by Mark Ayre
“I don’t understand,” repeated Eddie.
With a sigh, Abbie withdrew from her pocket two folded bits of paper. Blessedly, neither whiskey nor blood had destroyed either slip. Abbie unfolded each, placed them side by side on the dash, and smoothed them out with a palm. Pointing to the first, she said, “Who wrote this?”
Eddie trembled at the sight of it.
“Leona,” he said.
“What is it?”
“I assume a list of people she slept with, along with, um, details about them. Things they like.”
“Right,” said Abbie. She pointed at the other sheet she’d taken. “And this?”
“I don’t know what that is. Accounting stuff? I don’t know.”
“Accounting stuff,” said Abbie. “My guess as well. Who wrote it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Leona?”
“No,” Eddie said. He pointed. “Different handwriting.”
“Right,” said Abbie. “Different handwriting. Looks to me like a guy’s writing. It’s messy. Maybe that’s sexist.”
“I don’t understand,” said Eddie.
“What is that, a catchphrase?”
Eddie said nothing. Was that a flicker of pity Abbie felt for him, right in the pit of her stomach? Maybe. She still felt pretty numb, as per usual, post-murder.
“I text a new friend of mine after seeing this list,” said Abbie, pointing at Leona’s piece of paper. “This name—“ she pointed at the item two before DEAN “—is the surname of my friend Bobby and his father, Ranvir. After being made redundant, Ranvir got in bad with loan sharks working for Francis. Desperate for cash, Ranvir teamed up with someone on the inside and robbed one of Francis’ nightclubs. After Ranvir had paid off the loan sharks, he learned Francis had caught him on CCTV. He had to pay back the robbery debt with interest. He’s still paying it off over a year later.”
Staring at the names, Eddie said, “Just like with Danny.”
“Even more than you think,” said Abbie. “I asked Bobby to find out from his father who was this insider who convinced him to rob the big man. Ranvir didn’t want to say. After some pushing, he confessed. No prizes for guessing.”
“Leona,” said Eddie.
“Right.”
“She sleeps with these men. Convinces them to rob her husband and then…”
He tailed off. He wasn’t sure. Again, Abbie tapped the second sheet of paper.
“Leona told you only she knew about the bungalow. Francis didn’t. Yet, someone other than her has sat in that study, as evidenced by this note. You think she let one of her sexual liaisons use the bungalow as an office?”
“Unlikely.”
“Unlikely,” Abbie agreed. “And if it wasn’t one of her conquests, my next guess would be…” she waited, wanting Eddie to answer. He did.
“Francis.”
Abbie nodded. Eddie shook his head. Tears entered his eyes.
“It’s a con.”
“Yeah,” said Abbie. “It’s a con. With Francis’ permission, Leona seduces desperate men, sleeps with them, and convinces them to rob her husband. If this person is already on the hook with one of Francis’ loan sharks, as with Ranvir, Leona lets them clear that debt, then Francis comes to collect the stolen dosh. Otherwise, as with your situation, Leona steals back the money before she or Francis come calling. It’s pretty clever if you’re not worried about sexually transmitted diseases. And, of course, Francis would have expected his wife to use protection. Getting pregnant would have been out of the question. He was never worried about his wife cheating. Only that she might be with child and that she might keep that child.”
Still shaking, tears in his eyes, Eddie continued staring at the dash after Abbie removed the sheets, folded them, and slid them into her pocket. She looked at Eddie. She tried to keep calm.
“You and Danny were like chalk and cheese,” she said. “Opposite characters in almost every way.”
Eddie stared at her. Didn’t say anything.
Though she had just put it away, Abbie removed the Leona sheet from her pocket and opened it once more. She stared at the latest row.
“I was helping your wife look for some comfortable trousers this morning,” she said. “When I was looking for you. She had me look in that box at the bottom of the wardrobe. I had to dig right to the bottom, but there were no trousers. Know what I did find?”
Eddie did know. Obviously, he knew. He shook his head.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” said Abbie. “A horrible piece of yellow lingerie which Jess claimed you bought for her.”
Still, Eddie said nothing, though it was too late to plead the fifth. Abbie showed the father-to-be the list; placed her thumb below the word yellow in the lingerie colour column beside the name Dean.
“You and Danny were chalk and cheese,” said Abbie. “Is it possible one interest you shared was lingerie colour?”
Eddie could have agreed. Could have lied to try and cover his tracks. Instead, he bowed his head, looked to his lap.
“Didn’t think so,” said Abbie. “There’s a reason you had a key to Leona’s place, and it isn’t because Danny gave it to you. Isn’t that right, Ed? The name DEAN on this list: tell me who it refers to. Tell me, please, because I need to hear you say it.”
She thought now the fight might come. Like a dying animal, Eddie might find one last bout of strength and deny it all. Instead, he started to cry. He didn’t say a word.
“You were sleeping with Leona,” said Abbie. “Perhaps she meant to con you. Perhaps you were special. Perhaps she meant to con you, then you became special. It’s hard to say. I don’t think you were desperate for cash or a reliable thief, as was Danny, so maybe she took a shine to you. Not that it kept you off her little list.”
Abbie waved said list, then pocketed it. Eddie continued to sob.
“Whatever the case, Danny discovered your affair. He was a troublemaker, but he respected you. When he found out you were cheating, he was horrified. I guess he threatened to out you to Jess. So what do you do? In a panic, you speak with Leona, and what does she suggest? That you dangle before Danny the chance to become a hundred grand richer. Once he’d robbed Francis, Leona would steal back the money. You would warn Danny that Francis was hot on his heels, that the only way he could escape retribution would be to flee town. At this point, it didn’t matter if Danny knew you’d tricked him or not. Francis would still be after him. He would still have to run. You would miss your brother, but at least your dirty little secret would be safe. That was the main thing, right?”
Eddie put his head in his hands. Whatever. Abbie had no strength to feel pity for him. Not after everything he’d done.
“Why Danny was fool enough to listen to you and rob Francis when you had every reason to betray him, I can’t fathom. Hundred grand is a lot of money. Maybe his greed got the better of him. Whatever the case, he did it. The plan went perfectly,” she said. “Until Danny came back, and until I told you Leona was pregnant. Now you’re stuck with a dead brother and two babies on the way. Although I guess you’re all set to reject baby number two. And Danny’s death means your secret is safe, after all. Hey, so in a way, his death means the plan worked even—“
“Don’t.”
Eddie’s hands whipped away from his face. He was almost panting. There was white-hot fury in his eyes. Abbie’s face remained devoid of compassion.
“I would do anything to bring my brother back,” said Eddie. “Nothing is worth his death. Nothing.”
Abbie gave him a couple of seconds to take deep breaths. Leaning into the back of the car, she collected the bag of money.
“Well, he is dead,” she said. “I don’t know who did it, but I know it’s your fault. You’ll have to live with that, just like you’ll have to live with how you’ve betrayed your wife and how you’ve got another kid out there, being raised by a monster. Or possibly in care if the police can tie Travis’ murder to Leona. That’s all on your conscience.”
They sat in silence for a while. After thirty seconds or so, Abbie opened the door.
“What are you doing?” said Eddie.
“Leaving. I don’t need a ride. I can find my own way.”
As she stepped from the car, Eddie said, “Are you going to tell Jess?”
Abbie paused on the curb, closed her eyes. After a second or two, she threw the money bag over her shoulder, over her drawstring bag, then turned and looked back into the car.
“You make me sick, Eddie,” she said. “Now go home to your wife, and pray I never see you again.”
She slammed the door and turned away. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to scream.
Almost, she was done with this town—first, a couple more people to see.
She prayed they were more deserving of her time than had Eddie been.
Thirty-Two
By the time Abbie reached her destination, the sun was dipping below the horizon. Soon, darkness would reign.
Knocking on the door, Abbie took a step back and waited. Almost a minute later, there was the scrape and jangle of a retracted chain, and the door swung open.
“What is it?” The woman asked. Hardly correct door opening etiquette, but then again, Abbie did stink of whiskey.
“Hello. You must be Nell, Michael’s mother?”
This was based on the knowledge that Michael lived with his mother and that his grandmother was dead. Having given birth in her teens, Nell could only be a year or two older than Abbie. Years of drug abuse meant bus drivers would be unsurprised to see this woman present an OAP pass in place of a ticket.
“And who are you?” asked Nell. This wasn’t a direct answer to the question but close enough.
“My name’s Abbie. I recently met your son and was hoping I could have a word with him.”
Nell’s eyes were suspicious, but this was a common trait in heavy drug users, regardless of with whom they were speaking. Abbie’s initial comments did not draw the mistrust they might have had Michael been a teenage girl and Abbie a grown man. Women, like men, were capable of paedophilia. But people rarely suspected them of it. Michael’s mother was not likely to make such an assumption.
“He ain’t here,” Nell said.
“Well, might I come in and wait?”
Now the suspicion took on a new tone. No longer generic. This was the suspicion of one in bad debt with bad people, who knows any stranger might well have been sent by those they most fear. Would such a person not lie to get inside? Maybe say they had come to visit the son when actually they had come to repossess precious items and maybe break some bones.
To head off these fears, Abbie said, “I know you’re in some money trouble. Michael told me. I’m not here to compound upon your misery. I want to help.”
Abbie suspected this claim might be met with derision or disbelief. She did not expect what she got.
Laughter.
“You must think me a prize fool,” said Nell.
In answer, Abbie withdrew from the bag around her shoulder a hundred pounds and slapped the cash into the mother’s palm. While retrieving the money, Abbie ensured the recipient saw there was plenty more where that came from.
“You’re used to people letting you down,” Abbie said. “Hard as it might be to believe, I’m not like most people.”
Abbie wasn’t sure how much of this Michael’s mother had heard. The worn-out woman was staring at the money-filled bag at Abbie’s shoulder.
Pointing at the money, Nell said, “That can’t be legal.”
“Could you tell me you’ve never broken the law? What matters is no one’s looking for the money. Its holder need not fear reprisal, legal or otherwise.”
Nell was still staring at the bag. She pointed again. The hundred pounds was scrunched beneath the other fingers of the pointing hand.
“You want to give that money to my son?”
“Not all of it. Enough to pay off your debts.”
“Why?”
“Because money doesn’t interest me. I want it to go to the deserving. To those who’ve had a hard time and are due a bit of happiness. Having met your son, I believe him to be just such a person.”
“He’s suffered,” said Nell, nodding.
“Yes.”
Abbie could say no more for fear her anger might bubble forward and that she might lash out with her all too often sharp tongue.
Michael’s mother had suffered too. Alone with only her son, weakness and stress had no doubt driven her to drugs. That and a dealer who offered her a free sample, promising it could be a one-time thing while knowing he was earning himself a repeat customer.
It was not Nell’s fault she had been born with a weak will and an addictive personality. Addiction was a disease. More to blame were the dealer who had got her hooked, the parents who had sent her away, the partner who had abandoned her and her child.
Abbie knew all this and still struggled not to hate the woman for what she had put Michael through. It was a near-impossible task.
“Money is for my debts,” said the mother. “Give it me. I’ll pay off them dogs what keep hounding me. Give me a bit extra, and I’ll buy Mikey something nice. Treat the boy. He deserves that, you know. He’s a good kid.”
“A great kid,” said Abbie. “From what I can see. And I’ll give the money to him.”
“Why?” said the woman. A flash of frustration crossing her eye. “It’s going to the same place.”
“Is it?” said Abbie. “You’ll have every intention of paying off your debts, I’m sure, but will the temptation to go shopping with your local dealer not overpower you? And with all that money burning a hole in your pocket, might that shop not become a spree until there is nothing left for the sharks that circle you? You’re an addict. I don’t blame you for that, but it does mean I can’t trust you.”
Michael’s mother was offended. Horrified that this stranger would level at her such accusations. Abbie didn’t much care.
“I’ve struggled a bit with certain substances—“
“Don’t,” Abbie cut in. “I’m not interested, and you’re not lying to me anyway, only to yourself. I don’t need to be here for that. You know full well you have a serious problem. Even when you admit it, you’ll say you couldn’t possibly go into rehab because you need to look after your son, but you’re not looking after him, are you? To help pay your debts, he’s planning to drop out of school and get a job. Because you won’t go into rehab, there’s no chance he’ll go on to university. You’re condemning him to a certain kind of life. One that’s right for many people, but is it right for him?”
Michael’s mother was shaking now. Abbie was too, and she was angry with herself for letting her anger at this woman get away from her. Maybe it would be better if she went away, came back later. She didn’t like that idea. She wanted to leave, but she needed to speak with Michael first. She needed him to know she didn’t blame him for not answering her calls, for not bringing her the gun. She wanted to tell him Eddie was fine, and even if he hadn’t been, it would never have been Michael’s fault. She wanted to convince him to do what he could for his mother, but never at the expense of what was right for him.
Distracted by these thoughts, Abbie almost missed Nell’s encroaching hands. Before she knew what was happening, gnarled fingers had clenched the money bag, and the addict was tugging.
Frustrated at her slow reactions, Abbie jerked back, swinging her shoulder around. At the same time, she raised her hand and shoved Nell’s shoulder.
As she did, she felt how brittle, how feeble, Michael’s mother was. When Nell fell, Abbie was terrified she might shatter in her hallway.
Nell didn’t shatter. She did cry out as she landed. Tears sprung into her eyes. When Abbie stepped into the doorway, Nell bore her teeth.
“We don’t need your money,” she said. “Cause it ain’t just money, is it?”
“It is,” said Abbie
“No. No. I know what money means. It means work, or it means a trick. Always. Work or
a trick. Been that way my whole life. Mum and dad offer to pay my rent when I get pregnant, but only if I move away from my home. A long way away, so no one they know ever has to see me. The shit who was dating my friend but managed to talk his way into my bed, promising he’d leave her, gives me cash when I get pregnant, but only if I swear to keep his child away from him. Work. Work. They want me to work for my money. To do something for them. Then there’s the tricks. Like the guy who offers to pay for Michael’s glasses if I take him to bed, then laughs at me and chucks me out when he’s got his. Or Michael’s uncle, who promises to pay off our debts, who says he loves my boy, then runs off and tells us there ain’t no money. Tricks. Tricks. You’re all liars. All scum. Only time I ever got anything without having to give something back was this house. And I only got that cause my ma and pa died. And they only left it to me cause of Michael and cause there was no one else. So don’t tell me about your no strings attached money. Don’t tell me about no free lunch cause I been around long enough to know horseshit when I smell it. So no, we don’t need your money. We don’t need nothing from anyone.”
Panting, Nell stopped. She broke into tears. Still on her doorstep, Abbie replayed the woman’s little speech a couple of times. She felt her heart begin to pound and found she hated herself for hating Nell, who had long ago hit her internal self-destruct button and was still self-destructing all these years later.
“Do you want me to take that?” she said, pointing at the cash in Nell’s hand. “Seeing as you don’t need my money.”
Michael’s mother just sobbed. Didn’t say a word.
“I hope you stop lying to yourself,” said Abbie. “I pray you get into rehab. Do it for your own sake if no one else’s.”
Abbie turned. She walked off the step and back into the road. Still, in her hallway, Michael’s mother sat up.
“Where are you going?” she called through tears.
Abbie didn’t answer. She knew now she couldn’t wait for Michael. She would have to find him, and besides, there was somewhere else she now knew she needed to be.