Stuart MacBride - A Song for the Dying

The plasterboard rattled as I slammed my palm against it. ‘And tell her to SHUT THE FUCK UP!’

Silence.

Alice shuffled her little red shoes, then hurried out. There was some muffled conversation in the hallway, then Babs’s voice boomed out. ‘ All right, that’s enough. Get your bloody clothes on already! ’

Two minutes later, Alice was back with Cunningham. Babs brought up the rear, blocking the doorway.

Cunningham had changed the dressing gown for a maternity dress: dark blue, with little red flowers. A pair of greying trainers. White cardigan. She lowered herself into the couch, flexing her hands into fists, then out again, as if she was trying to work out a cramp. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

I grabbed the camcorder, complete with tripod and thrust it under her nose. ‘YOU WANT TO REPHRASE THAT?’

She flinched back, pushing herself into the upholstery. ‘You didn’t show me a search warrant. You can’t use that as evidence.’ A smile. ‘I know my rights. I want a lawyer.’

‘Oh, I know what you want…’ I put the camera back by the TV. ‘Who is it: neighbour’s child? Bet it is. Some nice trusting family that doesn’t know you like to fiddle with little boys. What do you think they’ll do when I show them that film? Think they’ll invite you round for drinks and nibbles?’

‘I know my rights.’

I smiled down at her. Took some doing, but I got one on my face. Let it sit there, cooling. ‘You seem to be confusing us with police officers. We don’t have to give a toss about evidentiary procedure, because we’re not bound by it.’ I leaned in close. ‘You see my friend in the doorway? She’s got a shotgun in the boot of her car. How much fun do you think she’ll have taking your kneecaps off with it?’

‘You’re not the police?’ Cunningham tore her eyes away from mine for a moment to glance back at Babs. ‘You can’t touch me. I’m preg-’

‘Actually,’ Babs rolled her shoulders, flexed her fists, ‘don’t think I’ll bother wasting shells. Use that crowbar instead. Can make a lot of mess with a crowbar.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Her chin came up. ‘You’re trying to scare me and you’re failing.’ A chainsaw grin. ‘I’m pregnant. You really going to kneecap a pregnant woman? Nah. Didn’t think so. Now get the hell out of my house.’

Alice settled onto the other end of the couch. Knitted her fingers together in her lap. ‘Virginia, you’re right. They won’t hurt you. How can they? But you see, we’re after a very bad person who’s cutting women open and stitching things inside them. And we think you might know who he is. Wouldn’t it be nice to be on the inside for a change?’

‘I want you out of my house.’

Alice glanced up at me. ‘Ash, when was the call?’

A quick check on the email from Sabir. ‘Last Wednesday — five days ago. Half four in the afternoon. Call lasted for fifteen minutes.’

Cunningham crossed her arms beneath her swollen breasts. ‘Get out, or I’ll scream.’

‘Virginia, it’s not your fault society doesn’t understand your love, is it? You love those boys and they love you, don’t they? But the man who’s out there isn’t a nice man. What’s happening is his fault. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. He made us look at you.’

‘I…’ She shut her mouth. Pulled one shoulder up almost to her ear. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘I know you didn’t, Virginia, but we need you to be a hero and help us catch him. You want to be a hero, don’t you? Have people look up to you for a change? They’ve got it all twisted in their heads, haven’t they? Think you’re a monster, when that’s not you at all. Wouldn’t it be nice to show them? Nothing bad will happen to you, I promise.’

‘I…’ A sigh. Then she looked up, into the corner of the room, as if the answer was written there. ‘They don’t know me. Not the real me.’

‘So, someone called you last Wednesday at half-past four. Was it someone you knew?’

‘I… I don’t remember. Got a lot of calls last week. Setting things up for the birth, you know? Want to make sure everything’s OK.’

‘Think back to last Wednesday — half-past four: what were you doing then?’

This time her eyes flickered to the camera on its tripod. ‘I was … baking a cake. Chocolate. Everyone likes chocolate.’

‘Was that when the phone rang, Virginia?’

A frown. ‘Someone wanting me to fill out a survey? You know, one of those, “On a scale of one to five, how would you rate your assigned midwife?” kind of things. Goes on and on and on?’

Alice put a hand on Cunningham’s knee. ‘Was there anything else? Anyone else call?’

She shook her head. ‘No, it was just a stupid survey, I know cos I was in the middle of … baking that cake.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Said, didn’t I?’

‘OK. I believe you.’ Alice patted the knee. Then looked up at me. ‘That’s it.’

‘Virginia Cunningham I’m arresting you under Scots Common Law for the taking and possession of indecent images of children and at least one case of Sexual Assault on a Young Child by Penetration, as defined in the Sexual Offences, Scotland, Act 2009.’

She turned and glared at Alice. ‘You said nothing would happen. I trusted you!’ Then howched and spat — a gobbet of frothy phlegm that spattered against Alice’s cheek. ‘Bitch!’

‘All right, Mrs Cunningham.’ Babs stepped forwards, grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up from the sofa. Turned to me. ‘You want her in the car?’

‘Get off me!’ Eyes wide, spittle frothing at the side of her mouth. ‘I’m doing you for assault, you can’t-’

‘Oh, shut up. It’s called reasonable force.’ I pulled out my phone. ‘Put her in the kitchen: if we remove her from the premises it’s abduction. Want this all above board.’

‘I want my bloody lawyer!’

‘Sure you do.’ Babs swung her around and steered her out through the lounge door. Pulled it shut behind them.

A box of Kleenex sat on the coffee table, beside a pile of scribbled colouring books. I pulled a couple of tissues out and handed them to Alice. ‘You all right?’

She wiped at her cheek, face contorted into a grimace. ‘I think Virginia was telling the truth about the phone call. Obviously the cake business was a lie.’ The tissue got crumpled and for a moment it looked as if Alice was going to throw it to the floor. Then she pulled out one of the Investigation Kit evidence bags and dropped it in there instead. ‘Never know when you might need a DNA sample.’

I stuck my hand out and helped her up from the couch. ‘So who conducts midwifery surveys from a public call box in the middle of nowhere…?’

Alice stared at me. ‘What?’

I poked Control’s number into the phone.

‘ Oldcastle Division, how can- ’

‘I want the Offender Management Unit: McKevitt or Nenova, don’t care which.’

Alice frowned at me.

‘ One second… Putting you through. ’

‘Come on.’ I hobbled out of the lounge and into the hall, making for the kitchen as Vivaldi’s Four Seasons crackled out of the phone’s earpiece.

Babs stood by the fridge, arms folded across her chest while Cunningham slumped at a tiny breakfast bar. Pot of yoghurt on the worktop in front of her.

I loomed over her. ‘Who’s been looking after you at CHI?’

She bared her teeth. ‘Think you’re clever, don’t you? Well you’re not. You’re stupid and you’ll be sorry .’

‘I’m already bloody sorry, now answer the question: who’s your midwife?’

‘It’s all your fault. That’s what I’ll tell them. All — your — fault.’