Alex Barclay - Darkhouse

‘Go, Dukey!’ yelled Wanda before she realised her mistake. Parents craned their necks to stare at her.

The boy collapsed onto the field, crying out through the stunned silence. His mother was on her feet, running towards him. The whistle blew and a yellow flag sailed through the air and landed at Duke’s feet.

‘Out!’ roared the referee. ‘You’re ejected. Go.’ He pointed the way.

Duke stared at him, then jogged off. He passed his coach who stabbed a finger towards him. ‘Get outta that uniform! Go sit in the stands.’

The mother of the nose guard pushed onto the field to her son.

Duke’s coach ran over to the referee.

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ said the referee, holding up his hand.

The coach’s voice was low. ‘What can I say, Mike? I agree with you.’

‘That’s good to know,’ said Mike. ‘The kid’s fucking nuts. Spearing a kid for—’

‘I know that, for Christ’s sake. You shoulda seen him in practice. Didn’t get the whole no-contact thing.’

They both looked toward the stands and saw Wanda stagger through the row, pushing Duke ahead of her.

‘Poor bastard,’ said the coach.

‘I heard a scream,’ said Mae Miller.

Frank waited. ‘Did we not get a statement from you already?’ he said.

‘You didn’t. I was away until now, didn’t hear a thing about this ’til I got back. As a member of Neighbourhood Watch — your wife’s on the committee, of course — I’m well aware of the importance of keeping an eye out for suspicious activity and reporting it immediately, in this case, as soon as I got back.’

Mae Miller was eighty-six years old, slender and poised in an expensive maroon wool suit with a mandarin collar. She wore tan tights and black patent court shoes. Frank didn’t know much about makeup, but he wasn’t sure about her red lipstick. Mae Miller had taught primary school in Mountcannon for over forty years. Between the ages of four and twelve, most village children had sat in her classroom, in fear.

‘It was Friday night,’ she said, settling into a chair beside the door and sliding off green leather gloves. ‘Myself and Mrs Grant, Petey’s mother, had been playing bridge in a friend’s house in Annestown. I knew my son John was going to be home late that night, so I was staying with the Grants for company. They live, as you know, at the corner of that road that leads down to the missing girl, Katie Lawson’s house, where she lives with her mother, Martha Lawson. Her father, Matthew Lawson, of course, passed on several years ago. 1997 if I remember rightly. He was a fine man.’ Frank nodded patiently.

‘Anyway, I was up having a cup of tea in my room,’ she continued. ‘The guest room at the front of the house that overlooks the street.’

‘Did you look out?’ said Frank, moving her along. ‘When you heard the scream.’

‘I did,’ she said, nodding. ‘And I saw two people, walking down the road from the village towards the house.’

‘Men, women?’

‘A man and a woman, well, youngish, I would say, not too old. He was taller.’ She gave a short nod.

‘Did you recognise either of them?’ said Frank.

‘They looked familiar, but I can’t say for sure if the girl was young Katie.’

‘How were the couple acting?’

‘Like they hadn’t a care in the world.’

‘But the scream?’

‘Yes, that was after I had seen them out the window.’

‘Oh. I thought that’s what made you look out.’

‘No. I was looking out the window anyway. I turned to my tea, heard a scream and looked back. Then they were gone.’

She hesitated. ‘It could have been that Lucchesi boy I saw.’ She paused and leaned forward. ‘Do you remember his mother from years ago?’

Frank shook his head. ‘We weren’t here at that stage.’

‘Skirts up to her backside. I never saw a stitch of respectable clothing on her. It broke my heart that my John would have anything to do with the girl. I wouldn’t have her under my roof.’

He let her talk on, but she had no more details to give. When she got up to leave, he reached out to shake her hand, but she pulled him into an embrace. She pressed hard against his thighs. He let go politely, giving her arms a gentle squeeze, turning her towards the exit.

‘Mother of God,’ he said, when he closed the door behind her.

Sam Tallon liked to work early in the morning when everyone else was sleeping. He went straight to the lighthouse and was about to unlock the door when he realised it was already open. He climbed the steps, stopping for breath halfway. When he reached the lantern house, Anna was already there, picking up damp newspapers from the floor.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she said when she saw the look on his face.

‘Ah, sure four hours is about all you need, if you ask me,’ he said. ‘I’ll get started on checking everything. We can find out fairly quickly whether or not this old lady can be fired up.’

Joe picked up a length of timber from a stack by the workbench. He secured it with two clamps and stood staring at it. From the top shelf, he chose a plane and started to work along one of the edges, shaving away thin slivers. Then he unclamped the wood and threw it back on the pile. He jumped when he saw a figure standing in the doorway.

‘Martha,’ he said. ‘You scared the hell out of me. How are you?’

‘I was wondering if you could help, Joe,’ she said. ‘With Katie. You’ve got experience in these things.’

‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘But—’

‘What do you think happened?’ she asked.

‘Honestly, Martha, I don’t know. I don’t have all the facts.’

‘You were there for all those questions too. I’ve filled you in over the last few weeks. You know as much as I know, which is as much as the guards know.’

‘They may have more information than they’re letting on,’ he said.

She looked down.

‘You don’t think she ran away, do you?’ she asked.

‘She could have,’ said Joe. ‘If you’re here because of my experience, I’ll tell you one thing I’ve learned and that’s keep an open mind. Especially with a teenager. You don’t know what’s coming next. I’ve no idea what’s going through Shaun’s head sometimes.’

‘Is there anything you can do, can you see if the guards will let you help them?’

He smiled. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do on that score. It’s just not the way it works. What do they think happened? Where do they think she went that night?’

‘It doesn’t make sense. It seems like they believe she’s run away. But they won’t tell me why they think she’d do that. Their theory is that she left Shaun at the harbour, walked up through the village, took a left to go home and then it all gets a bit vague. I think they haven’t a notion.’

‘Well, I guess I can ask a few questions,’ said Joe, ‘see if there’s anything that doesn’t seem right. But it’s not like I’m on the job back home with all my regular resources.’

She nodded sadly.

‘Look, maybe if you keep me up to date on anything new the police tell you, that would help.’

‘All right,’ she said. She looked him right in the eyes. ‘What if she’s dead?’

He didn’t miss a beat. ‘Remember that open mind,’ he said, squeezing her arm.

She nodded. ‘I think she is dead.’ She hurried from the workshop without looking back. He wondered, not for the first time, why people felt they could tell him things he knew they’d never tell another soul.

Betty Shanley was walking out of Tynan’s when she saw Shaun across the street. She waved him over.

‘Sorry, sweetheart, I know you’re on your lunch break, but I just wanted to let you know; we have guests coming to one of the houses for the weekend. Would you mind getting it organised?’