DCI James looked at the white board with two photographs of the blood-soaked body stuck to it and the names of John Duncan and Veronica Cahill written in blue erasable ink. He took a sip from a steaming mug and stared at another name: Rudolf Lehmann.
He turned to DS Mitchell and DC McAllister who were sitting at their desks. “Okay, what have we got? A body which the Pathologists report says has no wounds, no bruising. But has a fractured skull, a crushed brain and massive blood loss–most of which was splattered around the walls of John Duncan’s living room.
He took another sip from his mug. “Mr Duncan comes back from a night with Miss Cahill and finds the main lock of his front door unlocked. Entering the flat he finds the body of Rudolf Lehmann on his living room carpet. Nothing stolen; nothing damaged apart from the CD player, which was knocked over. The fingerprints in the flat apart from the victims belong to John Duncan and Veronica Cahill, who have an alibi, and his daughter Caitlin. So, what do we draw from this?”
“That the victim used keys to enter the flat and was waiting for Mr Duncan, replied Colin.
“But what happened to him between entering the property and Duncan finding his body?” Dave Mitchell asked.
Gordon James walked over to the window. “Rudolf Lehmann–a small time thief from Stuttgart - comes over to Scotland to harass and, we suppose, ultimately kill John Duncan.”
“The German police say he’s a neo-Nazi sympathizer, but not a member of any group–as far as they are aware.” Dave said as he rose and headed for the bubbling coffee pot.
DCI James turned and looked at Dave Mitchell. “The pathology report said the victim had traces of red paint on his hands; so he must have painted the swastika on the door on the Saturday night. He then returns the next night to murder Duncan. But why paint the swastika on the door the night before he plans to return and confront him?
“Hey boss, the boys a nutter, sounds like he was capable of anything!” Mitchell said as he filled up his mug.
“Colin, what did the neighbours have to say?” asked James.
“The woman downstairs, a Mrs Spink, says she heard thumps and shouts on Sunday night at around nine, but just thought it was Duncan and a few friends. She heard nothing the night before. I tried the flat upstairs, but there was no reply. Mr Duncan reckons the couple who stay there are away on holiday.”
“Okay,” announced James, “what about the murder itself?”
“The victim swung round at high speed from a pivotal point,” said Colin.
“I had a word with the pathologist about this and he reckons that there’s no way that humans could rotate a body at such a rate as to cause these injuries in the confines of the apartment’s living room. If it were possible, you would need two perhaps three strong men, and there was supposedly no one else in the flat. Anyway, there would be bruising on the legs where the victim was gripped, and the report said there was nothing.” Mitchell said as he sat down behind his desk.
DCI James stroked his chin. “It’s puzzling okay! Mr Duncan and his visions are the key to this though. Dave, you’d better have another talk with him, see if there’s anything else he’s remembered.”
Johnny put the tin of apple-white matt emulsion on the coffee table and sized up his living room walls. The walls looked grubby after the blood had been washed.
“Well, let’s get started,” said Veronica taking a roller out of its wrapping.
“Just what I like: a keen woman!”
She laughed and poked his arm. “Don’t push your luck painter-boy.”
He moved the settee and stared at the place where the body had been. The rug had been taken away, and the carpet cleaned, but the memory was still there, nothing could wash that away.
“You sure you want to stay here John?”
“Yeah of course. Where else would I stay?”
“You could stay with me at the guest house for now.”
“Let’s get on with the painting,” he said, opening the tin.
They were halfway around the room when the doorbell rang. Johnny wiped his hands and opened the door.
“Detective Sergeant, come in man.”
Dave Mitchell followed Johnny through to the living room and nodded to Veronica.
“Good idea: painting the walls. I take it you're staying on then.”
“Like I said to Veronica: where else would I go?”
“I need a few minutes of your time.”
“I need a break, anyway. Veronica can carry on though,” he said laughing.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” she said as she threw the roller onto its tray.
Johnny sat on a chair and signalled for DS Mitchell to sit on the settee.
“The victim was a German national: Rudolf Lehmann. Does the name ring any bells?”
“No.”
“We can’t figure out how this guy was killed. I mean there was no one else in the flat. The only fingerprints found were his, yours, Miss Cahill’s and your daughter's.”
“I heard you took Caitlin’s fingerprints?”
“Well, we had too. Her mother wasn’t thrilled, but it’s a murder investigation.”
“That’s who I heard it from - loud and clear!”
Veronica handed the two men steaming mugs of coffee and then sat on the other chair.
“Could the murderers have worn gloves?” Johnny asked.
“There were no other DNA traces found. And if several men were involved, there would have been bruising on the victim’s legs which, according to the pathologist, there wasn’t.”
“Yeah,” acknowledged Johnny scratching his head.
“Another puzzling thing is why this German came over here to lie in wait for you.
Is there anything that maybe you’ve forgotten?”
“Well, I was thinking of that and there were a few crank emails I received. One in particular from a group called The Friends of Judas.”
The detective wrote the name in his note book. “When did you receive the email and do you still have it?”
Johnny took a sip from his mug and then placed it on the coffee table. “I received the first last Wednesday.”
“What, there was more than one?”
“Yeah, the first asked for a retraction, and the second came two days later saying as there had been no retraction retribution would be swift. I’m afraid I delete all emails after I’ve read them.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“No that’s it–I can’t think of anything of relevance.”
“Okay, thanks for your time and, happy painting,” the policeman said as he finished his coffee and then rose from the settee.
Dave Mitchell replaced the telephone receiver as DCI James walked into the room.
“Sir, bad news!”
“Is there any other kind?”
“John Duncan received nasty emails after the articles in the magazine and the newspaper. Two were from a group who call themselves The Friends of Judas. The second of them warned of retribution.”
“Could just be a lunatic. Did you trace the email?”
Dave ran a hand down the back of his head. “Nah! Duncan deletes all his emails. I contacted German Police, and they’d never heard of them. They did, however, have news on Lehmann. He had connection with De Fortschrittsbewegung Drei–The Progressive Movement Three a neo-Nazi group led by a man called Johannes Menzel who claims to be descended from Hitler himself through an illegitimate daughter. The Deutsche copper said if Lehmann was their hit man, then whoever killed him, taking into account there was no weapon used, must have either taken him by surprise or there were a few of them, because he’s been arrested a few times and the arresting officers still have the scars and bruises.”
“What has our friend Mr Duncan brought to this patch?”
“They could try to finish the job sir!”
“Yeah, you’d better contact Duncan and warn him. We can offer a higher profile uniform patrol down Guthrie Port, but that’s all.”
The scent of the flowers wafted in the breeze as the girl, in her cream dress, swung back and forth. The swing, two lengths of rope and a rectangle of wood, hung from the only solid branch on the small tree. Her basket, half full with dead shrivelled flowers, sat discarded at the edge of the lawn next to a bush where bees hummed as they collected pollen. The man in white robes descended from the sunless, violet sky and came to rest in front of her.
“Father!” she cried. “Will you come and push me?”
“My child, I have come to ask you to return to the Land of Trees once again.”
A shadow passed over her features. “Why must I go back there?”
Darkness descended over the garden. The fragrant smells and the drone of the bees had gone.
“Because the wrong flower was picked the last time.”
Her face became distorted, and her mouth enlarged and filled with pointed teeth.
Her soft, blue eyes had gone replaced with total blackness. The child’s skin became pallid and wrinkled. “Don’t fuck me around!” she thundered, in a voice that shook the garden. The man stepped back, but there was no sign of shock written on his face.
As quickly as the demonic features had appeared they disappeared. Her skin returned to porcelain, and her mouth shrank back to normal. The light returned to the garden, and the scent of flowers again wafted in the breeze.
“Very well father, I will do as you ask.”
The phone rang as Johnny stepped out of the shower. He dried himself with a blue fluffy towel and then pulled on a pair of kaki combats.
“Yeah, hullo.” he said into the receiver–his wet hair pointing in all directions.
“John, it's Sue here, I need someone to look after Caitlin today. I didn’t want to bother you with what’s happened and all. But the thing is Ollie and I have to travel to Edinburgh for a dinner tonight, and I was wondering… Oh, would you do me the favour? Brad’s staying with a friend.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Thanks. We’ll drop her off at four.”
Caitlin dressed in a pink T-shirt and dark blue track suit bottoms walked into the living room from the kitchen. “Dad,” she said in a sighing voice. “You’ve no Coke, and I want a pizza.”
Johnny put down the lid of his laptop. “Okay, let’s go to Morrisons and get some stuff.”
“I want to watch TV.”
“But I’m not supposed to leave you alone.”
“Dad, I’m eight, and I’m not coming,” she said.
“Well, okay,” he said putting on a jacket. “But don’t open the door to anyone or answer the phone until I get back.”
Caitlin listened to the click of the latch as her father left the house and then she walked over to the coffee table, picked up the remote control and switched on the television. She strolled into the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed an ice lolly, then she headed back into the living room where she suddenly stopped–she had forgotten to tell her dad to get crisps. Shrugging her shoulders she went to sit on the settee where a girl in a cream, old-fashioned party dress sat.
Caitlin raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Hello!”
The girl smiled and said: “Hello.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lilim.”
“My names Caitlin. Are you a relative of Veronica’s?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“Would you like an ice lolly?”
“Okay.”
Caitlin went back into the kitchen and fetched another lolly from the fridge. “There you are,” she said handing Lilim the lolly. Then the two girls settled down and watched a cartoon.
“Where do you stay Lilim?” Caitlin asked.
“I stay in a place with a beautiful garden, which has a swing and other things with which to play.”
“It sounds nice.”
“Would you like to come and see it?”
“Yes, I’ll ask my dad when he gets back.”
Lilim gazed into Caitlin’s eyes and a great tiredness descended over the eight-year-old. She yawned and lay back into the settee and fell into a deep sleep. She dreamed of flying up through puffy white clouds.
Lilim flew up from behind her and took her hand.” Let’s go see my garden.”
Up they flew, higher and higher until Lilim tugged Caitlin sideways where they saw a vast glittering city with a multitude of spires, some of which pierced the clouds. They
flew over the city before descending into a green rectangle. Caitlin closed her eyes at the approaching ground.
“It’s okay Caitlin you can open your eyes now,” said Lilim, walking over to her swing. “Would you like to try my swing?”
Caitlin stood where she was and looked up at the violet sky; she knew better than to think she was still dreaming. This girl had taken her away to some mysterious world!
“Please sit on my swing–now!” Lilim shouted.
“Oh, very well!” Caitlin shouted back.
She sat on the swing and Lilim pushed her back and forth. After a while Lilim stopped pushing and walked across the lawn and picked up a racket and a ball. “Come Caitlin I want to play tennis now.”
“I want to go back to my dad’s.”
“Not now–let’s play tennis.”
“I don’t want to play tennis.”
Lilim stomped her feet. “I want you to play tennis with me–now!”
Caitlin grabbed the other racket and swung at the ball Lilim served to her. She connected well, and the ball flew at a blistering pace hitting Lilim in the stomach.
She doubled over and made a growling sound. Caitlin ran up to see if she was all right, but stepped back in horror as Lilim raised her head. A face with total black eyes and a large mouth filled with pointed teeth stared at her. But in a flash, it was gone and Lilim’s angelic features returned. Caitlin ran away over the lawn. She had no idea where she was going, but anywhere was better than being with that… thing!
She ran around the tree where the swing swung back and forth in the breeze and bumped into a man in a white robe.
“Caitlin!” Johnny shouted, closing the front door.
As there was no reply he walked through to the front room and saw the glow from the television in front of the settee. He smiled when he saw Caitlin asleep and then made his way through to the kitchen where he took a pepperoni pizza out of a cardboard box. He switched on the oven and shoved the pizza in on tin foil Then he poured Coke into a glass and took it through to the living room.
“Caitlin,” he whispered, “I have a glass of Coke for you.”
She must have been up late the previous night, he thought as she slept on. He gently lifted her up and took her into the bedroom where he laid her on the bed and covered her up with a blanket.
An hour later, with the aroma of pizza wafting through the flat, Johnny opened the bedroom door and walked up to the bed. “Caitlin!” he said. “The pizza’s ready; it's time for tea.”
There was no response; so, he tapped her on the shoulder. “Come on baby, time to get up.” With still no response he took a firm hold of her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Caitlin–wake up!” Still, she slept on; so he went into the kitchen and fetched a glass of water, which he sprinkled on her face. She sighed, but went on sleeping.
“Oh my god what’s wrong with her,” he said in a pleading voice. “Caitlin–wake up!” He shouted at the top of his voice. But there was, again, no response; so, he ran into the living room and grabbed the house phone and dialled 999.
“Hello. Which service–ambulance, fire or police?” asked a robotic voice.
“Ambulance.”
“Name and address please?”
“John Duncan 10b Guthrie Port Arbroath. It’s my daughter–I can’t wake her up.”
“Is she still breathing, sir?”
“Yes...it’s just - I can’t wake her up!”
“Okay sir, there’ll be a crew with you shortly.”
He replaced the receiver and ran back into the bedroom. There was no change, she slept on. After what seemed like an eternity Johnny heard the distant scream of a siren. He stared at his daughter’s peaceful face. “Why don’t you wake up baby?”
The siren grew louder and louder until it stopped outside the building.
Johnny ran and opened the front door then descended a few steps to meet the crew: a ginger-haired well-made man and a tall, brown-haired woman both in green work suits.
“Mr Duncan?” asked the man.
“Yes, it’s my daughter Caitlin–I can’t awaken her. She’s in the bedroom on the left.” Johnny said, pointing to the open door.
They rushed past him into the flat and through to the bedroom. The male paramedic placed his kit bag on the floor at the side of the bed and felt the side of Caitlin’s neck for a pulse.
“Has she taken any medication?” he asked.
“No.”
“How long has she been sleeping?”
“Around two hours.”
“Could she have taken pills from where you keep them when you were in another room?” the woman asked.
“Ehm…! I don’t think so. I’ll go have a look.”
Johnny opened the kitchen door to plumes of black smoke, which were issuing through the vents on the sides of the oven. The smoke alarm in the hallway erupted into life as Johnny opened the oven door with protective gloves on. He grabbed the smoking black disk and put it in the sink. He then ran into the hallway and fanned the alarm with a tea towel. Back in the kitchen, Johnny closed the door behind him, opened the window then checked his medicine shelf.
“Sorry about that I had a pizza in the oven. There’s no medicine missing,” he said when he returned to the bedroom.
The female paramedic raised one of Caitlin’s eyelids and then snapped a small plastic tube. There was a sharp odour of ammonia in the room as she held the broken tube under the girl’s nose. Caitlin kept on sleeping.
“Mr Duncan, we must take Caitlin up to Ninewells Hospital.”
Johnny grasped the arms of the chair he sat in as the ambulance swung through the traffic with the siren howling. After a while the journey became smoother as they sped along the dual carriageway on to Dundee and, Ninewells Hospital.
He looked at Caitlin lying strapped in the bed and cursed the day he went to Jerusalem. Her condition was nothing medical, he thought, it was definitely something to do with the nightmare with which he was involved.
After a while they turned into the drive that led to the concrete leviathan that was Ninewells Hospital. The ambulance took a sharp left and hauled up outside the Accident and Emergency Department.
Johnny unstrapped himself as the back doors opened. The two paramedics lifted Caitlin out on the stretcher she had been lying on, on top of the bed. They put her on a trolley which was waiting by the doors.
Inside, a young female doctor with long, blond hair looked at Caitlin and then let the paramedics take her into an empty resuscitation bay. Johnny followed and watched as the doctor and a nurse pulled a curtain around the area.
“Mr Duncan?” asked another nurse. “Are you the father of the patient–Caitlin Duncan?”
“Yes.”
“Her address is 12 Ethie Street Auchmithie, Angus. And your address is 10b Guthrie Port Arbroath.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. Could you sit in the waiting area please? We’ll keep you updated when we can.”
Johnny sat and stared into space. He would need to let Caitlin’s’ mother know what had happened. Later, he thought, because he would need to go outside to use his mobile, and he didn’t want to miss an update on his daughter.
After sometime the doctor with the blond hair came and sat beside him. “Mr Duncan, I’m Doctor Macmillan. We’ve examined Caitlin, and the good news is that she’s healthy. However, she’s in a coma. We’ve taken a blood sample for toxicology tests, the results of which we’ll get back tomorrow. She’s being taken to a ward where she’ll be monitored around the clock.”
“What could have induced the coma?” Johnny asked.
“I don’t know. Coma’s can be brought on by metabolism abnormalities, strokes, drugs and concussion. They generally last a few days to a few weeks.”
“Could the shock of seeing something out of the normal bring one on?”
“It’s possible. Why, did she witness something strange?”
“No, I just wondered.”
“A neurologist will see her tomorrow and an EEG ran. I’ll get a nurse to fix you up with accommodation as you stay in Arbroath.”
“Thanks doctor.”
After he was shown his room Johnny rang Veronica and explained what had happened and put her off from coming to the hospital until the morning.
“That was the easy call,” he whispered to himself. He pressed a key and, after bleeps, a voice told him that the person he was calling was unavailable. Sue’s mobile was off, he thought with some relief.
He took a deep breath and thought: whatever it took he would get his daughter back.
The man in the white robes stepped back. “And who do we have here?”
“I’m Caitlin.”
“Are you a friend of Lilim’s?”
“Father!” Lilim shouted as she ran across the lawn.
He fixed Lilim with a penetrating gaze. “Where has Caitlin come from my dear?”
“She comes from the Land of Trees, Father. She is the progeny of the flower to be picked.”
Understanding spread across his face. “Ah, very good.”
“I want to go home,” whined Caitlin.
“And you will, but first a game of hide and seek. Close your eyes and count to twenty young Caitlin then find Lilim and home you go.” he said, giving Lilim a knowing look.
Caitlin shrugged and covered her eyes with her hands and counted to twenty. When she took her hands away from her face after counting, the garden had gone, and she was standing alone in the gleaming city amid the impossibly tall spires.
Caitlin didn’t know where to look, but one thing was for sure: she would find that bitch!
Johnny climbed in between the crisp, white sheets. The room smelled of hospital sterility, but he cared not, because he was totally exhausted, both physically and mentally. He switched the television off with the remote control and closed his eyes.
He dreamt he was crouching by a dry-stone wall. There was a flash of light from behind the wall which frightened him, but he couldn’t summon up the courage to look over the top.
After a few moments a voice boomed out: “I know you’re there!”
Every atom in his body told him not to, but he stood up, and he realised where he was. The voice belonged to Samael. “Mr Duncan, I believe I have something you want.”
“What?” Johnny uttered, surprised that he could talk.
The demon king waved an arm, and Johnny stood in a city which looked familiar.
Caitlin walked by; she seemed to be searching for something. “Caitlin baby!” he shouted as tears welled up in his eyes. But she kept on walking. It was as if he was behind soundproof glass - able to see, but not interact.
Suddenly he was back behind the wall. “Okay, what do you want?”
“Now Mr Duncan you will do nothing to influence your wise men from undertaking the work they are about to do on the dimensions. As soon as you admit to the visions as being fabricated you will have your daughter back.”
Johnny awoke and sat up. He was sweating profusely. This gets worse, he thought.
At least he knew he was getting Caitlin back–if a demon could be trusted!
Caitlin walked up to one of the white spires, threw her head back and gazed up. The smooth conical wall tapered to a spike as it entered the clouds. She walked around the wide base until she came to a large opening where she disappeared into the darkness.
Inside, there was nothing; no stairs or lifts just a large empty area perhaps three metres high. She touched the wall; it was cool and smooth.
Caitlin ran out and looked around the city. Where were all the people? She looked in another building; it was the same- a façade - an empty city with empty buildings which had spires that reached the clouds. What a very strange place!
Fairground organ music filled the air. Caitlin ran through the spires, on and on in the direction of the music. Eventually she saw it in what seemed to be the central square of the city: a large blue and white helter-skelter surrounded by stalls and tents.
At the back of the conical slide stood a large motionless suspended chair ride, which came to life and rotated with no one on board.
Caitlin walked past the stalls of coconut shies while, above the sound of the music, her name was mockingly chanted. She ignored the ranting and stopped at a stall which had the heads of six clowns at the back. The heads with huge distorted mouths turned from side to side. Coloured balls of the type jugglers used sat in piles on the front of the stall. She picked up a ball and threw it at one of the heads. The ball bounced off the top of the clown’s head. She threw another and another until all the balls were used up. She moved on toward a large white tent. A sign above the opening read: The Hall of Mirrors. Inside, the tent was a maze of mirrors. Caitlin stopped to look at her reflection in the first mirror; she had a small squat body with a long, thin neck and a bullet shaped head. She giggled as she moved on to look in another where she had a tiny head and neck with a huge body and long thin legs. Moving further into the tent Caitlin looked at her appearance in a wide, gold framed mirror. Her attention was drawn by the distorted image of a girl in a cream dress. “Lilim!” She shouted, turning round to find another mirror with only her distorted image looking back at her.
“You can’t catch me Caitlin, haitlin! Lilim shouted, her voice filling the tent.
Caitlin moved further around the glass maze and looked in a round mirror. Lilim’s face suddenly gazed into the mirror from behind her.
“Boo!” Lilim shouted.
Caitlin spun round, but again she saw her reflection in a mirror across from the round one. “Caitlin, taitlin! You can’t catch me. You’re not going home!”
Caitlin then heard laughter become distant. She ran out of the tent and surveyed the fairground, but there was no sign of Lilim. She walked past the helter-skelter and the remaining stalls before leaving the fairground. The music and the chair ride stopped as she passed through the exit.
She strolled along a street of shops wondering if she would be going home anytime soon. She stopped outside an old-fashioned sweet shop. Brightly coloured confectionaries of every type filled large jars in the big, latticed window.
Inside, teddy bears in satin suits of various colours sat on shelves between coloured boxes with big, red bows on their lids. Caitlin walked over to the counter where a box of fudge lay. She loved fudge and couldn’t resist taking a piece and popping it in her mouth. But she spat it out - the sweet had no taste! She opened a jar and grabbed a red and white gob-stopper and stuck it in her mouth. But again she spat the sweet out. The sweets were like the whole place, she thought– a sham!
Caitlin walked along the rest of the street with one thing on her mind: how was she going to catch the bitch. She recalled the childish way Lilim reacted when she refused to do something. If, Caitlin thought, she was to take it a bit further!
She stopped and stood at the bottom of a spire. “I’m not playing this childish game anymore!” She shouted at the top of her voice
The violet sky darkened slightly. “Caitlin, saitlin! Come find me if you can.”
“I told you I’m not playing any more, this whole place is a sham!”
The spires shimmered and faded. “You will find me now or I will...”
“Or you’ll what? It’s time you grew up Lilim!”
The buildings disappeared, and darkness descended around Caitlin. She shivered as coldness crept over her body. Then in the eerie twilight she saw a black mist head toward her, closer and closer it came until she was engulfed. She heard whispering, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. Then, a dark figure moved toward her.