PEEL-BEHIND THEIR EYES. Book 1 (Complete)

Chapter 14. at night

Early evening slipped away into night proper, for the two detectives. Mason slid another shot of whiskey across the desktop; Robert caught it, gladly saving it from a trip to the floor. Tipping the glass back towards its sender, he saluted "cin cin, my friend".

Mason raised his glass in return and with a deft flick of his wrist, emptied it's content and smacked his lips together, "aah, that hit the spot.....Sooo, Robert, you haven't asked me about your mother yet" his speech began to slur a little "don't you want to know how she is, I mean, she's your mum, and part of the case, whether you like it or not".

Robert spun his empty glass on the desk and watched as it circled around and around until at last, it slowed and noisily came to rest.

Looking morosely at Mason, he said, "Yes I know she is, and thank you for looking after that end of things for me"

Dumbfounded at the callus response, Mason sobered, and said "that end of things, is your mother, for goodness sake, don't you want to know how she is"

Robert sunk down into his chair "I know what I need to know. She's alive and well, I've spoken with the nursing home, and if anything had happened to her, you wouldn't have waited until know to bring her up, would you"

Incredulous, Mason said "wow, I knew you hated your father, why, I don't know, you never made it a secret, but I didn't realize it stretched to your mother as well. That's cold, even for you, mate. What's going on with you two, hey?"

Robert sat up, rested his elbows on the desk, and shook his glass for a top up. "I don't hate my mother, far from it. It's like this, Mason, she's ill, dementia, incurable they say"

Mason shook his head sadly, thought what to say, and realized there wasn't much he could say "ah Shit, I'm sorry Rob, I thought she was in the home because she was, well, old"

Robert shrugged "she's that too. Now to give you an idea, imagine a kid with a piggy bank. The kid gets 10 pence and drops it with a tinkle into the piggy, but before mummy can take it to the bank and save it, the kid smashes the piggy to pieces and spends the money on gummy bears. Well from then on there's no way to collect and keep the kids pocket money, the piggy bank is broken, irreparable. So now there's no pocket money in the broken piggy and no new long-term savings in the bank"

Robert sighed loudly with the futility of it all, before carrying on "My mother's memory is sort of like that, before any of her short term memories can be banked and turned into long-term savings, her mind fritters them away to nothing. Her long terms ones are going to. Mason, my mother thinks I'm still thirteen years old" Robert shook his glass for a top up again.

Mason poured them both a healthy glug and slid the glass back, "So what, you don't visit her anymore, because it's too painful, get over yourself, Peel. Visit your mother, whether she knows who you are or not, she's your mum". Mason belted back his whiskey, "that's an order"

Robert stared at his drinking buddy for a moment and then laughed. Polishing off his own drink, he said "bloody hell, anyone would think you were my mother. OK, I know, but first I have to get a handle on this case. Just keep an eye on her for now. I have people tracking down the phone number of the person who called her. I've spoken myself to the nurse on duty at the time; all she can remember is a muffled voice, which is only fractionally more useful than my mother. I spoke with her too, all she says is, it was her son that called, and when I asked what they talked about, she can't recall, just that it was her son, he's 13 you know, she said. She didn't recognize my voice at all" Robert shrugged sadly. Throwing both glasses and the now empty bottle, into the draw, he slid it closed and announced "we're done here. I need to get some sleep; I've got a briefing first thing"

Mason bounced where he sat, trying out the old leather couch, "well, seems I've had a little too much of the Scottish sauce to drive back to Louth, guess I'm taking the couch tonight".

Robert smirked and shook his head "no, I'll get uniform to drop us off at mine. You'll be more comfortable in the spare room"

Mason let fly a torturous groan as he climbed to his feet "I'm getting too old for this Shit; I ache whenever I sit around inactive. Jeez, when did I suddenly become decrepit?"

Robert laughed and agreed that his joints also screamed more and more as the years rolled by, but countered, that his mind grew keener and sharper, yet more impatient, a lot more. Taking the bagged newspaper and dress, Robert locked away the evidence, before snatching up the Barringer folder and smacking it into Mason's chest "a bit of lite reading before you sleep ".

Robert knew it was the scotch that had relaxed him, there wasn't much chance he would have willingly have given the folder sober. Robert conceded "maybe a new set of eyeballs and all that" and then blanched at what he had just said, "Oh, bugger. Let's go"

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Detective John Havers sat in his car, the lack of operational street lighting had left him adrift in a sea of black, his only illumination coming from Aigarths funeral home's rather bright sign frontage. Havers was well aware that Julia Barringer had refused police protection, and he was quite happy to abide by her wishes. He watched on as the door to the funeral home opened and then shut. He smiled and thought, "Well let's just say, if I can't protect one Barringer, why not another". Havers jumped out of his car, walked around to the passenger door and opened it, "your carriage awaits Madame".

Samantha Barringer chuckled as she climbed in "hello detective, I hope you brought you cuffs"

Havers fired up the engine, and thought "this is going to be a lot of fun", cheekily he said, "yes I did, they're right next to my truncheon".

Samantha giggled as she placed her hand on his thigh and asked, "where are we going, how about Old Lloyds, it's loud and the metal is heavy, let's go there" she pleaded happily.

Havers could only think of one place he wanted to go, so he agreed. His mind on others things, Havers never noticed the curtains twitch in first-floor window of Aigarths or the gleam in the eyes of the shadowed man staring down at them as they drove away.

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The curtains silently swished back into place as the voyeur turned away from the window and walked across the darkened room to the brightness of the open door.

"Mother" he called out from his room, "mother, Sam's gone out without asking"

From the far end of the dingy hallway, out of the smoke-filled living room, where the large form of Julia Barringer still sat, came her irritated voice "who with" she yelled.

Richard leaned further into the hallway, unwilling to leave his room.

"One of those coppers from earlier, I think"

Julia faced her TV set, as she always did, and said to her father, who sat in his chair, smoking yet another cigar to a wet stump, "that one's a little slut. She'll get herself knocked up if she's not careful".

Julia couldn't help but smile as she sensed her father's grinning face. Turning her head towards the doorway, the smile dissolved instantly as she shouted

"Richard, you little shit, stop spying on your sister. Now get to bed, you're opening the shop in the morning, we've got a casket viewing at 10"

Julia's sunken and eyeless face turned back to her beloved TV, and as she listened to the rantings of the shows visiting dysfunctional family, she said to her father, "he's a snotty nose tell-tale. He'll ruin this family I tell you"

Richard dropped onto his bed, aimed the remote control at the small portable TV and switched it on. Within moments he was watching his favorite channel, Euro-sport. Two large sweaty, spandex-clad mountains of muscle circled and screamed at each other, American wrestling at its finest, he loved it. Grinding his teeth, he looked back towards the window and then the door and growled "Sam's the perfect blue-eyed girl, isn't she mother. Bitches, the pair of you"

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