Remix (2010) (24 page)

“So you’ve been looking in my computer?”

“Yeah. Didn’t find anything. Didn’t know what to look for. Maybe I was wrong, doesn’t make a lot of difference anyway, what’s a million or ten between friends? You can put that thing away. We’re going.” Ric edged towards the window. “Middle of the night, we’re all tired. I’ll ring you.”

Phil’s voice was louder. “Stop right there, Ric. I want you both to turn out your pockets. You first, Miss Tallis. Slowly.” The gun moved in my direction.

I bent to the lowest pocket on my combats, took out the plastic cylinder of ground pepper, waved it vaguely at Phil and went to replace it.

“Put everything on the desk, Miss Tallis.”

I put the pepper down, then, pocket by pocket, added the rest of my housebreaker’s supplies. It took some time. Laid out together, the items covered half the desk. Phil eyed them as though he’d be required to make a list from memory later for a substantial prize.

“And the crowbar.” Another visual check. “Come, come, Miss Tallis, I feel sure you have a mobile on you.”

“I forgot it,” I mumbled.

A pause, while he decided to believe me. “Now you, Ric.”

Casually, Ric rummaged through his pockets. As he moved, I thought I could see a corner of the folder now and then, poking against the navy polyester. Sweat started from my pores. “Caz’s got most of it.” The small wrecking bar hit the desk. “She likes being prepared.” The torch and a pen knife. “She was in the Boy Scouts at one time, I believe.” Loose change and a few crumpled notes. His shiny mobile phone skidded across the leather surface to join them. House keys; not, I noted, the Harley keys. He patted his clothes. “That’s it. We’ll be off now. We’d better take this lot, you don’t want it cluttering up the place.” He reached out.

“Leave it where it is. Except for your keys. You can take those.”

We picked them up. I clipped mine to my belt. Phil surveyed us for a moment and lowered the gun. It must have been a relief, his arms would have been getting tired. Thank God, he was going to let us go. I felt light-headed at the reprieve.

“I cannot credit that two grown people have done this. What were you thinking?”

Neither of us answered. If the cost of acquittal was another self-righteous lecture, I could live with that.

“Breaking and entering, damaging a valuable desk, logging on to my personal computer… Once again I’m left wondering just what you hoped to achieve? What was going through your minds? Ric, please accept that I am on your side. Even after your violent outbreak the other day. I appreciate you’ve been under a lot of stress. I am not trying to steal your money; far from it, I’m doing everything in my power to make it over to you. It’s not easy, but I’m doing what I can.”

Ric nodded. “Fair enough, Phil, I can see you’ve got a point. I’ll consider it sober next time I get a good idea. Maybe it wasn’t one of my best.”

Phil turned to me. “And as for you, Miss Tallis, words fail me. I’ve never met anyone who lived such a rich fantasy life as you do. Perhaps you should write a novel.”

“That’s a thought.” Ric put his arm round me. “We’ll be seeing you, then. C’mon, Caz.”

He ushered me towards the window. This unconventional exit was fine by me - the sooner we were out of there the better. Phil did not attempt to stop us. Ric stretched an arm to push the window as wide as it would go, and the pink folder came free from its insecure hiding place and dropped to his feet on the Chinese rug.

For an instant I gazed, appalled, as Phil Sharott’s face drained of colour and the gun barrels lifted, then Ric yelled, “Get out, Caz, go go go!” thrusting me at the window. I swung my legs over the sill and landed in the border, snapping and crushing vegetation, the safe darkness beckoning, then the gun fired, outrageously loud. I should have kept going, should have run for my life, for Ric’s life, but I thought he was shot, and my brain worked too slowly. I came back. Ric was unhurt, but there was a hole the size of a saucer in the wall, inches from his chest.

My ears rang, but I could hear Phil all right, though he spoke quietly.

“Next time I won’t shoot to miss. At this range, it’ll take your head off. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m not prepared to do that. An over-reaction to a pair of intruders in the middle of the night…any jury would sympathize. Shut the window, Miss Tallis.”

I hesitated, then did as he said.
If only I’d run - I’ve just blown our best chance. If I’d got away, he wouldn’t have dared to shoot Ric.

Phil said, and I could see he really meant it, “You remember the day you officially died, Ric? There was a moment, while I waited for you to swim to the boat, when it occurred to me I could start the engine, and leave you to drown, and no one would be any the wiser. I didn’t decide fast enough. Paula would have had to be told you were dead. I was still weighing it up when you hauled yourself over the side, water streaming off you on to the deck, and it was too late. Unfortunately. It would have saved me a lot of trouble. And your friend, too.”

“You’ve only got one shot left.” Ric was breathing fast. “Which of us would it be?”

Phil Sharott paused before he answered, deliberately, “Miss Tallis, I’m afraid.”

Ric bent and picked up the folder, slowly. “Kill us and you’re fucked, Phil. So’s Emma. You’ll have the police swarming all over you, and they won’t believe a word you say. The press’ll have a field day, too. Killing a world-famous rock star, whose fortune you inherited? Who just happened to break into your house? Try it and see where it gets you.”

The corners of Phil’s mouth lifted. I wouldn’t call it a smile. Below his eye, a muscle twitched. “That’s certainly a point. But on reflection, there would be no requirement to inform the police. What you seem to be forgetting, Ric, is that you’re dead. No one’s going to come looking for you.”

“They’ll come looking for me,” I said, my voice louder than I expected. “Because I left a note of where I was going”
- don’t mention James, he might kill him too -
“with my lawyer. The diamonds and Euros, as well. And the passport.”

Phil considered me. “I don’t think you have. What lawyer? The one who did the conveyancing on your studio? Hardly. I’m reasonably confident that if I have a good look in your flat, I’ll find those diamonds. Now Ric does have a lawyer - me.”

Oh God. He meant it. He was going to kill us both. I tried to bargain with him. “Let us go, and Ric will go abroad. I won’t tell a soul, I promise. If you kill us, like Ric said, you’re quite likely to get caught. It’s not worth it.”

“I think you could be wrong there, Miss Tallis,” Phil said judicially. His colour had returned, and with it his customary manner. He might have been discussing a case with a colleague, not murder with his prospective victims. “From an objective standpoint, considering what is involved, it would be worth it. Whereas I have grave doubts as to whether your word is to be trusted. It seems probable you are, quite cynically, offering a promise you have no intention of keeping.”

The door behind Phil opened. Emma stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. With eyes wide and no makeup, she looked about sixteen. Still beautiful, though. She wore a cream negligee whose lace and ruffles definitely did not come from Marks & Spencer, and bare feet, with pearly nail varnish on the toenails. Her lips parted as she stared at Ric. He scowled. She moved towards Phil.

“He’s not dead.”

“Emma, go upstairs. Leave this to me.” Phil hardly looked at her, and he kept the shotgun pointing at Ric.

“What happened? I heard the gun go off. Did you know he was alive?” She gazed at him. “You knew…and you didn’t tell me.”

“Emma, please, we can talk about this later.”

Her big hazel eyes turned to me. “Vikki - what are you doing here?”

“Hi Emma,” I said. “I’m being held at gunpoint by your boyfriend. Any chance of getting him to put it away?”

“Phil, why is Vikki here?”

“Her name’s not Vikki. She’s not a journalist. She lied to you. She’s Ric’s girlfriend. Let me handle it.”

“I’m Caz Tallis,” I said.

Emma looked at me uncertainly, then her eyes went round the room, taking in the computer, the damaged drawer, the assortment on the desk. She got to the pink folder in Ric’s hand.

“What’s that? What’s he holding?”

“Please, Emma, it’s not important, go to bed.” Phil’s tone was pleading.

“Yeah, Emma, you fuck off to bed,” Ric said, loudly. “It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Much better forgotten. After all, Bryan’s dead, isn’t he? Nothing’s going to change that. Except he was my best friend, and it matters to me who killed him.”

“You’ll keep quiet if you know what’s good for you,” said Phil.

“Or else you’ll shoot me?” Ric said, “Caz, he’s only got one bullet left. Run while he’s reloading, but be quick, it takes seconds. Ring the police. Don’t worry about me.” I nodded. I would do it for him.

Ric turned to Emma. She backed away. His voice rang with anger and contempt. “I’ll tell you what I think happened, shall I, the day Bryan died?” She stared at him but didn’t answer. “When he came home, that sunny April morning three years ago, he must have heard you immediately, because if you remember you were making quite a lot of noise. Not help-me-I’m-being-raped noises, but shrieks of enthusiasm. ‘Oh, Ric, yes,’ that sort of crap. No mistaking it.”

“You’re lying,” said Phil. “It was rape. Bryan misunderstood what he saw, that’s all, he got it wrong. He wouldn’t let Emma explain.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’d like to believe, isn’t it Phil? Stop kidding yourself. Bryan got it absolutely right.” Ric’s gaze fastened on Emma once more. “He went for me, and I deserved it. He hated me for what I’d done. But I reckon, after I left, he started thinking about how you’d screwed his best mate the minute his back was turned. He worked out what a cheap tramp you are. He’d had it with you. He got all your stuff out of the cupboards, clothes, shoes, jewellery, the lot, and tipped them in a heap in the hall. My guess is he was going to put it in bin bags and chuck it out. But before he could do that, you came back.”

Emma stood, pale, mesmerized, Ophelia to Ric’s Hamlet.

“Bryan told you it was over. You tried telling him I raped you, and that just made him angrier, because he’d seen what happened with his own eyes, and you were lying about his friend. You and Bryan had a huge bust-up. You saw everything you’d got vanishing - your status as Bryan’s girlfriend, the boost to your career, the song he was going to write for you, even your credibility with Phil, all of it was going down the plughole. So you lost it. You stuck a knife in him. Then you panicked, and who did you ring for help? Phil. Faithful Phil, who’d been cheating on my sister for years with you, who you only dumped because Bryan seemed a better bet. You knew Phil was besotted with you, that he’d arrange a cover-up, find a fall-guy. The obvious one. Me. Phil came round, put your things back in the cupboard, tidied the flat, while you showered Bryan’s blood off and changed your clothes. He put the cut-off feet from a pair of your tights over his hands so he didn’t leave fingerprints. Then he left, discreetly, and you called the police like you’d just found Bryan.”

There was a long, strange silence. Ric said, more quietly,

“I suppose you might just be interested that your boyfriend kept a memento of the murder, and took a few photos.” Emma’s eyes switched to Phil. Phil’s mouth opened, but Ric hadn’t finished. “I wonder why he did that? Is it because, though he’ll never admit it, he knows you’re a lying, murderous, cheating little bitch with the morals of a whore, and he thought he might need a hold over you?” Ric held out the folder to her. “D’you want to see them?”

Above the cream lace, the swell of Emma’s breasts lifted and fell with her quickened breathing. She walked towards Ric, avoiding getting between him and the shotgun. She took the folder.

“Emma…” Phil sounded agonized. “Don’t listen to him, leave it on the desk, I can explain…”

Emma sat on the chesterfield, lifted the pink card flap and took out the blouse. After a moment she put it down, drew out the photographs, and stared at them one by one. She raised her head towards Phil, and her eyes brimmed with tears. Beside me, I could sense Ric, still and concentrated like a cat watching a bird, his muscles tense.

“How could you do this to me?” A stray tear ran down her cheek. “I don’t understand…you must have taken these while I was in the shower, and you kept them all this time, and the blouse…why?” Emma’s voice was a whisper. “They’ll put me in prison for years, I’ll be old when I get out… I thought you loved me…”

“I do love you.” His voice shook with naked emotion and sincerity, as though he and Emma were alone. “I know it makes no sense, I shouldn’t have done it, I don’t know what was going through my mind. I was so afraid you’d leave me. But I’ll make it all right, I swear I will, trust me.”

For the first time, he looked her full in the face, and the gun barrel drooped. Faster than I’d have believed possible, Ric launched himself across the room. Phil’s head snapped towards him. Just as Ric reached him and knocked the barrel up, he pulled the trigger.

There was a great bang, a crash as the light fitting exploded and smashed to the ground, and the smell of gun smoke in the sudden darkness.

For a few long seconds I froze, unable to see anything, my ears ringing. A volley of thuds and grunts indicated a vicious fight the other side of the room.
Please God, let Ric beat Phil
… I heaved up the sash window to leave like Ric had told me to, then had a thought and groped for his phone, on the desk where Phil had made him put it. I was still feeling around when the place lit up. Emma, the other side of the desk from me, had switched on the green glass lamp. Her eyes hard, her colour high, she’d morphed from Ophelia into Lady Macbeth. On the carpet, the two men grappled and punched among fragments of glass, metal and plaster, the gun beside them. This time, Phil was fighting back. I saw Phil’s landline, grabbed the receiver and dialled 9, 9… Emma seized the wrecking bar and smashed the phone, missing my hand by millimetres, then darted towards the scrum on the floor.