The Sight
By
Nick B

 © Nick B 2008

Gabi helped in a most awesome manner again, although I did change some things afterwards, but that was only because I forgot them first time round. Thanks Gabi

Darryl meets Detective Sergeant Cummings . . .

Chapter 7

Ron Cummings stood and took the grilling from his superior officer, quietly wishing he was anywhere but where he stood at that point in time.

Rawles threw yesterday’s Night Final edition of the local paper on the desk and it slid towards Ron. “I presume you’ve seen this.”

Ron nodded.

“And it was on the local news. I thought this was supposed to be kept under wraps–at least for the time being. Where do you think the kid got the information?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Ron replied.

“Who gave it to him?”

“The article said he got the information psychically,” Cummings said carefully.

“Balls!” Rawles snarled, practically climbing over his desk, his face reddening and the veins standing proud in his neck. “Complete and utter balls! There’s no such thing; it’s all parlour tricks. Have you looked into this boy’s story?”

“Only inasmuch as we went to the hospital and the staff there informed us that he’d been in hospital since before the fourth woman went missing. We ruled him out after that.”

“Well un-bloody-rule him then!” Rawles snapped. “Just because he wasn’t there, doesn’t mean he’s not involved. How else would he know?”

“No sir–I mean yes, sir,” Cummings mumbled.

“Well don’t just stand there. Go and do something and get my head off this blasted chopping block or you’ll be directing traffic before the day’s out.”

Ron went back to his desk, his ears still ringing. “Don’t even think about it, Harris,” Ron spat as Sergeant Harris stood by the side of Ron’s desk.

“Would I?” he asked, his tone mocking. “I was just going to say, it didn’t sound as though that went too well. We have an Ouija board if it would be of any help–” the rest of the office fell about in gales of laughter as Ron snatched up his jacket and stormed off to the sounds of people asking if there was anybody out there.

Some forty minutes later, he knocked on the door of a flat in a mews above a lock-up garage.

“Can I ‘elp you, mate?” said a grease-covered man in a boiler-suit, with something akin to an afro, who came out of the garage below the flat.

“I was looking for Darryl Groves,” Cummings said, smiling amiably.

“’E’s ‘ad an accident. Come off ‘is bike, ‘e did,” the man replied, wiping his grimy hands on an equally grimy rag.

“I know. Can you tell me where I can find him?”

“Dunno, mate. Fink ‘e’s gone t’ stay wiv ‘is uncle or summat.”

“What about his mother. Is she about?”

“Dunno. I s’pect she’s prolly at work.”

“I see,” said Cummings as the man eyed him suspiciously.

“You the filth?” the man asked. Cummings had to stifle a laugh at the irony, even though he hated the expression.

“That’s right. Detective Sergeant Cummings.” He was about to proffer his hand, but under the circumstances, thought better of it.

“I don’t know nuffin’,” the man said and turned away, closing the garage door behind him.

‘Shit!’ Ron cursed as he walked back along the uneven cobbles to his car.

The local paper lay on the front seat of his unmarked Sierra and on it was a picture of the lad in question. It was not flattering, but even so, he didn’t look all that. Certainly he didn’t look like some kind of Uri Geller or anything, but Ron’s training had given him the understanding not to judge a book by its cover.

Something didn’t ring true. If he had been involved in this sordidness, then why had he been so willing to pass on information about those he was in league with? Had they had some form of falling out and he was getting back at them perhaps?

It just didn’t add up. How could a boy who had no apparent connections with the women in question–other than that the last woman taken was the flatmate of one of the junior doctors at the hospital–know the name of the dead woman?

His boss may well have been right. Maybe he was involved, but somehow, that didn’t seem to fit. Call it intuition; call it what you like–even gut instinct–but Ron knew this lad was not involved and that it may well be true that he had dreamt the information, had a vision or whatever these people did.

Right now, it was the photo that was giving Ron grief. Where had it been taken? It looked very familiar.

Back at the station, Ron dropped his jacket on the chair at his desk and flopped into it. He just couldn’t place the scenery behind the lad. Okay, it wasn’t a very good picture to begin with, but there were elements that should have given the game away; elements that were poking at him. He knew the place, but where was it?

“Hey, Jim. Have a look at this would you?” he asked his colleague.

Jim stood looking at the picture on the front page of the Argus over Ron’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah. That’s that kid that’s supposed to be involved in the kidnapping isn’t it?”

“Don’t know about that. What’s bothering me is where this shot was taken.”

“Let’s have a look a minute.” He picked up the paper and looked at it closely. “Can I borrow this?”

“Be my guest,” Ron said, rubbing his tired face with his hands.

“Won’t be long,” Jim said as, paper in hand, he left the office.

Rawles did not look happy to see the Sergeant sat at his desk.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked as if Ron wasn’t doing what he should have been doing.

“I’m having something examined, Guv.”

“Best make sure you’re not here when I come back then,” the Chief Inspector said dismissively.

It amazed Ron to think that only the day before, he was being congratulated on a job well done and now, through no fault of his own, he was being blamed and made the fall guy for this apparent leak of information to the press.

Jim was back in no time.

“It’s a bit hard to see, but in the background there on the left, is a Post Office sign. I mean, the picture’s shit and looks like it’s been taken from a moving car or a train or something, but that’s a Post Office sign alright. Once I knew that, the rest was easy.” Jim paused, beaming, obviously for effect.

“Yes? And?”

“It’s the one behind the Cliftonville.”

“What, the pub by the station?” Ron exclaimed, jumping out of his chair.

“The very same.”

How could he have been so blind? Of course it was! He’d spent many a Saturday herding the “march of the morons” to and from the Goldstone Ground when Albion played at home. Thousands of Neanderthal football fans would troop over the footbridge and right past that very place.

“Thanks Jim,” he said, taking the paper out of Jim’s hands, grabbing his jacket and disappearing. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than that,” Jim replied.

---

Doris gave Darryl the third degree about what he knew with regards the five missing women, well four now that it had been established that he was spot-on with the name of the one whose body had just been found.

He offered no explanation to begin with, but when Doris piled on the pressure, he explained about the visions of the women in the bad place and about seeing the body of Suzy Croft being dumped.

Doris was dumbfounded.

In all the time she had known Darryl, she had only ever considered him a child–and a pain in the arse at that. He always seemed to be around and Paul only encouraged him further.

But now it seemed different. She didn’t mind his being there at all. There was something about Darryl since he came out of hospital that seemed fundamentally different from the Darryl that went in. Perhaps it was the bump on the head. Whatever it was, she felt fiercely protective of him and seeing him in such distress over something like this, tugged at her emotionally.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she asked.

“I did. I just–I mean, maybe not the right person, but it just sort of spilled out. I don’t know where it came from or how, it just did,” he said, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I thought I was helping–well, the junior doctor–or whatever they’re called at least. It wasn’t until she spoke to me that I realised that the two things were connected. When she came back with that other woman, the bit about Suzy Croft came out and it was awful.”

Doris could see the hurt in his eyes. This wasn’t the Darryl she knew and barely tolerated. She gave him a hug and smiled.

“It’ll be all right. When Paul gets home, maybe he’ll know what to do,” she said, brushing his fringe away from his eyes.

---

Darryl felt better having told someone and was surprised that that someone wasn’t Paul. It felt like Doris wanted to help and whilst it wasn’t what he was used to from her, he wasn’t about to push her away.

Even though he didn’t actually know who gave him away in the news article, he had a damned good idea and the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to keep that information to himself, though what he was supposed to do was something else entirely.

He knew that it was more than just an inkling he had about these women and he also knew that really he should have said something to someone, but what?

‘Hi, um, about those missing women … I’ve seen them.’ That would never work. He couldn’t say where or who held them. He didn’t even know what whoever held them was doing with them or why. Those were things he just couldn’t see.

If he had something more concrete, perhaps there’d be more legitimacy to going to someone in authority with what he knew, but right now, he knew no more than anyone else.

He suspected that the woman with that doctor girl had something to do with this part of things. He knew the moment he saw her to be careful about what he said in front of her and it seemed that his suspicions had been right. He had no idea that the names of those concerned weren’t public knowledge and now, not only had the information become so, but he apparently was the reason.

---

Cummings turned up at the post office behind the Cliftonville sometime later that afternoon. He was following a hunch and knocked on the door to a house a couple of doors down from it.

A tall woman answered the door. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Darryl Groves,” He replied.

“Who are you?” she asked and Ron produced his warrant card. “You’d best come in. This is about that awful stuff with those women isn’t it? How did you know he was here?”

“It was a hunch. I remembered this place from when I used to be on the beat. There were always bikes out front and the picture of Darryl in the papers showed the post office sign behind him.”

“Good observation. He’s through here.”

Cummings followed the woman into a room on the ground floor that had been made up with a bed. The young lad sat propped up with pillows, his left eye puffy in shades of purple and yellow and around the outside of the iris was heavily bloodshot.

Overall, he was of slight build and facially, taking into consideration his bruising, he was almost pretty, especially with that long wavy hair. He certainly didn’t look the sort of person who would be mixed up in something as terrible as the kidnappings he was currently investigating, but as he thought earlier, looks can be deceiving.

“This is Detective Sergeant Cummings,” Doris announced. “He wants to ask you some questions.”

Ron sat on a ladder back dining chair next to the bed. “What can you tell me about this then?” he asked, pointing to the picture in the Argus newspaper.

“I didn’t know that had been taken,” He answered, “But now I come to look at it, I know exactly when it was taken and I’m pretty sure who took it.”

“Go on,” Ron encouraged.

“I’m not absolutely positive, but I think the person who took this was the woman who came to see me with a junior doctor yesterday morning.”

“Came to see you? Why?”

“She’s a friend of the young doctor that I’d spoken to a couple of times about her friend.”

“I take it that’s Miss Carter?”

“I think she said her name was Annabel, but I don’t know.”

“That would be Annabel Carter and you’re right, she’s a junior doctor,” said Ron, writing down notes in his little booklet. “What did Annabel’s friend want?”

“She wanted to know about the missing women.”

“What do you know about them?”

“Strangely enough, before I spoke to Annabel–nothing. As soon as she mentioned her flatmate, Jennifer, I saw her with a bunch of other women in this damp, cold and unpleasant place. I could hear water dripping and felt their anxiety too.”

“You saw?” asked Ron, not sure if Darryl had his wording quite right.

“In my head.”

As soon as he said that, Ron sat up. He was so matter of fact about it, like it was normal or something, yet at the same time, he didn’t appear wholly comfortable with the idea either.

“You had a vision?”

“I guess.”

“What about the next time–when Annabel came back with the other woman?”

“I didn’t like her. She seemed pushy, not really interested in Annabel’s friend, but after the information for a different reason. Annabel looked upset and as soon as they came towards me, I knew what they wanted. Well, like I said, not Annabel so much, but the other woman wanted to know all about these women. The moment she asked, I saw someone dumping the body of Suzy Croft up near Seven Dials. It felt horrible and I really didn’t want to have seen that.”

“How did you know it was Suzy Croft?”

“I don’t know; I just did and the woman with Annabel wanted to know more, but Annabel took her away.”

“I’m having trouble getting my head round the fact that you saw all this, but weren’t there,” Ron said, looking directly at Darryl.

“You want to see it from my side,” chuckled Darryl. “You have no idea how it makes me feel. It’s like I was there.”

“I don’t know how others are going to find this though. My boss–“

“Thinks that just because I wasn’t there, it doesn’t mean I wasn’t involved–I know.”

“How did you know that?”

“The same way I knew the rest of the stuff,” Darryl said, smiling.

---

To be continued . . .