How Not To Commit Murder - comedy crime - humorous mystery (39 page)

‘You too,’ Reuben said.

Lucy smiled again and looked up at Duncan. ‘I’m not sure if I’ll be up to seeing the New Year in. We might head off soon.’

‘You can’t!’ They all looked at Reuben. ‘I mean, you have to stay at least until midnight, otherwise what’s the point of being at a New Year’s Eve ball? They’re drawing the lucky door prize at midnight.’

He’d made that bit up, out of desperation.

‘Really?’ Lucy said, ‘I haven’t heard anything about that. What’s the prize?’

‘Er...’ Reuben said.

‘We’ll go and check it out,’ Duncan said. They disappeared into the crowd. Reuben broke out in a sweat. Would they leave once they found out there was no lucky door prize?
Just hold out for another hour, Lucy.

‘So what’s this about helping Pastor Bryan?’ Carlene said. ‘When did you decide that?’

‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I thought I’d mentioned it to you.’

She gave him a steely look. ‘I know nothing of what goes on in your mind. And I thought nothing you did would surprise me. Turns out I was wrong.’

Pastor Bryan cleared his throat. ‘God works in mysterious ways, my dear. Often when we least expect it. Now, Reuben, we have our first meeting of the year next week...’

Where the hell had Lucy gone?

‘Excuse me, Pastor.’ Reuben interrupted. ‘I really have to ... er ... visit the Gents.’

‘You just went a few minutes ago,’ Carlene said.

She was keeping track of his excretory habits now?

Reuben rubbed his stomach. ‘I think it was the curry puffs; they didn’t agree with me.’

‘You didn’t have any,’ Carlene said.

‘Just the smell made me feel sick,’ he said and escaped in the direction of the toilets. On the way, he searched the crowd and spotted Lucy and Duncan talking to another two couples – maybe Lisa and Spike and the others from Facebook. Thank God. Hopefully they’d keep her talking for a while. He scanned the crowd again. Jug-ears was a few feet away talking to two men who had the well-fed, complacent air of successful businessmen. He didn’t blink when Reuben looked his way and gave the appearance of being engrossed in conversation, but his body was tense, as if ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Would he have a gun hidden inside his jacket?

‘Reuben.’ He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Jo. Her face was drawn and her jaw set.

‘Could you do me a favour and have a word with Wayne? He won’t listen to me and if he drinks any more he’s going to do something really embarrassing, I just know it.’

Reuben looked over her shoulder and saw Wayne holding court to a middle-aged couple. He was swaying and hugging a pot of beer to his chest. The expression on the man’s face was amused, verging on embarrassed. His wife was plainly disapproving.

‘He won’t listen to me either. I don’t think he likes me very much.’

‘He does, honestly. He needs another man to take him aside and talk some sense into him. Please?’

A tear welled up and hovered on her lower lid.

‘All right,’ Reuben said, every instinct in his body screaming against it. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll come over.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’ She wiped away her tear and rejoined the group.

Reuben waited a couple of minutes then wandered over.

‘And I’ll tell you another reason the Poms won’t win the Ashes this year,’ Wayne was saying, ‘it’s because all their players are arse-licking fairies.’ He jabbed the other man in the chest.

‘Now, just a minute, mate,’ the man said in a clipped British accent. He drew himself up, his face reddening.

‘Reuben, this is Tony and Jan,’ Jo butted in.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Jan said. ‘Come on, dear, I’m starving ¬– let’s see if we can find some food. Please excuse us.’

She grasped her husband by the arm and led him away.

‘Bloody Poms,’ Wayne said. ‘Can’t take a joke. Wouldn’t know one if it bit them in the balls.’

He held up his empty glass in front of Reuben. ‘Can you get us another drink, mate?’

‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ Reuben said.

He glared, cross-eyed, at Reuben. ‘Who the fuck are you to tell me how much I should drink?’

‘I’m simply saying maybe you should slow down. The security guard over there is bored out of his brain. I’m sure he’d love an excuse to escort you out the door.’

‘Listen, mate.’ Wayne poked Reuben in the chest. ‘I don’t need you of all people to tell me how to run my life.’

‘Honey! That’s unfair,’ Jo said.

‘You stay out of it,’ Wayne snarled. ‘It’s about time someone told Mister Smartarse the truth and it looks like it’ll have to be me.’

He turned to Reuben. ‘You don’t belong to this family. We’ve all tried to pretend you’re one of us for Carlene’s sake but you’re not and never will be. A leopard never changes its spots and I reckon you’ve been back to your old tricks. You sure as hell haven’t been doing anything else.’

‘Wayne!’ Jo was on the verge of tears again.

‘I told you to shut up!’

Anger oozed from the shiny pores on Wayne’s face. ‘Unless you count dressing up in women’s clothes and playing around on your wife. Carlene’s right, you need help. Look at you!’

He gestured wildly at Reuben. ‘You’re ... you’re...’

His gaze swivelled to the glass in Reuben’s hand. ‘You’re drinking soda water, for fuck’s sake. What kind of bloke drinks soda water on New Year’s Eve?’

Reuben tensed. In his mind’s eye he saw himself land a punch on Wayne’s jaw. It gave a satisfying loud smack before Wayne swayed and fell in a bloated heap on the floor.

He drew in a deep breath. ‘A bloke who’s not going to waste his time with fuckwits like you.’

He turned around and almost bowled over Nancy, who was standing behind him. She gave Wayne a look that would have stopped a charging rhinoceros.

‘Wayne, shut up!’ she snapped.

Wayne put on a sulky expression and muttered under his breath. Reuben took the opportunity to escape.

Anger lingered in his chest like heartburn. He glanced over to Lucy’s group. She’d disappeared, although Duncan and the others were still there. Why couldn’t she just stay in the one spot?

He looked at his watch again. Nine-fifty. He pulled his mobile phone out and checked it again for messages. Maybe Bomber had done the job early. No such luck.

‘Who are you ringing?’ Carlene appeared, looking accusing.

‘No one.’ He slipped the phone back in his pocket and to divert her attention from further interrogation, he grabbed her hand. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’

The dance floor was packed by now and there was only room to bop up and down on the spot. ‘Can’t get no satisfaction!’ the lead singer warbled plaintively. Reuben tried to scan the crowd unobtrusively to find Lucy, but Carlene caught him out. She frowned and he smiled and bopped harder. He began an elaborate sequence of movements that involved lots of twirling around, like a rock ‘n’ roll version of the flamenco, so he could do a quick reconnaissance of the room during his twirls. He executed a high jump, rather like a pirouette, and spotted Lucy coming out of the Ladies. He caught Carlene’s eye. She gave him a look that said, ‘Whatever you’re up to, I’m onto you.’

As he was starting to get a bit dizzy from the twirls, he did a few slow circle shuffles, searching for Jug-ears, but to no avail. But undoubtedly he was close by, watching Reuben’s dance floor antics.

After the Rolling Stones bracket, the band announced a break and the crowd straggled off the floor. Carlene stopped to talk to a friend from church. Reuben craned his neck and saw Lucy and Duncan still talking to their friends. Lucy yawned and Duncan smiled down at her and stroked her cheek. Reuben moved away a little from Carlene and her friend, and checked the time. Ten-fifteen. He took out his phone again. Still no message. What the hell was Bomber doing?

A hand reached out and swiped the phone from his grasp. Carlene was beside him, stuffing it into her evening bag.

‘Whoever you’re expecting to call, she can go and get stuffed.’

‘It’s not a “she”. Please give it back.’

‘No way. You’re driving me mad, looking at your phone every few minutes – that’s when you’re not checking out the other women here. Is she here? Have you got an assignation? Hoping to find a dark corner somewhere?’

Strands of her hair had fallen from her French knot and her cheeks were flushed.

‘I keep telling you, there’s no other woman.’

‘And I keep not believing you.’

Reuben tried to keep his voice calm. ‘Look, I’m expecting an important call. It’s to do with the business I mentioned earlier. I promise I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing’s so urgent you can’t spend a few uninterrupted hours with your wife. It’s hardly a matter of life and death, is it?’

She put her mouth to his ear. ‘You owe me for all the shit you’ve put me through,’ she hissed. ‘Just this once, forget about everything else and concentrate on having a fun night.’

If only you knew how much I’d love to forget everything and have a fun night…
Reuben’s stomach clenched. How could he get his phone back? As if reading his thoughts, Carlene wound the strap of her bag tightly around her arm and clasped it to her side. He’d have to crash-tackle her – hard to do without causing a stir.

He thought quickly. No point now in waiting for Bomber’s message, as he wasn’t going to receive it. Better call the police now – by the time they turned up at the car park the deed would surely be done. Or even better, they’d catch Bomber in the act. If he waited any longer, it was likely that Lucy, who was slowly wilting, would leave and he wasn’t confident of his ability to stop her. He searched the crowd. Could he borrow someone’s phone? Where was Jo? She was sure to have her phone with her.

He couldn’t see her anywhere. This was all going to shit. And how was he going to convince the police they should come immediately and not in an hour’s time? Then he spotted Pastor Bryan walking away from the bar holding two glasses of champagne. He stopped in front of two svelte young blondes and handed them a glass each with an ingratiating smile.

‘Excuse me,’ Reuben said to Carlene. He felt the daggers of venom in his back as he made a beeline for the Pastor.

‘I’m sure you’d enjoy our social evenings,’ Pastor Bryan was saying to the women, ‘they’re very informal and lots of fun.’ He gave a wink. ‘And there are lots of handsome young men as well.’

‘Sorry to interrupt, Pastor,’ Reuben said. The women looked relieved. ‘I wonder if you have a mobile phone with you.’

‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ Pastor Bryan said.

‘Could I borrow it? I left mine at home and I have to make an urgent call.’

Pastor Bryan hesitated. ‘It’s supposed to be only for church business.’

‘This is really important! And it’ll only take a minute.’

‘Is someone ill? Do you need an ambulance?’

Reuben took a deep breath. ‘No, nothing like that. It’s just an important business call.’

Pastor Bryan looked at him dubiously as he reached into his jacket pocket. ‘As long as you’re not calling your stockbroker in New York.’ He winked again at the women. He produced a mobile phone and handed it to Reuben. ‘Just press star and the green button to unlock it.’

‘Thanks, Pastor, I’ll be back in a minute.’

Reuben slipped the phone into his pocket and headed towards the emergency exit. It was on the other side of the room, through a vast expanse of jostling bodies. He made his way through them as quickly as he could, not daring to look behind him. If he could make it out the exit and into the street, he had a much better chance of giving Jug-ears the slip and calling the police.

A hand grasped his right shoulder. ‘You’re not leaving already are you, mate?’

Jug-ears was beside him, grinning. He dug his fingers into Reuben’s shoulder in a painful grip and slipped his hand inside Reuben’s coat. Something hard jabbed Reuben in the small of his back. Like the butt of a pistol.

‘Keep going,’ Jug-ears said in a low voice. ‘I’m keeping you company. And give me that phone.’ He pressed the pistol harder into Reuben’s back.

Reuben gulped. ‘You wouldn’t dare in here.’

‘It’s got a silencer. I can put a bullet in your back and be out of here before you can blink. Hand it over.’

Reuben dug the Pastor’s phone out of his coat pocket and Jug-ears snatched it out of his hand. He jabbed the pistol again. ‘Let’s go. Out the emergency exit. And no funny business.’

Reuben started walking, Jug-ears beside him. He’d removed the pistol from Reuben’s back. Surely he wouldn’t shoot him in the middle of a crowded ballroom. Reuben glanced sideways at him. His hand was in his jacket pocket, obviously ready to whip the pistol out if needed. Swallowing the panic rising in his chest, Reuben quickly scanned the room, looking for an escape route. Could he make a run for it before Jug-ears had a chance to shoot him? Create a diversion, yell ‘Fire!’ and escape in the ensuing panic?

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Jug-ears said. ‘I have friends here.’

He might be bluffing. Might not be. Think of something for fuck’s sake!

Above the buzz of chatter, he heard a voice.

‘It’s all a load of bullshit. The Pakis have been fixing their cricket games since the caveman days when they played with tree stumps...’

Wayne was ahead of him. Right in the path to the emergency exit. He was holding court to a group of men who all appeared similarly under the weather. Ties were askew and shirts untucked. A couple sniggered at his remarks while the others looked on with good humour. And suddenly it was perfectly, brilliantly clear.

As Reuben and Jug-ears approached Wayne’s group, he was guffawing at a joke he’d made. He didn’t see Reuben until he was beside him. He turned his head and Reuben’s arm shot out. His fist caught Wayne square on the jaw with a resounding smack. Wayne reeled back and Reuben hit him again. Wayne teetered, tried to regain his balance but toppled onto the floor, his beer flying out of his hand. Glass smashed on the polished floor. A woman screamed.

Arms surrounded Reuben, restraining him. ‘There’s a man with a gun!’ he yelled.

‘Steady on, mate, steady on,’ a voice said.