Where the Birds Hide at Night (4 page)

The officer stood watching him was there “for his own protection”, not to stop him “doing a runner”. Noose wasn't necessarily under suspicion now, just under a glorified house arrest at the station. He smiled at Officer Jacobs – one of those men who looked rather feminine, but who got all the girls – and smiled. Jacobs, relatively new here, smiled back. Noose led the way out and was met by Nicola Williams in the corridor. Standing next to her was a young woman who looked like a woman, dressed in a suit. It suited her.

‘This is Sergeant Helen Douglas,' Williams announced, introducing the well-tanned, black-haired female by pointing at her face. ‘Been away on holiday, plane was delayed.'

‘But, but…' Noose stuttered, staring at his new sergeant.

‘Yes, that woman who stuck her finger up your bum then got beheaded wasn't who she said she was,' Williams continued drolly, her eyes never leaving Noose's face as she basked in his torment. Jacobs and Douglas tittered. ‘She impersonated Sergeant Douglas.'

‘Then who was she?' Noose demanded.

‘We don't know. No idea.'

Williams smiled as Noose pulled her to one side. ‘Now look here-' he started.

‘Take your hands off me, Inspector Noose,' she growled playfully, ‘or I shall slap a restraining order down on you.'

‘You can drop all this bullshit right now,' he carried on threateningly as Jacobs stepped between the pair.

‘Language, Henry,' she cooed.

‘Look, you were the one who told
me
to keep this professional, and here you are doing-'

‘Doing what, Henry? What am I doing?'

‘Do you still have feelings for me?' he outright asked her.

‘Feelings?' she laughed. ‘I never did have feelings for you, you just served a purpose back then.'

‘Back when, the first time or the second time?' Noose's mind was full of all their trysts so many years ago, especially their last time – on her office desk in this very station. She had been a superintendent back then, rising quickly through the ranks because of her brilliant brain. Here she was, a decade later, slopping along as a mere detective inspector again.

‘There never was a second time, Henry,' she spat, turning away from him and lowering her voice. ‘You pushed yourself onto me, I had to keep you quiet because of what was going on with Norman.'

‘Ah yes, so that is what this is all about, is it? Getting revenge on me because I cost you your high-powered superintendent position?' Noose laughed in anger, shaking his head. ‘Norman Trout, hah. It was your own fault, you were the one helping him with those fake documents or whatever. You should have been sacked altogether.'

‘I paid the price, Henry, as did Norman. I'm just trying to make a difference now.'

‘Well you're making that, alright. You're ruining my life.' He pushed Jacobs aside, marching off down the corridor. Jacobs dashed after him but bumped face-first into him when he stopped dead and spun back around after Williams burst out laughing. ‘It was you, wasn't it? You murdered that little whore in my house last night!' he yelled, pointing at her from down the corridor. The real Sergeant Helen Douglas, rather wishing she'd stayed on holiday a little longer, looked uneasily at the notice board and pretended not to be paying attention.

‘Run along, Inspector, you're making a fool of yourself.'

In came Lauren behind Noose and, upon seeing him, stepped back uneasily. He turned to face her. ‘Lauren,' he said to her, smiling. She did not smile back. ‘What's the matter?'

‘A word, please, Inspector Williams,' she called out down the corridor.

‘What's happened, what is it?' Noose carried on. He'd known Lauren long enough to sense she was not at ease – not that she had been at ease for a long time.

‘I think I should speak to Inspector Williams first,' was Lauren's brief explanation to the eager Noose.

Williams came up to the pair, followed closely by Jacobs. ‘Go on, Lauren.'

‘It's the DNA results for the Henderson murders.' She looked away from Noose, but would not turn from him.

‘Yes, yes, what about them? Do we have a lead?' Williams encouraged.

‘Of sorts.' She cleared her throat, unsettled. ‘The sperm found in both mother and daughter matches the sperm I took from the body of the female found in Inspector Noose's house.'

‘I see.'

‘What?' Noose laughed, sure he'd heard her wrong. Jacobs came and stood right behind Noose, ready for anything. ‘No, no,' Noose carried on, shaking his head, ‘this is getting ridiculous now.'

Lauren now looked at Noose and asked him: ‘Did you do it?'

‘Do what?' he shouted. ‘What the hell am I supposed to have done?'

‘How did your sperm end up in the bodies of Dani and Beth Henderson?' Williams questioned him.

‘God knows. I can't believe it, it's a lie. You're lying Lauren, you must be lying. You've got it wrong,' he cried out.

* * *

‘That's how I ended up in here,' Noose finished, staring blankly up at the cell ceiling off the top bunk. Underneath him on the bottom bunk lay his cell mate Alex, the nervous young one-time husband of Katie Edwards, who'd also found himself, much to his own confusion, in prison.

‘Must be tough ending up in here when you were a cop yourself,' Alex mused, sighing that there were others also going through what he was. Noose just listened, noticing the face from the carpet was now on the cell ceiling. It stared down at him, that wry grin having a good look. ‘So who
did
kill Dani and Beth Henderson, if you didn't?' Alex asked.

‘That face,' Noose responded.

‘What face?'

‘The face on the ceiling.'

‘Did the face on the ceiling also kill Lucy Davies?'

‘Probably.' Noose closed his eyes. There the face was, inside his eyelids and all the time looking at him.

* * *

Alex had just about enough time to absorb the image before it faded. This one would fade, yes, but there would doubtless be countless others. They never got the same one back, it was always a new one each time. That was the beauty of a limitless supply of nubile young women – there would always be another to take her place when this one was gone. That it was they who were having the direct sexual contact with his wife was a bit annoying for Alex, but the fact that he got to sit in and watch was adequate for now. Sitting in at a distance, of course. He would always sit in the green chair in the corner, pulling at his half-flaccid penis as the latest woman licked his wife's vagina, or indeed rubbed her own vagina against it. Katie would be raging with orgasm after orgasm as this went on – providing Alex was in darkness in the corner. She knew he was there, but could forget about him as she went full throttle on the bed in the other corner of the room… so long as she couldn't see him. The little bedside light was always shining on the two women involved, letting Alex have a look from the green chair. The couple had tried to have sex ever since their wedding night, but to no avail. Every time they tried it just hurt Katie too much. Her vagina closed up at the merest thought of Alex entering her, and it was simply no good. This was the best sex life they could hope for together – she with some random female stranger, and he wanking in the dark. Not the best of things, but adequate enough. There was a woman who loved Alex once, and he knew it. But, he threw it all away to marry somebody who wouldn't even shag him. Why? He couldn't answer that, he simply couldn't. The other woman
was
Katie's best friend Emma, maybe that had something to do with it? Alex was the kind of guy who liked to eat all the chocolates in his advent calendar in one go, and that was that.

One day Alex was sitting in the green chair with his penis out when Reaping Icon appeared in the room. Reaping Icon stood for a moment over the bed, having a look at the unfolding sexual activity between Katie and the latest woman the couple had enlisted.

‘Hmm,' said Reaping Icon, his face expressionless. Alex's face, too, was expressionless. It was the same face.

‘What do you want?' Alex called out to the one who looked like a man – who looked like him.

‘For you to shut up,' Katie replied, deep in breath.

Reaping Icon came up close to Alex and closed his eyes. ‘You can see all that you want to see, if you look,' he said, before going away. Alex got up off the green chair and left the room as Katie carried on.

‘This is ridiculous,' Alex said to himself in the bathroom, keeping his eyes from the mirror. ‘Why oh why am I in this whole fucking mess?' Now he looked in the mirror. ‘Come on then, where are you?' he called out for Reaping Icon. ‘Show me, you bastard, let me see what I want to see.'

‘What do you want to see?' Reaping Icon asked him, appearing in the bathroom.

‘I don't know. Do you?'

‘Do you want to see Emma?'

‘I can see her any time.'

‘Am I not being honest with myself?' Reaping Icon looked behind Alex in the mirror. Alex would not turn to look – he could not see anyone there in the mirror. ‘The Space, perhaps?'

‘What?'

‘Do you want to see The Space?'

‘What good will that do?'

‘The world of good.' Reaping Icon smiled warmly.

‘What is The Space?'

‘It is the summation of everything that ever was, is or will be. And, everything is nothing.'

‘Everything is nothing? That doesn't make sense,' Alex laughed.

‘I can grant you access to The Space, Alex,' Reaping Icon went on, his smile gone. ‘You can do whatever you so wish. Nothing will be beyond your desire.'

‘And nothing is everything, I suppose?' Alex asked glibly, though with a hint of nerves. He had, nonetheless, eased in Reaping Icon's company.

‘Tread carefully, for there is nobody who can stop me doing as I wish.'

‘Then why bother me, why am I significant?'

‘Because you are me, and I am you.' After this, Reaping Icon went again, and Alex collapsed onto the toilet in a fit of hopelessness.

This Reaping Icon – this mirage of a man who flitted in and out of his vision whenever he so chose to – had not figured heavily in Alex's mind up until now. But, here in the bathroom whilst his wife had sex with someone else in the other room, he found himself at the end of his tether and finally willing to embrace his own desires for a change. He'd always been a bit weak in the mind, allowing himself to get carried along, and now he could see that. Reaping Icon could change all that, for sure! Or, was it just another case of weak-mindedness? At this moment in time he didn't care if it was weak or not, he simply wanted change; and change he
would
get if he embraced Reaping Icon. Change for the hell of it.

* * *

Christmas was always a tricky time in the Edwards household. Ruby didn't like the fact that she had to do all the work. She had to do all the work around here anyway, really, whether it was Christmas or not. Her husband Arthur, completely bald and fat now that he quickly passed sixty, had long said things would change around the place. But, they never changed for long. The only thing that was in constant change was the distance he had to sit from the table – his ever-enlarging stomach pushing him further and further away as it pressed up against it. Every argument that occurred between the couple would result in a bit of change on Arthur's part, for a bit, and then things would soon change back; flopping into their previous position like a river whose course people had tried to tinker with. Would that river heed to the thirsty demands of humanity? Would it hell. So, Arthur was that unending river, bursting his banks now and again when he was overcome with too much drink but forever going in the same direction. The grave was his only option, but he was taking his time getting there. Ruby slapped the turkey she'd just lovingly carved down on the table in front of her husband and dragged her sweaty, freckled hands through her thinning grey-ginger curls in despair as Arthur eyed its glaze, yawning. He grabbed some with his grubby fingers and dropped it on his plate, tossing a pile onto Alex's plate as well. Alex looked at Arthur's hands – mucky from playing around with the log burner and now oily from the turkey – then at the unused meat fork sitting next to the turkey. Alex didn't like Arthur. He didn't like Ruby either. At this moment in time, as he sat down for the annual Edwards Christmas dinner with a massive pile of meat and two veg slopped in front of him, he didn't like anyone. Arthur blew a party whistle right in Alex's face, who gritted his teeth as he stared at Katie – the only one around the table who wasn't wearing a paper hat. Alex felt like tearing his off and ramming it down somebody's throat, but he couldn't bring himself to do so… he couldn't find the will to do it. His whole body tensed and spasmed as he bared the howls and cackles from Arthur the clown next to him. On the other side sat Uncle Curly, Arthur's brother, who'd been drunk since well before lunch. He, his eyes more glazed than any turkey could ever hope to be, simply alternated between giggling to himself and sighing as he avoided engaging with the rest of the family. He wore his Christmas hat over his ever-fixed tweed flat cap, which hadn't been removed from his head in at least thirty years. He was, like Arthur, once a thin man but now beer-bellied and round-shouldered. Everybody had forgotten who the elder brother was, but it didn't really matter. They were close in age and similar in personality. Neither had gained authority over the other, both being equally ineffectual. Alex was only too glad that Uncle Curly had overdone it on the booze and was now incapable of joining in with Arthur's larking.

‘Come on,' Ruby tried her best, flopping down on her chair and picking her glass of fizzy wine up. ‘Merry Christmas.'

Curly downed his glass in one go, bursting into tears. ‘Why did she leave me?' he sobbed uncontrollably, staring at the floor.

‘Eat your dinner, Curly, it'll go cold otherwise,' Ruby told him.

‘Yeah, shut up,' Arthur grunted, ‘you fat fool.' He filled his mouth with a whole roast potato and carried on talking. ‘She left you ‘cause you're a fat slob,' he went on, spitting over Alex's dinner as he turned to look for the cranberry sauce.

Curly grabbed the bottle of fizz and filled his glass up, spilling some over his dinner.

* * *

A little later, after the sherry trifle had been well and truly polished off, the family settled down in front of the TV. Katie positioned herself as far away from Alex as she could, and he didn't argue with her. The Prime Minister came on, delivering his Christmas wishes:

‘Today is a day to sit back and enjoy our time with our loved-ones.' Alex looked over at Katie as the PM continued: ‘My family and I wish all of you out there a very merry Christmas, happy in the knowledge that the new year brings many great things for our country.'

‘Bullshit,' Arthur called out, his paper hat sitting lopsided on his head. Ruby glared scornfully at him.

‘The new year brings dignity to all those seeking it,' the PM went on. Arthur grabbed hold of the remote control and changed the channel.

‘Oh what a wonderful time of year,' Curly started singing, waving a can of lager in front of his face, before collapsing in a heap on Alex's lap. Alex pushed him off and jumped up.

‘I need some…' he announcing, some bizarre pain seizing his mind. It was a sensation he had never quite felt before. For some reason his mind was now full of The Space – not The Space in itself, but thoughts of It; like some Thing, some Being, had placed the thoughts there. ‘I need some space,' he said, feeling he wasn't speaking his own words. He left the room.

* * *

Outside in the cold, Reaping Icon came to stand next to Alex. ‘You need an aim in life,' said Reaping Icon, looking across the street at Emma's house. ‘Something to give your existence meaning.'

‘Like what?'

Reaping Icon tapped his chin, humming. ‘Assassinate the Prime Minister?' he suggested casually. ‘He's planning on being very naughty. You could stop him.'

‘What? No, no, I'm not doing anything like that.'

‘Why not – haven't you got it in you?'

A large black car pulled up at the end of the drive and, the engine still running, just waited there. Alex felt compelled to go to it, too nervous to challenge Reaping Icon. As he did, the back door opened and he looked inside. Sitting on the back seat was a fairly elderly man in a smart black pinstripe suit. His grey hair was slicked back with gel, and his teeth held between them a huge cigar. ‘Get in,' the man said without moving his mouth, the sound escaping either side of the aromatic burning brown tube.

‘Or you could rape your wife,' Reaping Icon whispered in Alex's ear. Alex got in the car and it drove off.

‘Where are we going?' Alex asked the elderly gent, looking around inside the car. All he could see looking forward was his own reflection in a vast, bland metallic sheet shielding the driver.

‘You have been invited to speak with the government,' he told Alex.

‘Why me?'

‘The Prime Minister asked for you specifically.'

‘Really? Me?' Alex was quite pleased for a moment, suddenly remembering what Reaping Icon had just suggested to him. He dropped the conversation, remaining silent for the rest of the journey. His mind travelled from recess to recess, pondering over everything he'd done so far in his life. That shouldn't have taken too long, to be fair, as he'd not really done that much at all. He still worked in
Lennon's
shop – the only job he'd ever had since he was old enough to work and the only one he'd probably ever have – and his sham marriage was pitiful. He felt somehow that he deserved every piece of crap that got flung his way in life, simply because he hadn't put enough effort in to drag himself out of the cesspool. Still, it wasn't that bad. There were certainly people who were in a much worse mess than he was. He knew that he could,
could
, alter things if he really wanted to – if he
needed
to. Perhaps he was biding his time, he thought, for the right motivation to come along. Was that event now beginning to unfold as he sat in the back of this car on his way to the PM? Possibly. Time would tell, wouldn't it?

He checked his watch. It was an hour fast. He never did alter it when the clocks go back in the autumn – he liked to think he preferred to live in twelve months of summer time instead, and that not changing his watch would reflect this. The more likely reason was he was too idle to change it. It was a simple task, changing the time on a watch twice a year, but he chose not to. He had taken himself out of abiding by that rule – one of the only rules that he did bend, and one that had no consequence on others. What a shrivelled little turd it made him feel. Again he checked his watch, somehow hoping the hour had altered of its own accord. Katie had long picked at him for not changing the hour. One tiny victory against her was still a victory. Katie picked at everything he did. He caught his reflection in the metallic sheet in front, the paper hat out of the cracker still on his head. Katie must once have seen something in him, and he in her. That was over ten years ago now – a long time. Something made him feel they'd just settled for each other, thinking they could do no better. Clearly Katie had not confronted her true sexuality and allowed herself to get carried into a dead marriage. There was dead silence in the back of the car, and Alex could see the elderly man was smiling as he puffed on the cigar. It wasn't a particularly unpleasant smell, but Alex just wished he wasn't smoking. Somehow it made him feel the lesser of the two – or, at the very least, he attributed this feeling of inadequacy in comparison to his fellow occupant to the cigar. It stood between them, lying there in the man's mouth like a lead barrier or a gaping chasm. And, just like lead, its poison both swirled in plain sight and seeped in the unseen. Alex could see nothing at this exact point in time; he was at a loss to know what could be done to rectify anything that had befallen him. Yes, he could leave his wife and enter instead into a relationship with Emma, the one he should have been with all along; but somehow that seemed out of the question. Things never were that easy, were they? He just couldn't find the gumption within himself to take that extra bit of effort needed. Never mind, he was on his way to meet the PM for some reason, and perhaps that would sort everything out for him. His mere presence – being there whilst things unfolded around him – would be enough to spark alteration.