The Dark Place (7 page)

“K
arl? We have a visitor,” pronounced Naomi, her face a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Bet you’ll never guess who.”

“You’re right. I’m all guessed-out. So why don’t you tell me?” deadpanned Karl, eyes not moving from the horse racing section in the morning’s
Irish News
. There were four-legged certainties inked somewhere in these Monday morning pages, but the only certainty at the moment was Karl having a difficult time sniffing them out. He hadn’t picked a winner in over four weeks, and forced himself to believe that the law of averages – like fortune – would eventually favour his braveness.

Before Naomi could reply, a voice from behind her said, “I don’t know how you stick him, Naomi. He’s such an ignorant bastard.”

This time, Karl’s eyes did move, before registering shock at what stood before them.

Ivana was wearing tight, expensive Italian washed-out jeans, a T-shirt with the distinctive red and white cursive Coke swirl emblazoned on it and a pair of purple-striped Nike tennis shoes, tied with red laces. Her
hair was done in a bun, shamelessly exposing a professional make-over done less than an hour ago.

Karl did a wolf whistle.

Ivana seemed quite pleased at the response.

“You really look stunning, girl,” enthused Naomi, giving Ivana a loving hug.

Karl nodded in agreement. He had never seen Ivana looking so lovely, almost feminine.

“You shouldn’t have got all dolled-up just to come here to see me, doll,” said Karl, doing his very bad Humphrey Bogart impression. “It’s been what? All of three days since we last locked eyes at your birthday gig.”

“Very funny, Karl Kane. For your information, I have a date on Thursday night. These are just casuals,” stated Ivana, parking her arse on a table like she was taking up permanent residence.

“A date? Tell me quickly!” gushed Naomi excitedly. “Who is he?”

Ivana’s face beamed. “Vincent Harrison.”

“
Ohhhhhhhh!
That new waiter in Billy Holiday’s, the one who served us on your birthday?”

Karl had a sudden vision of Tarzan swinging through the room, dangling on vines, peeling his banana.

“Do you think he might be a bit too young for my taste?” asked Ivana.

“Well … no …”

“You can’t lie to save your life, Naomi! All those old bitches are saying I’m a baby snatcher. The cheek of them!”

“And the cheeks on him!” responded Naomi, smiling. “They’re jealous of you, Ivana.”

“I didn’t hear you, dear. What did you say?”

“I said – Ivana! You heard me perfectly!”

“I know dear. I know,” smiled Ivana.

“He really has a nice arse, hasn’t he?” said Naomi.

Ivana nodded. “
Very
nice arse, darling. Very nice
everything
.”

“That’s
nice
to know, Ivana,” cut in Karl, quickly returning to his newspaper. “Did you come here just to tell us about Vincent with
everything nice?”

Suddenly sitting down on the chair next to the desk, Ivana hooked the newspaper from Karl’s fingers and said, “No … actually … I’ve come to talk.”

The immediate sombre tone of her voice stopped Karl from snapping the newspaper back.

“Go ahead. I’ve got two good ears and a head full of nothing. Just don’t tell me that you’re pregnant,” said Karl, smiling. “Or that you’re trapped between a cock and a hardener.”

“That isn’t funny, Karl,” said Naomi. “Apologise to Ivana, right now.”

“My apologies for my crass humour, Ivana. Now that you have the full attention from a fool, what’s on your beautiful mind?”

“I’ll go and make some coffee,” volunteered Naomi.

“I would much rather you stayed, Naomi,” said Ivana. “I have to get this off my chest and need you to hear what I have to say. You may not think much of me when you do.”

Naomi shook her head. “Don’t be silly, Ivana. You know how much I’ve always admired you, your bravery. Isn’t that right, Karl?”

Karl nodded, noticing for the first time that Ivana’s T-shirt did not say Coke, at all, but Cock.

“Would you like something stronger than coffee, Ivana?” offered Karl, pulling his eyes away from the disconcerting T-shirt. “Make you feel a bit more relaxed, perhaps?”

Ivana’s face tightened, then quickly loosened as if remembering the price of the make-over. “No thank you. I wish to remain clear-headed,” she replied, looking directly into Karl’s eyes. “It’s concerning … it’s concerning those young girls found murdered in the Black Mountain and city centre. The news hasn’t stopped showing their faces on TV the last couple of days. Terrible …”

“Absolutely horrible,” agreed Naomi.

A thick silence swiftly entered the room. Naomi glanced at Karl, who kept his face professionally expressionless.

“Yes? What about her, Ivana?” enquired Karl, eventually breaking the silence.

“I think … I think I know who could have
something
to do with them.”

“What?” Karl’s attention went immediately into full swing. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not … I’m not one hundred per cent … call it intuition. Something just snapped in me when you produced that poster of the young girl with the sad eyes, at my birthday. I can’t get her face out of my head. I don’t even know if what I have to say is relevant.”

“Anything you tell me will be thoroughly checked out, Ivana,” encouraged Karl. “Anyway, it’s better to be one hundred per cent wrong rather than seeing another young girl brutally tortured and murdered. Don’t you agree?”

“That’s good philosophy, I suppose.” Ivana had an anguished look on her face while picking at an errant piece of cuticle on her middle finger.

Naomi reached out and, touching Ivana’s shoulder, said, “Just take your time, Ivana. We are both here for you as friends. Okay?”

Ivana nodded, before sucking in air. “All those years ago when I was a young boy named Frankie Gilmore, my father worked as the gamekeeper for a very wealthy family from the Malone Road called Hannah. The Hannah family owned acres and acres of woodland and forest on the outskirts of Belfast. The family consisted of a mother, father and son. The mother, Margaret, had inherited the money from her parents, prominent horsy people originally from Scotland. The father, Paul, was a distinguished and well-known surgeon.”

“You’re not talking about Sir Paul Hannah?” interrupted Karl. “Used to be the chief surgeon at the Royal Victoria Hospital?”

“Yes … yes, that’s him. Of course, he wanted his son, Robert – or Bobby, as we called him – to follow in his footsteps, but unfortunately Bobby had no penchant for medicine –
at the time
– and was much more interested in owning his own Hollywood movie studio or messing about with his amateur magician’s box, much to his parents’ dismay.”

Both Karl and Naomi leaned slightly closer to Ivana, as if having difficulty hearing the words coming from her mouth.

“Bobby was a … strange boy, a loner,” continued Ivana. “He was
never without his movie camera, posing as a big shot director, boring the knickers off everyone he encountered. Unfortunately for me, my father forced me to play with him on weekends because he thought it would keep him in his job as gamekeeper.”

“That must have been horrible for you, Ivana,” said Naomi, reaching out and holding Ivana’s hand.

“It wasn’t too bad at the start, darling. Bobby was an insufferable bore, but he had lots of money and was always buying buckets of sweets and cream cakes, all of which he used in an attempt to manipulate me into liking him. He was rather plump – like his mother – and always managed to devour more than his share, and even though I had a terrible sweet tooth, his eating habits always put me off. It was like watching a greedy little pig, tiny teeth sawing into the cakes, the cream plastered to his face.” Ivana placed her hand over her mouth and coughed loudly. “You’re both probably thinking I have a cheek to talk about anyone?”

“For fuck sake, Ivana, you’ve called me worse things than being fat and a greedy pig,” said Karl impatiently, “so let’s not get bogged down on childhood sensitivities. What else can you tell us about Bob the Plasterer?”

“Karl’s right, Ivana,” encouraged Naomi. “We were all probably little snot noses growing up, teasing each other terribly.”

“Thank you, darling, though I doubt very much that you would fit into that category. You’re just being your usual sweet self. Anyway, one day we were down in the basement of their large house, doing so-called filming with his camera and mucking about with his magic tricks, when suddenly all the lights went out. Fused or something like that. Suddenly, Bobby volunteers to get a torchlight. ‘Hold this,’ he said. I reached into the darkness and he dropped his magic wand right into my hand, laughing. It wasn’t his magic wand, though, but his dick.”

Karl almost fell off the chair.

“It was the first time I felt a real dick,” claimed Ivana. “I mean, I’d felt my own, of course – before it went for the chop – but it was the first time I had ever held another
boy’s
. It was thrilling, and like magic, it changed me for ever, releasing all those feelings I had suppressed. The lie I had been living was finally crushed, and soon I discovered that I
liked boys, I liked holding and sucking their dicks.”

“
Ahhhhh
. That’s lovely, Ivana,” responded Naomi, almost motherly, looking as if she had just heard the greatest love story ever told. “Lots of boys go through that stage in their life, but for you it was probably a calling. Isn’t that true, Karl?”

Karl remained motionless, sitting in the chair, fixed and hushed, momentarily undone by Ivana’s brutal honesty. He wished Naomi would stop bringing attention to him. In all honesty, the thought of sucking a dick, even if that dick had a vagina or would-be vagina parked next door to it like Ivana’s, was totally unappealing. For fuck sake, he wouldn’t even suck his own dick – not that he was boasting the possibility.

To Karl’s great relief, Ivana continued.

“Bobby had a secret shoebox full of photos of naked women. No one was permitted to see them. But one day, I stumbled upon them accidentally. Tiny Polaroid pictures hid inside an old rotting tree at the back of his house. Very shocking and extremely graphic. Dildos, spanking devices … things of that nature, all of the same woman.”

“Well, at least he liked women, as well,” quipped Karl, trying to look on the bright side of things.

“The pictures were all of his mother.”

Naomi paled. Karl reddened.

“Then one Saturday, we were all gathered for the annual hunt. It was horrible. All these adults roaming about like mercenaries in their camouflage clothing, shooting and slaughtering tiny defenceless birds. Absolutely disgusting people. My job was to go and chase out the grounded birds along with the dogs, when suddenly I looked back at Bobby, just in time to see him point his shotgun directly at his mother’s head and pull the trigger.”

“
Dear God!
” whispered Naomi, placing her hand to her mouth.

“Was she killed?” asked Karl, ignoring Naomi’s histrionics.

“Yes.” Ivana shuddered.

“What happened afterwards, to Bobby?” enquired Karl. “Was he arrested for her murder?”

Shaking her head, Ivana answered, “No. He claimed it was a tragic accident. No one saw it happen – except me, of course. Besides, who
would have believed me? His word against mine? I told my father what I had witnessed, and he belted me across the mouth, telling me if I
ever
dared to repeat that disgusting lie again, he would give me the beating of my sorry life. Shortly after that, Bobby was sent away to some posh school to learn medicine.”

“And that was the last you heard of him?” asked Karl, not too sure where the connection was being made.

Ivana looked at Naomi and then back to Karl before answering. “Remember about three years ago, when I was attacked and stabbed in the arm and shoulder, late at night outside Billy Holiday’s?”

Both Karl and Naomi nodded. Karl remembered it well. Both he and Naomi had rushed to the hospital, fearing the worst.

“You got a busload of stitches,” nodded Karl. “I had to take you home in my car. Do you know how long it took me to get the blood off the seats?”

“He’s only winding you up, Ivana. Just ignore him,” said Naomi, giving Karl a withering look.

“It was some right-wing, anti-gay nutcase,” stated Karl. “Isn’t that right?”

“That’s what the media and the cops said,” replied Ivana.

“What
should
they have said?” enquired Karl.

“At first, I didn’t recognise the man who attacked me. He kept talking ever so calmly in the most chilling voice I had ever heard. ‘As far as I’m concerned you are dead to me, you filthy traitor and cunt of a whore.’” Ivana shuddered before continuing. “It was only afterwards that I remembered his eyes. They were the same eyes I saw on Bobby Hannah when he shot his mother. I
think
it could have been him, even though my attacker was tall and extremely masculine – a far cry from the Bobby of my childhood.”

“You
think?
You’re not having selective amnesia, are you?” said Karl.

“Don’t you dare start accusing me, Karl Kane! I told you from the moment I walked in here that I wasn’t one hundred per cent. But when I read in the newspapers about the young girl found cut open, almost surgically, I kept seeing Bobby’s face. And it wasn’t a knife that was used to stab me, but a scalpel.”

There was a moment of silence in the office before Karl asked, “You think he’s used his surgical skills to kill these young girls?”

Ivana let out a sigh. Her shoulders appeared to shrink. She seemed on the brink of tears. “It’s possible … I don’t know …”

“I was going to ask why didn’t you go to the cops, but I suppose I could answer that for you, remembering how they treated you, as if you were the perpetrator instead of the victim, the time you were stabbed.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come here earlier,” said Ivana, her voice a whisper. “You probably both hate me because I didn’t come with this sooner. I … I wasn’t sure … still not sure …”