that novel out in the office, I can’t remember ‘writing.’
Connelly listened intently. ‘Some kind of short-term memory loss?’ he offered.
‘I thought that but there’ve been other things too. I’ve seen things. At night.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Apparitions,’ he smiled humourlessly.‘There, I’ve said it now. I don’t know what else to call them.’
‘But you can remember them?’
‘Because I’m awake when I see them.’
‘Hqw can you be sure? Couldn’t it be a dream? I mean, if there’s something wrong with your mind then —’
‘You mean if I’m going fucking insane?’
‘Do you think you are?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Then get help. Let me help you.’
‘Take me to a doctor? Get me pumped full of happy pills? Job done. No.
Besides, it’s gone too far for that.’
‘Chris, if you get help now—’
Ward got to his feet. ‘Come through to the other room,’ he said, refilling his glass. ‘There’s something I want you to see.’
A TROUBLE SHARED
The camcorder was already set up in the study. The television in the smaller room was on. Ward indicated the small sofa and Connelly sat down, still
holding the five handwritten pages.
‘You think you can help me?’ said Ward, looking at his agent. ‘Tell me again after you’ve watched this.’
As Connelly sat forward on the seat, Ward pressed the play button.
Images began to fill the screen.
SHOCK TACTICS
For long moments Connelly looked as if he was going to be sick. Even after the images on the screen had vanished. He clutched his belly and blew out his cheeks.
‘I told you it had gone too far,’ said Ward, gazing at his agent.
‘You killed that girl,’ Connelly murmured.
‘I did warn you,’ he said. ‘So, what do you want to do, Martin? Ring the police now?’
Connelly put a hand to his mouth. ‘God,’ he whispered, still clutching his stomach. ‘Who was she?’
‘Her name was Jenny. That’s all I know.’
‘What was she doing here?’
‘We’d done business before. I called her.’
Connelly nodded. Understood. ‘Where’s the body?’ he wanted to know.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more, Martin.’
The two men regarded each other silently for what seemed like an eternity.
‘Chris, you’ve got to go to the police,’ Connelly said finally. ‘Tell them what’s happening to you.’
‘I don’t know what’s happening to me. And what if I do go? What are they going to say? “All right then, Mr Ward, as you’ve been having trouble remembering things we’ll just let this matter of the murder go.
Don’t worry about it. People who are losing their minds always cut up prostitutes and film it. Off you go.” Give me a fucking break, Martin.’
Connelly regarded him warily.
‘You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?’ Ward said quietly.
Connelly didn’t answer.
‘Well, perhaps that’s understandable after what you’ve seen,’ Ward murmured.
‘I appreciate that you may want to go.’
‘I didn’t say that. But try and see it from my point of view, Chris. I just watched you murder someone. How the hell am I supposed to feel?’
‘Do you think there’s a book in it?’
Ward laughed and, once more, Connelly felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
‘And this?’ Connelly said, holding up the handwritten pages.
‘I told you, I didn’t write it.’
‘Then who did?’
Ward could only shake his head.
‘You must have done it,’ Connelly insisted. ‘You said you thought you’d written other parts of your book without remembering. While you were blacked out.’
‘That’s different,‘Ward said, pointing at the pages.‘The words are different.
The structure’s different. The cadence. Everything about it. I did not write that, Martin.’
Again the two men looked silently at each other.
‘Now, are you going to help me or not?’ Ward said.
‘Help you do what? Murder someone else?’
‘Very funny. Give me twenty-four hours. Stay here. In the house. Watch what happens. Watch me.’ Ward swallowed hard. ‘Things happen at night mainly. Stay here and see.’
‘Twenty-four hours,’ Connelly murmured.
‘That’s all I’m asking.’
Connelly nodded slowly.
WATCHFUL EYES
1.06 p.m. Connelly found some tins of spaghetti in one ofWard’s kitchen cupboards and heated them. Ward made some toast then the two men sat at the
kitchen table and ate.
‘When was the last time you went out?’ Connelly wanted to know.
Ward could only shrug. ‘I can’t remember,’ he said. ‘That’s the problem, Martin. There isn’t much I can remember these days.’
‘You said things happened at night. You mean these blackouts?’
‘Not just that. They seem to happen at any time of the day or night,’ he murmured. ‘No. I’ve been seeing things too. Hallucinating. At least 1 think I’m hallucinating. If I’m not then things are weirder than even I thought.’
‘What have you seen?’
‘Things,’ Ward said vaguely. ‘I don’t know what the fuck you’d call them.
Apparitions.’
‘Ghosts?’
‘No.’
‘Then what?’
Ward swallowed hard. ‘Figures,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s hard to describe them. It sounds even more fucking stupid sitting here in the middle of the day. In the light.’ He ran a hand over his unshaven cheeks.
‘They look like apes. I know it sounds ridiculous.’
‘Where have you seen them?’
‘In the garden. Around the office. But always at night.’
‘Have you ever found any physical evidence?’
‘Like what? Footprints? That kind of thing?’
Connelly nodded.
‘No,’ said Ward. ‘Never.’ He sat back in his chair and laughed. ‘And you wonder why I drink?’ he said bitterly.
Connelly regarded him indifferently. ‘How much do you know about this house?’
he asked.
Ward looked vague.
‘Its history,’ Connelly continued. ‘Who lived here before you?’
