The Ghoul

I thought I'd been stood up. It wouldn't be the first time.

Traffic jam. Someone drove their car off the M1.

On purpose? Fucking selfish pricks holding up the commute.

What's wrong with a bottle of aspirin, eh?

Mr. Coulson?

Repainted last week. No one wants to touch the place.

Agency can't shift it.

Oh, I'll check the fuse box.

Righty-tighty. I'll give you the greatest hit, shall I?

The neighbor said she heard a shot, then the dog starts barking

and then six more shots.

Most likely, he's woken up when he's heard the window smash,

he's come down the stairs, he's gone to have a look out here,

and then he's gone to have another look out the back here.

That's when he's discovered the shooter, who ends up there, where you are.

Her arrival makes him panic and that's when the gun goes off.

But here's the head-scratcher and it's a fucking doozy.

When he gets shot…

…he don't fall down.

He just keeps walking.

He doesn't drop where he should. He just keeps coming.

Even though he's been shot.

The second shot…

…hits her in the chest, but she doesn't drop, either.

She comes down a step or two. Third shot hits her in the stomach.

She keeps coming.

Fourth shot hits her in the chest, she still keeps coming.

Shots five and six hit him in the abdomen and the shoulder.

And then the last shot goes through his head…

…up into the ceiling, by which time he's practically on top of him.

And then he drops the gun

and he legs it out of the door with the car keys.

- Conversion? - Er, yeah. A starter pistol.

And they said the Olympics wouldn't leave a legacy, eh?

- They run at him? - No, no.

It was more of a leisurely stroll.

Soco said they came at him at an even pace,

even had him in shot.

They only finally lay down and died when he left the house.

Now, how's it possible for two people to keep walking

when they've been shot three times, one of them in the face?

I told you it was a head-scratcher.

'We need to go after the property manager.'

- 'Fuck's sake. What?' - 'Who showed us in. What's his name?'

'Fuck, er… Coulson. I think. Jesus Christ, it's…'

- 'Did you get an address?' - 'Fuck's sake!'

'The landlord says he hasn't seen him for a week.

'Estate agency doesn't know where he is. It's hard enough finding this address.

'No family. Mother dead. Father estranged. Lives abroad.

'Employment records practically non-existent.

'Trust-fund kid, which explains this place. Almost.

'Coulson wasn't managing the building at the times of the murders.

'He only got the job three days after the shooting.'

Turns out Michael Coulson's quite the colorful character.

Been quizzed several times, especially with violent stuff.

But nothing's ever stuck. Seems he genuinely never gets involved.

Just hangs around criminals and crime scenes.

I think he talks other people into doing stuff just cos he gets a kick out of it.

Then from July last year, he's been seeing a psychiatrist.

Dr. Helen Fisher.

Private sessions about two miles from here.

Think he knows we're onto him?

Well, I don't think he's popped out for 20 fags and a wank mag.

Yeah, I'll admit this doesn't look brilliant.

- Hey, Kath. - Jesus Christ!

Chris…

- Anyone else know you're here? - Just Jim.

Where have you been?

Up north.

Man of fucking mystery, aren't you?

What makes you think he's the one?

Been linked to similar things before. Obsessed with crime scenes.

Means he's a ghoul.

Doesn't mean he's got anything to do with this.

He was seeing a psychotherapist called Helen Fisher.

Might be something in Fisher's notes that'll tell us where he is.

Go back up north, Chris.

'OK, there's a type of depression, dysthymia.

'It's long-term, mild symptoms, but it persists over years.'

So you can pretty much mumble one-word answers for the first session.

'Any day, really.'

Erm, I…

Yeah, no. Er, let me just check.

Erm, yeah, that's fine.

'Er, I don't know. Mid-morning?'

'Yeah, what's the address, please?'

How are you today?

Fine.

What do you do for a living, Chris?

Could be living off benefits. Maybe your parents are paying for your therapy.

Don't have a job.

How was this week for you?

Have you done anything fun?

Just shit.

Are you on any medication?

They were giving out Venlafaxine like Smarties a while back,

but that might've changed. I can check.

Ven…Laflax…Flaxine. Ven…

- Venlafaxine? - Yeah.

- I came off it, though. - OK.

- You take notes? - Yes.

Sometimes I'll review them before a session.

Where are they kept?

- 'Probably not under lock and key.' - I'm sorry?

But they might be in a different room.

- Your notes? - Oh. Over there.

But they're very safe. Nothing about you leaves this practice.

Can you tell me what you'd like to get out of these sessions?

I just wanna get better.

'There's often no one else there.

'Course if someone were to ring the office,

'it might get her out of the room for long enough.'

You should've stayed up north, Chris.

People who suffer from depression often feel they've always felt this way.

Like they're trapped in a cycle.

So, what I'd like to do is…

Excuse me. I'm gonna get that if no one else will.

Sorry. They hung up.

Why do people do that?

"Mr. Coulson presents a vivid convincing case

"that he is a…manic depressive,

"but symptoms may be co-morbid with other…"

Can't read that. "Disorders"?

"As such, I'm not convinced that he is fully bipolar.

"I'm treating him as such while keeping open to real pathology."

Why would someone pretend to have an illness?

Pots and kettles.

"He has expressed interest in other patients.

"Questions about range of conditions patients are said to have.

"I feel interest borders on morbidity, especially in light of his history."

Then there's this.

"Coulson for M. Suitable subject."

- M? - Morland?

I tracked him down. He's retired but still sees patients now and again in his home.

Maybe Coulson's one of them.

Strange word. "Subject."

'…for you today.

'…people who suffer from depression often feel they've always felt this way.

'Like they're trapped in a cycle.'

so, let's go through a typical Chris day, shall we?

I don't do anything.

'You must do something. It's impossible to do nothing.'

Fuck!

Fuck!

You've been coming here for over a month now, Chris, but…

…you can't progress unless you start to share a bit more about yourself.

Is there anyone in your life you have feelings for?

There's a girl.

And I, erm…

…kind of like her I suppose.

How did you meet her?

We met at a university up north.

I was older… Well, I am older than her.

And she was in her… first year.

And I didn't finish. I-I-I dropped out.

And I was just hanging round university, going to the bar.

- Did you go out? - No.

No, she…

She went out with a friend of mine, Jim.

So that's, that's how I met her.

Have you kept in touch with her?

'No, not, not really.'

I mean, I sometimes go over to sort of that part of town

because it's… it's, it's near where I live anyway, so…

What's she called?

Kathleen.

Her name's Kathleen.

Timing! Got a light?

Here you are.

Can I have a draw on that?

- Er… - Wanna share some?

Erm…

I-I can't cos it's, er… It's just that it's…

Sorry, it's my last, it's my last little bit, so, erm…

So I haven't got much…

I haven't got much left, so…

- I only want a little bit. - Er…

'Hi, mum. Yeah. Yeah, good.'

'Yeah, actually, it's ok. Going well.'

Hmm. It's a, er… psychotherapist. It's not a psychiatrist. Yeah.

'A she. She… it's a…

'Yeah, it's, it's a woman.

'Yeah, well, you know, just… Just about stuff.'

Hello, mate. Happy… Fucking hell! Jesus, mate!

I should've brought my hazard suit. Christ, honestly.

Open a window now and again. Give the rats a fighting chance.

- I'm kidding. How are you, man? - Er, good.

Look at this. The booze man cometh.

All unwanted samples from work. What is your poisson?

We got, er…whisky, ouzo, vodka.

What the fuck is this stuff? Here you are.

- That's for you. - Cheers.

Overflowing with gratitude as ever, I see.

Right, I can't stay. How's your, erm…?

Oh, yeah, yeah, good. It's better.

Running. Seriously, mate, it works.

Endorphins. Get yourself a good woman.

Or even better, get yourself a bad woman. Yeah?

- All right, man. - How's Kathleen?

Yeah, she's good, yeah. We're good.