The Slow Road to Hell

by Grant Atherton

  I left them still scribbling away in the bar. Nathan was still standing in the doorway but he wasn't scowling anymore. Karen looked as worried as ever. I didn't acknowledge either of them. Time to get away. I stepped outside and held my face up to the rain as I crossed towards the Elan, enjoying the feel of it against my skin. It was fresh and clean.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It was raining hard by the time I reached the cliff top. I pulled over to the far side of the road where the ground dropped down into the valley below.

  A thick blanket of dark cloud hovered over the town like a bad dream. Street lamps were already going on all over Elders Edge, flickering into lambent life in defiance of the growing darkness and turning the highways and byways into snaking lines of light.

  I was wrecked, physically and emotionally drained. Another day like this I could do without. Between the relentless basting of the press and Nathan's emotional battering, it was like being tossed around by a force ten gale. My head was all over the place. I leaned back against the headrest and tried to relax. The press confrontation had been daunting. And the fallout from that was a joy to look forward to.

  Then there had been Nathan's furious outburst. Bad enough in itself. But the worst of it, what disturbed me the most, had been my own reaction. I had been aroused, excited. Those feelings had come out of nowhere and had shaken me. And as much as I tried, I couldn't understand. Why now, after all this time? Had those feelings always been there, suppressed? It didn't make any sense. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind.

  The beating of the rain on the roof of the Elan had a soothing soporific effect, and as the minutes passed, I drifted into a light doze.

  Through the sound of the driving rain, I didn't hear the other car approach. It was only when I heard the door slam shut, startling me back into full awareness, that I became conscious of it and opened my eyes to see who was there. Nathan was heading towards me, hurrying through the rain.

  A knot tightened in my stomach. I recalled all those times he'd known to find me here when I was troubled, and come to my aid. But why was he here now? It was difficult to believe my emotional welfare was one of his prime concerns. Especially after that last traumatic skirmish. I hoped this wasn't going to be another angry confrontation.

  For the briefest of moments, I considered locking the door and leaving him standing in the rain. I was still hurt and confused and embarrassed. And I wasn't in the mood for company. Especially not his. But good grace won out over rancour and, reluctantly, I leaned over and opened the passenger side door.

  He slid in next to me.

  "You're the last person I expected to see," I said.

  He closed the door. "I knew you'd be here. Where else would you go at a time like this?"

  "Some things never change do they?"

  We sat in silence. The rain hammered out its staccato rhythm on the roof. I waited for him to say what was on his mind, whatever it was that had brought him here.

  Eventually, he said, "What you just did. It was either very brave or very foolish."

  "Probably both."

  Silence again.

  "Did you mean everything you said back there?"

  "About being stupid? Oh, yes. I meant every word of it."

  "About making the wrong choices."

  "That too." What was he driving at here? Was he looking for an explanation?

  I searched his face for some indication of his mood. But he was expressionless, staring out through the windscreen. He was holding his emotions in check, as he so often did, keeping them hidden beneath that impenetrable facade. Which is why his recent outburst had been such a shock. So unlike him. He must have been hurting.

  I said, "I know how selfish I was, leaving the way I did. I know what a jerk I was."

  "Mikey ..."

  "Let me finish." I continued, "If I have any defence at all, it's that I was going through an emotional hell. After my father found out about us ... well, you knew what he was like. It was a bad time and I wasn't thinking straight. But did you really think I didn't care?"

  "I didn't know what to think. I just knew you were gone."

  Was it worth raking over the ashes, stirring up a past that was dead and buried? Maybe it was. I owed him something. "I loved you. And once I'd made the decision to leave - rightly or wrongly - I knew I couldn't face you and still go through with it."

  My throat was dry. I swallowed and said, "My heart was breaking. But I thought I was doing the right thing, the proper thing. I wish now that I'd found the courage to stand up to my father. But I didn't. And I paid a high price for it. I lost you."

  "I wish I'd been there to stop you."

  "So do I."

  "I'd always thought that I wasn't enough. That what we had wasn't enough."

  "Did you think it would be easy breaking free of all those years of conditioning? It's easy now to see how wrong I was. But not back then. When it mattered."

  "You never thought to get in touch?"

  "Yes, of course I did. Not at first. I was trying to forget you. Later, when I realised what a mistake I'd made. But, by then, it was too late. Too much time had gone by. And so I let it go. I never did forget you though. However hard I tried. But I had to move on and make a life for myself."

  "Mikey ...". He faltered, as if searching for the right words. "What happened earlier. All that ... I had no right to treat you like that. It was unforgivable. I'm sorry."

  Is this why he was here? To make the peace? I hoped so.

  I snorted. "I'm sure I deserved it."

  "No, you didn't. That wasn't about you. It was me. I was angry. Seeing you again after all these years brought it all back. All that resentment. And then when I heard about the breakup of your marriage. The reason for it. It all boiled over. But I had no right to take it out on you."

  "I guess you had good cause." I had some explaining to do too. "What happened back there. I mean at the end." Finding the right words was hard. "I didn't mean that to happen. I don't know why it did."

  A pause. And he said, "I understand."

  I'm not sure he did. But then neither did I.

  We sat and watched the rain.

  There was so much more I wanted to say. But I didn't know how. Once, all those years ago, there was nothing I couldn't have told him. Back then, it would have been hard to believe we could drift so far apart. How easy it was to take for granted those relationships most precious to us. And how easy to recognise their value only when we've lost them. But maybe there was a way to come to terms with what had happened and repair some of the damage done. And maybe he could find a way to forgive me. I hoped so.

  I leaned against the steering wheel, laughed and pointed down into the half-darkness. "Do you remember that time I whitewashed the greengrocer's window? The shop's still over there."

  "I remember it was my dad who caught you."

  "I didn't think anyone would be around at that time in the morning."

  "My dad was always out early on his beat."

  "I liked your dad. He always treated me like one of the family."

  Nathan grunted. "He was far too easy on you. If his sergeant had caught you, it would have been a different matter. You used to get into so many mindless scrapes."

  "I see the Post Office has gone."

  "Yes, I wasn't sorry to see it go."

  We both knew why. I didn't need to ask. It was where Nathan's father had lost his life. He'd died of a gunshot wound following an abortive raid on the Post Office. It had been one of those momentous events that had rocked the sleepy town to its core and had made a hero of Jonathan Quarryman. I'm sure it was then that Nathan had decided to follow in his father's footsteps, to honour his memory.

  "If your dad had still been around, do you think he would have minded? About us?"

  He was quiet for a moment. I guessed he was thinking it over. He said, "I'd like to think he would have been okay with it. He might not have understood but one thing he always taught me was to stand up for myself
, do what I thought was right. I'd like to think he would have respected any choices I made."

  "Unlike my father."

  Nathan grunted again.

  "Sometimes," I said, "over the years, if ever I had a problem to sort out or a difficult decision to make, I would try to imagine what your advice would be. You were always the one I turned to for help. You kept me grounded. So, in my mind, I would ask your advice."

  "And did I give you good advice?"

  "Yes," I said. "But I didn't always take it." I grinned

  "Nothing new there then." He turned to me and smiled.

  "No." It was good to see that smile again.

  The rain was heavier now. It clattered on the roof. The town below was a blur on the windscreen.

  "So what now? What will you do?" he asked

  "I'll have to learn to live with the consequences of my mistakes. And try not to make any more."

  He grunted again. And then, "Are you happy, Mikey?"

  A lump came to my throat. "Not yet," I whispered. "But I'm going to try."

  The pounding rhythm of rain on the roof slowed as the sudden squall passed and the heavy downpour eased to a lighter rain. The town came back into focus on the windscreen.

  "How about you?" I asked. "Anyone in your life?"

  "No one special. I guess I've been alone too long to settle down now. I'm not sure I'd be any good in a relationship."

  "Yes, you would. I can vouch for that. Any time you need a reference, just let me know." I shot him a smile.

  "I'll bear it in mind."

  We listened to the rain some more.

  I said, "Right now, I need to stick around until this sorry mess is sorted. And I'll have to take care of my father's estate. There'll be a lot of paperwork to sort out. I should be here for a while yet."

  "I got word back from Lowe earlier. Forensics have finished their work at the vicarage. You're free to go back there now."

  "Thanks. And while I'm here, would you mind if I stayed on at your friend's place? Would he be okay with that? It'll be quieter there now the press have taken over the Fairview."

  "Sure. It'll be fine. In fact, come on." He opened the door and pulled up his collar ready to brave the run back to his own car. "Let's go pick up your stuff and I'll help you settle in."

  It seemed we'd come to a truce of sorts. It was never going to be the same between us. Not after everything that had happened. But maybe we could try to get along. Be friends again. At least, it was a start.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "What a pleasant smell." I wrinkled my nose against the stench. "That subtle aromatic blend of rotting garbage and cat piss. They go so well together."

  I stepped around a pile of unrecognisable unsavoury-looking detritus and negotiated the rest of the narrow alley, taking care not to come into contact with the wet slime-stained walls.

  "That's gross," said Nathan. "Is that what it is?" He followed behind me.

  "Either that or you need to change your aftershave."

  "Careful. Any more cracks like that and you'll find yourself sitting in one of those trashcans."

  There was laughter in his voice so I knew I didn't need to take him too seriously.

  I wasn't usually in the habit of sneaking around alleyways at night but there was no other way to reach the back door of the Fairview's domestic quarters without being spotted from the public area. The media guys were still in the bar - the general hum of their chatter filtered through the brightly-lit window that looked out on the alley at its far end - and I didn't want to risk running into any of them. I'd bared my soul enough for one lifetime. To be extra cautious, we'd dropped my car back at the house and driven over in Nathan's Astra. A bright-yellow Elan might be a bit of a giveaway. Nathan thought I was being overly-paranoid but he was prepared to indulge me for once.

  The back door was locked but Karen had given me a set of keys that included the ones to her private entrance. It saved having to go through the public areas which was just as well in the circumstances.

  The young girl who had served the guests earlier was taking a break in the back office. Her name was Jenny. Karen was busy serving in the bar so I left a message to let her know I would call later and we climbed the back stairs to my room.

  Nathan seemed more like his old self. Not exactly talkative. That had never been his way. He was more the speak-when-you-have-something-to-say type. But he seemed more relaxed. And he'd stopped treating me like a stranger. I was still wary though. That angry battering had left its mark.

  I dragged my two suitcases from under the bed and Nathan emptied the wardrobe. I asked him how the investigation was going. "The reason for Black's absence could be genuine," I said. "So are you looking for anyone else?"

  Nathan dropped my clothes onto the bed. "Until we have something more positive, anyone and everyone is a suspect."

  "Including me?" I emptied the chest of drawers and threw the rest of my clothes on top of the others.

  Nathan turned away from the wardrobe, holding a pair of shoes, and glowered at me. "Come on, Mikey. We wouldn't even be having this conversation if I thought that. You know we have to go through the motions."

  "I guess so."

  Nathan grunted. "God knows you've caused me some grief over the years. But I know you better than that." He dropped the shoes into a suitcase.

  "I'd like to think so."

  I finished folding and packing the clothes and we carried the cases out to the Astra. I held the cases while Nathan unlocked and opened the boot, and I dropped them in.

  "I hear what you say about Black," Nathan said, "but some things don't add up. The message he left at the surgery for instance."

  "I wondered about that too."

  We made our way around to the front of the car and Nathan went on to explain. "Why leave a text message when he could so easily have phoned? All I can come up with is that, for some reason, he hadn't wanted to be overheard."

  The practice manager at the surgery had thought the same. I had my own theory but I kept it to myself for the moment.

  Nathan climbed into the driver's seat and I slid into the passenger seat beside him.

  He said, "We have to think about opportunity too. Apart from the vicarage and the curate's residence, Black's house is the only other one at that end of Vicarage Lane."

  He started the car and we drove off in the direction of Fleming Road. "Unless someone came by foot through the woods at the other side of the cul-de-sac, anyone but Black would have to approach from the High Street at the other end of the road."

  "Yes, of course," I said. And then a sudden brainwave. "Is there any CCTV in the area?"

  "Already onto it. The bank at the end of the High Street has good coverage. We might get something useful there. Lowe and his team are already looking through the footage."

  "Of course, someone might have come through the woods. There'd be no chance of getting anything useful then."

  "Sure but that's only likely if your father's murder had been planned. And only if our man had thought about the possibility of surveillance. It could have been a spur of the moment attack for all we know. We have to cover all possibilities."

  We reached the house and Nathan pulled in to the kerb. "In the meantime," he said, "we have enough to justify a warrant to search Black's place, so that's our next move. We'll get a warrant sworn out tomorrow."

  Nathan fetched the cases from the boot and I unlocked the door to let us in.

  Maybe now would be a good time to press him again about my taking a more active part in the investigation. I didn' t want to push my luck but it was worth a try. "I know you said you didn't want any outside interference but I would like some input. And I do have some expertise; witness interviews, crime scene investigation, that sort of thing. I could help."

  He didn't respond immediately. Once inside, he dropped my luggage on the floor and said, "Okay. You're on the team. But only so I can keep an eye on you." He raised a warning finger. "But I don't want you going off
at a tangent on your own. Nothing unauthorised. Understood?"

  I gritted my teeth. "Understood."

  "I mean it, Mikey. You leave this to the police. You hear me?"

  "You got it."

  "I'll leave you to unpack then." At the door, he turned back. "You need any help sorting out your father's stuff?"

  "Thanks but I have it covered. Karen's coming over with me in the morning."

  "Okay. I'll catch up with you later then. We'll have the search warrant for Black's place in the morning so I'll pick you up from the vicarage on the way. And don't forget what I told you."

  "I hear you."

  I stood in the doorway as he made his way to the car. He'd started to bully me around again. As he always had in the past. A warm glow spread through me. It was good to have the old Nathan back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I chilled out for the rest of that evening. After the events of the last few days, I needed some time to relax. I poured myself a very large glass of a fine Cabernet Sauvignon I'd brought back from the Fairview and slipped a copy of Tchaikovsky's First Piano Concerto into the disc player. I'd found the disc in Barwell's CD rack. It was good to know Nathan had friends with taste. I settled myself into an easy-chair and let the wine and the music work their magic on my frayed nerves.

  The London Symphony Orchestra was onto the second movement when the phone rang. And rang. And rang. It was my agent, Jerry Martin. It meant only one thing; the evening papers were out on the shelves. After four missed calls, I answered it. He was persistent, I'll give him that.

  "Hi, Jerry."

  "What the fuck have you done?"

  "Yes, I'm fine, Jerry. Thanks for asking."

  "Cut the sarcasm, Mikey. I'm not in the mood. What the fuck were you thinking. Have you seen the papers?"

  "No, not yet. Anything interesting?"

  "It's a disaster."

  "Don't tell me Man City have lost to Spurs?"

  "You know damn well what I'm talking about. Listen to this." The rustle of a newspaper. "I've been a fool."

  "Jerry, don't be so hard on yourself."

  "Not me. You. Your words. That's the headline."