Reginald Hill - Child's Play

‘Jesus Christ!’ said Pascoe.

On the floor lay Henry Vollans. He was wearing nothing but a bathrobe open wide to reveal his naked body. Between his splayed legs stood Sergeant Wield and for a second Pascoe thought he was interrupting some homosexual love-play. Then he saw the length of shining metal in Wield’s upraised hand and the expression of sheer terror on Vollan’s face and decided that this went beyond the bounds of nice, straightforward sadomasochism.

‘Wield!’ he said. ‘For God’s sake!’

The sergeant turned on him with a snarl, as if prepared to treat him as an aggressor. Then he recognized the newcomer and the out-thrust blade, which Pascoe now saw was some kind of bayonet, was lowered.

‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Pascoe.

‘Same as you, I hope,’ said Wield.

The reporter, seizing the chance offered by this distraction, scrabbled his way across the floor and pulled himself up on a sofa, covering his body with the robe.

Pascoe, lowering his voice, said, ‘Dalziel got a phone call saying Vollans was a member of that White Heat group and suggesting we ask where he was on Wednesday night.’

‘He was just about to tell me that,’ said Wield, turning back to the terrified reporter.

Pascoe seized the sergeant’s arm.

‘For fuck’s sake, Wieldy, put that thing down. Where’d you get it anyway?’

‘One of our friend’s little war souvenirs,’ said Wield. ‘Take a look in that cupboard.’

Pascoe looked and turned away, sickened. He led the sergeant to the doorway out of earshot of the man on the couch.

‘OK, Wieldy,’ he murmured. ‘So he admires Hitler and loves the Ku Klux Klan, but that doesn’t make him a killer.’

‘He lied about his appointment with Cliff,’ said Wield. ‘I knew there was something wrong. Why the railway buffet? The bus station café would be the obvious place to come to his mind. And why first thing in the morning? What was he going to do that night? Come back to my place where he’d left all his stuff? No. I reckoned he’d be in such a rage that he’d want to get back at me straightaway.’

‘Mebbe. But …’

‘I talked to Charley. He remembers Cliff being there that night. And he remembers he went out with a young fair-haired chap. I thought of Vollans. I couldn’t see what it meant, but I thought it’d be worthwhile having a little chat.’

‘Some chat!’

‘He tried to give me the runaround. I’d come too far to be turned off with a smooth answer, so I belted him in the gut and had a look around. When I opened that cupboard, I had a good idea I was in the right spot.’

There was a movement by the sofa. Vollans was on his feet. He was clearly regaining control of himself though he still looked more like a frightened fox than Robert Redford.

‘You can’t do this,’ he said in a high voice. ‘I’m Press. This’ll be all over the front page of every paper in the country!’

Pascoe ignored him.

‘What’s he said to you, Wieldy?’ he asked quietly.

‘Nothing yet. You came in just when it were getting interesting.’

‘All right. Now I’ll handle it, understand?’

The sergeant obviously understood, but equally obviously didn’t agree.

Pascoe sighed and stepped towards Vollans.

‘Henry Vollans,’ he said. ‘First let me caution you that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Next I’d be grateful if you would get dressed and accompany me to the nearest police station for further interrogation. Oh, and can you give me your car keys, please, as your vehicle will be required for forensic examination?’

‘I don’t have to do any of this,’ protested the reporter. ‘I want to ring my office. I want to contact a solicitor.’

‘Mr Vollans, that’s your right,’ said Pascoe. ‘But I’m in a bit of a hurry, so in that case, I’ll leave Sergeant Wield here to bring you in when you’re ready, shall I?’

The sergeant stepped forward. He was still holding the bayonet.

‘Don’t leave me with that lunatic!’ screamed Vollans. ‘I’ll come! I’ll come!’

Lexie Huby stood very still.

Miss Keech had sunk exhausted on to the lower cellar step, but there still looked strength enough in those gnarled and speckled fingers to raise the long-barrelled pistol which rested on her knees.

‘It was his, you know. Sam Huby’s. Your father’s uncle. He brought it back from the war. The First War. He kept it for security. And when he died, she kept it. I knew it was there, of course, in the bedside drawer. But I didn’t think it would fire. I certainly never thought she would fire it. But she did. Just the once.’

‘She? Great Aunt Gwen?’

Miss Keech looked at her as if surprised to find her there. Then that sly smile which Lexie had noticed earlier crept across her lips.

‘I told you, didn’t I? Lexie, I said, if you open that door you must bear the consequences. But you never took any notice of me from a little girl. None at all!’

‘Tell me what happened, Miss Keech,’ said Lexie peremptorily.

Perhaps it was the tone of voice, echoing Great Aunt Gwen’s when she addressed her underlings, that did the trick. Suddenly the old Keech was back, in voice at least, matter of fact, neutral of tone.

‘All right. We’d just got back from Italy, well, from London really. We broke our journey in London. Perhaps he followed us? Yes, I’m pretty certain that must be it. Our first night back. We were both very tired, but a noise awoke me. One of the animals, I thought. They were such a nuisance, but she insisted they had the run of the place. Anyway, something made me get up. I went out of my room. Her door was ajar. The glow from her night light spilled out on to the landing. I could hear her voice speaking. I went a couple of steps towards it when I heard another voice, a man’s voice saying, Mother ? I froze. Mrs Huby said, Who’s there? Closer! Closer! Let me see! And then she shrieked and the gun went off and this figure came reeling out and down the stairs, staggering like my dad used to on a Saturday night when he came home drunk.

‘I rushed in. She was sitting up in bed, the gun — this gun — still smoking in her hand. She said, “It was a devil, a devil pretending to be my son!” Then her mouth went all twisted and she stiffened in the bed and no more words would come. I didn’t know what to do so I rushed downstairs to the telephone to call for help. And he was still there, lying in the hallway face down! I almost fainted, but he wasn’t moving, he was so, so still. I had to get by him to reach the phone. I put the light on and stooped down to look and see if he was dead or just unconscious. And then I recognized him. All those years, and I could still recognize him!’

Lexie cast a horrified glance over her shoulder.

‘You mean it really was him? Alexander, her son, come home?’

Now Miss Keech laughed with a mad heartiness.

‘You stupid girl!’ she said. ‘How could we ever, ever have thought you were clever? Oh yes, the son had come home all right. But not to her, not to that mad old woman. It was my son who’d come, Lexie, my son!’

It was only now that Lexie began to be seriously worried for her life. A delusion as strong as this was capable of taking off in any direction.

She said brightly, ‘So Alexander was really your son? I never knew that.’

Miss Keech looked at her in amazement.

‘Is something wrong with you, girl? Are all the Hubys mad? It was Richard, my own son, lying there. He’d got into the wrong room, poor lad. Though what I’d have done with him if he’d come to me, I don’t know. You know what old Gwendoline was like about blacks. That’s why I gave him up in the first place. One of the reasons, anyway. You’ve no idea what people were like. Not being married was bad enough, but black ! You’d think I’d bedded down with a gorilla or something. I couldn’t see an end to it, no money, no job. What could I do? And then I went to see her and chatted her up about Alex, and how marvellous the spoilt little brat had been, and how I was sure he were alive somewhere, and she took me on. But one sniff of my little black bastard and I’d have been out! I went to see him. I always meant one day … at least I thought perhaps one day … but he grew so surly, always on about coming home with me, or not speaking at all … it seemed best in the long run not to upset him by …’