Evil Games (28 page)

Alex ignored the movement. ‘So, Patty, is it okay if we talk for a little while?’

Patty appeared to be listening, but not to her. After six or seven seconds, Patty nodded.

‘I’d like to talk about your daughter, Kimberly, if possible.’

‘You know Kimmy?’ No hesitation but a slap of the thigh.

Alex glanced sideways to where Helen sat reading a magazine. Far enough away not to intrude, but close enough to listen to everything that was being said. And to measure Patty’s reaction. Alex had to make sure she phrased her questions carefully.

Alex nodded and met the woman’s stare, shocked by the intensity she saw there, just for a second, before it was blinked back into docility.

‘I met Kim recently. I believe you haven’t seen her for some time.’

Patty looked up to her left, frowning.

‘My apologies, Patty. You haven’t seen
Kimmy
for some time?’

A single tear ran down her cheek as her hands started moving, as though knitting.

‘Kimmy safe?’

‘Yes Patty, Kimmy is safe. She has a very important job as a police officer.’

‘Kimmy safe.’

Alex nodded despite the fact Patty’s gaze was fixed above her head.

‘Kimmy calls, I’m safe.’

Alex continued to nod. It was often pointless to try to fathom the disorganised speech of a schizophrenic. Alex noted that Helen had not turned one page of the magazine she was holding.

‘Can you tell me anything about Kimmy’s childhood?’ Alex pushed. She didn’t think she would get anything useful.

The hands began to knit faster. ‘Mikey safe, Kimmy safe. Devil comes, devil takes.’

Patty stopped dead and turned her head to the side, listening, although there was no other sound in the room. Oh for goodness’ sake, woman, just get on with it, Alex thought.

She started shaking her head. ‘No, Kimmy’s friend. Kimmy safe.’ She paused to listen to a response that was only in her head.

Patty stopped knitting long enough to slap her thigh and then resumed knitting, more quickly.

‘No, Kimmy’s friend. Friend Kimmy. Kimmy safe?’

She fixed Alex with a stare that she felt had the vision of an X-ray. ‘Isn’t she?’

The dark, brooding eyes seemed to look straight into her soul. Alex nodded.

With the swiftness of a gazelle, Patty was upon her. It took a second for Alex to catch up. Patty’s hands were in her hair, her nails scraping at the flesh. Alex instinctively raised her arms to push Patty off. She was vaguely aware of Helen shouting for Patty to stop.

Patty’s hands were everywhere, clawing at her scalp. A guttural sound came from her mouth. Spittle landed on Alex’s cheek. She almost vomited as the saliva travelled towards her lips. She lowered her head to protect her face but she could already feel her cheeks and temple smarting.

Alex tried again to push her off, but the advantage was with the slight woman that towered over her.

Alex saw the arms of Helen encircle Patty’s waist from behind to prize her off. Patty’s right hand was fisted around a clump of hair. As Helen pulled Patty backwards, Alex cried out as the roots were ripped from the scalp. Patty’s other hand was desperately grabbing more hair.

‘You reach up and grab her other hand and I’ll pull,’ Helen called.

Alex reached out and found Patty’s left hand. The grip around her hair was strong. Alex’s eyes watered as Patty pulled. She loosened the fingers one by one.

‘Pull,’ she shouted to Helen.

Patty’s arms continued to flail towards Alex even as she was being pulled backwards by Helen.

Alex watched as Patty was carried out of the room. Her eyes wildly stared Alex down. Gone was the diminutive figure taken from a country garden and in its place was a spitting, feral animal.

‘Wait here and I’ll get someone to check you over,’ Helen said, bundling Patty out of the door.

When the door closed, Alex smoothed down her hair and headed out the door. She had no intention of waiting around any longer. She’d had enough. She wasn’t going to get anything else from the psychotic lunatic.

Once back in her car she surveyed the damage. One long scratch travelled from her temple to her jaw. The thin line was red but not bleeding. Red blotches from Patty’s nails dotted the rest of her face. Most of the damage was beneath her hair.

Her whole head felt as though it was on fire.

The visit had given her much more than she’d bargained for and she had to wonder if it had been worth it.

There was something about Patty that was not quite making sense to Alex. She took out her notebook.

The movement disorders were quite pronounced, despite the medication. Patty’s methodical journey through the majority of Schneider’s first-rank symptoms of the disease was something Alex had rarely witnessed. The periodic violent episodes that occurred with a precise regularity were intriguing, as were the garbled, apparently nonsensical, words she spoke.

Alex tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel. ‘Of course,’ she said to herself as the pieces came together. Alex couldn’t help but smile at the cunning of the wily old woman as the pieces finally fell into place.

Despite the injuries, Alex couldn’t help enjoying the irony that the most insightful person she’d met in years happened to be a paranoid schizophrenic.

As she put the car into reverse, Alex smiled to herself that the journey had been well worth her while after all.

FIFTY-TWO

The two-storey building in Brockmoor had changed little since Kim’s last visit. The front door needed a lick of paint and the brass doorknob was dull and blackened in places. She didn’t know for certain that he still lived and worked at this address but she had to try.

She hesitated before pressing the button, unsure how her visit would be received, or if he would remember her at all.

She tentatively rang the bell and held her breath. Heavy footsteps and a low grumbling tugged at her mouth.

The door was opened by a man smaller and wider than she remembered. His wiry grey hair stuck out at all angles, like Einstein. His glasses hung around his neck. He had hardly changed at all.

‘I’m sorry, Miss, but I’m not buying …’ His words trailed off as his gaze found her eyes. He placed his glasses on the end of his nose. ‘Kim?’

She nodded, awaiting his response. She had stopped coming to see him for one simple reason: he was too good at his job and had started getting a little too close. She had offered no thanks, no explanation and no goodbye.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said, standing back. There was no anger or disappointment in his tone. Yes, she should have known.

She followed him through to the consulting room and was immediately struck by the contrast to Alex’s treatment room. Doctor Thorne offered the illusion of comfort. Well-placed expensive chairs, an oriental rug, plastic plants, candles, velvet drapes at sash windows. But this room housed old chairs made comfortable by use, a little worn in places but clean and welcoming. Scattered around the room were bonsai trees at varying stages of sculpture. No certificates shouted his credentials from the wall. They didn’t need to.

‘How are you, my dear?’ he asked. From anyone else it was a banal question meant as a polite formality. From him it was loaded with knowledge and understanding.

‘I get by, Ted.’

‘I will allow my curiosity to steep long enough to make you a cup of coffee.’

She followed him to the kitchen at the rear of the house. The room was dated with old oak cupboards and units, darkening the small room. Mismatched crockery drained on the sink unit.

‘No second wife?’

‘No, my dear, it wouldn’t have been fair. No woman would have held a candle to Eleanor and it would have been wrong. I could never have lowered my expectations. There have been dalliances over the years but my refusal to take it to the next level has always been a sticking point.’

Kim said nothing as he poured boiling water into a West Bromwich Albion mug and an Aston Villa mug. He handed her the Villa mug. ‘They lost at the weekend so that mug is out of favour.’

She took the drink and headed back to the comfy room.

‘So, what’s happened with you since you stood me up twenty years ago?’

Jeez, his memory was keen. An apology at this stage was pointless. She sat in the chair that was familiar to her. It felt exactly as it had back then.

‘I went to college, then entered the police force. I like the job I do.’

‘What rank are you?’

‘Detective Inspector.’

‘Hmm … well done, but why have you settled for that point on the food chain?’

Christ, this man was challenging to be around. Not one seemingly-innocuous fact went unnoticed. It was one of the things that made him an excellent psychologist.

‘Who said I have?’

‘Because if you wanted to be higher you would be.’

It was a simple statement and totally true. She’d been in his company for less than ten minutes and already he could read her like a book.

‘How about you. Have you finally retired – or are you still poking your nose into other people’s business?’

He smiled. ‘Ooh, nicely done, my dear. Misdirection and an attempt at humour all in one sentence. You have come a long way, but I’ll let it pass seeing as you came to see me and your reasons will become clear eventually.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘I suppose I’m semi-retired. I see two or three patients at any one time and sometimes more if needed.’

Kim guessed that the ‘if needed’ occurred when social services asked him. Ted had always worked for the state, primarily on child abuse and neglect cases. Kim could only imagine the tales of horror that he’d heard, the disturbing pictures he’d had to endure.

‘How do you do it, Ted?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Because I like to think I’ve made a difference. Because then I can sleep at night.’

It certainly wasn’t for the financial rewards, Kim thought. He lived in the two rooms on the upper floor. He really was one of the good guys.

He chuckled. ‘You know I remember once, I had this little girl who was so angry, so defensive, that for three whole sessions she refused to say a word. I think she was six at the time. Nothing worked. I tried lollipops, toys, a walk into the garden, but she simply refused to speak.’

Kim stiffened. This was a place she did not wish to go.

‘The next time I saw her she was nine and in between foster homes, unable to settle or adapt. When I offered her a Wagon Wheel, the first words I ever heard her utter were, “What’s up, Doc, run out of lollipops?” And then I saw her again aged fifteen when she categorically refused to discuss what had happened in that last foster home even though …’

‘Ted, I need your help,’ she interrupted. She trusted this man’s abilities without question, but she could not allow him anywhere near those fenced-off areas. He was too good at what he did.

He caught her gaze and held it. ‘I only wish you would let me help. Your life could be …’

‘Doc, please.’

He took a pipe from the side table and held a match to the tobacco. The smell of sulphur filled the room. ‘You can ask me anything, Kim.’

Kim felt herself relax. He had never pushed her too hard and for that she was grateful.

‘I’ve been working on a murder case. You may have seen it on the news or read about it.’

‘The rape victim?’

Kim nodded. ‘This may seem completely ridiculous, but the female was under the care of a psychiatrist; a very accomplished and intelligent woman. During our first meeting something pricked at the hairs on my neck but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I think the psychiatrist was somehow involved.’

Kim saw the doubtful look on Ted’s face.

‘I know, I know it seems doubtful. But after that initial meeting, I met her at the cemetery. It all seemed accidental but was like she’d set it up. We’ve met a couple of times since and after each meeting I felt that she knew everything about me, that she’d taken the time to research me.’

‘You may have simply overreacted to someone who might be insightful and intuitive. Do you not wonder if you have an aversion to people like her? You’ve been scrutinized all your life by people wishing to analyse you.’

Kim shrugged. ‘Her sister thinks Alex is a sociopath, and there’s a part of me that thinks she’s right, but at this point I have no idea what I’m dealing with.’

Ted let out a long whistle. ‘And if she is, how exactly can I help you?’

‘I need to get in the mind of a sociopath so I can try and play her game.’

‘That would be a foolhardy expedition for anyone, but for you it is positively suicidal. You’re not equipped to deal with this woman, Kim, and I cannot condone your plan.’

Kim’s eyes blazed at his lack of faith. ‘So, you’re refusing to help me?’

Ted thought for a moment. ‘If you’re right that she knows of your past, then her only motivation can be to use that information against you somehow. And this would be dangerous enough if it were a past you had dealt with. So, to answer your question, the advice I’d give to anyone else would be to run and don’t stop. To you I’d say,
run faster
.’

She stared him down. ‘I ask again, are you refusing to help me?’

He held her gaze. ‘Yes, my dear, I am.’

Kim grabbed her jacket and stormed out of the door.

FIFTY-THREE

Kim counted the fish as they circled the pond looking for food.

‘Moby died,’ Ted said, offering her a fresh coffee. ‘Do you remember?’

Kim took the drink and nodded, recalling another time she’d stormed out and headed for the garden.

‘You asked me what their names were and I told you they didn’t have names. Oh, you weren’t happy with that and insisted that everything should have a name.’ He chuckled. ‘If I recall it was Moby, Willy and …’

‘Jaws.’

‘Of course. And then the collar doves came and you wanted to name every …’

‘Ted, I’m gonna do it anyway, with or without your help.’

‘I know.’

She turned to face him. ‘So, will you help me … please?’

‘Let’s sit down.’

He guided her to the companion set beneath a parasol that was never lowered, keeping the wooden chairs dry, whatever the weather.