The Dark Place (6 page)

“Well, I’d love to reminisce with you, Phillips, but have to go,” said Karl, easing into the car.

“Can’t you take a joke, Kane? What happened to your sense of humour?”

“Have to check my drawers when I get home. Could’ve left it there.”

“Ha! That’s more like the Kane I remember,” said Phillips, removing a half bottle of Bushmills whiskey, taking one long slug before offering it to Karl.

“No thanks. That Irish puts hairs on a man’s chest. I just had a Brazilian done on mine.”

The joke was lost on Phillips, who asked, “How’s that sour-faced brother-in-law of yours doing?”

“Oh, you know him. That sour face never sweetens. Must be all that power he has, being the famous detective inspector.”

“You can say that again, that I know him,” replied Phillips, tapping the side of his nose twice before winking at Karl. “In fact, I’m going in right now to see old Sour Puss, to remind him that I
know him.
If that bastard thinks he can kick me out of the force without my retirement pension, he’s got another think coming. Too many secrets stored up here in the old noggin.” Phillips tapped the side of his head, and winked again.

“Secrets? What kind of secrets?” asked Karl, suddenly interested.

“Don’t be smart, Kane. They wouldn’t be secrets any more if I told you, would they now?”

“No. I guess you’re right,” replied Karl, grinning. “And there’s me trying to be smart again. Never seems to work when dealing with cops.”

“Cops are different from the rest of you mere mortals, Kane. Most of us believe that we are in a life and death struggle against everyone else, and we’re all in it together.” Phillips swayed drunkenly before continuing. “Being a cop requires us to be members of a union, a union forged of blood, governed by laws that go beyond the laws that govern the rest of you. It’s hard to go against that union. It’s also dangerous.”

“Look, I really do have to go, Phillips,” said Karl, no longer willing to listen to Phillips’s incoherent blabbering.

“Ever hear of the King David Syndrome?”

“Can’t say I have. Why?”

“Tell you what. I’ll do a deal with you. I don’t get my pension, you get my secrets concerning our very own King fucking David. How’s that? And I’ll even make sure my solicitor posts them to you, should an
unfortunate
accident
happen to me.”

“What are you talking about, unfortunate accident? What kind of unfortunate accident?”

“Accidents always seem to happen when you don’t have insurance. But both you and I have insurance. Don’t we, Kane? The trick is, make sure that your insurance policy is up-to-date.” Another mysterious wink. “I always liked you, Kane, despite what the others thought of you. You’re not the fool you pretend to be.”

“I appreciate your encouraging words, Phillips,” said Karl, closing the car door, rolling down the window. “Those are the kind of compliments that make my day.”

“See you about, Kane,” waved Phillips, staggering towards the entrance before disappearing.

“What I would give to be a fly on Wilson’s wall,” whispered Karl, starting the car and driving away.

“I
t looks like it’s going to be a cracker of a day,” said Karl, buttering toast for breakfast the next morning, while glancing out the window at the early morning sun licking over the grey city centre rooftops.

“Yes,” agreed Naomi, looking up from the magazine in her hands. “They said all this week should be good.”

“One or two slices?”

“One, please.” From the magazine, Naomi removed an envelope. “I’ve something to ask you, Karl, but first you must promise not to be mad.”

“Too late. I already am mad. You know by now that I make the Hatter look sane,” said Karl, his lips smiling but his eyes the opposite as they settled on the envelope. “
Hmm
. That looks vaguely familiar.”

“I … this morning I was going through old magazines to dump and came across this letter in an old shoebox. I opened it by mistake …”

“That pert little nose of yours always grows when you’re fibbing.”

“Well … I sort of let curiosity get the better of me.”

“Remember what happened to Lot’s wife? Go on. Ask what you’re going to ask. Don’t keep me in suspenders.”

“It’s the title deeds to a house. This house, I suppose,” said Naomi, producing an old black and white photo, holding it out for Karl to examine.

“Ten out of ten. Next question, please.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you owned a big house in the country?”

“Technically speaking, it’s my father’s. I have what’s called enduring power of attorney, because my father is incapable by reason of mental disorder of managing and administering his property and affairs. Knowing he’s probably never going to get better, I guess the house is mine. Though I’ll probably never see the inside of that place again.”

“Why do you say that? It really looks the part. I’d love to go and have a look at it,” replied Naomi, smiling. “Our own place in the country. Sounds good to me.”

“It’s where my mother was murdered and I was attacked, left for dead,” said Karl matter-of-factly.

Naomi looked stunned. “Oh my God, Karl … I … I’m so sorry … how could I have been so stupid?” Seconds later, tears were streaming down her face.

Sitting down on the sofa, Karl put his arms around her. “I’ve been trying to persuade Dad into moving out of that care home he’s currently residing in. I was hoping he would move in with us, some time in the future, once we get a bigger place.”

“What … what did he say?”

Karl sighed. “When I visited him last week, he threw a shoe at me, screaming I was a burglar and a murderer. He tried grabbing a pair of scissors while leaping at me, saying he was going to protect his son.”

“Oh my God, Karl.”

“The staff finally managed to sedate him. It was heartbreaking to watch. I feel so guilty about where he is, even though it’s probably the best place he could be, with his mental problems. He was never the same after my mother was murdered. He’s a broken shell of the man I knew when I was growing up, as a kid.”

“My poor Karl,” said Naomi.

“What’s with the tears?” he said, kissing the side of her head.

“I brought back all those bad memories,” she sniffed, wiping her nose and eyes on his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t bring back anything. They’re always there; always following me, everywhere I go.”

This piece of information only encouraged the tears to come even faster. “Oh, Karl …”

“Stop crying, Naomi. Please … you know I don’t like to see you crying. Come on. Give me a smile,” he soothed.

She attempted one. Failed.

“Call that a smile? Look, perhaps we
can
go. Perhaps there’d be no better way to exorcise my childhood demons than facing them, head on. What do you think?”

“No,” sniffed Naomi, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to torture yourself. I’m going to put the deeds somewhere safe. When you’re ready, we’ll go. But only when you’re ready.”

He kissed her chin. And then her mouth, whispering, “Soon. Soon I’ll be ready. Now, you still haven’t told me what you bought Ivana for her birthday tonight.”

“Oh! I almost forgot. Let me show –”

Karl’s mobile rang. It was Hicks.

“Tom? What’s happening?”

“The bodies in the Black Mountain and the city centre.”

“What about them?”

“Definitely weren’t those of the young girl you’re searching for. The young girl in Black Mountain was Tina Richardson, a runaway from a home in Larne, two years ago. She was fourteen.”

“Terrible.”

“The body found in the city was that of Eileen Flynn, another runaway, this time from Belfast itself. Eighteen years old.”

“Shit.”

“Bodies were mutilated, exactly in the same method.”

“That vora rep thing?”

“Vorarephilia,” sighed Tom. “Yes, kidneys and liver removed, surgically. Both bodies were overweight – forcefully so.”

“Did Professor Kelly over at Queen’s get back to you with any explanation?”

“Not yet. She seems as baffled as me. Anyway, it’ll probably be all over the news this afternoon. I told Wilson I’m no longer willing to keep this from the general public. Oh, almost forgot to mention: I hear Phillips got his full retirement pension. Even got a recommendation from Wilson.”

“Are you serious?”

“Got it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, yesterday.”

“Funny, now that you mention it, there is a strong resemblance between Wilson and Arkle,” replied Karl. “What happened to the investigation? Wasn’t Phillips being investigated for corruption or some other sort of bullshit?”

“He was accused of shaking down pimps and drug dealers in the city, as well as being involved in two controversial shootings. Investigation found no evidence of wrongdoing,
allegedly
.”

“Ever get one of those feelings in your piss that things just aren’t kosher at the House of Wilson?”

“No, never in my urine, but I know exactly what you mean,” said Hicks. “Something’s going on between Phillips and Wilson.”

“Out of all of Wilson’s crew, Phillips was the one I always got on well with – most of the time, at least.”

“With the way he’s turned out, why am I not surprised at that statement? To be honest, I never liked the man. I always suspected he thought himself like the rest of his associates – above and beyond the law.”

“You always suspect someone of something. It’s your suspicious nature, Hicks.”

“What was that all about?” asked Naomi, who had beeen waiting for Karl to end the phone conversation.

“That was Hicks. It appears that Belfast has a serial killer on its hands, and the shit is about to hit the fan.”

C
onsidered by many to be Belfast’s best gay/transsexual bar, Billy Holiday’s was buzzing when Karl and Naomi entered, passing a sign at the doorway stating:
Never mind just
one
good night out. We’ll make your hole weak.

A woman, dressed in tight black leather and uncannily resembling Freddie Mercury, sang from an irritatingly loud karaoke machine. Sweat was escaping from every pore in her muscular body as she swayed, running the mic seductively up the inside of her thighs. The fake moustache glued to thick lips was the only thing that looked real.

Accompanying her on stage was a tall, bald man covered in tattoos, grinding an air guitar, his face a mixture of anguish, pain and ecstasy.

“Naomi! Karl! Toot-a-loot! Over here, darlings!” shouted a voice from a darkened far corner.

“Ivana!” Naomi immediately smiled, waving back enthusiastically. Karl, less so.

“I didn’t think you were coming, Naomi,” claimed Ivana, kiss-kissing Naomi’s cheeks falsely.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything, Ivana,” said Naomi, handing a small birthday-wrapped box to Ivana.

“Oh, you lovely person. You really shouldn’t have,” gushed Ivana.

“That’s exactly what I told her, Ivana,” said Karl, slapping his hand with a baton made from rolled-up posters.

“Don’t listen to him, Ivana,” replied Naomi. “You know what he’s like.”

“Thankfully, my dear, I
don’t
. And neither do I
want
to,” retorted Ivana, unwrapping the present. “Oh! Naomi … this is too much … it’s beautiful.”

A small gold necklace centred with a large pearl rested in the opened box.

“Here. Let me clip it on for you,” volunteered Naomi, circling the necklace on to Ivana’s neck. “Oh, Ivana,
that
is so you.”

“It’s beautiful, darling. Thank you … both.”

“Vodka and orange, Ivana?” suggested Karl, while a waiter, attired in nothing other than a leopard-skin thong and a banana bulge, hovered at the table, menacingly close to Karl’s face.

“
Large
,” replied Ivana, winking at the waiter. “I always take it
large
.”

“A large vodka and orange, Bacardi and Coke and a
small
glass of Hennessy, please,” said Karl, emphasising the small, while doing his best to avoid looking at the semi-naked young man. “Wow, that lady singer has a set of pipes on her. She doesn’t even need the mic.”

“Freaky Muckery?” spiked Ivana, acidly. “She and her sidekick, Ben Gay, have been on the karaoke machine all night and doing my head in. Did I say karaoke? Derrieroke, I call it. Freaky pulling a song out of her arse and trying to sing it. C’mon, Freaky and Gay! Stop hogging the karaoke!”

Defiantly, Ben Gay immediately brought the invisible guitar to his teeth and ran his mouth along it like a beaver munching a log.

“What’s got up the old queen mum’s bum!” retaliated Freaky, garnering much laughter from the crowd.

“Not you, anyway!” responded Ivana, lightning fast.

Ben Gay went sliding along the stage on bent knees, knocking over Freaky and the karaoke machine in the process, his head landing between Freaky’s legs.

“Shouldn’t that be the other way round, Freaky!” shouted Ivana.

“Oh, Ivana,” giggled Naomi.

“Well, serves her right. She’s a cheapskate, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a cheapskate,” replied Ivana. “She’s so cheap, she charged her children for the breast milk they consumed.”

Even Karl had to grin at that one.

“And as for Ben Gay? Don’t get me started! He’s a twin. I went out with both of them, years ago, just to see if their dicks were identical.”

Karl cringed. His armpits suddenly felt clammy. Wished semi-naked Tarzan would hurry the hell up with the drinks.

“You’re cruel, Ivana!” giggled Naomi. “And were their dicks identical?”

“Totally. Right down to the last blue vein, darling!”

Naomi burst out laughing.

“Any bloody chance of that waiter?” asked Karl, trying to catch Naomi’s attention.

On a roll, Ivana asked, “What did Freddie Mercury’s mother say as his coffin was being lowered into the cold ground?”

“I don’t know,” replied a giggling Naomi, shrugging her shoulders.

“That’s the cleanest hole he’s been in for a while!”

“Oh, Ivana. That’s not nice,” said Naomi, sternly, no longer smiling or laughing. “You shouldn’t make fun of the dead.”

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right, darling,” replied Ivana, sounding slightly contrite. “It was a cheap joke and I apologise. Actually, I’ve always been a great fan of Freddie.”

Thankfully for Karl, the waiter returned and deposited the drinks on the table. Karl left it to Naomi to tip, not knowing where it might end up.

“Do you think the owner would mind if I put a poster up on one of the walls?” asked Karl, taking a much-anticipated sip from the Hennessy.

“Poster? Depends, I suppose,” replied Ivana, sipping on the vodka and orange. “What’s the poster of?”

Karl unrolled the group of small posters of Martina Ferris. The young girl’s sad face seemed even more forlorn coming out eyes first.

“I had a few of these made this morning, hoping the local bars and cafés wouldn’t mind putting them somewhere the general public can see them. Her name is Martina Ferris. She’s been missing for almost a month.”

“Poor thing,” said Ivana, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s so
sad-looking
.”

Naomi nodded in agreement.

“She was last seen in and around the Custom House Square area,” continued Karl. “Her last fixed abode was –”

“Ivana?” cut in Naomi. “Are you okay? You’ve become pale.”

“What? Oh! No, I’m fine, darling. I think it’s the orange in the vodka. Doesn’t taste right. That’s all …” Ivana pushed her drink to the side. “They never use fresh fruit in this place.”

“You’re leaving yourself wide open with that remark, Ivana,” said Karl, a wry smile appearing on his face.

“Enough, Karl,” said Naomi.

“Okay. That
was
tasteless. Would you like me to order another one for you, Ivana?” asked Karl reluctantly, not too sure how much money was left in his skinny wallet.

“No … no, I think I’ve had enough. I’ve been drinking most of the evening anyway. Time to call it a night. Give me one of the posters. I’ll make sure it gets a prominent display.” Standing, Ivana hugged Naomi. “Thank you for making this a very special birthday, Naomi – both of you. I’ll see you during the week. Goodnight.”

Naomi waited until Ivana had left before asking Karl, “What do you make of that? She looked terribly sad once she saw Martina’s poster, didn’t she?”

Karl nodded, his thoughts the same, only darker.