Deadly Business (10 page)

Liam was there too, although I didn’t pay too much attention to him, or give him any thought, considering everything that was going on, then and afterwards.

It’s an evening I’ll never forget, for a reason that Duncan Culshaw touched on in his scurrilous book. After the shooting, Oz and I crossed paths at the hospital where Jerry was taken, when he came to check that he was going to be all right. The two of us had dinner together and that’s where he was when he had the phone call that told him that Jan had been electrocuted by the faulty washing machine in their flat in Glasgow.

Fast forward a little. I kept in touch with him, this time to check that he was going to be all right. Eventually, one thing led to the other, I moved back to Scotland, and we became a couple again. Odd? No, I’d never stopped loving the boy, and he didn’t hate me too much either.

He was still involved with the GWA; indeed, that’s how he got into the acting business. As a ring announcer, he fell well short of being Michael Buffer, but nonetheless he made an impression. As a result, he landed some voice-over work on TV commercials. Eventually Miles Grayson, my brother-in-law, was brave enough to cast him in a movie, and it all took off from there. Before it did, though, Oz and I had socialised with some of the wrestling crew and Liam had been among them.

He’d looked a hell of a lot different then, hence my failure to recognise him. Apart from the specs, which were new, and the fact that he’d carried at least ten kilos more muscle in those days, he’d lost the big hair. Liam had been famous … some said notorious … for his ponytail, which hung on the end of one of the worst mullets I’ve ever seen. He’d looked like a holdover from a seventies pop band, but at some point since then he’d turned into a New Age man.

My brother-in-law may have had something to do with that too; at Oz’s suggestion he’d cast Liam as a cop in one of his movies. The Showaddywaddy look would not have worked for that.

When my reverie was over and I rejoined the moment, I saw that Liam was gazing down on Tom, who still hadn’t relaxed from his defensive posture. ‘Wow,’ he murmured. ‘Even if I didn’t know who you were, son, I’d have picked you out of a line-up of five hundred as Oz’s kid.’ He grinned. ‘You think you could take me, slugger? Your dad could have, that’s for sure.’

‘I’m not a slugger,’ Tom replied, quietly. ‘What’s your wing chun belt?’ he asked.

Matthews put his thumb in his waistband. ‘About thirty-four just now. What’s wang shine anyway?’

‘Wing chun is the martial art I study. It’s Chinese, something like karate.’

‘I’m only kidding,’ Liam said. ‘I know what it is and I can guess what it means: it means, “Don’t mess with me,” right?’

‘No; actually it means “Forever springtime”. It’s close to what my mother’s name means in English.’

‘Whatever, young man,’ the ex-grappler chuckled. ‘I am more pleased to meet you than you could ever imagine.’ He extended his hand and Tom shook it. Then he looked at me. ‘And I’m just as pleased to meet you again, Mrs Blackstone.’

‘Stop kidding around,’ I told him. ‘It was Primavera back then and it still is. So, Mr Matthews,’ I continued, as the singer reappeared to finish her set, ‘what brings you here? Are you a tourist, and if so is Mrs Matthews back at the hotel? Her name was Erin, wasn’t it?’

‘Don’t you give me the “mister” either,’ he replied then shook his head. ‘Erin was never officially sanctioned, so to speak, nor has anyone else ever been. If you remember, she was an air hostess. She wound up marrying a pilot she thought was a safer bet than me.’

‘Maybe the Specsavers look put her off. I didn’t mark you down to wear those ever.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t like contacts, and I won’t let anyone burn my eyes with lasers. These are the best I can do. You’re still twenty-twenty, yes?’

‘So far,’ I said. ‘So, Liam, what are you doing here?’

‘It isn’t a long story,’ he replied, glancing up at the stage, ‘but this is probably not the place to tell it. If you’d like to meet for lunch tomorrow, today rather,’ he corrected himself, ‘I’ll tell you then.’

Given the Susie situation, I wasn’t sure how the day would pan out. ‘Lunch might be a problem,’ I said. ‘Coffee would be better. Same place you were earlier, eleven thirty?’

‘That’s good for me. I’ll say goodnight then.’

‘Aren’t you staying for the music?’

He looked up at the singer once again. ‘Better not,’ he chuckled. ‘I can’t understand a word she’s singing; I can only guess at it, and it’s driving me crazy.’

We called it a morning at one thirty. Just being there had been enough for Janet and Tom. Sheer excitement – and that coffee – kept them going for a while, but eventually they both showed signs of flagging, and didn’t protest when I suggested that we head for home.

I was as tired as they were but I didn’t sleep very well. My head was still buzzing with jumbled visions of Susie, her new husband, and a younger version of Liam Matthews, complete with big hair, drifting in and out of mental focus.

I got up at the usual time, showered and dressed, maybe a little further upmarket than usual, with my coffee date in mind. I did flirt with the idea of dialling Susie’s mobile in what would have been for her the very early hours of the morning, to get even for her drunken, abusive phone call, but Culshaw would probably have answered, and the only thing I wanted to hear of him was his eulogy.

But I did call Alex Guinart, as soon as I reckoned he’d be at his desk in Girona. ‘How was San Juan for you?’ I asked him when he answered. ‘Quiet?’

He laughed. ‘Quiet is not a word I’d apply to it, but in police terms it was peaceful, as it usually is. The firefighters were busy as always, but most people were too happy or drunk to make trouble. How was yours?’

‘Mixed. Tom and Janet took me to the beach concert for a while. I needed the diversion because I’d had a difficult day. Alex,’ I asked, ‘do you remember that man you helped me get rid of last year, the would-be extortionist?’

‘Hah,’ he barked, ‘I remember him very well. Mr Duncan Culshaw. I didn’t simply let it go, you know. I opened a file on him, and entered it into our database. He is now officially a person of interest in Spain.’

‘So you still have the recording?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘I don’t suppose you could give me a copy?’ I ventured.

‘That would be correct, Primavera, I couldn’t. But I could give it to any criminal authority that is investigating him. He’s not trying to con you again, is he?’ he asked.

‘It’s worse than that.’ I told him about Susie’s nuptials. ‘He’s persuaded her that black is white, and that it was us who tried to set him up.’

‘To hell with that!’ he exclaimed. ‘Make that
denuncio
. It’ll still be valid and I’ll act on it. Where do they live?’

‘Monaco, but—’

‘Fine. He may think he can thumb his nose at us from there, but he’s wrong. Spain has an extradition treaty in place with that country, and if we have a criminal action against him we can get him.’ My friend was seriously pumped up.

‘Slow down, Alex,’ I pleaded. ‘I didn’t make an official complaint against him last year because I didn’t want the publicity that would flow from it. That still applies. But if there’s some way I can prove to Susie that she’s married a crook … That’s what I’m after, you see.’

He was silent for a few seconds. ‘Let me think about it,’ he murmured, eventually. ‘Let me talk to my boss in Barcelona. Maybe he would authorise me giving you a transcript of the recording, since your voice is on it. But I’m not confident,’ he warned.

I didn’t press him. I knew that if he could make it work, he would. But even if he did, and I laid a notarised transcript in front of Susie, I had a foreboding that the loathsome Culshaw would be able talk his way out from under it.

I spent the morning tidying the house and catching up on the laundry. To his eternal credit Conrad always insisted on doing his own, and he would have done Janet and wee Jonathan’s as well if I hadn’t drawn the line at that.

Janet was on edge, waiting for her next call from her mother, and maybe brooding over her illness. In the bright light of morning I regretted having told her about it, but I knew that if I’d lied I’d have been regretting it more. To get her out of her preoccupation, I proposed that Conrad take all three kids off for a morning at the water park in Ampuriabrava. The youngsters jumped at it, although I’m not sure he did.

I was at a table in La Terrassa d’Empuries, with an unusually placid Charlie at my feet, when Liam came up the slope and into the square. He was less immaculately dressed than the night before, but stood out more. It wasn’t the shorts, they sported Mr Tommy Hilfiger’s discreet badge; not the Croc flip-flops. No, it was the T-shirt. The GWA corporate logo was all over his chest and at its centre was his own image in wrestling gear, white sequinned tights and boots to match, with a shamrock logo on each one … not that anyone in the square, apart from me, would have linked the pouting poster beefcake to the guy who was sporting him.

I laughed as he approached. ‘Did you wear that in my honour,’ I asked, ‘or are you always so understated?’

He smiled. ‘No, this is for a special occasion. I stuck a couple in my bag for the trip … and yes, I admit it, in case you and I did meet up.’

There was a camera slung over his shoulder, a big, heavy Nikon digital SLR, with a zoom lens. As he seated himself, he placed it on the table.

‘That looks like a serious piece of kit,’ I remarked, as he asked the waiter for an orange juice, freshly squeezed. ‘Are you into photography now?’

‘Yeah, it’s become quite a serious hobby. More than a hobby, actually; I write the occasional magazine piece and if there’s a photograph needed, yes, I’m good enough to supply it myself.’ He glanced down at Charlie. ‘Nice dog. Is he your other minder?’

‘Him? He has enough trouble minding his manners,’ I retorted. ‘As a guard dog he’s all sound and no substance, I’m afraid. As for the minder-in-chief, this is one of his mornings for just being an ordinary kid.’

‘Rather than following his mother everywhere,’ he murmured, ‘like the kid in a poem I learned when I was one myself?’

I stared at him, genuinely surprised. ‘You’re full of surprises. You didn’t strike me as a man who would know his A.A. Milne.’

‘Some things stay with you for life.’

‘In that case you might recall that the poem those lines come from is called “Disobedience”. I wouldn’t dream of disobeying my boy.’

‘Not with him being a wing chun black belt.’

I frowned. ‘Are you making fun of him?’

‘Hell, no,’ Liam replied, hurriedly. ‘Nor am I underestimating him. I can’t imagine anything worse than getting my arse kicked by a thirteen-year-old.’

‘Twelve,’ I corrected him.

‘Bloody hell, Primavera, then he really is a big lad for his age.’

‘How about you?’ I asked. I knew hardly anything about the man. ‘No wives, okay, but any kids?’

‘None that have ever come looking for me.’ He chuckled. ‘If any do, they’ll probably be half Japanese. I did some time on the Bushido circuit when I was young, and I was a popular boy there. That’s where I really learned the business. Most of that stuff wasn’t worked.’ I peered at him, not understanding. ‘I mean it was for real,’ he explained. ‘Not rehearsed and staged.’

‘As in “fixed”, like the GWA and the rest?’

‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘It has to be or the audiences would walk. In amateur Greco-Roman wrestling, the guys spend most of the time on the floor looking for submission holds, or trying to manoeuvre pins. Sports entertainment has to be more the latter than the former. Television demands it. That’s why there are more body-builders and second or third tier footballers on the rosters today than there are pure wrestlers or martial artists. And because so many of those guys have no skills or subtlety, it can be a dangerous business. If Tom ever gets romantic ideas about being a GWA superstar, talk him out of it.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I promised, ‘I will. Not that it’s likely. Tom’s a very gentle boy.’

Liam chuckled. ‘He didn’t look very gentle on the beach last night when he thought I was going to come on to you. Christ, Primavera, that took me back to the last century and a night in Newcastle.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I had a run-in with Tom’s father.’

Oz had told me that his and Liam’s relationship had a rocky beginning but he’d never gone into detail. ‘Oh yes?’ I murmured, intrigued.

‘I was a young arrogant son-of-a-bitch then, with a lot of the Belfast cockiness still in me. You probably won’t remember; they billed me as being from Dublin, but actually I’m Northern Irish. Oz had just joined the company, so we’d met, but just casually, at home base. I thought he was just another suit. Jeez, was I wrong.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘I made a pass at his wife.’

‘Ouch! What did he do?’

Liam reached up and pinched his nose, just below the big tinted specs. ‘He broke this. I’d never been hit so hard in my life, and I’d been hit plenty. That was the closest Everett Davis … remember, the great big boss man … ever came to firing me, and believe me, I gave him plenty of reasons. He made me apologise to Oz and to Jan, but he didn’t have to because I would have anyway. Oz taught me the error of my ways in that one encounter. I was full of myself, I thought I could do anything to anyone and get away with it. He showed me how wrong I was. He didn’t have any martial arts skills, but wow, upset anyone he cared about, and he was unstoppable.’ He frowned. ‘I’m glad your lad’s gentle, but I’ll tell you this; he’ll do whatever he has to, if it’s to protect you.’