Chapter 9
No more sleep.
No more sleep, just -
Two huge wings that burst through the back, out of my skin, torn, two huge and rotting wings, big black things that weigh me down, heavy, that stop me standing.
No more sleep, just -
Wings, wings that burst through my back, out of the skin, torn, huge and rotting things, big black wings that weigh me down, heavy, that -
And then they’re gone -
Just like that.
Just Exegesis etched into my chest, my nails bloody, broken -
Et sequentes.
The notes are everywhere, across the floor, the bed, the cheap Griffin furniture, my writing illegible even to me. I rip out and screw up the piece I’m writing, check my watch, turn the radio down, pick the phone up off the bed and get a dialling tone, check my watch against the speaking clock, put the phone back off the hook and leave it on the bed, turn the radio up, and then I start again:
At 3:10 p.m. on Friday 27 January 1978, the naked body of Candy Simon born 6/6/60, a half-caste Jamaican found partially concealed in a timber yard off Great Northern Street, Huddersfield. Severe injuries to the head with blunt instrument and stab wounds to the body. Deceased was an active prostitute, recently moved to Huddersfield from Bradford. Was reported missing from home on 26 January by flat-mate, also an active prostitute. Had last been seen on Tuesday 24 January by flat-mate at 21:00 on Great Northern Street, Huddersfield, getting into a dark blue-coloured saloon car, possibly an Audi 100LS driven by a white male about thirty-five years of age and of smart appearance.
I stop and then writing:
Bradford?
Flat-mate?
Traffic wardens’ records?
I move on:
At 8:15 a.m. Saturday 27 May 1978 the body of a female was found on wasteland in Livingston Street at its junction with April Street, Brunswick, Manchester, at the rear of the Royal Infirmary. Deceased identified as Doreen Pickles, born 8/8/40, alias Mary Brown, alias Anne Pickles. Deceased was a convicted prostitute and the area behind the Royal Infirmary known as a place frequented by prostitutes and their clients. Death due to blows to the head with a blunt instrument, a severe abdominal wound, and a stab wound to the neck. Time of death estimated to be between midnight and 3:00 a.m. May 27.
I stop, thinking:
Next murder would be one year later -
Re-check case files on other prostitute murders in North of England, 1970 to 1980, not attributed to YR.
I stare across the floor, the bed, the cheap Griffin furniture. I check my watch, turn the radio down, pick the phone up off the bed and get a dialling tone, check my watch against the speaking clock, put the phone back off the hook, turn the radio back up, and I lie upon the notes, upon the bed -
Et sequentes.
No more sleep.
No more sleep, just -
Two huge wings that burst through the back, out of my skin, torn, two huge and rotting wings, big black things that weigh me down, heavy, that stop me standing.
No more sleep, just -
Wings, wings that burst through my back, out of the skin, torn, huge and rotting things, big black wings that weigh me down, heavy, that -
And then they’re gone -
Just like that.
Just Exegesis etched into my chest, my nails bloody, broken -
Et sequentes.
No sleep, just -
Dark heart of the night, dark corner of the room:
I check my watch, turn the radio down, pick the phone up off the bed and get a dialling tone, check my watch against the speaking clock, put the phone back off the hook, turn the radio back up, and I walk across the dark room to the dark corner -
Here sits the box from Mrs Hall.
I put the light back on and I open it:
Eric’s box -
Files, piles and piles of files, and a couple of cassettes:
A & B .
I take the Memorex cassettes over to the Boots portable cassette machine. I turn the radio off and put the first one in -
I press play -
I sit back down on the bed and I take out the files and begin to read as the cassette plays:
‘He beat the fucking shit out of me. Right there in the fucking car park.’