Dead Money (18 page)

No, worse than that. He was a child. Couldn't even hold down a job without going doo-lally. He was a coward. He was a fucking ...

Stop. You're above it, Alan. You're in control. You're the man that makes it happen. You're the one pulling the strings. You're the one who can ride this through to the other end with the minimum of fuss and effort.

You are your own creation.

I looked at my smile in the rear view. Looked as if I had vinegar on the roof of my mouth. I was a god.

And I was ready for the Commercial. I breezed through the doors and went straight for the bar. An old bloke sat in the corner, wrapped tightly in his anorak. The smell of stale cigarette and stale ale wafted down from him. At the bar, showing more gabardine shoulder than head, was Beale. He hadn't noticed me yet, hadn't bothered to turn at the sound of the doors. He was preoccupied. That was good. I could use that.

I tapped him on the shoulder. He flinched.

"Get 'em in," I said.

And I sauntered over to the usual table. My cheeks hurt, but I smiled through it. Always smile, no matter how weird or painful it might seem. Always, always smile.

Beale bought two pints and chasers but I noticed he counted the money out more carefully than usual.

Same old table, same old window. Same old rain spotting the glass. I looked out at the street. The pavement was dark with water. I flashed on a spinning car, a loud thump and a dog dragged under the wheels. When I turned back, Beale was sat opposite and the Commercial dog was asleep on its bean bag.

"How've you been?" I said.

"I can't go back."

"I don't think anyone's expecting you back, Les."

"I meant the house."

"Where have you been sleeping then?"

"The car."

I took a drink, let the bubbles crackle on my tongue before I swallowed. It made sense. I'd probably be seeing ghosts if I had to live where he did. "You said they'd found him. Where'd you find that out?"

"The news. You not seen it?"

"I've been busy. Some of us still have jobs."

He nodded and sipped his pint. "Henderson called us, right enough. Told us I was out on my arse."

"How'd they find Stevie?"

Beale looked into his pint. His fingers twitched around the glass. "I don't know. They just found him. That's all I know. Soon as I found out, I called you."

I stared at him. He looked up. As soon as his eyes met mine, he shifted his gaze.

"Where'd you hear this again?"

"I told you, the news."

"Which news?"

"Telly."

"Where'd you see one of those if you're sleeping in your car?"

"Crazy George's down Piccadilly."

"And they had the news on, did they?"

"Yeah."

"I went round there today. There's no tape up or anything."

"They must've cleared the scene."

I took another drink. "You're talking shit. They haven't found him. You just said that to get me in here."

"I'm telling the truth."

"And what if we get the landlord to put on the telly and wait for the next news, eh?"

"Alan—"

"What do you want?"

"I need help."

"I helped you already."

"With Ahmad."

"So, money, then."

Beale nodded.

"Then you can get fucked."

There was a flash of something like the old Beale, a rage in his eyes, but it turned out to be only a belch. "You got money, I know you do."

"I do, yeah. Mostly because I don't go blowing it on rigged card games."

"I can make life uncomfortable for you," he said. "I've got nowt to lose."

I leaned across the table and made sure I had his full attention. "Listen to me, Les. You've got fuck all. You go to the police, you go to prison. There's nothing to put me there, and I'm respectable, mate. I've got a job. I've got a wife who'll swear down I was in bed all night Saturday. You've got nothing to lose, but I bet you'll find something if you go to the police. So go on, see how far it gets you."

"You killed him."

"
You
killed him, Les. You were positive he was already dead when we wrapped him. If you weren't, then we could've sent him on his way and you'd only be up for a GBH."

"I need money."

"And you think blackmail's going to pay out, do you?"

"He's going to kill me, Alan."

"Take out a loan."

"I did that."

"I meant with a loan company, a fucking bank."

"I don't have a job, do I?"

"You own the house."

He shook his head. "Takes too long, man. And Ahmad's putting the pressure on. He's been following us."

"They're all fucking following you, Les."

"No, he
was
. He caught us outside the Riverside."

"You went to the Riverside?"

"I had to."

"You went to the Riverside." I couldn't smile anymore. I took a nip from my chaser, my lips burning. "Why would you go back there?"

"You fuckin' listening to me? I need money."

"Why there?"

"It's the only place I can go."

"No, it isn't."

He spluttered a little, shook his head. "I had to go, didn't I? I needed to see if anyone had noticed."

"You ask questions?"

"No."

"So how much did you lose?"

His mouth puckered. "Couple hundred."

I finished the chaser, cooled my mouth with the pint. My stomach hated it. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep from showing the pain. I wanted to let it out, smash this pint right into his throat, grind in until he stopped thrashing.

"Alan?"

I stared at him. Didn't blink. Wanted him dead.

"Mate?"

"I'm not your fucking mate. You're on your own."

"Wait a minute—"

I got out of my seat, found my hand wavering over the pint glass. Beale was talking, but I couldn't hear him. The old bloke at the bar turned our way, as did the dog.

"Shut up," I told him. "And fuck off out of it."

"I'll go to the police."

"Go on." I faced Beale. "It's a free call. But if you do, you're fucked and I'm gone, do you understand? I'm out of here. And I swear to God if I ever see you again, or hear you've been hanging round Lucy's place, I'll take my steering lock to your fucking skull, do you understand?"

And I smiled again as I moved to the door.

Go in with a smile, leave with a smile.

Whatever the outcome.

20

I used to think Lucy was a cheap date. A bottle of the hard stuff and that was about it. She was making up for it now, though. Of course she wanted the five courses, and of course she wanted the matched wines. Forty quid a head for lunch wasn't my idea of a good time, but it would have to do, given the circumstances.

All the chrome and halogen in the world couldn't stop this place from being basement dark. A lot of glass, a lot of pillars, the furniture supposedly modern but the seats felt brittle under your arse and you couldn't lean on the table for fear of turning it over. Oh, and there were curtains but no windows. What with my surroundings and the fact I was doing a load of money, it was like eating in a casino, which was something I'd managed to avoid thus far.

Lucy was eating something that looked for all the world like the posh dog food Cath foisted on Buttons every day. I had soup with a wine that my limited French told me was a Pinot Grey, which didn't seem very appetising either. A quick swill of the stuff and it was okay. Tasted like white wine.

She paused in her chewing to swallow and said, "I'll be honest with you, I didn't think you'd manage to get reservations."

"So this was a test?"

She moved her head. "Kind of."

"And I've passed with flying colours."

"We'll see what the rest of lunch is like." She dug into the salad. "So far, so good."

"Really? That's good, is it? What is that, anyway?"

She smiled. "It's a terrine."

"Right." I ate some of my soup, which was fine despite being made of cauliflower. "What's a terrine?"

"You are so uncouth. Can't take you anywhere."

"Just asking. What is it?"

She paused. Shook her head. "I have no idea."

"That's what I thought." Just looking at it made me a bit queasy. "Well, as long as it's nice, that's the main thing."

We ate in silence for a bit longer. She finished off, so did I. The second course went the same way. I didn't have the balls to say anything until the lamb appeared in front of the pair of us, and by that time I'd had two large glasses of wine and was beginning to feel the pull a bit. Odd that I'd get slow on wine, but then I wasn't used to it, I suppose. When the red came out with the lamb, we both looked at each other and I knew she was just as mullered as I was. We both nodded and smiled as the waiter told us what we had in front of us, and kept nodding and smiling at him as he left the table.

We both got stuck in. It was good. Probably not forty quid a head good, but still good. "You had any more salesmen come round?"

"No," she said.

"Good. Let me know if you do."

She stopped eating for a moment and regarded me with suspicion. "You're not telling me something."

"I told you everything you needed to know." I put some of the lamb with the fondant potato and shoved it in so I wouldn't have to keep talking.

"You told me that I shouldn't open the door to that guy again, that's all you told me. So what's happening?"

"He's just a nut job."

"What was he doing there?"

"I think he wanted to get a look at you."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Another sip of the red. "Don't worry, I've taken care of it."

"He give you the shiners the other week?"

"Yeah."

"He's your best mate, is he?"

Looked up and she was smiling. I matched it. "Not anymore. Listen, I've seen it before. It's the business. The stress of it, like you keep telling me. Some blokes can handle it better than others. Beale's had a bad run recently, and he hasn't taken it that well. He sees me, I've got the volume, I have the beautiful young girlfriend and money to burn while he's divorced and broke, hey, it would piss me off no end. So when they gave him the boot the other day, I'm guessing that was the final straw."