Chapter 26
Howie Doyle’s flat
Bristol
16th October
7.33 p.m.
The four men were shoehorned into the small lounge. Han and James sat on the two seater settee, Markland sat on an office style swivel chair and Howie leant against the wall.
James stood up, walked alongside Howie and looked out of the window. He saw Markland’s black Audi A5 parked in Howie’s drive.
“Nice car,” said James beneath his breath, before sitting back down next to his father.
Howie had already introduced Markland to both Han and James, who viewed him with an air of suspicion.
“So, you’re the local celebrity, Bristol’s very own paranormal policeman,” said Han, in a tone which was less than friendly.
“Mr Trafford, please be respectful and at least have an open mind,” said Howie.
“And may I add that I didn’t ask to come here today, I was, well ….., let’s just say I was invited,” added Markland.
“Would you mind telling me a little more about you, and exactly what happened to you? I know it was all over the news a few years ago, but I must be one of the few who didn’t really take an awful lot of notice,” asked Han.
Markland sighed. His face aired an ‘if I must’ expression.
“Okay, and I’ll keep this brief. A young man called Ben Walker was murdered on a Bronze Age burial mound in Badock’s Wood, which is between Southmead and Henleaze. His girlfriend was left in a coma and was unable to help us with our enquiries. The burial mound on which Ben died began to communicate with me.”
“Communicate? How was it able to do that?” asked Han.
“Just believe me Mr Trafford, it did communicate. It appears that the precise time Ben’s life ended, his spirit was captured within a baby boy at the time he was born. Ben’s spirit was nurtured within the growing boy, who, when he reached the age of around three years old, was able to convey Ben’s words through hypnotism. He gave information, which led to the arrest of his killer. But it wasn’t only the information provided by Ben, it was also information which came to me directly from the hill.”
“The hill?” asked Han.
“Yes, the hill. It’s the burial mound in the woods. A small hill.”
Han nodded.
“I’ve told Mr Trafford that I’ve also been to the burial mound, and it communicated with me about James, although I don’t have the same ability as you Mr Garraway, which is why I’ve asked for your help,” added Howie.
Markland nodded.
“It appears that I’ve somehow become involved with whatever has happened to James. I have reluctantly agreed to see whether I can help. I cannot promise anything, nor can I let myself become too involved. My past experiences with what goes on in those woods nearly ruined me.”
Han nodded. He found himself warming to Markland. He sensed sincerity in the man.
“Well that’s me in a nutshell. What about you Mr Trafford?”
Han sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, searching for inspiration.
“Okay, but first of all, please call me Han. There are two Traffords in this room, so it may get a little confusing.”
Markland nodded and signified for Han to continue.
“My son, James, has been living with me for the past few years since he and his wife, Helena, split up and divorced.”
Markland sensed he was about to hear the exact story that Howie had told him, but let Han carry on.
“How long has James been living with you?”
“Just over two years, …… no hang on a second. It’s two and a half now.”
Markland eyed James shuffling uncomfortably on the settee next to his father. He was protesting without speaking. He had hardly said a word since Markland had turned up.
“James, I’d like to hear your side of the story, but not until I’ve spoken with your father,” said Markland, before nodding to Han to continue.
“James has been sleeping in the same bedroom he did when he was a boy. I guess it’s awkward for him being back at home with his dad.”
“I presume it’s also awkward for you too.”
Han shrugged his shoulders in a ‘but what else could I do?’ manner.
“James has been struggling with low mood, he’d lost his job and he misses Helena terribly. When he’d found out she’d moved to France and was pregnant, he was devastated. Like it was the final nail in the coffin.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About two years ago. Helena’s not kept in touch with anyone from Bristol. She’s headed away and started a new life.”
“Tell me about what happened when James was missing. I understand that no one saw him for four days.”
“That’s right. He was missing from the fourteenth to the seventeenth of September. I reported it to the police.”
“Did anything seem different about James before he went missing? Did you and he have any arguments or disagreements?”
“Not particularly. The two of us find it difficult to share the same house. I’m always on eggshells, and I know James feels the same.”
“So, when did you find out he was missing?”
“On the morning of the fourteenth. He’d gone to bed the night before. He went up before I did. I heard him shuffling around in his room. I locked the house and went to bed just before midnight.”
Han paused for reflection and prepared to continue his account of James’ disappearance.
“I woke around four in the morning. I’d had an awful night’s sleep. By six I was awake, sipping coffee and watching BBC news.”
“You hadn’t heard James moving around during the night?”
“No, and what was really odd, the front door was locked from the inside so there was no way he could have got out and locked it after he’d left.”
“Could he not have gone through the back door?”
“I have a sliding patio door which leads to the garden. That was also locked from the inside. If he had gone out through the garden, he would have been stuck there all night. There’s no exit from the garden to the road. The only way to leave is through the house, it’s the only way out.”
Markland nodded thoughtfully. He was reverting back to detective mode.
“I knocked on his bedroom door around half past eight. I was going to offer him coffee. He didn’t answer. I knocked a few more times, then opened his door and this was the first I knew he was missing. I looked around the house, which isn’t very big, it’s only a two-bedroom home with a small utility room, and he was nowhere.”
“When did you contact the police?”
“Not until the following day. I’d rung all his friends who were in his contact list on his phone.”
“He left his phone behind?”
“Yeah, and his keys, wallet, coat and pretty much everything. It was like he’d vanished.”
“What did the police say?”
“They were very nice, very helpful, but it was clear that James wasn’t a priority.”
Markland nodded. He was aware of how Avon and Somerset dealt with missing persons’ reports.
“Okay Han. I must say that what you’re telling me is intriguing, but what I’m interested in hearing is your account of how James returned. I understand from Howie that he appeared in a dream?”
“It wasn’t a dream, it was a bloody nightmare. I had the exact same nightmare the next two nights. I was being suffocated in my bed, by an intruder pushing a pillow over my face. Both dreams were identical. I even awoke at the same time. It was uncanny. Then on the fourth night that James was missing, I started to have the same nightmare again, but this time it was different. I was ready.”
“Ready? Ready for what?” asked Markland.
“Ready to fight back.”
“So you could control the dream?”
“I guess so, I was in control of my actions.”
“What happened in the final nightmare
which was different to the others?”
“Like I just said, this time I was ready. I saw the intruder in my room, I could make him out reaching for a pillow which lay on the floor beside my bed. But, before he suffocated me I was up and out of the bed. We fought and I punched him. I mean, I really punched him in the dream. I’ve never hit anyone so hard in my life, and it hurt my knuckles.”
“Do you make a habit of hitting people?”
“No, I don’t! Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was awake in my bed. It was just after three and I felt a lump lying across my body. My eyes got used to the darkness, and I made out the shape of a person lying sideways across the bed. He was unconscious. I managed to get out of bed without waking him, ran downstairs and found something to tie him with. When I’d secured him I saw who it was…….”
“It was your son James on the bed,” interrupted Markland.
Han lowered his head and nodded. James continued to shuffle awkwardly as he listened to his father recall what had happened that night.
“So, what you’re saying is that James had burst out of your nightmare.”
“No, not exactly, I hit him out of my nightmare. And that Mr Garraway, is how my son returned.”
Markland stood up, stretched and walked towards the window.
“I assume the two of you had a lot to discuss after you’d hit him out of your nightmare?”
Han shrugged. “We were both confused. We still are. But that’s just the beginning. It’s what has happened since which is equally as strange. James’ account of the last fifteen years of his life is nothing like mine.”
“Okay Han, let’s talk about that a little later. Right now, I would like to hear James’ account of what happened that night.”
Until now, James had hardly spoken. He’d barely muttered a few words. He’d not even said hello to Markland, who’d sensed his apprehension. Markland knelt to James’ level and sat on his haunches.
“James, would you mind telling me what happened to you.”
James sat back in the settee and rubbed his forehead. His eyes reflected a broken man. Markland noticed that he was shaking.
“Take your time James, there’s no rush.”
“Just tell him what you told me,“ said Han.
Markland ignored his father.
“Whenever you’re ready James.”
“I wasn’t missing. Not for four days and not even for one.”
“Well it seems that a lot of people were worried about you.”
James shrugged.
“Okay, I’d like to hear your account of how you ended up on your father’s bed.”
“My father’s account of the nightmares is correct. You see Mr Garraway, I too was having nightmares. I’d had the same one two nights in a row, just as dad. In my dream I was the intruder, it was me who was suffocating the man in the bed. And that’s where the dream would end and when I’d wake up, soaked in sweat.”
“Where were you when you woke?”
“At home, in bed.”
“And where’s home? Which bed did you wake up in?”
“My own bed, in my house in Exeter. The house I share with my wife.”
“And your wife is….?”
“Helena.”
“Is this the same Helena that your father tells me who you are now divorced from? The same Helena who now lives in France?”
James nodded.
“So twice you had the nightmare, and twice you woke up next to your wife. Tell me about the third nightmare.”
“It was just like my father said. We fought in the nightmare, he hit me and the next thing I knew I was awake on his bed. He’d tied me up so I couldn’t move and my head ached from where he’d hit me.”
Markland stood up, and as he did, he heard his knee crack. He rubbed the pain and stretched his leg.
“What you’re both telling me sounds incredulous, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe you. I’ve experienced enough strange things to have a very open mind, as I expect you already know James.”
“Sorry Mr Garraway. Howie and my father have told me about what happened to you when you were a policeman, but news of what happened to you didn’t make it as far as Exeter.”
“Didn’t make it to Exeter!” exclaimed Howie, “I know we’ve already spoken about this, but Markland’s story was the biggest thing to hit the news worldwide. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about it.”
“I didn’t hear about it, Helena has never mentioned it, nor has anyone I know. None of my work colleagues have ever spoken about you Mr Garraway.”
“What do you do for a living James?”
“I drive a coach between Exeter and London.”
Markland nodded.
“Okay James, I guess not everyone got to hear about what happened to me. To be honest with you, I find that rather refreshing to know……… tell me about your home life, tell me about Helena.”
“She’s a PhD student at Exeter Uni. She’s just started her final year. We have twin boys, Josh and Laurence.
“How long have you lived in Exeter?”
“We moved from Bristol just over three years ago. We relocated for Helena’s degree.”
“Do you have many friends in Exeter?”
“We have a few, but not many. I’m busy with work, and Helena spends so much time researching for her degree we don’t have a lot of spare time to socialise, nor do we have a lot of spare money. Driving a coach isn’t the best paid career and Helena’s scholarship just about keeps the wolf from the door.”
Markland smiled, remembering the days when he was a young and underpaid policeman struggling to make ends meet. His smile disappeared and looked James in the eye.
“I understand there are some other oddities,” said Markland, referring to the scar beneath James’ eye.
“Tell me how did you get that scar?”
“A dog bite”
“I also understand that Howie and your father are certain that the scar should be beneath you left eye.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“And, more importantly ……….,” Markland paused and considered what he was about to say, “and more importantly, I understand that as far as you’re concerned, Howie Doyle died when he was a teenager.”
James lifted his head, glanced at Howie and nodded.
“He was killed in a road traffic accident.”
“Would you mind elaborating?”
“It was him….. my father, he killed Howie. Howie Doyle was my best friend. We’d known each other since infants’ school, and now he’s dead.”
“But James, look over there, Howie is here in the room with us, how do you explain that?”
“I can’t explain anything. None of this makes any sense. He certainly looks like an older version of Howie, and he knows things that only the two of us would remember, but he definitely died. I saw it happen, ……. I was there.”
James couldn’t stop his tears.
“Okay, I think it’s time for a break,” said Markland, checking his watch. It was just after eight, but it seemed a lot later.
“I’ll get the kettle on suggested Howie, I could do with a brew.”
Five minutes later, the atmosphere was a little lighter, as the four men drank tea and exchanged in small talk.
“So, what is it I should know about you?” asked James, directing his question to Markland.
“Basically, this man is living proof that life exists after death,” answered Howie, as he nonchalantly dunked a biscuit into his tea.
“Let’s save the intricate details of my story for another time shall we? I’ve told you what you need to know.”
Howie stood up, strolled to the bookshelf and handed James a hardback edition of ‘The Man Who Caught His Killer’.
“You should read this,” said Howie. James flicked through the book and stopped at the pages which showed photographs of the burial mound in Badock’s Wood.
“Is this the hill?” asked James. Mark
land nodded.
“So you published a book about what happened?”
“He didn’t write it. Tom Judd, the hypnotist did,” replied Howie, on Markland’s behalf.
James looked at the front cover and nodded.
Markland placed his empty mug on the window ledge and sat back down on the swivel chair.
“So your account of your childhood appears to be the same as Howie’s, up until you reached the age of about fourteen, because according to you, he died. I presume you’ve no idea why you and he have such a different account of the last fifteen or so years.”
James placed the book on the floor.
“Perhaps you can tell me what’s happened in your life since Howie died.”
“I watched my father mow Howie down. He was driving too fast past the school entrance. Howie was trailing behind me and some other lads. Dad just came out of the blue, I’d never seen him drive like that before. It was all over in a flash.”
Markland saw that James was holding back tears.
“Okay James, let’s skip forward for the time being. Perhaps we’ll come back to this a little later.”
James gulped and continued.
“When dad was away, I stayed with mum’s sister.”
“Where was your mum during all this?”
“She died during childbirth,” said Han.
“I stayed with Auntie Susan, and when he came out of Horfield Prison, I never really saw him.”
“Did Susan look after you for very long?”
“I stayed with her until I was twenty.”
“Tell me about Helena, how did you meet her?”
“She was Howie’s sister’s friend. Howie’s sister, Gillian, introduced me to her when we were both fourteen.”
“So you met her not long before Howie died.”
“A few months earlier. I had a huge crush on her, but she didn’t seem to feel the same towards me, well not at first. After Howie died, I used to call in on Gillian to see how she was and Helena was always there, you know looking after Gillian and making sure she was okay. Helena and I became closer. Even though it was my dad who’d killed Howie, there was never a bad feeling from Gillian towards me, and Helena was the same. No one was blaming me. One night, I was walking back to my aunt’s, and I bumped into Helena and she walked with me. From that day on we became really close. We were inseparable. But after a while, things cooled off a bit. We kind of fell apart, and she started seeing another guy, but it was nothing serious. She ended up going to university in Swansea and when she graduated, four years later, she came back to Bristol.”
Han was listening intently. This was the first time he’d heard so much detail from James. The way he recalled Howie’s death was done with such conviction, he almost believed it to be true.
“Helena and I met up again by chance when she returned from Wales. It was in a bar in Clifton. I was out with some friends, and she was having a drink with Gillian. It was great to see them both, and Helena and I got on like a house on fire. We started dating again, but this time it was serious. We’d matured and it wasn’t just a schoolboy crush anymore. We were properly in love. A year later we were engaged, and when we were in our mid-twenties we got married. The following year was mad. She became pregnant just before we were married, and gave birth to the boys just before she started her PhD. We moved down to Exeter, I was able to get a transfer and drove coaches from Exeter to London.”
“So life was busy for you. Were you happy?”
“Life was very busy, very challenging, but we were very happy. But as time has gone on things have lost their lustre. Helena is busy with her PhD, and so we don’t have as much time for one another. I’m always working and spending little time with the twins. We spend so much money on childcare, it’s hardly worth me working at the moment. But it’s temporary. As soon as she finishes her PhD, she’s going to be working for a company just outside of town and money won’t be an issue.”
“Are you not getting on with each other right now?”
“It’s just life’s pressures getting in the way of things. We are still very much in love, but I know I’ve been moody and a little distant these last few months. I’m one of those people who find it difficult to hide how I feel, and Helena feels my frustration. We’ve become snappy with one another.”
Markland was in awe with the detail in which James spoke about his life with Helena.
“You see Mr Garraway. I need to get back to her. I can’t leave her in Exeter on her own. I’m sure she thinks I’ve walked out on her.”
Markland swivelled in his chair, and thought about the next thing he wanted to ask.
“I understand that you took a trip to Exeter with your father this week to find Helena. Would you like to tell me what happened?”
James’ faced lowered, and he gazed at the floor.
“We drove to my house in Montgomery Crescent………. But she wasn’t there.”
“Why wasn’t she there? Did she move away?”
“It appears she’s never been there at all. I knocked on the door and a lady with a dog answered. I asked after Helena and she had no idea who, or what I was talking about. It was like everything had changed. I asked about the man next door, Robert Masterson, but she’d never heard of him. But she knew the man who lives on the other side. So, I knocked on the door of our other neighbour. He’s a horrible man, who plays music throughout the night. I’d had so many rows with him over the years, but when he answered he had no idea who I was. It was like I’d never existed.”
Markland pondered over what James had just said. Howie wanted to say something, but Markland raised his hand to silence him.
“Tell me about your neighbours. Robert Masterson and the noisy one, what’s his name?”
“The noisy one is Drew Lees, although I didn’t know his name until I went to Exeter this week. The lady who lives in my house told me.”
“What do you know about them?”
“Robert moved in about a year after we did. He’s nice enough, although I find him a bit smarmy. I think he has a thing for Helena. His face lights up whenever he sees her.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Nah, not really. I’m far too busy to let him bother me. I’m more concerned with the noisy bastard on the other side. He keeps us up at night.”
“So you’ve had a few disagreements, tell me about them.”
“He works night shifts. He sleeps during the day, and gets up when the twins are going to bed. About eight or nine in the evening he cranks up Motorhead, Twisted Sister, Metallica and all that kind of crap. It goes on until around midnight, which is when he leaves for work.”
“So the two of you aren’t friends.”
“No, not in the slightest. He’s an arrogant, selfish bastard. He knows we’ve got young children, but he doesn’t give a shit.”
“So was it a surprise when you knocked on his door and he didn’t know you?”
“Too right. He was the same arrogant bastard, but he didn’t know who I was.”
“But the lady in your house, she confirmed that he made a lot of noise?”
“Yeah, she said he keeps her up at night with his music.”
Markland paused and squinted his eyes.
“What are you thinking?” asked Howie.
Markland asked a question which was directed to Howie and Han.
“So the trip to Exeter resulted in what you had both expected. Neither of you thought James would knock on the door and find Helena waiting for him with their twins?”
Han and Howie nodded, without looking at James, who said nothing.
“Are either of you aware of James having a connection with Exeter? Has he made any recent visits to the city?”
“I took him there when he was a kid. We were on holiday in Devon, and we visited for a day,” said Han.
“So it’s no surprise that not only Helena wasn’t there, and neither was the man next door, Robert Masterson?”
Both men nodded.
; “And, it is not a surprise to you both that the man who played the rock music, Drew Lees, had no idea who James was?”
“How could he have known James? He’d never been his neighbour,” said Howie.
“You’re both right. But answer me this. We can appreciate why Helena wouldn’t be at the house, and that there was no sign of Robert Masterson. We can also expect that Drew Lees wouldn’t have known James if they’d never been neighbours. But explain how James would have known about Lees, and his late night music, if he’d never lived next door. You’ve both admitted that James hasn’t been to Exeter in recent years, so how would he have known of him?”
The room fell silent for a few seconds until Han spoke.
“What are you suggesting?”
Markland ground his teeth and rubbed his chin.
“I don’t know what I’m suggesting, but it’s an indication that James has some connection with the house in which he says he lives with Helena.”
Markland became overcome with a sudden sense of fatigue.
“I hope you don’t mind, but it’s getting late and I’m tired. This has proved to be an interesting evening which has left a lot of things unanswered. I would like to go home and think about what you’ve told me. I can’t promise anything, but if I have any ideas I will let you know.”
Markland stood up and rattled his keys.
“There’s something else,” said James.
Markland put his keys back in his pocket and raised an eyebrow.
“In Exeter, I’m not very well. I need to take medication daily, and if I don’t I’ll fall into a coma.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m diabetic.”
“You’ve never been diabetic, at least not that I’ve known,” interrupted his father.
“That’s because here in Bristol I’m not diabetic. I’ve been living with you for about four weeks, and by rights I should be dead by now, but I’m not. I should have lost loads of weight, be thirsty, peeing all the time and be tired at the very least, but I’m none of those things. Also, my eyesight was awful in Exeter. I had an appointment with the opticians, but here I can see perfectly.”
Markland shook his head.
“I don’t understand any of this, but I’m going to think about everything you’ve told me.”
Howie opened the front door, and bid him farewell.
“Thanks Markland. I appreciate you coming over this evening.”
Markland nodded.
“I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend.”
Markland drove home and passed the off license at the top of his road. For the first time since he could remember, he had an urge to call in for a bottle of whisky. He slowed down, eyed the front door and saw that it was shut. He sighed and continued to his house.
It was gone nine by the time Markland locked his front door and hung his keys in the hall. He checked his answering machine hoping for a message from Joan, but there was nothing. He checked his email and texts and still found nothing at all. It had been over two weeks since their meal at Bottelinos and Joan had promised to call. He was getting fidgety and was desperate to know whether they would have another date. She would have no idea that he had a job at the school, and he couldn’t wait to tell her. But he had to respect her wishes and wait for her to call him. He thought about the off license and how he could appreciate a large glass of whisky.
He sat in the darkness of his lounge. The light in the hallway cast a glow through the gap in the door, and the red LED light on his television shone in the corner. Markland liked to sit in the dark because it helped him relax and unwind. He was exhausted after his first week at work. But there was something else making him tired. It was a different kind of tiredness, and something he’d experienced before when dealing with Ben Walker’s murder. He gave in to fatigue and let his eyelids drop.
In his shallow sleep, he was aware of a low pitched drone. He squirmed in his chair. The drone became louder and he opened his eyes. He looked around the lounge, which was bathed in a blue incandescent radiance. There was a damp smell in the air. From the corner of his eye something caught his attention. He glanced to his left and saw James Trafford standing by the door. James stared Markland in the eye, without speaking or moving.
“What are you doing here?”
James didn’t reply. He faded, and was replaced by another image of James, which looked as realistic as the first. The second James looked a little different. His hairline was receding, and his skin was lined. He was soon replaced by another James, which also had a slightly different appearance, and then another, followed by another. Each version of James lasted for a shorter measure of time, until they were flashing before Markland’s eyes at a rate of about ten per second. He screwed his eyes closed and rubbed his forehead. When he opened them the images of James Trafford had gone, but the lounge still glowed blue and the air still smelt damp. Something else caught his attention and this time it was from his right. He looked towards the television and saw another image of another person. He gulped when he saw who it was. The man standing to his right was him. Markland stood up, walked towards himself and stopped inches away. It was as if he was looking into a mirror. Their eyes met but neither of them moved. Markland watched the image of him fade and then replaced by another. In the second image he appeared happier. He almost wore a smile. Their eyes locked, and as before, the image faded. Just as with James, a few minutes earlier, images of himself came and went at a rapid rate, and like James, each version of Markland was a little different. In under a minute, he witnessed over a hundred different variations of himself.
It was happening all over again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Just like before, the hill was reaching out to him.
Markland put his head in his hands, and yelled at the top of his lungs.
“STOP”!
He opened his eyes, and apart from the light from the hallway, the lounge had returned to darkness and the smell of damp had gone. His head hurt like he’d been drinking, his limbs were heavy and he had an underlying feeling of nausea, which was reminiscent of the time he felt unwell at the burial mound when working on the Walker case. He considered what he’d just seen, until his thoughts were interrupted by the telephone in the corner of the lounge. He was in no mood to answer it and slouched down into his chair.
His body trembled. He rubbed his tired eyes and let the phone ring six times, after which the answering machine cut in.
'Hello, you've reached Markland Garraway. I'm sorry I can't take your call right now ....... please leave a message.'
"Hi Markland, it’s Joan. I'm sorry I've not called sooner, but things have been rather stressful because mum's been in hospital. She's had a stroke. It’s a mild one, so I think she’ll be fine. I've been a bit busy this last week. If I get a chance I’ll call tomorrow."