Chapter Thirty-Three
Sunday, 1 November
I feel almost speechless as I stare at the screen. Say something!
I hit a random mix of keys in a temper and then it comes to me.
DI Harte,
We’d all like to feel safe but truth is, we’re not. The worst thing is, imagining you are crazy. Even worse is, believing that you are.
They make you crazy, it is their fault.
We’re not crazy. We need to stand up and roar, show them who we really are.
I draw another triangle at the bottom. Again, making it so easy for you DI Harte.
I look at her face staring back at me from the board and realise I’ve been grinding my teeth.
I truly am sorry for what I’m about to do. Innocent casualties weren’t a part of my original plan, but the plan has changed. I feel ignored and that can’t happen. The whole thing is too big to remain a secret forever more.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gina led the way through the tiny yard at the back of Cleevesford High Street, still confused by the false awakenings she’d had during the night. She stopped in front of the gate and checked the plaque. Maurice Dullard – MBACP. Several other business plaques were screwed to the wall, architects, surveyors and a financial advisor.
‘Here goes.’ Jacob went through and rang the buzzer next to the door. Above them, a bird flapped and a wedge of moss hit the ground. ‘That was close. Why do I have an odd sense of foreboding this week?’
‘I think we all do.’ Gina stared through the pane of glass, wondering which one of the three floors Maurice worked on. Eventually the man came into view around the bend on the narrow stairs, carefully navigating his hefty weight down, one careful step at a time. The man huffed and puffed as he opened the door.
‘DI Harte and DS Driscoll.’
‘Come in, come in.’ He inhaled and wafted his face with a sheet of paper. ‘Such bad news about Alex and he’d been doing so well last year. Follow me. We’re on our own today so it’s rather quiet here. I only came in to talk to you and sort some paperwork out.’
‘Thank you for seeing us at such short notice.’ Gina followed him up at a snail’s pace.
The man gasped and puffed with each step and stopped on the landing of the top floor to calm his breathing down. He pulled an inhaler from his pocket and took a couple of puffs. ‘To top everything off, the stupid intercom doesn’t work.’ He inhaled deeply, twice, and his red face began to calm down. ‘I must make a note to complain to the management company, yet again. Follow me through.’ His brown curly hair crowned his head, sticking out a good two inches all the way around. The snowflake patterned cardigan he wore and his wide frame gave him a cuddly look. He was like a huge bear.
Gina entered his boxy little office. Maurice gestured for both of them to sit. The textured walls were painted in a soothing duck-egg blue and the subtle lighting gave a calm ambience. A couple of pictures containing inspirational quotes adorned the walls but were slightly wonky. Gina glanced at one as Maurice squeezed himself into his chair.
‘It’s all about the small steps that lead to the big changes.’ Maurice smiled and pointed to the picture that Gina was looking at: the one of a toddler being helped to walk by a parent. ‘Alex had been doing so well. I wish he hadn’t left the programme last year, maybe then we wouldn’t be having this conversation now. I did everything I could.’
Gina pulled out a few notes and Jacob snatched his pen from his coat pocket and tested it on a fresh page of his notebook.
‘Can I ask why Mr Swinton stopped coming last year?’ Gina pulled the wooden chair towards the desk.
He opened a folder full of notes. ‘He lost his job and I couldn’t get through to him. After he’d been doing so well, he’d started to take drugs again.’
‘Can you confirm what he was taking?’
‘There is such a thing as confidentiality.’
‘Mr Dullard, your client has been murdered and we need to catch whoever did this to him.’
The man sighed. ‘He was a heroin addict and he’d been on a methadone programme. I’d say the breakdown of his marriage wasn’t helping. He’d lost his desire to continue. He didn’t turn up to all our sessions and when he did, he was on the heroin. Not everyone that gets help becomes a success story but I didn’t give up hope, I never give up hope. I told him that this door was always open but I never heard from him after the end of summer. I tried to call him but by then his phone never connected the call. He never read my messages. I always hoped he’d come back to me for help, and two weeks ago, he did. I couldn’t have been happier to see him. He really wanted to change and I knew the time was right for him.’
Gina opened the calendar up on her phone. ‘Could you tell me when this was?’
Maurice flicked through a few sheets of paper on his desk until he pulled out a scraggy notebook containing all his appointments. ‘I know we’re in the digital age but I much prefer good old paper and pen for my diary keeping.’ He shifted the page to the right and squinted at the page. ‘It was Friday the sixteenth of October, at one in the afternoon. That’s when he came in.’
‘How did he seem?’
Maurice pressed his lips together and scrunched his brow. ‘Subdued.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He told me he was desperate to get his life back on track, that he’d been stupid and thought he was losing his mind. He was trying to come off the drugs again, but without any help. He said he’d been crawling the walls and had succumbed to another fix. He was desperate. His emotions ranged from despair then to anger. Despair at feeling as though he was failing at going it alone and anger as he was an addict. He said I was his last hope when it came to seeing his child again. He knew he’d let his parents down and he wanted to make it up to them. He wanted to see his mum again but he said he wouldn’t until he was clean and he could pay the money back that he’d stolen from her. He’d come back with fire in his belly. I really thought he was ready to try the programme again and I really wanted to work with him. There’s no bigger satisfaction in my job than seeing someone come out of this at the other end and win the battle against addiction.’
Jacob sat back and leaned his notebook in his lap.
‘Did he say that he’d seen his wife or son?’ Gina needed to establish if Mrs Swinton was telling them the whole truth.
Maurice pulled his glasses from a pouch on his desk and put them on before scanning his case notes. The little dents in his nose were highlighted by the ray of sunshine that reached through the old sash window. ‘He said he’d been to the house. When I probed him further, he said he wanted to knock on the door but he couldn’t. Again, he said he wanted to get better before taking that next step. In his words, he wanted his boy to be proud of him and he knew he had to earn that. Also, his wife wanted nothing more to do with him. That was something he was trying to find a solution for.’
Gina noticed that Maurice had a warm smile. She could see why Alexander Swinton would have felt comfortable with him. ‘Do you know where he was staying?’