The Doll's House (36 page)

P
arsons's bodyguard moved forward when he heard Sperring speak.

‘Don't, sunshine,' said Sperring, holding up his warrant card. The bodyguard looked at Parsons and then at Sperring again. Backed down. ‘Clever boy.' Sperring stepped in front of Parsons. ‘Now,' he said, ‘what have we got going on here?'

Khan couldn't even bring his eyes up to meet his colleague's.

‘Mr Sperring,' said Parsons, as if greeting an old friend. ‘Been too long.'

‘Not long enough,' said Sperring. He looked between Parsons and Khan. Eyes settling on Khan. He sighed, shook his head. ‘I thought better of you, Nadish. I really did.' His voice held real sadness, genuine hurt.

Khan looked away.

‘So you going to tell me what's going on, then?'

‘It's him,' said Khan, jabbing his finger at Parsons, still not looking up. ‘He wanted… wanted to know about the investigation. What was happening, where we were looking.'

Sperring stared at Parsons. ‘Did he now. And what did you tell him?'

Khan sniffed. Sperring realised he was crying. ‘The…' He sighed. ‘Everything.' His voice had shrunk. ‘The club. The building. Who owns it, everything…' He shook his head like he couldn't believe those words were coming out of his mouth.

‘And what did Mr Parsons have to say to that?'

‘Look,' said Parsons, ‘I'm sure this can all be settled —'

‘Shut it, you,' said Sperring, with an angry look that almost matched Parsons's of a few minutes ago. ‘I'll deal with you in a minute.' He turned back to Khan. ‘What did he say?'

‘He said to, to divert attention away from it… look somewhere else…'

Parsons was on his feet, furious. ‘You little fucker…'

Khan looked up. Eyes red-rimmed, pain-filled. Face contorted through tears and self-hatred. ‘He said he'd give my mum money… That's why I said I'd do it. Since my dad…' He didn't finish the sentence. ‘It's been really hard.'

‘And you believed him? He said he'd give your mother money and you believed him?'

Khan's eyes couldn't meet Sperring's. ‘Yeah. Why not? He gave my dad enough.'

Parsons was still on his feet. Sperring squared up to him. Stared straight at him. Their raised voices were attracting attention, but people gave them a wide berth. No one wanted their enjoyment of the evening to be tainted.

‘I hate bent coppers,' said Sperring. ‘But you know what I hate more? The scum that bend them. You're nicked, Parsons.'

Hearing those words, the bearded bodyguard moved forward. Sperring turned to him. Smiled. There was no happiness in it. ‘You want to do this, son?' he said. ‘Really?'

The bodyguard stared at Sperring, unblinking. But something in Sperring's gaze made him look away. He backed away again. Sperring nodded. ‘Good lad.' He turned back to Parsons. ‘You're a piece of shit. But you're an old piece of shit. You wouldn't survive going back inside, which is where I want to send you. Not for long. And while I might get some enjoyment out of that, I have to ask myself, is it worth it? All the time-consuming bollocks I'd have to go through. All the paperwork, compliance, building a case for the CPS, not to mention dragging young Nadish's name through the shit.' He stared at Khan. ‘Not that he doesn't deserve it for what he's done.' He turned back to Parsons. ‘I'd enjoy seeing you rot in prison, make no mistake. Dying in prison, too. And don't get me wrong, I'd do it, but it's a lot of work. So.' He stepped in nearer, so that Parsons had no choice but to look at him. ‘What can you tell me to make me change my mind?'

Parsons cleared his throat. Sperring looked straight into his eyes. Saw that the old man was beaten and he knew it.

Parsons sighed. ‘It's… it's about my son. All about my son.'

‘Who, Grant?'

‘Yeah,' said Parsons. ‘Sort of. But mainly about Ben…'

‘
C
ome in,' called Anni, ‘it's open. Living room.'

Phil stepped over the threshold of Hugo Gwilym's house once again. This time it couldn't have felt more different.

He had been stunned, Anni's call completely unexpected. Even more so when she told him that she was in Birmingham and that he should come and meet her. He told her he was in the middle of a case and couldn't really spare the time. She told him that this was important, and he would have to make time. It was to do with Marina. He started to ask questions, but she told him everything would be answered when he got there. But he needed to get there right away.

And then she told him where to meet…

He walked down the hall into the living room. Anni was sitting in an armchair. She jumped up when he entered and crossed the room to him, made to hug him, stopped. Phil gave a small smile. He had thought of doing the same thing and had also stopped himself. Because he was still, technically, her boss. They settled for awkwardly shaking hands, both of them having the good grace to look embarrassed about it.

‘Anni,' said Phil, once formalities had been dispensed with, ‘what's going on?'

‘It's about Marina,' said Anni.

‘You said.'

‘And him.' Anni jerked a thumb at the sofa. Hugo Gwilym sat in his dressing gown, his hair matted with blood, a tea towel full of melting ice held to his head. Anni looked back at Phil.

‘Is he all right?' asked Phil.

‘He'll live,' said Anni, ‘unfortunately. Now, where shall I start?'

Phil shrugged. Felt that familiar tightening in his chest. ‘Wherever you like.'

‘Sit down, then. I think it's better if you sit down.'

Phil sat in the armchair Anni had recently vacated. Anni sat on the sofa with Gwilym. Careful not to touch him.

‘Marina's been a bit off lately,' said Phil, before Anni could speak. ‘Withdrawn, pulling away from me. Does this have anything to do with that?'

‘You could say,' said Anni. She leaned forward, cutting out Gwilym from her focus. Like it was just her and Phil in the room. ‘She… thought she had been raped.' Anni said nothing more, waited for Phil to process the statement.

‘She… what?
Raped?
Who by?'

Anni jerked a thumb at Gwilym. He had his head down, avoiding Phil's stare.

‘Him? He raped my wife?' Phil was on his feet, crossing over to Gwilym, who held the tea towel in front of him like a soggy shield. ‘He actually raped my wife…'

‘No, don't, don't hit me…'

‘It's OK,' said Anni. ‘It's OK.'

Phil stood there staring. Eyes never leaving Gwilym. ‘Did you? Rape my wife?'

Gwilym shook his head. Slowly. He winced from the pain. ‘No. I… I didn't.' His voice was small, broken. Like a shattered ornament dropped from a great height. It could be repaired, but it would never be the same again.

‘Then why would she think that?' Phil and Anni both stared at Gwilym.

‘Because I… I maybe let her think it.'

‘
Maybe
let her think it?'

‘All right…' Gwilym held up his hands as if surrendering. ‘I did. I… let her think I… that we'd had sex.'

‘Why would you do that, Hugo?' said Anni, her voice dangerously calm.

‘Yeah,' said Phil, more overtly angry, ‘why?'

‘Because I… I was jealous of her…'

Phil and Anni shared a look. ‘Jealous?' said Phil. ‘Why?'

‘Because she… I wanted to wind her up. Get her to, to work with me. On my book.'

‘Your book?'

He nodded. ‘I've only ever written about deviants. Studied them. She had… Well. She's confronted them. Faced them. First hand. And yes. I was jealous.' His face twisted as his words became more bitter. ‘She came into the department and it was like she was a star. Yes, a star. The real deal. And I was just…'

‘A fake?' suggested Anni.

‘That's what she made me feel, yes. Fake. So I thought, right. Right, you bitch. I'll have you.'

Phil felt unsteady. His vision was wavering, turning red-tinged. His anger was rising. ‘And did you?' he asked. ‘Have her?'

Gwilym looked down. Shook his head once more. ‘No. I… I couldn't.'

‘What stopped you?' asked Anni.

‘She… she'd borne a child. Another man's child. Not mine. And I… I couldn't do that. Not when… No.' His face twisted once more, in disgust this time.

Anni looked at Phil. Her face was as blank as her voice was calm. Both dangerous signs, he knew. ‘Hugo has been explaining his little hobby to me while I was waiting for you to get here,' she said.

‘Do tell.'

‘He likes to groom a student, preferably an impressionable one, and have sex with her. Forcibly, if he has to. That's why Marina contacted me. She stole a glass from his kitchen. I had it analysed. Flunitrazepam. Rohypnol, to the layman. He likes to get a girl out of it and rape her. And if she gets pregnant, that's a bonus. Then he forces her to have an abortion. Then…' Anni shrugged, ‘he drops her. Seduces, rapes, manipulates, impregnates, then abandons. All because he can. What a charmer.'

‘When you say it like that,' said Gwilym, tea towel back to his head again, ‘it sounds horrible.'

‘Whichever way you say it it sounds horrible,' said Phil. He moved across the floor so that he stood directly over Gwilym. ‘You've never seen a deviant, is that what you said?'

Gwilym nodded once more. Winced.

‘You never looked in a fucking mirror, then?'

Phil grabbed him so hard and so fast that he dropped the tea towel, ice bouncing all over the floor.

‘Phil, don't…'

He grasped the front of Gwilym's dressing gown, screwed it so tight he had trouble breathing.

‘It all makes sense now,' said Phil, to himself as much as to Gwilym. ‘Everything makes sense. The way she's been recently. How she didn't want to be touched. By a man. By
me
. Because she thought she had been raped by a piece of shit like you…'

He twisted the dressing gown even tighter. Something ripped. Gwilym whimpered.

‘Phil, boss, please…'

Anni's hands were on him, trying to pull him away from Gwilym's neck. Phil blinked and, as if seeing her for the first time, took his hands away. He pushed Gwilym back down on to the sofa. Gwilym shouted out in pain as his head hit the back of it.

‘So,' said Phil, once he had regained control of himself, ‘what's happened? Where is Marina? And why am I here?'

‘I… I don't know where she is,' said Gwilym. He went on to tell him about Maddy and her boyfriend and how they'd taken his research material and his book. He seemed to be more upset by that, thought Phil, than anything else.

‘And where's Marina?' he asked again.

‘I don't know. Honestly…'

‘She said she was on her way here, boss,' said Anni. ‘Following those two. They do that to him' – she pointed at Gwilym's head – ‘then disappear. And Marina's car is outside. Not good.'

‘No,' said Phil. ‘Not good.'

He took his phone out, called her number.

‘I tried that,' said Anni. ‘No reply.'

It went to voicemail. He left a message. Turned back to Gwilym. ‘So who are these people? You said Maddy?'

‘Maddy Mingella. My…'

‘Your ex,' said Anni.

He nodded. ‘Yes. My ex. And her new boyfriend, I presume.'

‘D'you know him? Recognise him?'

‘He was a student. I'd seen him before. He said he'd worked on the book. One of the researchers.'

‘Name?'

Gwilym made a useless gesture. ‘I… I can't… I don't know.'

‘Who will know?'

‘Joy Henry. Departmental administrator. The records should be in the department.'

‘Then why are we still here?' said Phil, moving fast towards the door.

T
he Lost and Found on Bennetts Hill was just a short walk from where Khan had met Parsons. It was an imposing Victorian building, in an area that had once been Birmingham's financial district. The buildings had all been sold off to developers, and most of them had been turned into pubs and restaurants. This one was no exception.

It was divided up like a Victorian house. A conservatory, parlour, dining room-cum-library, complete with fake bookshelf wallpaper. The place was doing a brisk pre-Christmas, post-shopping trade. Sperring flashed his warrant card, told the waitress they needed somewhere a little more private.

She opened a massive wooden door with ‘The Boardroom' stencilled on it in gold lettering. Inside was a long table made of highly polished wood with leather armchairs around it. A huge Victorian map dominated one wall. There were paintings and reclaimed knick-knacks around, giving the room an ‘ironic' Victorian style.

Sperring waving away the waitress's offer of refreshments. He told Parsons's bodyguard to wait outside, told Parsons to sit down. He did so. Sperring sat opposite him. Khan, who hadn't spoken or been spoken to on the journey there, sat one seat away from Sperring.

‘So,' said Sperring when they were settled, ‘you were going to tell me about Ben.'

Parsons looked like a defeated man. A flash of desperation shot across his eyes as he briefly considered trying to lie his way out, but Sperring spotted it, stared him down. Parsons began talking.

‘Ben,' he said, ‘was my son.'

‘You had two, as I remember,' said Sperring.

‘Yeah, and now I've got one.' He sighed. Looked and sounded genuinely grief-stricken. ‘Ben died. Murdered.' He looked up, anger back in his eyes. ‘And none of you lot did a fucking thing about it.'

Sperring frowned. ‘Wait a minute… Did I hear something about this? Yeah, think I did. Few years ago now?'

‘That's right,' said Parsons.

‘Yeah.' Sperring nodded. ‘Remember now. Wannabe gangster. Threw his weight around. Got knifed. The thug life claims another one.'

Parsons slammed the table. ‘He was my son! And my heir. I was grooming him. He was going to take over everything from me. Make his old man proud, he was.'

‘You mean everything that was left of your bent empire,' said Sperring. ‘I presume you're not talking about the letting agency. Or maybe you are. Maybe that's all you've got left.'

Parsons opened his mouth, ready to argue, but changed his mind. Looked down at the table instead. ‘I had two sons,' he said, voice low and confessional. ‘Ben and Grant. Ben was the loud one, everybody's mate, well loved…' He drifted off in a reverie for a few seconds, then came back. ‘Grant, he's… quieter.' It was clear from the expression on his face that he didn't view his other son in the same way. ‘Quiet, yeah. But clever, you know? University and that.' He spoke the word like it was as distant and foreign to him as Burkina Faso.

‘Which one?' asked Sperring.

‘Birmingham. Didn't want to go far from his family.'

‘So what happened to Ben?' asked Sperring, with an expression that said he knew the story but was waiting to hear Parsons's version of it.

‘He made somebody angry. There was a falling-out.'

‘Way I heard it, he stiffed someone on a drugs deal.'

‘Whatever,' said Parsons, anger simmering once more. ‘It was a business deal that went wrong. I told him to make it up, put it right, be friends, be big enough to say sorry and move on, but he wouldn't. He was a… very proud boy.' Admiration shone in Parsons's eyes.

‘And?' said Sperring, prompting.

‘He was killed,' said Parsons, the words bringing an end to the wistfulness. ‘Machete.' He stared across the table, finger pointing. ‘And you did nothing about it. None of you.'

‘And I'm sure you co-operated fully with the police. I'm sure you were a model citizen, trying to help us do our job. Told us everything you knew. Gave us every encouragement.'

Parsons fell silent.

‘So this other son,' said Sperring, keeping the conversation going, ‘what happened to him?'