Читать книгу The Armageddon Game - Lynne Fox - Страница 9

CHAPTER 3

A couple more months have passed and I’m well on the way to being redeemed in the eyes of the establishment. I’m still viewed with a degree of caution as it’s generally believed that I did kill Dr Metcalfe’s fiancée, Melissa which, strangely, seems harder for people to forgive than the killing of Dr Metcalfe himself.

However, my parents’ violent deaths have mellowed a few hearts and heads and, coupled with Alberto’s favourable reports on my behaviour have resulted in a lessening of the restrictions on me.

My request to have my parents bodies repatriated and be allowed to attend their funeral was unanimously approved by the Board of Trustees coming as it did with my promise of a sizeable bequest. I didn’t rush putting the wheels in motion to get my parents bodies back to England claiming I needed time to organise finances to afford a decent funeral and pay all associated bills but now all is set for my next move.

Alberto, I knew, was massively in debt, his credit rating was abysmal; he wanted to go back to his family in Venezuela as his father was ill but on his salary and with his current financial mess it was the impossible dream. This was my lever.

‘Alberto, how close are you to getting to Venezuela?’

He looked up from struggling with the English exercise I’d set him, his eyes dulled with sadness. ‘Years I would think.’

‘That long? Are your debts really that extensive?’

Alberto simply shrugged.

I chewed at my bottom lip, considering. If I judged Alberto wrongly it could make things difficult for me in future. I would need to feel my way slowly. ‘You know, you’ve been very kind to me, it’s made a huge difference to my time in St Joseph’s; made it more bearable.’

Alberto shrugged. ‘I’m just doing my job.’

‘Yes, of course you are but it still matters.’ I paused looking hard at Alberto, trying to gauge the extent of his integrity.

‘How did you get into so much debt?’

He raised his head at an angle and looked at me out of hooded eyes. ‘Why the interest?’

It was my turn to shrug. ‘Just curious.’

He hesitated and then obviously deciding it wouldn’t hurt said, ‘Drugs.’

‘Oh dear, you have been a naughty boy.’ I grinned and was rewarded with a lop-sided grin in return.

‘I was an idiot but I’m off them now.’

‘But now you have your debts to repay; what are they for, rent, utilities, people you borrowed from?’

Alberto sighed, ‘All of the above and some.’

I paused and turned to look out of the window, considering. ‘I could help you,’ I said quietly. Getting no response I turned to face him. Once again he was looking down at his exercise book. ‘Alberto, I said I can help you.’

He looked up, a slightly bemused expression on his face. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Because I know what it’s like to feel trapped.’ We looked at one another in silence for a few moments. I could sense he was tempted, at least so far as wanting to know what I was proposing. ‘I’m coming into some money from my father’s estate and I’m prepared to buy your airline ticket to Venezuela.’

Alberto’s eyes widened. ‘Really and why would you do that?’

‘Because I want to get out of my trap too and I need your help to do that.’

He snorted. ‘You can’t be serious; why the hell would I do that; my career would be over before it had hardly begun.’

‘True but then you won’t need a career out in Venezuela will you? At least not this one; just think about it; no debts, back with your family, there for your dad in his final days; sun, sea and sand. What’s not to like?’

He was silent, temptation snipping away at his conscience. I needed to cement the idea. ‘I want to tell you why I killed Dr Metcalfe.’

Alberto straightened in his chair, giving me his full attention. I wondered if he knew the old adage about curiosity killing the cat. ‘Dr Metcalfe sexually abused me during our therapy sessions. It had to stop … so I stopped him.’

Alberto gave a low whistle but didn’t jump to Dr Metcalfe’s defence which was encouraging. ‘So why didn’t you report him at the time?’

‘No-one would have believed me; after all, I’d been convicted of killing his fiancée … some might even consider I deserved it.’

‘And did you – deserve it?’

I looked steadily into Alberto’s eyes. ‘No, I did not because I truly did not kill his fiancée.’

‘And you expect me to believe that as well?’

I sat on the edge of my bed facing Alberto and took a deep breath. ‘You’ve been present at my meetings with Inspector Munroe, you must have noticed his animosity toward me; his almost sadistic pleasure when he gave me the news about my parents’ deaths.’

Alberto nodded. ‘I did think he could have broken the news a little less harshly.’

‘Inspector Munroe has his own agenda. His daughter died in tragic circumstances a couple of years ago. We were friends, Lily and I, very close but he never liked our friendship, was always trying to stop it and when Lily died he blamed me although I had absolutely nothing to do with it. He tried to charge me but couldn’t make anything stick; he had no proof because there was none. When Dr Metcalfe’s fiancée died and he discovered I’d known her as well he fabricated evidence, put together a strong circumstantial case against me and, with Dr Metcalfe’s help, got me put in here but I’m innocent, Alberto; I swear I’m innocent.’

I studied him intently. I could tell he harboured doubts at what I’d said but was balancing that against the prospect of shedding all his liabilities and heading for the sun. I just needed one more push. ‘Alberto, I am not insane. I’m not a threat to anyone. I did not kill Dr Metcalfe’s fiancée but I will never be able to prove that shut up in here. All I want is a chance to clear my name, to start a new life – as do you. I can get you to Venezuela where your debts can’t follow you and you can be there for your dad. All I ask is that you help me right a terrible wrong. That’s not so bad is it?’

Alberto’s face was a picture of conflicting desires as he battled with his conscience. ‘But you did kill Dr Metcalfe; how can I believe that you won’t pose a threat outside St Joseph’s?’

‘Alberto, for God’s sake what was I supposed to do? He was sexually abusing me, it’d gone on for almost a year. He was so powerful – Dr Metcalfe, the eminent psychiatrist, well-respected by all and you think the trustees would believe me; someone Dr Metcalfe had diagnosed as a psychopath! Get real, Alberto!’

Still looking down Alberto slowly nodded. ‘So, what do you propose?’

I allowed myself a slight smile; the name Alberto means “beautiful by noble behaviour” – how wrong can some parents be!