CHAPTER 9
“Good morning, Mr Cooper. I am Detective Constable Owens, and this is my colleague DC Philips. We will be conducting an interview, and it will be recorded on tape. I believe you are familiar with the process”

He sat opposite us with the duty brief, and my first thought on seeing him had been ‘used up’.

He was like a spent match, everything burnt away, all energy dissipated in old age. I was struggling to reconcile what I knew of his crimes with the shell before me and at the same time seeing the faces of Deb and Ben, as well as the flat hatred of Stevie Elliott’s glare. He had sent us on our way to the interview with one request, that we leave him in no doubt as to his situation.

“Make that bastard shit himself”

Jon had looked at him in response, and I knew what would have been on his face. Elliott had stared him down.

“That bastard had me for years. This? This is what they did to me. They didn’t even have the decency to let me kill myself, the fuckers! Sorry. Sorry, kids, but, well”

He had shaken his head, before looking straight at Deb.

“One day, pet, one day, we need to sit down and put all this to bed. Today? For today, please sit with me, and you, Ben, please. Let’s just watch the fucker squirm”

That summed up the difference between ben, Deb and Stevie Elliott. Deb spoke of old pain, while Ben had fear sitting on both shoulders, but Stevie: he hated, with a deep, swirling passion. I suspected that one way or another, legal or not, Cooper’s life expectancy would have shortened monumentally if he were ever to have been released.

“…please state your name for the benefit of the tape”

The old man and his lawyer made the necessary replies, and we began the game. Jon did the talking, for once.

“Mr Cooper---"

A smile, of sorts.

“People call me Charlie”

“I know, Mr Cooper. Some of those people explained that to me. Now, both of your employers at Castle Keep are in secure accommodation, is that correct?”

“Elsie and Rayner? Well, they were mad, weren’t they? I mean, they made me do such… such horrible things”

Jon’s mouth twisted, ever so slightly.

“So when you were photographed buggering Mr Elliott, having made him dress as a schoolgirl, that was entirely the fault of your employers? I am slightly confused here; could you please clarify?”

I found myself seeing Jon in a very new light, and if I had been on the other side of the table, Stevie Elliott would already have had what he wanted. Jon’s voice was chilly without being nasty, but the way he was phrasing things could have left no doubt in Cooper’s mind. My boy hated him., hated and despised every aspect of him from shoe-soles to the utter failure of his attempted combover. There was clarity in John’s style, the clarity of a shark eying you as a potential meal. Once, and never, ever again, Bridget and I had gone down in a shark cage, and it hadn’t been the teeth that had frightened me, but the utter blankness of their eyes.

Jon was delivering his questions in the same way the fish had stared at us, without passion. His words, though, cut have skinned Cooper, and the casual way he had ignored Cooper’s attempt to ingratiate himself was almost beautiful.

Some of those people explained that to me.

Jon shuffled some files, taking his time, letting the old bastard sweat, then raised his eyes again.

“Mr Cooper, we are not here to discuss those matters. Your crimes at Castle Keep were properly addressed in the trial that sent you here. We wish to ask you about your previous employment”

Cooper looked quickly at his lawyer.

“That place in Bradford?”

What the hell? Police, professional Owens. Sod it: Sutton. Cling to that. Think of Blake as a whole new can of worms opens. Jon stayed cool, though, and ran with it, as if he had anticipated the answer.

“For the benefit of the tape, can you confirm the establishment’s name?”

“Meadowcroft, I think. Yeah, Meadowcroft”

“Were you going by the name Cooper at the time?”

The combover flopped as he shook his head.

“Nah; it were Johnny Kelsoe back then. How did you know about that one?”

Cooper’s almost childlike manner had evaporated, and I began to see some of the person Elliott, Deb and Ben must have known all too well. Pull it back, mate; leave that one to the end. Jon, though, could have walked on water that morning.

“We are a special unit, Mr Cooper. We specialise in re-opening old cases, investigating historical crimes. We have an awful lot of information about you and Donald Hamilton, for starters, but we are hear today to discuss Mersey View in Runcorn. Once more for the benefit of the tape, can you confirm that you were employed there up to its closure?”

“No. I left there before it shut”

“How long before, Mr Cooper?”

“A fortnight”

“So, effectively, you were there tIll it was just about to close”

“Well, yeah”

“Employed by John and Marie Parsons?”

“Yes”

“Were they also mad, Mr Cooper?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You stated earlier that your employers at Castle Keep were mad, and that they made you do horrible things at their establishment. Is that not correct?”

“Well, they did!”

“So, were John and Marie Parsons, like Rayner and Elsie Cunningham, also mad?”

Coopers’ mouth opened, but Jon slipped the knife in before he could speak.

“Did John and Marie Parsons also make you do the horrible things you did at Mersey View, or were they your own idea that time?”

The brief winced at that barb.

“Officer, perhaps we could proceed to the allegations?”

Jon’s smile was as meaningless as that shark’s.

“Certainly, sir. Mr Cooper, do you recall a person called Benjamin Nicol?”

The old man’s head really jerked at that one.

“Benny? Where is he?”

“Is that a yes, Mr Cooper? You do recall a Benjamin Nicol?”

“Er, yeah. I remember the name”

I sat back, letting my hands drop into my lap so that neither of the men opposite could see how my nails were cutting into the palms. Jon followed suit, and his next question brought the worst response of the day.

“Do you also remember a William Wells?”

Years seemed to fall off Cooper’s face as he smiled in obviously fond memory. Jon’s hand reached across and took mine, and I squeezed his trembling away. It didn’t reach is voice though, even with Cooper’s next reply.

“Billy? Oh, I loved Billy! We wanted to run off together, me and the lovely boy. How I wish… Wasn’t possible, though, was it?”

“How old were Nicol and Wells when you worked with the Parsons, Mr Cooper?”

“Dunno. We had boys from about eight upwards. Probably ten, eleven years old?”

“Do you consider it reasonable to propose running away with a child of that age?”

“Billy was special. Always meant to look him up, but, you know…”

“How many times did you rape William Wells, Mr Cooper?”

“Come on, that’s not fair! I loved him!”

“Do you remember, Mr Cooper? How many times?”

He looked to his brief, who seemed to have a bad taste in his mouth.

“How many times did you rape Benjamin Nicol, Mr Cooper?”

“It wasn’t bloody rape!”

“I have statements from Mr Nicol and the other victim I have named…”

Oh, chwarae bloody teg, Jon!

“Both of them, as well as a number of others we have identified---I should clarify that matter, Mr Cooper. We have a number of other victims identified, and we are visiting them one by one. We are, as we have described, a review team for old cases, so we can allow ourselves the luxury of patience. Anyway, we shall revisit the topic of other victims another time. For now, what is relevant is the simple fact that both victims I have so far identified have described their experiences of your attentions as rape. Nothing less than rape. William Wells, when he finally found safety, needed a considerable number of medical procedures to rectify the damage done to him, damage which included an anal fistula”

He paused, whether for breath or self-control I was unsure.

“How is your personal hygiene, Mr Cooper?”

“You saying I’m dirty?”

“Both William Wells and Steven Elliott had to be treated for infestations of lice when they reached safety, Mr Cooper”

On we went, and while we got nothing crunchy, really incriminating, from him, the interview tied Cooper to people and places, giving us enough of his self-justification to sink him if and when a trial came. Finally, though, both Jon and I had had enough, a point he spelled out almost telepathically as he asked if I had any questions of my own, pressing his hand down on mine in a clear signal to leave it.

We signed off the tapes, did all the rest of the formalities, and stood to take our leave. I realised I was speaking for the first time since we began.

“We will leave you with your legal advisor to discuss matters, Mr Cooper. We will be looking to speak to you as we continue gathering testimony”

He looked shattered.

“What’s the point? It’s all done!”

I took a peek at my young man, who was obviously bursting to say something.

“DC Philips?”

“Mr Cooper, the point is that it gives some peace to those whose lives you destroyed. That is the point”

He opened the door, but I had to say it, turning back to give Cooper one of my best feral-Sammy grins.

“Oh, and we didn’t know about Meadowcroft. Expect us to return with far more questions”

Crump of a closing door, and I moved fast to catch Jon, who was near to collapse.

“Not here, mate. Let’s get back to the room., yeah?”

He was close to tears, his eyes shining.

“Run away together? What the actual fucking fuck?”

“Hold it together, OK? Come on, people to heal!”

We made it back to the little group of victims and their families just before his tears came in earnest, and Deb was first to him before Roger, Peter and Ben joined the hug. Liam Weir was very soft in his apologies as he left to order some refreshments, and only then did I have DC Diane Sutton back in enough of a steady state to look around the room. The Elliott family was cuddled up to Emily and the elder Karen, Kaz, while Steve just gripped his wife’s hand, face hard. He shrugged at me.

“I know, Diane. Looks callous, like, but it was one of the things I lost back then. I don’t really cry any more”

He pulled his wife’s hand to him and kissed it.

“It’s OK. Love. Over now. Done. Peace, aye? That copper’s off for some teas and stuff; we’ll get off home in a bit”

Once more, he looked up at me.

“Your lad’s new to this, isn’t he?”

“Yes”

“He was very good in there. He did what I wanted him to do, and I will say my thanks when he is ready”

Deb settled down next to me, Jon having left with Peter to wash his face.

“What did he say, Di?”

“Can’t tell you that, Deb. Let’s just say, well, look at what it did to Jon”

“She took my hand.

“One of the good guys, aye? Honest copper?”

“Very much so, mate. Very much so. Just got to make sure he doesn’t get broken”

She smiled. “Girls will be there for him, love. Any time, we’ll have his back, Here’s that local officer back”

Weir had an actual trolley for teas and coffees, with commercially-made biscuits I half expected Deb to turn her nose up at, but she grabbed a chocolate one with as eager a look as any of the rest of us, just as Jon returned with Peter, face washed and eyes red-rimmed. Steve just nodded across to him.

“Well done in there, son. And thank you”

His wife whispered into his ear, and he nodded sharply, looking back down at her hand as he held it in his lap. Emily’s voice was soft.

“Stevie’s always had nightmares about that man, ever since he was rescued. Kids, those nightmares have never gone away. Your Dad and me, well, we are hoping now. So many years… Diane, Jon, thank you for this. He’s broken now. Properly broken. Might make our nights better”

Jon coughed.

“Thank you all for your understanding—No! Just take a thank you. Charlie Cooper, aye, well. Not broken yet, not completely. But he will be. Inspector Weir? Can we get to a phone somewhere private, please? The bastard has given us another address. I’d like to set the ball rolling”

Stevie Elliott’s smile reminded me, yet again, of a shark, but there was life in his eyes; life, and hatred.