David Jackson - The Helper

It strikes Doyle that it was mighty convenient that Cindy Mellish kept something in her diary that linked her to Vasey. But then he gets a follow-up strike that is even more of a haymaker.

‘You altered the diary, didn’t you? Vasey was telling the truth. He never met Cindy Mellish.’

‘Well done, Cal. You’re learning. I’d told you the diary was important, so I had to give you something. What better than a clue to a future victim?’

Doyle has to struggle to prevent a sense of admiration creeping into his thoughts. It’s hard not to marvel at the sheer ingenuity of all this, let alone the technical wizardry. He has to remind himself just how evil and twisted this bespectacled clown actually is.

‘So then we met, and you got a taste for putting yourself so close to the investigation. You just couldn’t keep away after that.’

‘Yeah, that was fun. Being right next to you, with you having no idea what I was doing. It got kind of addictive. Meant I had to stick with the stupid voice, though.’

Another thought occurs to Doyle. ‘I got a phone call from the helper. When you and I were sitting in my car that time.’

‘Oh, Jesus, Cal. Now you’re letting yourself down again. You ever heard of speed-dialing? A simple press of a button on the phone in my pocket, that’s all. You weren’t taking calls from me at the time, so I knew you wouldn’t answer it. And even if you changed your mind, all I had to do was hang up again.’

‘Yeah, well you can wipe the smug smile off your face, Gonzo. You ain’t so perfect. You killed the wrong girl, remember?’

Annoyance flares in Gonzo’s eyes, and he raises his voice. ‘I didn’t kill anyone. Everett did it. The mistake was his. I gave him all the data he needed. I told him where she ordered her pizzas. I told him about her love for Harleys. I even told him what time she ran her bath, so that all he had to do was turn up and push her in the darn thing.’

‘Your data was insufficient, and not for the first time either. It’s why you were so surprised when I couldn’t find Cindy Mellish’s computer in her bedroom. You didn’t think to check it after you got all the information you needed on her, and so you didn’t know her mother had moved it. Same applies to Tabitha Peyton. You told Everett she was the only one who lived in that apartment. You told him that because you were relying on information you got before Tabitha’s computer broke down. Admit it, Gonzo. You’re not perfect, and neither is your system. You fucked up.’

‘NO!’

There’s an expression on Gonzo’s face that Doyle has seen many times before on others. It’s the look of fear and desperation that stems from not being in control. Technology is what gives Gonzo his power. He has nothing else. No looks, no physical strength, no charisma. He’s the kind of guy who would have been bullied mercilessly in his childhood. He would have been the butt of all the jokes, the victim of all the pranks. With his computers he has a way to get back at the world. Tell him it’s flawed and you might as well be belittling his manhood.

And then, slowly, Gonzo regains his composure. He re-affixes his malformed smile and wags a warning finger at Doyle.

‘Very good, Cal. You almost had me there with your feeble attempt at psychological manipulation. Can you take it as well as you dish it out? How about if I remind you of your part in all this? The things you knew and chose to keep to yourself? The mistakes you made in not reading all the clues I gave you? You don’t get to walk away from this, Cal. There’s blood on your hands.’

‘I can live with the choices I made.’

‘Can you? Really? Maybe I did make a mistake with Tabitha. There, I said it. But you know what? You know what the funniest thing of all is? You fixed it for me. It was you, Cal. You delivered her right to my door. I didn’t have to lift a finger. Don’t you think that’s priceless?’

Doyle’s gun is at his side now, but he can feel his fingers tightening around it. He so wants to start blasting away at the cackling maniac in front of him. It wouldn’t solve anything, but boy would it make him feel good.

Gonzo continues to revel. ‘All I had to do was call Everett to come get her. I told him how to break into the apartment building and I told him about this red-headed nerdy kid she was staying with. We never met, you see. To him I was merely a voice on the phone, just like I was with you. Before I went down to the basement I called him again. I told him this was his big chance to go in and take the girl. He wasn’t supposed to attack me, the moron. Although I suppose he did make me look more innocent.’

Doyle realizes now why Tabitha was abducted rather than drowned in the apartment upstairs. It wasn’t simply a case of Gonzo or the killer making a statement; it was to prevent the police from crawling all over this building and looking into Gonzo as a possible suspect. It was all about keeping him out of the picture — something with which Doyle was only too happy to comply.

‘You know why I did that?’

Gonzo appears confused. ‘Did what?’

‘Brought Tabitha to you. You know why? Because I trusted you, Gonzo. Maybe you’re not used to that, people trusting you. But that’s what it was. Sure, I made a mistake. A huge mistake. It’s something I’ll regret for as long as I live. But given the same circumstances again, I’d do exactly the same thing. Sometimes you have to accept people for what they appear to be. Otherwise, you’d never trust anyone. You’d never love anyone. Your life would stay empty. I don’t want to live that way.’

Gonzo pushes his tongue into his cheek while he mulls this over. When he responds, he seems almost human again.

‘Yeah, well, it’s not always so easy.’

He doesn’t elaborate, but Doyle can tell there’s a lifetime of bad experiences behind those words.

‘Nobody’s saying it is. You said this was all about trying to help people. So maybe I can help you. Maybe-’

‘No, Cal! Don’t even go there, all right? This isn’t an AA meeting. I don’t need your pity.’

‘I was just trying to-’

‘Yeah, I know what you were trying to do. Don’t patronize me, okay?’

‘All right,’ says Doyle. ‘Level playing field. Man to man. Explain this to me.’

‘Explain what?’

‘Why you did this. What’s this really about, Gonzo? With all that intelligence you got up there, why did you choose to do this instead of using it to really help people?’

‘Why did I choose to go to the dark side, you mean?’

‘If you like.’

‘I did it. . to prove a point.’

‘The point being?’

‘The point being that the NYPD is even more short-sighted than I am. The point being, Detective, that they can’t even see past their own fucking noses when it comes to solving crime. So what if I can’t do a mile-and-a-half run? So what if I have bad eyes and asthma? Where do brains figure into all this? Doesn’t that count for anything?’

Doyle’s eyes widen. ‘You applied? To the PD?’

‘Yes I applied. Didn’t even get as far as the Police Academy doors. I tried to tell them what a mistake they were making. I told them how valuable I could be to them. But would they listen? No. All they were interested in was turning lunks like you into assholes in uniform.’

‘Gonzo, you work for the NYPD. They need the kind of expertise only people like you can give them.’

‘I’M NOT A COP! I wanted to be a cop. I wanted to make detective. I wanted to show the world that there’s more than one way to catch criminals. And if the NYPD had let me, I would have become the best damn cop this city has ever seen. Their mistake, Cal. Big, big mistake.’

For a moment Doyle is dumbfounded. A sulk. That’s what this is. On a grand scale. A child lashing out after one too many rejections. An ‘I’ll show you’ gesture of the worst kind.