Deception aka Sanctum

chapter twenty-nine

I CAN’T SLEEP, AND NOW I DON’T HAVE ANY OLD PEOPLE TO BLAME it on. The smoking isn’t helping, that’s for sure. Alarmingly, the crown broke off my tooth and fell out in my mouth at dinner this evening. It’s a lower molar. I was eating some microwaved lasagna, bit down, and the porcelain on the cap just snapped off. I had a flush of adrenaline and thought for a moment that all my teeth were flooding out of my mouth. When I looked at the lump of porcelain on the tabletop, I found it was a dull yellow, yet it matches all my other teeth. The dentist’s receptionist suggested that it could have been from grinding my teeth when I’m asleep. The only time they can take me is on Monday, after Susie’s court appearance. I can’t imagine that day getting any worse.

I still think we should give the Donna letter to Fitzgerald. I’ll see what Susie says when I go to visit her, but I’m sure we could base an appeal on it. At least it shows that she was telling the truth.

I was watching telly with Yeni, sitting on the opposite settee so that she didn’t think I was expecting anything. She winked at me a couple of times during the commercials, but I didn’t respond. I was sort of waiting for her to take offense, but she didn’t. She stood up at nine-thirty, said goodnight, and slipped out of the room. I watched the news and put the telly off, ready to come up here to work.

I stopped on the landing and knocked on Yeni’s door. I wanted to say sorry for ignoring you there and thanks for a lovely time last night or something. I don’t know what. I just wanted to see her, I suppose. She shouted, “Come in,” and I put my head around the door. She was sitting in her bed, wearing a T-shirt nightie with pink bunnies on it and reading Hello! She dropped the magazine to her lap and wobbled her head back and forth in exasperation. I braced myself for trouble.

“Stephanie of Monaco is trash,” she said, pronouncing it “trush,” saying it as if they’d had a fight and Stephanie was refusing to give back Yeni’s favorite jeans.

I went in and sat next to her on the bed. It felt very exciting, sitting right by her, not knowing whether we would ever touch again. We both had faint smiles on our faces and avoided looking straight at each other. She showed me a picture of the princess looking sulky at a party.

“Is that bad, what she’s doing there?” I pointed to the picture unnecessarily and brushed the back of her finger where she was holding the page. A slight tremor ran through her, emanating from her hand. She blinked slowly and smiled at the page.

“Not so bad, but”- and she shook her head in disapproval, a curl of black hair falling over her face-“trushy dress.”

I smiled and pushed the hair back. “What would you know about trashy, Yeni?” I love the language barrier between us. She doesn’t know my chat-up lines are crap, and we can’t possibly have big conversations about ourselves or our relationship.

She put the magazine down and slid down in the bed, pulling the covers up over her face. “Good night, Lachlan.” She giggled.

I leaned forward to kiss her. I only meant to kiss her on the forehead, but she pushed me off, giggling, and said, “Jyou piss off,” in a heavy accent.

I stood up and pretended to cry. “I’m as sad as Kevin Bacon.”

She was laughing as I shut the door behind me, that big dirty laugh that makes her tits wobble. I won’t try to kiss her again. I don’t want to be pushy, but I hope that it isn’t over between us. Her unavailability coupled with the complete sexual abandonment that lies beneath it is tremendously erotic. I can’t remember if having to strive for sex was always this exciting. It feels as though there’s a live possibility tingling between us in a way that never happens when you know for certain you’re going to touch each other again.

I’ve been reading the prison-lovers book since I came up here and looking at the pictures of Donna, trying to feel sad about the fact that her body has been found. I can’t remember what I came up here to say, but it was important enough to peel my carcass off the sofa and propel me up three flights of stairs. Possibly I had nothing to say, possibly I just had an urge to be up here, in this small space with a locked door between me and the rest of the world, restoring order through the cunning application of my rudimentary secretarial skills.

It seems bizarre that this article was published only three months ago:

Box 2 Document 12 “ Riverside Ripper Appeal to Go Ahead,” Scotsman, 8/30/98

This box is getting a bit full. I should get a new one.

A fresh appeal hearing was announced today for Andrew Gow, the Glasgow man convicted of the 1993 Riverside Ripper murders. The failure of the police to stem the murders of five Glasgow prostitutes in the early nineties led to the calls for the formation of a US-style EPCU policing database, capable of cross-referencing cases nationwide and identifying patterns. Gow, who was convicted on the basis of a confession, has become the subject of a local campaign for a retrial following the discovery of two new victims, apparently killed by the same offender. Gina Wilson and Nicola Hall both met their deaths while Gow was in prison. Samples found at the scene match the DNA profile found on the previous victims. It calls into question the use of DNA profiling when samples are degraded and the presentation of degrees of probability in DNA cases. Since his original confession, Gow has consistently denied committing the original series of murders.

The appeal will be heard on September 2 and is expected to attract international press attention. Mr. Gow was denied bail pending the hearing, but this is not thought to reflect his chance of a successful appeal, rather, the lack of reliable risk assessment reports at this time.

This was because Susie had been sacked. They had to get the reports redone by someone else because Susie’s were challengeable.

A spokesman for Gow’s new wife, Donna McGovern, 23, made a brief statement outside the court hearing in Glasgow: “Mrs. Gow is absolutely over the moon and delighted with the news.” The couple plan to move away as soon as Mr. Gow is released.

See our DNA Special page 13: Racial Profiling, Probability, and How Hundreds Become Thousands on the Stand

I don’t want to read about appeals just now really. It’s twelve-ten and I should go downstairs and lie in bed with my eyes shut tight, straining to relax. I’ll stop typing at one. I can’t even get a cup of tea because my tooth’s heat-sensitive. I’ll put a hot-water bottle in my bed, come back up here, and definitely stop at one.

Box 2 Document 13 Notes on Women Who Marry Murderers

REASONS FOR MARRYING

1. Status, gives them social significance, attention-seeking.

2. Vicarious celebrity.

3. Vicarious murder.

4. Erotomania: killers ultimate macho men.

5. Inadequate intelligence.

6. Passion is fueled by deprivation of the physical presence of the other; suffering and anguish mistaken for passion.

All of which seem to apply to Donna.

PROFILE OF WOMEN:

1. Catholic; subjugation of women and sexual repression of Church ties in nicely to absent husband.

2. Often have had an unhappy first marriage at a young age, often to violent alkies.

3. Unstable upbringing, authoritarian father.

4. Recent death in family, often of abusing parent.

5. Low self-esteem and attachment to someone they think powerful.

6. When move to be closer to prison (usually six months to a year) lose all social support and become more vulnerable.

All of which absolutely do apply to Donna. Apart from the last one. She moved up before she had even met him.

PROFILE OF MURDERERS:

1. Alcohol often present in commission of offense (not Gow).

2. Motive for marriage by prisoners: having stable relationship creates better basis for parole board (not applicable; D amp;G were engaged even before there was any possibility of parole).

3. These men are strivers in prison, often take degrees (not Gow).

4. Grandiose and narcissistic (yes Gow).

5. Killers exude self-confidence. Lack empathy and refuse to take responsibility for their behavior- blame others, often the victims. Claim victim status for themselves- killers victim of system. The whole relationship focus becomes saving poor man from victimization by the system (yes to all of this re Gow).

It is astonishing how many hits the woman who wrote this book made with Gow and Donna. It would be nice to write to her and let her know, but I can’t be bothered. I was thinking about Donna moving up here before she was even sure she had permission to visit Gow, which kind of makes me wonder what she was moving from. If Donna did murder those women for Gow, then she must have killed the first one (Nicola Hall) before they were even married. Maybe she wanted to kill someone all along and getting Gow released was her excuse.

It’s one-thirty and I’ve got to sleep. I’m glad I’ve had my hair cut. I hope I don’t look awful in the photographs on Monday. I hope to God that Susie’s all right. I hope they’ll give her some sleeping pills and she isn’t hassled by anyone on the Big Blue Bus.

Everything on earth feels precarious tonight. I’ve been down and looked in on Margie four times. On the way back up with a cup of tea, I was struck by the conviction that Yeni had buckled under the strain of having an affair with her employer and hanged herself. I couldn’t resist the urge to look in on her to make sure she was okay. I just stood at the door to her room and peeked in with one eye. I hope she was asleep and doesn’t know I did that.