Darkmans (77 page)

Kane refused to put his phone down. It was actually turned off, but he continued to stare at it. ‘The diary was in the Rover, on the dash,’ he murmured sullenly, ‘and he’d parked me in, so I just…’

‘You stole it?’

‘I borrowed it.’

‘Why?’
Beede demanded. ‘And no more of that ridiculous clap-trap about…’

‘Okay then,’ Kane butted in, turning to face Beede, full-on, ‘I’ll tell you why, shall I? I’ll tell you
exactly
why. I’m here because I followed him, and I stole his diary because – to put it plainly – I think he’s a lunatic and I was intrigued to know what he’d been writing in it.’

‘What did you discover?’ Beede asked.

‘That he’s crazy. That he’s losing his mind. That he’s totally paranoid…’

‘Really?’ Beede smiled, superciliously. ‘And who are you to make that kind of assessment?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Who are
you
to stand in judgement on a man like Dory? A decent, respectable, hardworking…’

‘He’s
crazy,’
Kane interrupted, his temper rising. ‘I almost ran him down, earlier. He was just standing in the road, like a zombie…’

‘When?’ Beede demanded. ‘How?’

‘About half an hour ago. I was negotiating a sharp bend…’

‘Where?’

‘Just north of here…’

‘Why?’

Kane frowned.

‘I mean what exactly were you up to?’

‘Up
to?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was making a delivery,’ Kane answered haughtily, ‘to a client, if you must know.’

‘To Elen?’

‘What?’

Kane stared at Beede, bewildered. ‘Why on earth would I be making a delivery to her?’

‘Why wouldn’t you be?’

‘Because she isn’t one of my clients, for one thing, and for another, she was actually with
you
all morning.’

Beede slowly processed the infallible logic of this statement. ‘Of course,’ he said, tightly, ‘so you were making a delivery. Fine. Then what?’

‘I was negotiating a sharp bend, I heard a horn sounding, I covered my brake, and the next thing I knew, I was swerving to avoid a man –
him,
Dory – standing in the middle of the road.’

‘What was he doing?’ Beede wondered.

‘Nothing. Just standing there, staring down at the tarmac. I swerved to avoid him – like I said – then I swerved to avoid a Metro which’d just done the same thing. I lightly clipped the back of it. There was a woman driver…’

‘But Isidore was unhurt?’

‘He was extremely lucky…’

‘And he was just standing there, you say? Looking down at the road?’

‘Yes. And crying. I think he was crying. He was obviously deeply upset about something…’

‘About what?’

Kane threw up his hands. ‘How the hell should I know?’

‘You didn’t speak to him?’

‘No. There wasn’t time. The Metro was obstructing the road and she couldn’t get it re-started, so I…’

‘Was
she
hurt?’

‘No – not so far as I’m aware. And by the time I looked around again, he’d vanished.’

‘I see.’

Beede looked perplexed.

‘Although a few minutes later,’ Kane continued, ‘he swept past in his Rover, like nothing had happened. He didn’t even glance over.’ ‘So then you followed him?’

‘Yes.
No.
I didn’t plan to – not to begin with – but his driving was so bad – so erratic – that I just thought it might be safer…’

‘Purely in the spirit of
altruism,
eh?’ Beede scoffed.

‘Yes. Why not?’ Kane enquired, piqued.

Beede didn’t respond. He stared down at the black jotter. ‘Well you had no right to steal his diary,’ he said.

‘In a perfect world,’ Kane conceded, ‘you’d probably have a point, but he’s out of control. He’s a danger to himself and to the people around him…’ he paused. ‘I mean what about poor Elen? All those awful bruises on her forearms?’

‘Poor
Elen
?!’ Beede parroted, scornfully, then he glanced down, surreptitiously, at his badly grazed knuckles. ‘Did she
say
Dory was responsible for those?’

‘No. Not in so many words…’ Kane shrugged. ‘But then she’s probably just protecting him – in the same way that you are…’

‘I’m not protecting him at all,’ Beede insisted, ‘and contrary to what you might think, I’m perfectly well-acquainted with how strange – even dangerous – some of Dory’s behaviour can be. But I’ve known him for a long time now, and while he may have a few problems – some serious, long-term health issues – underneath all the mess – all the confusion – he’s still a decent, gentle, highly intelligent…’

‘How about you?’ Kane suddenly butted in.

‘Pardon?’

‘How about
your
problems?’

‘
My
problems?’ Beede was thrown off-kilter. ‘What problems?’

‘Well you’re £38,000 in debt, for starters.’

Beede didn’t flinch. ‘And?’

‘And you’re in love with his wife.’

‘Rubbish!’
Beede hissed, his cheeks reddening. ‘Dory is my
friend.
Elen is my
friend.
I’m just helping them through a rough patch…’

‘Purely in the spirit of
altruism,
of course,’ Kane grinned.

‘I should’ve known I could depend on you,’ Beede sneered, ‘to put some kind of vulgar slant on it.’

Kane said nothing. He just continued to smile.

‘This strikes me as a rather good example,’ Beede continued, obviously riled, ‘of the pot calling the kettle black.’

Kane’s grin grew still wider.

‘What you seem incapable of realising,’ Beede snapped (finally losing his cool), ‘is that you’re meddling in things here which are none of your damn
business…’

‘But they
are
my business,’ Kane interrupted.

‘How?’

‘They became my business when you stole drugs from me – to give to
her,
presumably…Or did you steal them for him? I don’t know. I don’t really even care. What I
do
care about is the fact that you let Kelly take the rap for it. That was shabby. If you’d wanted drugs you should’ve just asked. I would’ve handed them over, quite happily.’

‘Well here’s a turn-up,’ Beede snorted, ‘me receiving a lecture from
you
on moral probity.’

‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Kane smiled (refusing to let his father wind him up). ‘And while you’re in the mood to exchange idle aphorisms…’

Beede stared at his son, unblinking.

‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’

‘Oh really?’ Beede smirked. ‘And you’d know all about that, I suppose?’

Kane nodded, with feeling. ‘Absolutely.’

Beede rolled his eyes. ‘Well I’ll take that under advisement, if you don’t mind.’

‘Dory may be your friend,’ Kane persisted (determined to get his point across), ‘but he’s still a
bona-fide
fruitcake. And while it’s perfectly understandable that you should want to help him – to protect him, to shield him from the harsh realities of everyday life – there comes a point beyond which that kind of interference – that help – is actually counter-productive; you only end up making matters worse…’

‘No,’ Beede refused to yield, ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t I?’ Kane stared at his father, thoughtfully. ‘Why? Because I lack the relevant
experience,
perhaps? Because you never really cared for
me
in that way?’

Beede looked confused.

‘Okay,’ Kane stubbed out his cigarette. ‘What if I told you that it wasn’t just an accident that the scaffolding collapsed?’ Beede was silent.

‘What if I told you that Dory was perching on the roof and that he pushed it down?’

‘I’d say you’d taken leave of your senses,’ Beede declared.

‘I sat here and I
watched
him, Beede.’

‘Well I spoke to Kelly,’ Beede maintained, ‘and she said Harvey was all alone…’

‘Dory was on the roof. He pushed the scaffolding down.’

‘And you
saw
that? You actually
saw
him do that?’

‘Yes.’ Kane nodded, then he paused. ‘Or as good as…I mean I turned away for a split second when the scooter pulled on to the road. Kelly was making such a
racket…’

Beede gave a derisory snort.

‘He’d planned it all out in advance,’ Kane back-pedalled, furiously. ‘It was
obvious.
Just look where he parked his
car,
for Christsakes…’

Kane turned and pointed.

Beede turned himself to inspect the Rover.

‘That doesn’t prove a thing. The scaffolding was always unstable…’

‘I sat and I
watched
him, Beede,’ Kane refused to be gainsaid, ‘I was
right here.
I watched him parking his car, I watched him climb out of
his car and remove some kind of heavy wrench – or spanner – from inside the boot, I watched him stare over at the house for a while and then stroll over to the scaffolding and begin hammering away at it…’

‘He was tightening it up,’ Beede shrugged. ‘He was shoring it up.’

‘Yeah. That’s exactly what I thought to begin with. But the more he bashed away at it, the more unstable the whole structure grew, to the extent that he was actually forced to grab on to the roof at one point to save himself from falling…’

Beede stared down at Kane, scowling. He said nothing.

‘He kept inspecting his watch, as if he was waiting for someone.’

‘He was waiting for me. I was late…’

‘Then perhaps he was intending to kill
you,’
Kane volunteered (although not entirely seriously).

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Beede exclaimed (visibly spooked by this idea).

‘And here’s another thing,’ Kane continued, emboldened by his father’s fearful look, ‘there was a history of bad blood between them…’

‘Between whom?’

‘Between him and Harvey Broad.’

‘Well what does that prove?’ Beede scoffed. ‘Everybody hates Harvey Broad. He’s an incorrigible crook…’

‘No. This was serious. This was
personal.
This was the continuation of an argument that’d started some twenty-odd
years
ago when they were both working together on the Channel Tunnel. It seems that Dory was actually there – in person – when those tiles were stolen. He was working as a guard. In fact they both were – him
and
Harvey. I heard them arguing about it…’ he paused, thoughtfully. ‘Although maybe you already knew that…’

‘Which tiles?’

Beede seemed bewildered.

‘Which
tiles?!’ Kane taunted. ‘Oh come
on
! The tiles. The
antique
tiles. The tiles you got so steamed-up about. The tiles from the old mill.’

Beede stared at him, blankly. ‘You remember that?’

‘Remember?!’
Kane cackled, indignantly. ‘You seriously think I wouldn’t
remember?
The fucking
tiles?
The antique, fucking
tiles
?! Of
course
I remember!’

Beede looked stunned. ‘But you were so young…’

‘How could I possibly forget?’ Kane demanded. ‘How could I forget
what it
did
to you? How it totally messed you up? How you let it eat away at you. How you let it…’ he struggled, momentarily, to find the right word, ‘how you allowed it to…to…’ he clenched his hands into fists, ‘to completely
eviscerate
you?’

‘No.’ Beede shook his head. ‘That’s not true…’

‘Yes
it
is
!’

Kane suddenly realised that he was shaking, that his eyes were full of tears.

‘How could I
not
remember?’ he yelled, furious at himself.

‘How?!
When it
changed
everything? When it ruined
everything?’

Silence

‘I didn’t realise…’ Beede finally murmured, shocked.

‘No…’ Kane shook his head. ‘Me neither.’

‘Well I’m sorry,’ Beede said, ‘I’m very sorry.’

His father suddenly looked haggard –
old,
Kane thought. But instead of feeling sorry for him, instead of wanting to reach out to him, to
help
him, Kane felt a strange, warm sensation in his stomach, a kind of
glow,
a deep feeling of contentment, as if seeing his father so horribly diminished was – in some sick, subterranean way – profoundly empowering to him.

‘Perhaps you should call Elen?’ he volunteered, proffering Beede his phone. ‘And tell her what’s been going on?’

‘Yes,’ Beede answered, vaguely, ‘maybe later.’

‘Later? You don’t think she needs to know now?’

Beede frowned.

‘You don’t think she needs to know
now?’
Kane repeated (an edge of hysteria re-entering his voice).

‘It’s very complicated,’ Beede murmured. ‘It’s a complicated situation…’

‘Yeah,’ Kane snapped, frustrated, ‘so you persist in saying…’

‘It just has to be…’ Beede scowled, ‘it just has to be
handled…’

‘Handled?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then perhaps
I
should tell her,’ Kane suggested, ‘if you feel like you’re too embroiled in the whole thing? Do you happen to know her work number, offhand?’

Beede didn’t answer. He stared down the road, deep in thought, then he turned back to his son again, impetuously. ‘I’ve never made a habit of ordering you around, have I?’ he asked.

Kane frowned, disconcerted. ‘Uh…’ he thought for a minute, ‘No. I guess not. I mean not in so many
words
…’

‘I’ve never nagged at you, tried to manipulate you, bullied you into decisions that you didn’t feel comfortable with…In fact I
pride
myself on it. I’ve always encouraged you to make your own choices, your own mistakes…’

‘Sure – and then oozed disapproval,’ Kane smirked, ‘or – better still –
disappointment,
from a sensible distance.’

‘I don’t,’ Kane jumped in, ‘I was just…’ he shrugged.

‘Well here’s the nub of the matter,’ Beede quickly moved on, ‘I’ve never made a habit of asking you for anything – not directly, not outright – but if there was
one
thing, one special favour – father to son – that I needed to ask from you, one request, one heartfelt appeal…’

‘What?’ Kane demanded.

‘Stay away from her.’

‘Who?’

‘You
know
who.’