Darkmans (53 page)

‘Huh?’

‘Dina Broad.’

Kane smirked. He performed an obscene gesture with his hands.

Gaffar looked astonished. ‘Dina Broad?’ He paused. ‘Dina
Broad
?!’

‘Yeah. And she was furious about Gerry, too. She said all you needed to do now was fuck her sister, then you’d’ve tried it on with her entire family…’

Kane chuckled as he tore off another piece of bread, his eyes returning, irresistibly, to the drama on the screen. ‘Which I actually thought was kinda
funny
…’

‘
Sister?
’ Gaffar was still struggling to catch up.

‘Yeah. She has a sister. A fucking psychopath. Lives in Gillingham. You ever been there?’

Gaffar shook his head. Kane suddenly winced and then quickly adjusted the position of his right foot.

‘Don’t bother. She’s a Nazi. Built like a brick shithouse…’

‘All this Broad girls is big
mouth
, huh?’ Gaffar threw down his chicken wing, piqued.

‘You better believe it.’

Gaffar glowered at the tv. The falling mountaineer had been fortunate enough to land on a small, jutting shelf, about 20 metres into the icy fissure. He lay there, unconscious, for a while.

‘It’s always been kinda hard to gauge these things with Kell,’ Kane mused, ‘she’s a
Broad
, after all – but I got the weird impression this afternoon that she was protesting a little too much, you know? Like somewhere deep inside of her – and I mean
way
deep inside – she might’ve been feeling just a teensy-bit conflicted, a teensy bit
jealous
, if you see what I mean…’

‘Huh?’

Gaffar’s head snapped around. ‘Jealous? For
why
?’

Kane shrugged. ‘That’s the million dollar question, my friend.’

Gaffar stared at him, quizzically.

‘Her mother’s a total piss-taker – that goes without saying – but Kelly’s hardly a pushover. It might seem that way at first – to the casual observer – but the dynamic between them is so much more complex…It’s hardly a coincidence, for example, that Kelly’s so skinny and Dina’s so fat. There’s a measure of co-dependency there. Kelly doesn’t just starve herself but she actively
facilitates
Dina’s weight problem. It’s like she derives some strange kind of pleasure from feeding her mother, from fattening her up, from doing everything she can to effectively
disable
her. It’s a complicated relationship. For Kelly, looking after Dina – being indispensable to Dina – makes her feel important. It’s an essential part of how she places value on herself…’

Gaffar frowned.

‘…Then suddenly here
you
come along with your massages, your Mediterranean good looks, your shopping trips…’

Kane smiled, inscrutably, as he pulled a stray piece of skin off a thick slice of chicken breast and then shoved it into his mouth.

‘But Kelly is for
asking
me to look after this mother!’ Gaffar exclaimed, indignantly.

‘Yeah…’ Kane chewed and swallowed. ‘Who can possibly understand the vagaries of the female mind, eh?’

Gaffar turned back to the tv, dissatisfied.

‘See that?’ Kane said. ‘He’s fractured his leg. The rope’s been cut so he can’t climb back up. He knows that if he stays put he’s gonna die, so his only possible chance of survival is to gradually lower himself down – into the darkness – still further…’

They continued eating.

‘Did you happen to notice,’ Kane suddenly quizzed him, ‘how Beede’s locked the door into his flat?’

‘Beede?’

‘Yeah. He locked his door.’

‘Sure.’ Gaffar nodded.

‘You noticed that?’

‘Sure. In morning. I take…uh…
dish
? For cook? But door is lock.’

‘The really strange thing about it,’ Kane’s eyes remained focussed on the screen, ‘is that Beede
never
locks his door. I don’t think I’ve ever
seen
that door locked. I didn’t even know that there
was
a lock on it.’

‘Maybe he fear thief?’ Gaffar speculated.

‘Kelly did mention how she’d asked you to steal some papers for her,’

Kane volunteered.

‘Sure.’

Gaffar didn’t trouble himself in denying it. ‘But this lock is
before
I steal paper.’

‘Before?’ Kane frowned. ‘So how’d you go about it?’

‘Uh…I steal from Tesco,’ Gaffar murmured, as if this key piece of information was of no real interest, ‘from Beede bag.’

‘Tesco’s?’

Kane looked at him askance.

‘Ya.’

‘You saw Beede at Tesco’s?’

‘Sure.’

‘Really?’

‘Sure.’

‘But…’ Kane frowned, confused ‘…but Beede hates Tesco’s. He never goes to Tesco’s. He disapproves of Tesco’s.’

As Kane spoke he reached down again, wincing, towards his foot. ‘Okay,’ Gaffar opined, unhelpfully.

‘Well it’s a fact,’ Kane insisted, ‘Beede hates Tesco’s. He loathes the impact of big supermarkets on the High Street. He always shops locally. It’s not just an idle preference, it’s ideological.’

Gaffar shrugged.

Silence

‘So what was he doing exactly when you saw him at Tesco’s?’ Kane wondered.

‘Uh…’

Gaffar picked at his teeth a while, thoughtfully.

‘Was he shopping?’

‘Sure.’

‘Did you happen to see what he was shopping for?’

‘I see him
uh
…’ Gaffar frowned, ‘is in
front
supermarket, yeah?

With lady. He is
talk
with this lady.’

‘A woman? What did she look like?’ Kane’s chin suddenly jerked up.

‘Did she have brown hair? Did she have long, brown hair?’

‘No. No
brown
hair. Is
blonde. You
know…is this lady…
uh
…Mon-
key
…’

‘What?’

’Mon-
key.
’

‘A
monkey
lady?’

As he spoke, Kane’s shoulder convulsed, dramatically.

‘Fuck.’

He grabbed at it, then grabbed at his plate, to stop it from falling.

Gaffar stared at him, perplexed. ‘No
monkey
, Mon-
key.
Laura Mon-
key.
’

‘Oh
shit
…I get ya,’ Kane exclaimed, ‘Mon
keith.
Laura Mon
keith
…’

Gaffar snapped his fingers.

‘So he was talking to
Laura
?’

‘Sure.’

‘Outside
Tesco’s
?’

‘Sure.’

‘Wow.’

Kane dwelt on this for a moment, still rubbing at his shoulder. ‘So lemme get this straight: they’re in the middle of this private conversation, yeah? This
intimate
conversation – close to the trolleys, out front, when you – Gaffar – just suddenly, quite randomly, roll up and surprise them?’

‘Sure.’

‘How very odd…’

Gaffar shrugged, indifferent.

‘But you were discreet?’ Kane asked. ‘With Laura, I mean?’

‘Sure,’ Gaffar nodded, blithely. ‘I go. I say hello.’

Gaffar re-enacted a jovial wave.

Kane winced (this wasn’t the response he’d been angling for). ‘And what did Laura do? Did she acknowledge you? Did she seem pissed off at all?’

‘
Piss?!
’ Gaffar grinned. ‘She is
shit her pant
! This Laura she is saying, “I never see this Gaffar! I don’t know of this Gaffar!” Then she is run away.’

Gaffar impersonated a panicked Laura running off.

‘She was embarrassed?’

‘Exact.’

‘Okay…’ Kane nodded, thoughtfully. ‘So just as an idle point of interest, Gaffar, do you happen to recall that long discussion we had – a couple of days ago – about client confidentiality?’

Gaffar gazed at him, blankly.

‘Client confidentiality,’ Kane reiterated. ‘That chat we had. About how I tend to think it best – as a rule –
never
to acknowledge any of our clients in public…I mean except with their express say-so, obviously?’

‘
Ah
…Yes. Sure.’ Gaffar nodded.

‘You
remember
that?’

‘Sure,’ Gaffar repeated, amiably.

‘Right…
Good.
’

Kane stared at the tv a while, frowning.

‘So once Laura had run off,’ he soon doggedly recommenced his former line of enquiry, ‘you casually stole the document from Beede’s bag?’

‘No.
No
…’ Gaffar seemed to find this notion quite ridiculous. ‘First we have tea.’

‘Tea with Beede?’

‘Sure. We talk.’

Kane’s brows rose slightly.

‘You
talked
? What did you talk about?’

‘Uh…chit-chat: shop, tree, pretty manager,
bell
…’

‘Bell?’

Kane’s ears pricked up.

‘Sure. Bell on cat.’

‘Oh
God
, yes…’ Kane chuckled. ‘That friggin’
bell
…’

Gaffar continued to eat his meal.

‘So what did you say?’ Kane wondered.

‘Eh?’

Gaffar glanced up, mid-mouthful.

‘About the cat. Did you
admit
to hanging the bell on it?’

Gaffar gazed at him for a few seconds, wordlessly, as if quite astonished.

‘What’s wrong?’

Kane took another bite of pitta.

‘Wrong?…’ Gaffar slowly swallowed his mouthful. ‘You thing
I
hung bell?’ He pointed to his chest. ‘Gaffar? You thing
Gaffar
hung bell?’

‘Uh…’ Kane frowned (seeming to have nothing vested in this issue, either way), ‘I dunno…’

‘Okay…’ Gaffar gently placed his plate down on to the coffee
table. ‘So…
Okay
…
Let me finally get this thing straightened out, once and for all
, eh?’

He spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘I.
Me.
Gaffar. Not. Hang. Bell. Cat.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Understan? Gaffar…’ he pointed to his chest, ‘is
not
hang bell cat.’

‘Right.’ Kane nodded. ‘Fine. Whatever.’

Gaffar gripped firmly on to his knees with both hands. ‘…
Because it’s starting to weigh me down a little – the whole
cat
thing, the whole
bell
thing…First your father insinuates it, and then you do. Yeah? And I’m not entirely sure if the confusion that’s developing between us here is based on some fundamental linguistic or cultural difference, or if I’m actually just living in a complete
fucking
nuthouse
–
but the fundamental facts of the matter – as I see them – are that I’ve been keeping myself
pretty
busy
, yeah?
Cooking meals, cleaning the flat, dressing my wound, carrying firewood, picking up dog shit, giving massages to bad-tempered, bloated, 25-stone harpies, visiting the hospital, buying
salad
,
making out with a silent, huge-breasted, voyeuristic
Goff
as you blithely masturbate in your leather tv recliner
…’

‘Goth,’
Kane corrected him.

‘…
stealing papers from people’s bags
,’ Gaffar continued, undaunted, ‘
riding a badly engineered Italian
scooter
all over this godforsaken town while your stinking
English
weather
pisses
endlessly down
…Pretty damn
busy
, yeah?’

‘Absolutely,’ Kane said, nodding.

‘
On that basis, I’m sure you can imagine
,’ Gaffar continued, ‘
that it comes as something of a surprise to me – perhaps even a shock, at some level – that you and your father seem so determined to believe that I
, Gaffar,
in the midst of all this frenzied – if fundamentally pointless – activity, somehow have the time – or the inclination – to hang a stupid
bell
on an ugly
fucking
cat.
’

He stared at Kane, somewhat short of breath, his dark eyes bulging.

‘Okay?’

‘Sure,’ Kane shrugged.

‘Okay?’

Silence

Gaffar picked up his plate and recommenced with his meal. ‘Feeling better?’ Kane enquired amiably, after a brief duration. ‘Fuckin’
lid
,’ Gaffar muttered, ‘fuckin’
rug
, fuckin’
drug
, fuckin’
salad
, fuckin
cat
…’

He screwed up his napkin and threw it down at the coffee table, in disgust.

They both watched tv a while.

‘So you didn’t, then?’ Kane suddenly enquired.

‘Pard?’ Gaffar turned and stared at Kane, blankly.

‘You didn’t?’

Gaffar continued to stare.

‘Hang the bell, I mean. You
didn’t
hang the bell on the cat?’

Gaffar remained utterly motionless.

‘Ding! Ding!’

Kane mimed the ringing of a tiny bell.

‘Miaow!’

He impersonated a cat.

Silence

Gaffar slowly closed his eyes. He remained dangerously quiet for three – five – seven seconds and then –

‘
Ha!
’ he suddenly bellowed, his eyes flying open again, darting forward and slapping Kane (perhaps a fraction too firmly), on his thigh. ‘You’s
funny
guy,
eh
?’

Kane shrugged, modestly.

‘No,’ Gaffar insisted loudly (as if addressing a crowded public meeting), ‘is
true.
You’s
very
, very funny guy.’

Kane smiled.

‘
Funny
, huh? In Turkey we has this
word
for funny guy like you,’ he paused, dramatically, ‘
tiny cock!
Eh?
Baby cock! A man with a dick so small, so infinitesimal, it’s the approximate size of a newborn child’s. Tiny cock…mini cock. Peanut cock
…’

‘Aw,
shucks
, man,’ Kane interrupted him. ‘
Enough
already – you’re
embarrassing
me here…’

On the tv, the fallen climber screamed out in agony as he began clumsily binding up his badly fractured leg. Kane patted his full stomach as he watched this painful process, then he burped, slid his empty plate on to the coffee table, leaned forward and peered
down at his feet. He wiggled his toes and then gingerly stood up.

‘You know what?’ he murmured, feeling around inside his pockets for his car keys, his phone, his cigarettes. ‘I actually gotta head outa here. Some stuff I forgot about. Stuff I need to take care of…’