karl Kane, I do
not
snore. I’m a lady.’

‘Then it must have been all that farting you were doing, because some sort of thundering noise was coming from you, from under the sheets as well as–’

The front doorbell sounded. Karl and Naomi looked at each other, neither moving. A Mexican standoff.

The bell sounded again. More insistent this time.

Naomi sighed, stood to get up.

‘Don’t bother,’ said Karl, standing. ‘I’ll do it, like everything else around here.’

‘Keep telling yourself that. Might come true one day.’

Opening the front door, he was struck with surprise and weariness by the sight of Detective Chambers, notebook clutched in one hand.

‘I’ll have to move you into the spare room, if you keep showing up at my door, Chambers. What is it now?’

‘Can I come in?’

‘This early in the morning? Catch yourself on.’

‘Okay. I’ll ask the questions here. How well did you know a Francis Duffy?’

Karl’s stomach clenched in trepidation.

‘What’s happened to Francis?’

‘He was found dead at his home in the early hours of yesterday morning. A district nurse who checks in on him occasionally discovered the body.’

‘Ah shit…’ Karl shook his head. ‘What…what happened?’

‘Initial reports suggest a burglary gone wrong. Looks like a struggle between Mister Duffy and the perpetrator ended when Mister Duffy was shot in the stomach with his own legally-held shotgun.’

Karl could no longer hold back the rage. ‘Fuck! For all he had, some scumbag would kill him. Bastard! And to shoot him in the stomach…’

‘Was Mister Duffy related to you in any way?’

‘No…not related, more a friend of the family from many years back. What makes you think it was a burglary?’

Chambers scribbled something into the notebook before addressing Karl. ‘The house had been ransacked, apparently. Hard to tell what was stolen. According to the report, everything seemed to be haphazardly strewn about.’

Karl thought back to the state of the place when he had visited. It already looked like it had been ransacked.

‘Do the cops have any leads? Any suspects?
Anything?
’

Chambers shook his head. ‘Forensic officers are still going over the scene. It’ll be some time before we hear from them.’

‘Any other questions? I’m going to have to make funeral arrangements for Francis, ASAP.’

‘Did Mister Duffy have any enemies that you know of?’

Karl shook his head. ‘I really couldn’t answer that. Up until a week ago, I hadn’t seen him in years. He seemed to be living a hermit’s existence, just wanting to be left alone.’

‘What exactly were you doing, visiting him?’

Karl’s face tightened. ‘The damn answer is in your question, smartarse. Visiting. Not that it’s any of your business. Anything else? I need to go.’

‘If you think of anything, anything you may have…forgotten, will you contact me?’

Karl nodded. ‘Now, I really need to move it.’

‘Of course.’

Chambers turned to leave just as something occured to Karl.

‘You haven’t told me how you figured I might have a connection with Francis.’

The young detective stared at Karl, reluctance in his demeanour.

‘I…I didn’t want to tell you at this stage.’

‘Jesus, drop the cryptic shit, Chambers. Tell me what?’

‘Your business card…it was stapled to Mister Duffy’s forehead.’

A
t Francis Duffy’s graveside, Karl huddled under Naomi’s umbrella, sheltering from the rain and biting wind. The combined power of the elements had successfully managed to drown out all other sounds, making it difficult for Karl to hear the minister’s message at the lowering of the coffin.

Not that Karl paid much attention to messengers from god, but he was always fascinated by how their words could be shaped and formulated to be used for balm or bane, Hell or Heaven, salvation or ruination.

Shit! He was beginning to sound like one of those firebrand preachers, all the words in rhyme and time, congregation sweating profusely like Madam Juicy Lucy, eyeballs rolling and scolding, winking ever-knowing.

Francis’ lone existence was reflected in the meagre collection of onlookers, a two-hand count, which included Karl,
Naomi, Chambers, the preacher, three gravediggers and a couple of stragglers from an earlier funeral.

Why in the hell would people want to attend the funeral of someone they didn’t even know?
wondered Karl, staring at the two stragglers.
Is this how they get their day in? Visiting graveyards, regardless of the weather or random deceased? Do they have a little black book and compare coffins, a bit like train spotting. Was there an entire industry of ghouls, lurking, searching like junkies for their next fix of death?

Nothing would surprise him any more. He had seen too much darkness in this ghastly world, to rule anything out that could be deemed
sociably acceptable
.

He looked from the stragglers to Chambers, standing with head down. When he confronted the young detective on why he was here, Chambers didn’t miss a beat:

I’m on duty. Watching to see if the killer shows up. They do that sometimes.

Yes, in bloody Agatha Christie novels…

Bullshit. He was here to sneak a glance at Naomi, all dressed in black. Of that, Karl had little doubt.

Just as his thoughts were sliding into paranoia, his mobile started bleating in his coat pocket. He hated the thought of taking his gloves off in this freezing rain, just to answer it. He didn’t want to hear echoing voices today. He got enough echoing voices in his nightmares, night after night.

‘Not going to turn that off, Karl?’ Naomi nudged him with
her elbow. It was a demand. Not a question. ‘The minister’s looking over here. You’re interrupting his eulogy.’

‘Well, he should be looking upwards or downwards, not over in this direction. Anyway, he didn’t even know Francis. He’ll hardly lose any sleep over it tonight.’

‘Just turn it
off
,’ Naomi said in a not-too-happy voice. ‘So disrespectful.’

He let it ring, more to aggravate her than anything else. After a few more seconds, it went dead.

‘Happy now?’ said Karl, as Naomi visibly relaxed.

Just as he spoke, it started ringing again. Naomi glared at him. He quickly retrieved the offending device from his pocket. Glanced at the number on the screen, and then switched it off.

‘Who was it?’ Naomi asked.

‘Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the minister? So disrespectful.’

Back at the office, Karl called Tommy Naughton back.

‘Tommy? Sorry, I couldn’t answer your phone call earlier. I was at a funeral. No, not family, just an old neighbour. When? Now? I don’t know, Tommy, I’ve an awful lot of work to–’ Karl nodded to himself. ‘Okay, Tommy. Calm down. Yes, I’ll be there shortly.’

Karl clicked the phone off.

‘What did Tommy want?’ Naomi asked.

‘A bit confusing. Thinks that god-damn creepy cat they own may have seen the intruder on the night of the fire.’

‘The cat
saw
someone?’

‘The cat saw someone. Don’t ask me what the hell that means. I’m away to see him now, see what this is all about. Look after the fort until I get back. I shouldn’t be long.’

He gave Naomi a quick kiss and then marched back outside on a fool’s errand, cold, damp and miserable.

Karl, Tommy and Theresa were gathered in the living room. Theresa’s eyes were puffy and red, as if she had recently been crying. She looked upset. Tiddles the cat snoozed, crescent-shaped atop the sofa, oblivious to the drama being acted out in its presence and name.

In Tommy’s palm, a tiny plastic bauble nestled like a robin’s egg.

‘Pauline bought it for Tiddles a few months ago,’ Tommy explained, his voice quivering with emotion.

A puzzled-looking Karl took the item and began scrutinising it. ‘What…what exactly is it?’

‘They call it “Cat-Eye”. It’s like a miniature spy camera for cats. Pauline saw it on one of those animal shows, about a town
full of cats, and what the cats get up to at night, unknown to their owners. Pauline said it was fascinating to watch. The very next day, she went out and bought one for Tiddles.’

‘Tiddles wasn’t too happy at the start, mind you, having it wrapped around her neck like a millstone,’ Theresa said, a sad smile on her face. ‘But eventually she got used to it. We always watched it about once a week, just to see what she’d get up to on the nights she was out prowling.’

‘So, that’s what was on her neck when I first saw her?’ Karl said, amazed. ‘Isn’t it remarkable what these gadget-people can do, nowadays? How everything is becoming so miniaturised?’

‘We were watching it about an hour ago, and we got an awful shock at what we saw, didn’t we, Tommy?’ Theresa said.

‘Yes, love. A real shock.’ Tommy nodded in agreement.

‘Put it on for Karl, will you, Tommy?’

Tommy inserted the USB stick into the computer’s port, and clicked the word ‘PLAY’ on the screen. The video came to life:

Darkness. Then grey fuzziness. Slowly clearing. A cat’s-eye view of a hidden nocturnal, purgatorial world, inhabited by posses of shadows closing in all around in a smothering claustrophia. The fish-eye lens made it seem as if the video was playing out on a spoon’s curved surface. Shaky streaks of images rose up: a spider building its esoteric web, blueprint wired to its ancient brain of dried bone powder. A partial cat
paw demolishing the web with one swipe. Spider impaled on a curved claw. Chewed to a bloody inkblot. Then…stillness. Cat’s attention is now arrowed elsewhere. More shaky movements. Then steady again. A figure emerges from the back door of the house. Carrying something. Booty, perhaps?

‘Do you see him, Karl, coming out the back door?’ Theresa said.

‘Stop it right there, Tommy.’ Karl brought his face closer to the screen.

Tommy clicked STOP. Karl studied the image, the shadowy, androgynous figure.
Is the person actually coming out the back door of the house? Or is that an adjacent entry? Hard to tell. Could be a man. Could be a woman. Is that a nylon stocking pulled over the head to obscure identity? A devil uninvited
.

‘Isn’t that the creepiest thing you ever saw, Karl?’ Tommy said.

‘Huh? Oh…yes, Tommy…’ lied Karl, having not only seen creepier things, but experienced them as well.
Bundle in arms? Hard to distinguish through the grainy quality of the nighttime recording, and the medieval attire the figure has itself wrapped in
.

‘That’s a man,’ Theresa said, pointing at the screen. ‘I’ve no doubt about it.’

‘Could it be one of the people at the party?’ Karl said.

‘See down in the bottom corner? There’s a time stamp on it. This was four in the morning. The party had finished long before this happened. Everyone left at the same time. This man is an intruder, and that’s either our wee Cindy or
Dorothy he has in his filthy arms.’

Karl continued studying. Saying nothing. He had doubts as to gender; doubts as to what was being carried. It didn’t look like a small body.

Tommy re-clicked PLAY.

The cat has halted all movement. Transfixed with total concentration in the moment of the mysterious vignette. Intruder is moving slowly away across the yard. Steps over puddle-like carcass of an animal.

‘Is that a dead dog?’ Karl asked.

Theresa nodded. ‘Samson, the family pet. Poor thing. He was a lovely dog. He loved those girls.’

Figure suddenly stops. Starts looking about. Hesitant, scanning the yard. Stares over towards Cat-Eye, as if watching Karl’s voyeurism.

The hairs on the back of Karl’s neck rose and prickled. A sheen of cold sweat skimmed off his spine. He could hardly breathe.
What the fuck…
?

‘That’s Dorothy or Cindy! God, I know it is!’ screamed Theresa.

Tommy put his arm over Theresa’s shoulder, trying to reassure her. ‘Easy, love. Easy…we don’t know if it–’

‘Don’t you dare, Tommy Naughton! Don’t you dare question my grandmotherly intuition,’ said Theresa, pushing Tommy away. ‘I don’t care what you think – or
anyone
. That’s one of our grandkids wrapped up in that blanket.’

Diplomatically sidestepping the potential quarrel, Karl clicked the STOP button.

‘Look, we need to be watching this video together, not arguing. Afterwards, we’ll share our opinions of what we saw. Okay?’

Tommy nodded. Theresa followed his example, but with obvious reluctance.

Karl clicked PLAY.

Figure slowly places bundle on ground. Now reaching for something beneath clothing. Slowly bringing up hand. A knife? Figure slowly stands. Quite crafty. Like lightning, throws knife. Madness ensues. Images bobbing up and down. Cat running. Like hell.

Hell…

‘The dirty bastard,’ Tommy said. ‘See the way he threw that knife at Tiddles?’

Karl continued watching for over a minute, but nothing else of importance seemed to follow. He clicked STOP.

‘Well, Karl? What did
you
see?’ Theresa said, looking at Karl with a paradoxical mixture of despair and hope in her sad eyes.

‘Can I get a copy of the film put on a disc?’ Karl said to Tommy, deliberately ignoring Theresa’s question.

‘Not too sure how to do that, Karl,’ Tommy said. ‘Pauline would do all that kind of stuff.’

‘No problem. I have a friend who knows everything there
is to know about computers. Just give me the original USB stick, and I’ll get copies made.’

‘Karl?’ Theresa said. ‘What did you see?’

Karl turned, looked at Theresa, and said, ‘My daughter, Katie, was kidnapped, over two years ago, Theresa, so don’t think for one moment I don’t understand the hell you and Tommy are going through.’

‘Dear lord, Karl.’ Theresa put her hand to her mouth, looking completely stunned. ‘I’m so sorry…did…did you get her back?’

Physically, not mentally
. ‘I…I got her back…eventually. So, let’s not lose hope. Hope is everything. With your permission, I’ll give a copy of this to the police. I know how you feel about cops, but we’re going to need all the help we can get.’

‘Give it to them. If they can bring Dorothy or Cindy back, I’ll be eternally grateful to them.’

Karl looked away from Theresa, his eyes resting on the family portrait on the fireplace. Two young girls looked out at him.
Both
dead? One alive? Just like Theresa, his intuition was kicking in. However, his was telling him this wasn’t going to end up a happy-ever-after story.