Lynne Fox - The Armageddon Game

‘Very well, Inspector please, enlighten me.’

‘I believe you are aware that both your parents have an issue with alcohol.’

I snorted derisively. ‘Oh please, Inspector do drop the niceties. They were both functioning alcoholics.’

‘Indeed, so I understand. It seems that during one of their alcohol-fuelled arguments your mother confessed to an affair thirty two years ago that resulted in a pregnancy. The child she consequently bore was you. Miss Theakston, I’m sorry to have to advise you that you are not your father’s biological child. When he learnt of your mother’s deception – one that had continued for the vast majority of their marriage – Mr Theakston confessed that he completely snapped and helped on by his alcohol-induced state dealt your mother a blow which resulted in her death.’

Munroe leant back in his chair and re-crossed his legs, barely able to keep the satisfied smirk from his face and recalling our previous encounters continued. ‘It seems that you needn’t have bothered with the personas you adopted in the past when playing your little games – you’re not who you thought you were anyway – quite ironic, don’t you think?’

The smugness in his tone was infuriating. I tucked my hands under my legs, sitting on them to control the anger that was bubbling up inside, forcing myself into a display of outward calm. ‘Well, thank you for that, Inspector. What happens now?’

‘As your father, I beg your pardon Mr Theakston has confessed there won’t be much of a trial, more a matter of sentencing. I’ll keep you informed of what the judges decide.’

‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’ I stood indicating the meeting was at an end. Alberto levered himself off the wall and came towards me. ‘Just a thought, Inspector; did my mother divulge who she had her affair with?’

‘According to Mr Theakston, no, only that it was someone associated with the firm where she worked all those years ago.’

‘I see.’ I turned away but as an afterthought paused at the door, ‘I almost forgot to ask, so rude of me; how is Mrs Munroe?’

Munroe stiffened, hesitated and turned away before he spoke. ‘Mrs Munroe is as well as can be expected.’

‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry; I imagine it’s the death of your daughter, Lily? I would think that would put an intolerable strain on anyone. How are you bearing up?’

Munroe said nothing, merely stared at me, the hatred in his eyes unmistakable.

‘Good day, Inspector. I’ll wait to hear of developments.’ With that I glanced at Alberto and walked out of the room.

CHAPTER 2

Sitting by the barred window back in my room I pondered the news DCI Munroe had given me. It was moments like this that I really missed Liliad, my marionette. For many years she’d been a constant companion, someone I could bounce ideas off. I know she didn’t talk back, I’m not insane but somehow talking to her made things clearer; she was my silent support, the only one I was ever truly myself with.

I’d bought her several years previously from a toy shop in The Lanes in Brighton. Normally I’d walk past a toy shop window without giving it a second glance but something, I was never quite sure what, had drawn me to the layout. My eyes scanned the various items; plastic trains, skipping ropes, Lego, jigsaws, picture books – the whole paraphernalia of children’s entertainment but nothing captured my attention and I was about to turn away when my gaze was inexorably drawn toward the back of the display.

A doll stared back at me, her wide blemish-free oval eyes compelling me to remain. Her irises were as green as ivy with huge pupils the deep liquid black of its berries. I felt as though I was falling. Transfixed by the delicacy of her features, the craftsmanship was so exquisite I thought she was made of porcelain.

Without conscious thought I found myself inside the shop. The owner, his hands fluttering before him like an agitated butterfly, was instantly by my side. ‘I see you’ve noticed our marionette,’ he observed.

‘Marionette? I thought it was just an ordinary doll.’

‘Oh dear me no; there’s nothing ‘ordinary’ about this little lady.’ So saying he reached across and extracted her from amongst the other toys. Up close my eyes widened in further surprise. ‘She’s made of wood!’

‘Indeed, what did you think she was made of?’

‘Well, she’s so delicate I thought it was porcelain or something.’

He smiled knowingly. ‘An understandable mistake; in fact she’s carved from a solid piece taken from the centre of an ancient oak. If you look closely at her torso …’ he gently pulled up the little blouse, ‘… you can see the rings of the tree growth. She is the heart of the oak and it continues to live through her.’

Untangling the strings he held her a few inches above the ground. ‘Here, you take hold and see if you can make her move.’

Gently he placed my fingers in the correct positions, ‘Make her walk toward the door.’

To my delight she strode forward.

‘You’re a natural,’ he exclaimed.

‘It’s so easy; I don’t feel I’m doing anything much.’

His smile widened but he said nothing, just waited.

‘How much?’ I asked and she was mine.

They’d taken her away from me after the Dr Metcalfe incident, concerned that I might strangle myself with her strings or tear off a wooden limb to fashion a weapon. Complete nonsense as I had no intention of killing myself and would never deliberately hurt Liliad for any reason. For the present Liliad is confined to a shelf in the locked store room. Lately, in return for his English lessons I’ve managed to persuade Alberto to take me down there and let me have a few private moments with her. She’s taking her incarceration with a stoicism that makes me proud, believing unerringly that we will be together again one day. I do not intend to disappoint her.

I closed my eyes to more precisely recall my meeting with DCI Munroe. I wasn’t surprised at his ill-concealed pleasure at the news he had to impart; in his eyes he had good reason to hate me. He believed that I had killed his daughter, Lily. She had fallen while on a hiking trip in Scotland and all Munroe had was a photograph that she’d instinctively clicked as she’d gone over the edge which showed a small section of someone’s sleeve but the image was so blurred it was impossible to pick out any distinguishing features.

Despite all his efforts Munroe had been unable to prove my involvement and instead had me convicted for the murder of Dr Metcalfe’s fiancée, Melissa Hartnell. It was true I’d deliberately befriended her and had enjoyed myself creating a sense of distrust between her and Dr Metcalfe aiming to ruin their relationship but to convict me of killing her had been a complete fabrication based on purely circumstantial evidence as the irony was I really hadn’t killed her.

Seeing him again after so long was a welcome break from the monotony of St Joseph’s; I’d run rings around him in the past yet I had to acknowledge he’d won the last confrontation; after all, I was back in St Joseph’s and that was a major problem.

It was a couple of months later that Inspector Munroe turned up again. By now I was out of the high security wing having been correct in my assessment that Dr Chang considered me no longer a risk.

They’d allowed me to keep Alberto as my main carer; the nurse who’d held that position on my previous stay, Betty Fletcher apparently refusing to have anything more to do with me; understandable I suppose, I’d always thought she had a soft spot for Dr Metcalfe. The current situation suited me fine, Alberto was far more malleable and definitely better looking.