The Smoke In The Photograph (6 page)

Steven was confident they were on a wild goose chase as they entered the house. When he heard the clap of distant thunder he was convinced that all Julia had seen had been a reflection. However, he knew his wife. If it wasn't checked out she would never settle.

'Lovely woman, your missus,' Jones said as they began to climb the stairs. The staircase up to the first floor was big enough for them to walk side by side.

'Yes. She is,' Steven agreed.

'She seems a bit jumpy though,' Marty said.

This was true. Steven had of course noticed. He didn't understand it. The house was her idea. She had practically begged him to agree to it. Then the day they move in, she seems on edge before she even sets foot inside.

He hoped that it was not a sign of things to come here. He knew that she kept trying to convince everyone that she was better, completely recovered from her breakdown. However, Steven often wondered if this was true. Did someone ever really recover from something like that? Or was it always there in the back of your psyche? Like the monster in the closet, waiting until you were contented and unsuspecting before it would leap out and attack.

'Anxious about moving into such a big place, I guess,' he said, not wanting to show his own concerns to anyone, let alone a complete stranger, as nice as Mr Jones seemed.

They came to the first floor and walked over to the second stairway. This one was only wide enough to accommodate them in single file.

Steven went up first. The stairs went straight up, unlike the winding lower staircase. At the top there was a closed door. When he reached it, Steven put his hand on the door knob. He turned back to Mr Jones, who stood right behind him. The removal man nodded.  Steven turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The attic was a substantial open space with wooden floor and magnolia walls. There were four windows on either side, plus two large skylights, meaning that even in the dimness of the storm the room seemed incredibly bright. Each window, including skylights, had blackout shutters that could be closed to make the room totally dark.

The sound of the rain battering on the windows appeared to be amplified by the emptiness of the room. Steven looked at the far end of the studio, to the dark room.

Steven stepped tentatively into the middle of the room. Jones followed behind him.

The removal man stopped and tapped Steven on the shoulder. Steven faced him.

'What is it?' Steven whispered

'Listen,' Jones said.

Standing still, Steven concentrated on the sound of the room. At first, he couldn't hear anything apart from the constant lashing of the rain. It reminded him of a time he had been caught in the middle of a squall when sailing in his youth. His ears then slowly tuned into the sound Jones was talking about.

'What is that?' Steven said.

The sound was a faint yet rapid fluttering sound. It would continue for a few seconds and then stop, only to start again moments later.

'I don't know,' Jones said. 'It sounds almost like a camera.'

Steven agreed. It did, like a shutter on a camera. The idea sent a shiver down his spine.

'It's coming from over there,' Jones said, pointing towards the dark room.

Steven nodded and the two of them tiptoed cautiously across the bare wooden floor towards the door. The sound grew louder the closer they got. Steven felt the little hairs on the back of his neck prickle up, as if there were a static charge nearby.

Steven felt his pulse quicken as all his senses came to life. His skin reacted to the subtle changes in temperature as they drew closer to the door. He heard the fluttering sound getting louder, and more rapid. The rain pelting against the skylight took on an ominous timbre, like dirt hitting a coffin lid. The sound of his and Jones's shuffling steps across the dusty wood of the floor. Jones's nervous breathing.

When they got to the door, both men put their ears to it. At first it remained silent, and then the fluttering noise came once more, close enough to the door to make Steven and Jones jump back. Steven nodded towards the door handle, and Jones shook his head.

'It's your house mate,' the removal man whispered. 'After you.'

Steven reached out for the door handle, time slowing as he did. It seemed to take an eternity for his fingers to wrap around the handle. Once it was in place on the cool metal, he looked to Jones. The removal man nodded and visibly braced himself. Steven took a deep breath and pushed down on the handle. The door creaked open as he pushed.

Inside the room was utter blackness. It was almost as if the light of the attic dared not enter the room. Steven and Jones peered in. All seemed quiet. The sound of fluttering had ceased.

Steven saw the light grey shape a split second before it would have collided with his face. As it flew out of the darkness, he had not time to turn or duck. All he could do was throw himself backwards and scream.

Jones caught him under the arms as it flew out of the darkroom and into the attic. A pigeon. A large pigeon. It flitted about above their heads. Steven stood up and looked at Jones.

As the shock wore off, both men laughed, the relief that the danger had passed, and the ridiculousness of their fear.

'We'd better catch that,' Jones said.

The rain had all but stopped when Julia stepped out of the shelter of the car. It had been at least fifteen minutes since her husband and the removal man had gone to investigate the flashing lights in the attic. She had expected them back sooner. Worry was beginning to creep into her mind.

Suddenly Jones appeared at the window where she had seen the flashes. He opened it and then stepped aside. Steven replaced him at the window. His hands cupped in front of him, holding something. He was making an effort to keep it as far away from himself as he could. Once his hands were outside the window he threw them up, and she saw the pigeon flying up to the sky where it was soon camouflaged against the grey of the day.

Steven looked down at her. He waved for her to come up. Everything must have been fine. Perhaps the flashes had been her imagination after all.

She walked through the house, passing the removal men who were still unloading their furniture from the lorry. She climbed the first set of stairs and then walked to the second. As she climbed the second narrow staircase, she could hear the sound of her husband and Jones laughing.

She stepped into the attic, and was again in awe of the size of the studio. If possible, it seemed even bigger now than when they had first viewed the house.

'What happened?' she asked.

The men looked at her smiling.

'Well, for one thing,' Jones said with a grin 'your husband shit himself.'

Steven laughed and patted the removal man on the back.

'I wasn't the only one though, was I?'

'That's true,' Jones confirmed.

'What happened?' Julia repeated.

Steven pointed over to the open door of the dark room.

'There was a bloody pigeon locked in there.'

Julia felt uneasy at the thought of it. It made no sense.

'How?' she asked. 'The house has been empty. No one has used that dark room in six years.'

Steven shook his head.

'I don't know, but it nearly took my eye out.'

'Perhaps it got in there last time the estate agent checked on the place?' Jones offered.

This was plausible, although Julia had got the strong feeling from the estate agent, Criar, that he had seldom checked on the house, and when he did his visits were as brief as possible.

'We could've done it ourselves,' Steven said, 'when we came to measure up.'

Again this was plausible, but Julia remembered that they had only taken the briefest of looks inside the darkroom. Surely they would have noticed a bird that large swooping into the room. However, there was no better explanation, so she decided it was best to accept one of these as the truth.

'Okay,' she said with a broad smile. 'Let's start getting this house sorted.'

Steven and Jones looked at each other and then saluted Julia, making her laugh out loud.

It took several hours for them to completely unload the lorry and put the furniture where Julia wanted it. She wandered the house supervising all of the teams of men, telling them exactly what went where. Steven pitched in, helping Jones and his men to move the bigger items up the stairs.

By the time they were done, the sun had begun its descent towards the horizon. Jones's men had taken the lorry and the van away. Their boss had come in a smaller van.

The three of them stood in their hallway.

'A job well done,' Steven said.

Jones nodded his agreement.

'You know, we need a load more furniture,' Julia said. 'We have everything from the old house here and the place still looks half empty.'

'Any excuse to shop, eh?' Jones said with a grin.

'Well, of course,' she said, winking at him.

'Thanks for all your help, Marty,' Steven said. 'How much do I owe you?'

Jones took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Steven.

'It's all in there,' the removal man said.

Steven opened the bill and reached for his wallet.

'Did you want cash or cheque?' Steven asked.

Jones put a hand on the arm that was reaching for the wallet. He shook his head.

'Get yourselves settled in, then just pop us a cheque to the address at the top of the bill.'

Steven thanked him. He folded the bill and put it in the back pocket of his jeans.

Julia offered her hand to Jones, who took it in his own and shook.

'Thanks again, Marty,' she said. 'I don't know what we'd have done without you.'

Jones face lit up in  a broad grin.

'You're welcome, love,' he said.

Steven shook his hand.

'Hopefully we won't need your help again,' he said 'But I do hope to see you around.'

'And you, Steve,' Jones said.

They watched him walk to the door and exit, then Julia put her arm around her husband's waist.

'Where do we start?' she asked, looking at the piles of boxes yet to be unpacked.

He pulled her to him and kissed her. It reminded her of the way he used to kiss her when they first met.

'How about the bedroom?' he whispered in her ear.

She felt a flush of excitement, and giggled. She pulled away and ran for the stairs. Steven gave chase.

What a lovely couple, Jones thought to himself as he walked down the few steps from the front door. He wished them a lifetime of happiness in their new home. So often in his line of work you would deal with stuck-up people who treated him and his men like servants. The Drapers, however, had been perfectly charming. Steve had helped moving stuff, and had worked as hard as any of the other lads in Jones's crew. Considering the man was a surgeon, Jones was surprised at how down-to-earth and willing to muck in he was.

Mrs Draper was lovely. Such a sweet girl, but with such a strong will and talent. If Jones was twenty years younger, and single, he would have made a play for a woman like her in a heartbeat.

He reached his little van and unlocked the door. He turned around for one last look at the house. It really was a magnificent place, the kind of house his wife had always dreamed about, and, if he was honest, so had he.

As he scanned the attic windows, there was a blinding white flash from the centre window, the one that Julia had pointed out earlier. It only lasted a split second, but was real enough to leave a coloured blot in his field of vision.

What on earth had caused such a thing? He considered returning to the house and telling the young couple what he had just seen. However, what had he really seen? He couldn't tell them, and the explanation of a reflection they had given Julia was as valid for him.

Instead, he got in his van and drove away.

Sam had suspected he would get the call to see Superintendent Reed as soon as the Harris woman's body had been found. With every new murder the Ripper committed came the press baying for Sam's head on a pike.

Reed had always been a fair man, he had an air of authority that sometimes came across as arrogant, but Sam was sure he had more than earned his position.

Sam was sitting in a chair in Reed's office. The Superintendent of the Lincolnshire Police sat the other side of the desk. He was dressed, as always, in full uniform, and looking through a file. He looked up and sighed.

'We're getting terrible press over this case,' he said.

Sam nodded.

'I know,' he said. 'There are people out there who want to see me hang more than the Ripper.'

Reed shook his head.

'Six years, Sam,' he said. 'Six long years, and not even a clue as to the identity of the bastard.'

Sam wondered if Reed really felt he had to point this out to him. He would have thought that he would know this was something Sam thought about every single day. It was like an obsession that had cost Sam his family just a few months back.

'I hate to say it, sir,' Sam said. 'He's good at it. Really good.'

Reed pulled out a copy of the Lincolnshire Echo newspaper and pointed at the front page. It showed a rather unflattering photograph of Sam with the word ‘Incompetent’ written above his head in large bold type.

'They say he's running circles around you,' Reed said.

'You know as well as I do, sir, the press hates me,' Sam said. 'Incompetent is the nicest thing they've called me in years.'

Reed set the paper down.

'Nonsense,' He got up and turned his back to Sam and looked out of the window of his office.

'However,' he continued, 'maybe it is now time to consider a fresh mind on the case. A time for you to move on to pastures new.'

'What?' Sam said. Reed's words made him sit bolt upright in his seat.

'You've done your best with the case, I know that,' Reed said, turning back to face him. 'But, nothing has turned up. If someone comes in and looks at it from a new angle, maybe they will find something.'

Sam felt his anger rising from the pit of his stomach.

'I have ate, slept and shit this case for six years now sir,' Sam said, getting to his feet. 'Now you want to throw me off it. I can't leave it, not till I get this fucker.'

Reed thumped his fist on the desk.

'Do you think I want to do this?' he said sternly. 'You're one of the best detectives I have in my force, but the public has lost their faith in you. Which means I've lost the ability to protect you. If I keep you on this case and he kills again they will fucking crucify you, Sam.'

Sam sat down. It was some comfort to know that Reed only appeared to be doing this as a PR exercise, and not due to any real lack of faith in Sam's ability.

'One month,' Sam said. 'Give me one more month. If I haven't caught him by then I'll go willingly.'

Reed sighed.

'I wish I could hold them off that long, but I can't.'

'Two weeks then,' Sam said.

He stared at Reed, who nodded.

'I'll try my best to give you that long,' the Superintendent said. 'Let you bow out with some dignity.'

Sam thanked him and exited the office. Bow out with some dignity. He thought of Reed's words as he walked towards the exit of the headquarters. He had no intention of bowing out at all. In two weeks’ time, he would have the Ripper.