Dead Lucky - Matt Brolly

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Lambert won’t take up much of your time,’ said Dr Patel.

      Sackville waved the doctor away with a swipe of his hand. ‘This needs to be done.’ He took a sip of water, droplets spilling onto his chin which was decorated with specks of stubble. ‘Sit then. Ask me what you have to.’

      Lambert turned the chair to face him. He had to crane his neck to look up at the reclined figure. Dr Patel continued his sentry, arms folded at the edge of the bed.

      ‘I understand what you’re going through, Eustace. I know it won’t be easy, but in your own words can you tell me everything that happened last night.’

      Sackville nodded. ‘I guess you actually do have some idea of what I’m going through,’ he said. Sackville had reported on a number of Lambert’s cases in the past and knew about the death of his daughter. Sackville took another sip of water. ‘He was already in the house,’ he said, the initial lightness Lambert had seen in his eyes disappearing, his face vacant as he recalled what had happened. ‘At least I think he was. I came out of the bathroom and he was there. He had a knife, that’s all it was, but it was pushed tight against Moira’s throat.’ The sound of grinding teeth filled the muted room. ‘I hadn’t heard a doorbell so I’m sure Moira hadn’t buzzed anyone in – so he must have been there all along.’

      ‘Can you describe him?’ asked Lambert.

      Sackville’s eyes darted to the ceiling. ‘Picture your clichéd version of a cat burglar and you’ve got him. Dressed head to toe in black. Mask instead of a balaclava. Leather I think. Even his eyes looked black through the slits in the mask.’

      ‘Height? Build?’

      ‘Six foot, six foot one. At one point he leant back on our bookcase, his head was level with the second from top shelf. You measure that, you’ll get your height. It’s funny what you think of in the circumstances, how your mind distracts you. He had a strong looking build, slim. When he cuffed me on the chair I could sense his strength.’

      ‘Tell me what happened prior to that?’

      ‘He told me to pull two chairs over,’ Sackville hesitated, rubbing his neck. ‘He told me to make sure they were facing, then he told me to sit.’

      Lambert shuddered. Two months ago, he’d been in a similar position. Tied to a chair, a co-worker tied to a chair opposite. He’d thought he’d overcome the memories of that time, but now he wasn’t sure.

      ‘Mr Lambert, I’m not sure we should continue,’ said Dr Patel.

      Lambert shook himself from his reverie, and rounded on the man. ‘We are continuing,’ he said, turning back to Sackville. ‘Continue, Eustace.’

      ‘He told me to sit in the chair facing the window, to put my hands behind me. He said any movement towards him, however slight, would result in Moira’s instant death followed by mine. I thought it was a simple house burglary, Michael. I thought the guy had messed up, got his timings wrong. I just thought he was going to tie us up, take whatever he wanted and then leave us alone. I couldn’t see his face, so why…’

      For the first time since Lambert had arrived, Sackville lost his composure. It was miraculous he’d kept it together so long.

      ‘It’s not your fault,’ said Lambert. ‘I’d have done exactly the same thing in your situation.’

      ‘I doubt that. He pulled out a pair of cuffs. He manoeuvred Moira so she was behind me and he made her cuff me, my hands behind my back. He then told Moira to sit opposite me. As soon as I was secure he seemed to relax. He came over and pulled the cuffs tight to my wrists. He kept pushing them into my skin until he could push no more. Christ, I screamed like a bloody child.’

      Sackville wiped his sleeve across his eyes. ‘Moira screamed out for him to stop, and for some reason he did. Jesus.’

      Lambert knew time was short. Recalling the incident was naturally having a great impact on Sackville, and Lambert feared he would break down again and that Patel would be forced to sedate him. ‘Have some more water.’

      ‘Thanks.’ Sackville coughed. ‘It’s the not knowing. That fucking bastard paced the room, and refused to answer our questions about what he wanted. I think he was plucking up the courage to do what…’

      ‘Tell me,’ said Lambert.

      Sackville swayed forwards and back on his pillow, his neck and facial muscles so tense they looked liable to snap at any moment. ‘He stopped and looked at me, and I thought he was about to attack. He did, only it wasn’t me.’

      ‘This can’t continue,’ said Patel, almost as agitated as Sackville.

      Lambert held up his hand. ‘Please go on, Eustace.’

      ‘He gagged her. It was fucking pitiful. I pulled at my cuffs, and they hurt even more, but I just kept fighting. The look in her eyes, Michael. You can’t imagine. I saw everything. Fear, pain, loss, accusation. I saw our whole fucking life together disappearing and I was helpless to do anything about it. She was pleading to me, Michael. She wanted me to help her.’ Sackville shook his head. ‘You’ll never fucking know.’ He began sobbing, and Lambert had to look away as Patel went to intervene.

      ‘Please, Eustace, just tell me,’ said Lambert, staring at the hospital-white wall of Sackville’s room.

      ‘This is finished,’ said Patel.

      Lambert turned and looked back at Sackville, knowing he’d already pushed the man too far.

      ‘It’s okay,’ said Sackville, trying to compose himself. ‘He cut her, left wrist then right. It was almost tender, that sick bastard. Moira saw the blood and she disappeared. She didn’t look at me any more. I kept asking him, why, fucking why? I told him to kill me instead but he just sat on one of the other chairs staring at me, ignoring my screams. Watching.’

      Sackville’s heart monitor began beeping rapidly, his heartbeat rocketing to one hundred and ten.

      ‘Enough,’ shouted Patel, pressing an alarm button.

      As two nurses entered the room, Lambert called out. ‘Who was he, Eustace?’

      ‘I don’t know, Lambert. You need to tell Prue. Prue McKenzie,’ said Sackville, his voice a whisper as one of the nurses pulled a mask over his mouth and Lambert reluctantly left the room.

      ‘You must be doing something right. I’ve just received my first complaint about you.’

      Lambert was sitting in Tillman’s office, the blinds pulled down. ‘Let me guess, Dr Patel?’

      Tillman nodded. ‘Was it worth it?’

      ‘Unless he’s an Oscar level actor, then we can rule out Eustace Sackville. Directly, at least.’

      Tillman, who was leaning back on his swivel chair, raised his eyebrows.

      ‘But I do think there was something he wasn’t telling me.’

      Tillman’s chair groaned as he pulled himself upright. ‘You think he arranged it somehow?’

      ‘No, but I’m not ruling anything out yet. Why are we working on this, sir? Even if it’s not a routine murder it’s not really our department.’

      ‘I told you, lots of interested parties on this one. You were requested. It seems your work on the Souljacker business has made you something of a celebrity. It needs to be contained though. I don’t want it leaking to the press.’

      ‘Really? Have you informed the uniforms guarding his room?’

      ‘Yes, and the friends you’ve been making at the hospital.’

      ‘Sackville’s a journalist.’

      ‘No press,’ interrupted Tillman.

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