The Face Behind the Mask

A poster tied to the park fence railings answered his question for him. The last matinee was now in full swing and then the circus would be leaving town, moving on to the next one to start all over again. This time they would have an extra clown with them and he couldn’t wait to start his new life. He saw the peaks of the striped tent and his heart began to race. Walking faster now, he wondered if he could catch the end of the show. He’d already been to all four evening shows, hanging around outside and chatting with the performers until the early hours.

He could smell the animals before he reached the waste ground where the circus was pitched. The smell seeping from the carriages was not for the faint-hearted. The animal cages made his eyes water with the piercing smell of ammonia, even though they were cleaned out daily. Gordy knew that being a part of the circus wasn’t a job; it was a complete lifestyle. You didn’t work the circus; you were the circus. You lived, breathed and ate the circus whether you were a trapeze artist performing in the centre ring or one of the many labourers who took care of the big top.

Everyone pulled together. They spent so much time in each other’s company they were like one, huge family. This was where you left your normal life far behind you and became a part of the greatest show on earth. It was the perfect place for Gordy Marshall to be. All his life he’d fought against the constraints of what society believed he should be, and now here he was, about to live his dream, knowing he would love every single minute of it.

As he reached the red and white striped big top he could hear the thunderous clapping of the audience and the loud cheers. He walked around to the office caravan where Betty – one of the trapeze artists – was sitting on the step nursing a badly bruised arm. The circus nurse was sitting on the floor with a pair of tweezers, trying to pull out splinters from Betty’s leg. Her tights were in tatters.

‘What happened? Are you okay?’

She nodded. ‘The rope snapped, catapulted me across the bloody ring. I managed to grab hold of the pole and slide down it, but not before I’d almost crushed my arm and ripped my legs to shreds.’

‘Do you need to go to the hospital?’

Both women began to laugh and Betty shook her head. ‘Gordy is it?’ He nodded.

‘You’ll soon learn that no matter what happens the show must go on. Even if you’ve got a broken leg, you carry on until you’re out of the ring and the audience can’t see you. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow, new pair of tights, a bandage on my arm and a long-sleeved costume. I’ll be good as new, won’t I, Evie?’

Evie nodded. ‘She will. No point telling her she won’t, is there? She’ll only go back up regardless.’

Betty grinned. ‘So you’re finally a part of the show? How long have you wanted to be in the circus for, Gordy Marshall?’

‘All my life.’

‘That, my new friend, is the right answer. When I’ve taken my final bow I’ll show you where the clowns hang out.’

‘Thank you, but it’s no bother. I already know. I hope you feel better soon.’ He smiled at the women and carried on walking to where the clowns’ caravans were. As he passed the elephants he gave them a wide berth. They were huge and only had bits of rope and thin chains tying them to the outside of their cages. If they pulled, they would break free and be able to trample him. Until he knew them better it was wise to keep a safe distance.

As he continued he heard a loud roar and jumped at the three lions standing pressed against the bars of their cage. One of them had his mouth wide open and Gordy didn’t know what would be worse, being trampled to death or having his head bitten off. Still, he smiled to himself because, either way, it would be better than being suffocated to death at Marshall and Marshall.

Chapter Three

Walter Lacey sat on the threadbare chair in his cramped living room, the curtains drawn even though it was morning. He never opened them, preferring to leave them shut. It afforded him some much-needed privacy. He gently rocked back and forth – a coping mechanism he’d used since his childhood – trying his best to release the endorphins inside his brain to soothe himself.

He stared at the small bookcase stuffed full of his films: every horror film he could find at the second-hand stall in the market. He’d been obsessed with horror films since he was a kid. His mam blamed them for the voices he heard in his head back then. He knew that the films didn’t help, but the voices had been there as long as he could remember; even watching the kids’ programmes he would hear them. She just found it easier to blame it on the movies and not the fact that her son was a fully legitimate schizophrenic.

He hadn’t seen his mam for a very long time; not that it mattered. When he’d been taken into hospital for months when he was fifteen she hadn’t come to visit him. He didn’t really blame her; he shouldn’t have tried to strangle her new boyfriend. She’d come in and seen him straddling her latest man and gone mental. She’d rung the police who had rung an ambulance. Wally had ended up being dragged out of his house screaming that the clown on the front of the Poltergeist DVD had told him to do it.

He glanced at the clown suit that was hanging from his picture rail. When he’d found it in the trunk in the attic at the last house they’d cleared out he’d stashed it down his jumper. He knew that he should have left it where it was and boxed it up with the rest of the stuff, but he hadn’t. The voice he hadn’t heard for a long time had told him to take it, so he had, and now look what had happened.

Walter looked away from it. He found it fascinating yet terrifying. It was telling him what he needed to do; only today he didn’t have time. He had to be normal; well, as normal as he could be. He stood up and went to the tiny kitchen to get a glass of water to swallow his pills with. He’d been on Largactil since he’d been in hospital, not that it was helping. He wondered if he’d become immune to it because he’d been taking it for so long.

After he swallowed the orange tablet he took the sun lotion off the windowsill and rubbed it on his face and arms. He was fair-skinned anyway, but the medication made him burn even quicker if he left the house without it.

A loud hammering on his front door made him jump, his heart pounding. The palms of his hands felt slick with sweat. Surely not; they couldn’t have found him so soon, could they? He crept to have a look through the spyhole, hoping to God it wasn’t a bunch of huge, hairy coppers on the other side.

As he bent his head forward to peer through the small, glass hole he heard a voice bellow, ‘What the fuck you playing at? I’ve been waiting five minutes for you. Get your arse out here now. Jacko said if we didn’t get that house cleared by dinner time neither of us is getting paid.’

He stepped back, releasing the breath he’d been holding and hoping his trembling knees would hold his body weight.

‘I’m coming now; sorry, I never heard you.’

He didn’t particularly like Jacko, his boss, or Stevie who was waiting impatiently outside for him, but the job paid him cash in hand so putting up with the pair of them was a small price to pay. He opened the door and waited for some arsy comment about what a state he was in from Stevie; instead he shook his head at him.

‘You know, if you opened your curtains and windows to let some fresh air into that shithole of a flat you might see what life was like on the other side once in a while. Not to mention hear me when I beep the fucking horn.’

‘Sorry, slept in. I was dead to the world.’

‘Well, you can go brush your teeth. I’m not sitting in the front of that van with you breathing all over me if you’ve got bad breath.’

‘Don’t be stupid. I’ve cleaned my teeth and had a shower.’

Stevie peered at him with one eye then turned and walked off. Walter grabbed his door key then shut his door, locking it behind him. The house had been a fancy Georgian townhouse once upon a time until whoever owned it had died. The current owners didn’t give a shit about the state of it and had turned it into far too many flats, letting it go to rack and ruin.

The smell of an assortment of herbs and spices filled his nostrils as he stepped into the communal hallway, making his stomach rumble even though it was only eight-thirty. Mrs Batta was always cooking no matter what time of day or night it was. He tried to think when the last time he’d eaten was and couldn’t remember. It might have been last night, but he wasn’t sure because he’d felt so sick before he’d gone out to that house that it was all a bit of a blur.

As he went out into the bright sunlight he squinted. His face was too white. He looked like a ghost at the best of times. He couldn’t afford to get sunburnt, though. Dean was already back in the van with the engine running. He was the complete opposite of Walter. Stevie was so tanned he looked like he’d just come back from three weeks in Tenerife.

Walter hadn’t any inclination to do what Stevie did and pose in the gym every day after work and then go lie on the sunbeds. Each to their own, he supposed. If he did that he’d be burnt to a crisp in no time. He climbed into the van, which smelt of greasy McDonald’s, and his stomach groaned loudly. Why was there food everywhere?

‘Bloody hell, Wally, have you eaten lately? You look like a walking ginger skeleton!’

He shook his head, no point in lying.

‘How are you going to do a day’s work shifting boxes and furniture without anything in your belly, lad? You’ll be no good to me if you pass out. Come on, I’ll go back to the drive-through and you can get something.’

‘Thanks, if that’s all right.’ He began to scrabble in his pockets to see what change he had and if he had enough to pay for a sausage and egg McMuffin. He pulled out his last crumpled five-pound note and hoped that after today’s job Jacko would pay him what he owed him for the last two weeks. Stevie drove back round the drive-through, ordering the full works including two lattes. Walter felt sick. He didn’t have enough to pay.

‘I’ve only got a fiver, mate.’

Stevie waved his hand away.

‘Someone’s got to look after your sorry arse. You either need to find a woman or a man – whatever floats your boat – to sort you out, mate. You can’t carry on like this. You look like some waif. This one is on me.’

He had to turn away for fear of Dean seeing the gratitude on his face and the tears in his eyes; no one ever did anything nice for him. He couldn’t remember the last time they had – definitely not since his gran had died two years ago anyway. He thought about the suffering she’d been through and then he thought about the woman he’d killed last night. He’d seen her coming out of the newsagent’s and recognised her. She went to the same hospice that his gran had. He didn’t know why he’d followed her home the night before; he just had.

That wasn’t strictly true, though, was it, Wally? The voice that belonged to the suit told you to. You stabbed her like she was nothing last night. How many times did you need to stick that knife into her? He shrugged his shoulders; he’d had to make sure she was dead, hadn’t he? He told the voice inside his head to shut up and took the bag of greasy food and the cardboard drinks carrier off Stevie.

As he bit into the hot, juicy muffin his stomach groaned in appreciation. He couldn’t help but wonder who the clown stuff in the box he’d found at the last house had actually belonged to. He didn’t have any internet or a decent mobile phone to try and search for some information. What he could do was go to the library at the weekend and do some digging there, maybe ask at the records office or use a computer there if he had a spare couple of quid to pay for it. It would be interesting to know more about the person it had belonged to. There was something so mesmerising about it.

When he’d pulled the costume out of the trunk there had been a wig and a big, black thing that went around your neck. He’d found a couple of black and white photographs in the bottom of the trunk, tucked into a faded yellow envelope. One was of a man sitting in a cage with three huge lions on his own; the other had been a small picture of three clowns – all different shapes and sizes.

He’d recognised the suit that he’d pulled out of the box. The clown wearing it had the strangest hair – just three tufts – and a huge red mouth. It was the kind of clown that would give anyone a phobia of clowns, not to mention nightmares. He didn’t imagine the kids who visited the circus would want much to do with him unless he was really funny and kind. Then again, if he’d been kind, why had he felt such overwhelming feelings when he’d tried the costume on? And then that rage towards the woman had been nothing like he’d ever known. It wasn’t as if he knew her and she’d upset him. It was as if someone else had taken over his body. Was that possible? He wondered if the clown suit was haunted. It might even be possessed.

Then he shook his head. He knew that the suit probably had nothing to do with it. The problem was him; it always had been. Dean started the engine, waking him from his daydream.

‘Right, that’s enough of me being nice to you to last for the rest of the week. Don’t you dare tell anyone. I don’t want them thinking I’m going soft in my old age. We’ve got a shithole of a house to empty today and Jacko wants it done by one ’cause he needs the van back, so you better be ready to work your arse off.’

He nodded; at least it would keep him busy for the next few hours. Take his mind off the guilt that was seeping into the cracks that were opening all over his already delicate mind.

Chapter Four

When Annie opened her eyes to see Alfie’s Moses basket empty her heart almost jumped from her chest. Then she realised that Will was no longer in the bed either. Reaching out for her phone she was surprised to see it was almost twenty to eight. How had that happened? She got up, pulling her dressing gown off the back of the chair and wrapping it around herself.

She went downstairs to the smell of grilling bacon. A small spark of anger flared inside her. Obviously Will had woken up hangover-free if he was making himself a bacon sandwich. By rights he should have a stinking hangover and be feeling as if he was dying. If it had been her who had consumed all that whisky on an empty stomach she probably would have died.

She walked into the kitchen to see Alfie strapped into his bouncer, which was balanced on top of the breakfast bar. Will was leaning down feeding him. Alfie was smiling and cooing at his dad and she felt her anger melt away. Damn, he did that to her every single time. She could never stay mad at him for long. He looked up and smiled at her. She was pleased to note it wasn’t his normal, ridiculously happy smile. Good, so he did have a conscience after all.

‘Morning, beautiful; I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’ve made us some bacon bagels and fresh coffee. I hope you’re not too mad at me.’

She inhaled then shook her head. ‘Well, I was until you mentioned the bagels. You know I’m a woman who likes her food.’

This time he did grin. ‘Alfie was hungry so I’ve given him his breakfast. Did you manage to get back to sleep?’

She considered telling him about her ridiculous fears that there was something wrong with Alfie’s bedroom and her dream about the white house, then stopped herself.

‘Yes, eventually. He wouldn’t settle in his own room. I think maybe we should move his cot in with us while he’s teething. It just makes it easier for me if he wakes up, and if you can’t sleep because of him you can always go into the spare room.’

She waited for him to give her a list of reasons why it was a bad idea, but he nodded.

‘I think you’re right. He’s so unsettled through the night; maybe it will be better for all of us. I’ll move his cot in when I get home. I have to go to work soon. Adele is picking me up on her way through to Barrow.’

Annie sat down on one of the high stools and bit into her bagel. Cream cheese squeezed out of the side and she wiped it with her finger then licked it.

‘Steady on, you’ll be getting me all excited.’

She laughed. ‘I wish. I mean how long is it since we’ve…’

A horn beeped outside the gate. Will turned to look out of the window and waved. ‘Well, maybe when I get home we might get a bit of time to ourselves.’

He walked over and kissed her forehead.

‘Who’s Adele?’

Annie tried to make the question sound casual, not like she was being a paranoid wife, but a small flutter of panic had formed in her chest when he’d first said her name.

‘Adele Dean – she’s transferring from Carlisle to Barrow. I suppose she’s Stu’s replacement although it hasn’t been officially said. I did my training with her; she’s lovely and very happily married with two grown-up kids. Does that answer your questions?’

Annie felt her cheeks begin to burn. ‘Sorry, it’s just I’m stuck at home all day and I kind of miss my old life a little bit. I’ve just never heard of her and wondered, that’s all.’

Will almost choked on the last bit of his bagel that he’d shoved into his mouth. ‘You miss your old life? You mean the one where demented killers were following you and kidnapping you every couple of weeks?’

‘Don’t be daft; you know what I mean. I miss the going out to work and stuff, keeping up with the gossip and general banter. Of course I don’t miss that other stuff.’

‘Phew, that’s a relief. Look, why don’t you come outside and say hello to her? Then you can meet her and know what she’s like instead of sitting here worrying over nothing.’

‘And look like some crazy, jealous wife? No, thank you. I’m not worried at all. Have a good day and I’ll see you later.’

Will smiled. ‘You know how much I love you both, right?’

She nodded.

‘Well, don’t be worrying yourself over nothing.’

Annie lifted her hand and waved. ‘Bye, Will.’

He blew her a kiss, grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair and took one last mouthful of coffee. He waved at her as he went out of the front door to the woman waiting in the car outside for him. Annie couldn’t help herself and walked across to the window to take a peek. The woman was talking to Will as he got inside her car, then, as if she knew she was being watched, she turned and smiled at Annie, giving her a wave.

Annie waved back and let the curtain drop, mortified she’d been caught. Bugger. Today she was going to move some things around in their bedroom to make enough room for Alfie’s cot, which was a bit of a monster. Then she would take him for a walk into the village for some fresh air. See, her life was about as exciting as watching paint dry. Then she remembered about phoning Father John. Scrap that; she might go and visit him and move the furniture around later.

Pleased she had something slightly more exciting planned for the morning, she picked up Alfie, who was wearing more of his breakfast than he had consumed. She took him upstairs with her so she could get them both ready.

***

Will clicked his seat belt in.

‘I could get used to this being chauffeur-driven to work.’

‘Well, don’t bother. I’m not travelling every day; I can’t be bothered. It’s far too long and will cost a fortune in diesel. Steve’s agreed we can move back to Barrow. His mum still lives in Holbeck so we’re going to move in with her until we find a place of our own. Was that the famous Annie Graham I just saw looking out of the window?’

Will looked at her to see if she was taking the piss, but she seemed genuinely interested.

‘Yes, it was. Well, she’s Annie Ashworth now. I think she’s still a bit annoyed with me.’

‘Because of yesterday? I should bloody well think so. I heard you were pissed as a fart and had to be escorted into the back of a van because you were that drunk. How did you manage that in less than two hours? I’m impressed.’

She winked at him and he laughed.

‘How the hell did you know that?’

‘News travels fast in this job, my old friend; you should know that. Actually it was Kav. He rang Steve about something last night and happened to mention it. In fact it was Kav who suggested I offer to pick you up this morning. That bloke was as hard as nails back in the day when he was our sergeant. Now he’s retired he’s turned into a right old softie.’

‘I guess seeing the stuff he’s seen over the years has made him appreciate family and friends a lot more. And I think when you’re not dealing with the shit day in, day out it makes you turn back into a relatively normal human being. It’s certainly made me more grateful for every single day.’

Will’s phone began to ring and he tugged it out of his trouser pocket.

‘I’m on my way; well, we both are. Adele picked me up. Yes, I know. I saw it on the news last night.’

Will listened as the male voice on the other end related something to him.

‘Be there soon, traffic permitting.’ He ended the call and glanced at her. ‘Did you see that murder on the news yesterday?’

She shook her head.

‘There’s a full briefing and they’re waiting on us before they begin. Bollocks, my head’s pounding and I’m not even at work yet. This is going to be a long day.’

‘Aren’t they all?’

The morning traffic wasn’t as bad as Will had anticipated and before long they arrived at the brand-new, shiny police station that had replaced the old one, which had been deemed unfit for purpose. The only problem was that the shiny new one was crap compared to the old one. It was all open-plan and the sound carried. There were no private areas that you could go to have a good old slanging match with someone or to discuss just how much someone was pissing you off. Will would have moved back to the old station in the blink of an eye.

Adele whistled. ‘I bet this cost them a pretty penny.’

He nodded. ‘Yep, wait until you see our office. It’s awful. Don’t get me wrong, the canteen’s handy and the chairs are comfy, but there’s nowhere to hide from any of them now.’

‘There’s nowhere for anyone to be having a quick shag either by the looks of it. This building should do wonders for marriage survival. Divorces rates will be going down.’

He chuckled. ‘I doubt that. Are you nervous?’

‘Yes and no. I don’t particularly like change, but I hated it at Carlisle. I wanted to come back, so it’s on my terms, sort of. I think I’m looking forward to it and, besides, there are much uglier bosses than you.’

‘I take it that’s a compliment?’

‘You can take it how you want. I won’t be calling you boss unless there’s anyone around. I hate all that.’

‘Good, I don’t expect you to. I’m plain old Will. I only get Sarge when they want something anyway.’

‘Excellent. Shall we?’

She’d parked her car outside the front of the building, instead of going into the secure car park around the back. Will got out, wondering if he was going to be able to stomach the crime scene photos. He felt like crap, although he’d not admitted that to Annie because he didn’t want her to gloat too much. Hopefully, because he was off work yesterday, Mikey – who had been the duty DS – had already taken over the case.

They walked through the front doors of the huge building and Adele whispered, ‘At least it smells new and not of sweaty boots and cannabis.’

Will nodded. She had a point. He swiped them in through the double doors that led into the atrium – as it was called – leading Adele to the spiral staircase in the middle of the floor. She followed him upstairs to the first floor and the major incident room where there was an assortment of bosses, detectives and OSU officers, all sitting around waiting for them. She went and stood at the back of the room, leaving Will to take the last seat at the front. The Chief Super began to talk. Will took his notebook out and wrote things down. He didn’t realise his name was being called until the room went silent and he looked up to see that everyone was staring at him.