by Alex Barclay
Edie laughed. ‘Did you say that to her?’
‘Probably at some wedding or other,’ said Laura. ‘Probably at our wedding.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right here?’ said Edie.
‘Yes!’ said Laura. ‘Go. I’ll stay here admiring photos of Johnny.’
Edie laughed. ‘As soon as I find him, I’ll be back. I’m done now – all I want to do is sit back for the rest of the night.’
Patrick stuck his head in the door behind her. ‘Ladies,’ he said.
‘Right,’ said Edie, turning to Laura. ‘I’ll leave you in Patrick’s capable hands.’
‘Am I interrupting you?’ said Patrick.
‘Not at all,’ said Edie.
‘No,’ said Laura. ‘Get in here, stay quiet, and don’t ask me any questions.’
Edie went out into the hall, then walked down to the conservatory. The double doors were open. She reached out for the handles to close them when a movement outside caught her eye. She walked across the room, and up to the glass. Outside, by a pallet of cinder blocks, a sheet of tarpaulin was inflating and deflating in the wind. As she watched, one strong gust blasted it up against the blocks. Edie squinted into the darkness. As the tarpaulin floated down, she could see hair, the top of a bloodied head, and a body that was very still. It was Terry Hyland.
Edie screamed and ran to get the others.
25
The rain had stopped, but the wind was wild, tearing at the trees, whipping water from the puddles. The narrow rope of the flagpole was slapping against it, the metal clasp sending a faint chime into the night.
Murph was the first to reach the body. He crouched, covered his hand with the sleeve of his rain jacket, and pulled back the tarpaulin, exposing Terry’s head, his grey face, and the mess that had been made of the left side; through a gaping wound, the visible white of bone shone from the darkness of the pulped flesh around it.
Murph batted his hand behind him. ‘Don’t, lads. Get back t’fuck.’
He looked, wide-eyed, at Edie, lost inside a black rain jacket to her knees, holding her hood closed under her chin, bracing herself against the wind. Johnny stood, rooted, four feet to her left.
Clare walked towards the body.
‘Clare – don’t,’ said Murph. ‘Don’t.’
‘For God’s sake – I’m a big girl,’ said Clare. Still, as soon as her gaze lowered to Terry, she lurched to one side, stumbling in the mud before she righted herself.
Patrick walked towards the body, but stopped a foot short of it. He winced and turned away, bowing his head, making a swift sign of the cross, ignoring Johnny as he walked past him to Murph.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Johnny. ‘What the fuck happened here?’
Murph looked at him.
‘What?’ said Johnny. ‘How the hell would I know?’ He glanced up at the roof and back down at Terry. ‘He must have slipped.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was half-cut when he got here.’
‘What the fuck was he doing up there if he was pissed?’ said Murph.
‘“Half-cut,” I said.’
‘Well, whatever fraction cut he was,’ said Murph. ‘What? You thought he could—’
‘Fix his own fuck-ups!’ said Johnny.
‘I get it,’ said Murph, ‘but what was the big rush? Could you not have—’
‘It was while he was here!’ said Johnny, ‘I was thinking – there’s a gale force fucking wind out there, we’ve friends staying, we’ve no electricity and I don’t trust that something’s not going to blow off somewhere and kill someone.’
‘What makes you think he fell off the roof?’ said Laura. ‘How did he get up there? Is there a ladder anywhere? And even if there was – what? He fell off, landed neatly in the gap between two pallets and wrapped himself in tarpaulin?’
Johnny stared at her. Murph walked around the pallets and shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He locked eyes with Johnny. ‘Jesus.’
Johnny looked, panicked, at Laura. ‘But … what …? Couldn’t he have …’ He glanced at the top of the blocks. He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Jesus Christ. What are you saying? You’re not saying …’
Laura nodded. ‘I am. I’m sorry, but …’
Murph crouched at Terry’s head and studied the wounds. Then he nodded slowly and looked up at Johnny. ‘I think she’s right. I think someone … did this.’
‘What? No way,’ said Johnny. ‘There’s no way …Who, even? Why?’ He looked around the group. ‘Whoa. What the fuck is this? Why are you all looking at me? Jesus Christ – you’re all looking at me.’ His eyes were wide, his pupils huge. He stopped at Edie. Her hands were over her mouth, her fingers trembling, her eyes filled with tears.
‘No,’ said Johnny. ‘Edie – no. Are you serious? Do you seriously think I did this?’
Edie took a few steps towards him. ‘I don’t—’
‘Is that what you all think?’ said Johnny. ‘We’re having a nice dinner, I go out and kill someone, come back in …’ He shrugged.
Clare held up her hands. ‘Look – apart from there being no evidence of him being up on the roof, no one knows what happened here.’
‘Somebody fucking does,’ said Johnny.
Everyone went quiet.
‘And it’s not me!’ said Johnny.
‘We need to call the guards,’ said Laura. She held out her hand, palm up. ‘And it’s raining. We need to cover him up properly.’
‘It’s already been raining,’ said Johnny. ‘What difference does it make at this stage?’
Laura stared at him. ‘That’s ridiculous. Apart from anything, there could be something inside in that tarpaulin with him. Or if rain starts to pool in there …’
‘This is fucked up,’ said Johnny. ‘What the fuck?’
‘Whatever the fuck,’ said Murph, ‘we’re getting soaked here.’
‘And there’s no point standing around talking about it,’ said Laura. ‘Can we just go inside, call the guards and at least get that over with?’
Johnny was staring into space.
‘Johnny,’ said Laura. ‘The guards?’
He frowned. ‘Yes. Yes.’
Edie turned round and started to walk back to the inn, her arms wrapped across her stomach, her shoulders hunched. She stopped when she got inside the door and let the others pass. ‘Go ahead into the bar,’ she said. ‘I’ll follow you in.’
Johnny was the last to come in. He stood in front of her, fear flickering in his eyes.
‘What happened?’ she said.
‘You’re asking me? I told you – how the fuck would I know?’
‘But … you were the only one dealing with him,’ said Edie. ‘What happened?’
‘Why do you keep asking me that?’ said Johnny. ‘I don’t fucking know.’
‘You seem … edgy.’
‘So do you! Jesus Christ. Of course I’m fucking edgy. There’s a dead body in our garden.’ He paused. ‘This is a nightmare. What the fuck are we supposed to do? I’m in deep shit—’
Edie’s head snapped back. ‘Why are you in deep shit?’
Johnny stared at her, open-mouthed. ‘You mean apart from “because my wife’s looking at me like I just made a confession by accident”? I’m in deep shit, Edie, because I couldn’t stand the prick, half the town knows it, and now he’s lying dead outside our house. Who’d be your number one suspect?’
‘You need to calm down, Johnny. Seriously. You look … I don’t know—’
‘What?’ said Johnny. ‘Tell me – how do I look?’
She stared at him. ‘Unhinged.’
‘Wow,’ said Johnny.
‘If there’s anything you need to tell me,’ said Edie.
Johnny opened his mouth. Edie waited, panic flickering in her eyes. The sound of footsteps echoed towards them from the hallway. Edie spun around. Laura was walking towards them, then stopped. She stood with her arms crossed, looking back and forth between them.
‘We’re coming – sorr
y,’ said Edie. She turned to Johnny, flashing warning eyes at him before she walked away. Johnny reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her around to him.
‘What are you doing?’ said Edie, her voice a low hiss, as she gently slid her arm from his grip.
‘Just …’ He leaned in close to her. ‘Stop looking at me like that.’
‘Lads – come on,’ said Laura.
Johnny looked up at her. ‘Give us a minute, for fuck’s sake.’
‘What’s going on?’ said Laura. ‘We need to—’
‘Can you shut the fuck up for one minute?’ said Johnny.
‘Jesus, calm down,’ said Laura.
‘How am I meant to calm down when—’
‘Johnny,’ said Edie, drawing his attention back to her. She lowered her voice. ‘You’re not doing yourself any favours, here. I mean it: calm down.’
Johnny let out a long breath.
‘And looking at you like what?’ said Edie.
‘Like … you’re afraid of me.’
A frown flickered on Edie’s face. ‘I’m … not.’ She turned and walked over to Laura. Johnny followed. When they got to the door of the bar, he stopped.
‘Go ahead in. Give me five.’
‘What?’ said Edie. ‘Where are you going?’
‘The jacks.’ He walked away.
Laura turned to Edie. ‘OK – what’s going on?’
Edie frowned. ‘What?’
‘Did he … do something?’
Edie stared at her. ‘What? No. He has no idea what happened. We’re the same as the rest of you.’
Johnny walked down the steps to the basement. He made his way to the wine cellar, loosened a panel at the bottom of one of the shelves, reached in, pulled out a tin, and prised off the lid. He looked inside. It was empty. He frowned, then stared up at the ceiling.
‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’
Murph was standing in the bar by the confession box. There was a bottle of Jameson, a bottle of Hennessy XO and five glasses lined up in front of him. Clare was standing at the window, her arms crossed, looking out into the night. Laura was sitting at one of the tables close to her. Patrick was standing at the edge of the hearth. He reached down, took a log from the basket, and threw it on to the fire.
‘Where’s Johnny?’ said Laura. She leaned back in her chair. ‘Edie! Where’s Johnny?’
Edie was standing by the wall with her arms folded.
‘Here’s Johnny,’ said Johnny, walking in the door, his arms outstretched.
He walked over to Murph and squinted at the glasses, counting them with his finger. ‘None for me?’ he said.
Murph stared at him. ‘Patrick doesn’t drink?’
Johnny gave him an upward nod, and took the first glass of brandy.
Murph frowned. He pointed to a bottle of 7UP. ‘Give Patrick that.’
Johnny handed Patrick his drink, and nodded to the armchair by the fire.
‘Thanks,’ said Patrick, sitting down.
Clare reached out and drew the curtains closed. She fixed them neatly across the window, then sat opposite Laura.
Johnny started to pace in front of the door, glass in hand. He stopped halfway to the corner and looked up at Edie.
‘Sit down,’ he said, pointing her to the chair opposite Patrick’s. She did as he asked.
Johnny kept pacing, the colour rising in his face, sweat shining on his brow. Everyone exchanged glances.
‘Sure, why don’t you sit down yourself?’ said Murph.
Johnny, scowling, batted a hand at him.
‘I think he’s right,’ said Patrick. ‘You might want to sit down.’
Johnny stared at him, his pupils huge. ‘I’m fine. This is just fucked up. It’s totally fucked up.’
‘I know,’ said Patrick. ‘But—’
‘It had to have been an accident,’ said Johnny. ‘It had to have been.’ He stopped and wiped the sweat from his hairline. ‘Like – I don’t know how he ended up in the tarp …’ He shook his head. ‘But …’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Murph, walking over to him. ‘It probably was an accident.’ He put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. ‘But, either way, you’ve had a shock and it might be a good idea to—’
Johnny elbowed his way out of Murph’s grip. ‘I’m fucking fine!’ He raised his hands. ‘Just … get out of my face for a minute.’
Murph hovered, then walked over to the window and sat at the free table.
Laura leaned forward until she was in Edie’s eyeline. ‘Edie? If he’s just going to stand there – or walk up and down there – can you do the honours? Make the call to the guards and at least get that out of the way.’
There was a flash of movement by the door and everyone looked up. Johnny was standing with his back to them, a triangle of sweat soaked into his white shirt, his left hand high on the door, his right hand turning the key in it. The lock clicked.
Johnny turned around. ‘We’re not calling the guards.’
26
Everyone stared at Johnny.
‘What the fuck is this?’ said Murph.
‘This …’ said Johnny. ‘This is … hear me out, OK? Hear me out. I didn’t do anything. But … whatever happened … if someone did … if someone else did … whatever it is, I’m fucked.’
‘What are you on about?’ said Laura. ‘Why would you be fucked if you did nothing?’
‘Just – can everyone listen, OK?’ said Johnny. ‘Thats all.’
‘Well, we’re not going anywhere, are we?’ said Laura. She leaned out and looked at Edie, who was sitting utterly still, blank-faced.
Johnny was staring at the floor, running his hand over his head, over and over. ‘It’s … I’m not sure you’re getting what I’m trying to say.’
Laura stood up, knocking the legs of the chair and table together. Patrick spun around and gave her a warning look. As she was about to walk past him, he lowered his arm in front of her to stop her. She glared at him. ‘Get your—’
Patrick cut her off. ‘Why don’t we all sit down, and hear the man out, at least?’
Johnny was directly in Laura’s eyeline. ‘Please,’ he mouthed.
Laura let out a breath and went back to her seat. ‘Would you just tell us why exactly you think you’re fucked?’ she said.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Johnny, ‘I’m standing out there, and you’re all looking at me like I did something, and you’re my friends, and …’ He turned to Edie. She was staring at him, panic flickering in her eyes. Johnny threw his hands up. ‘So how do you think the guards are going to look at it?’
Edie started to stand. ‘Honey, stop—’
‘No!’ said Johnny, batting her back down. ‘No. Just stay where—’
‘Johnny,’ said Patrick. ‘There’s no need for that.’ He grabbed the armrests and started to shift his chair back.
‘You can stay the fuck where you are too,’ said Johnny, ‘and just hear me fucking out.’
‘OK,’ said Patrick, nodding, ‘OK.’
‘I did not lay a finger on that man,’ said Johnny. ‘I don’t know what happened to him. But whatever it was, it’s going to look like I did it. There’s stuff you don’t know, but trust me, Terry and I have a history, and it’s not good. We’ve had rip-roaring rows. He’ll bang on about me to whoever’ll listen, and, well, I do the same myself.’
‘You’re the one keeps hiring him,’ said Murph. ‘What—’
‘Jesus! Shut the fuck up about me hiring him,’ said Johnny. ‘The point is, as soon as the guards start going “Who had a reason to kill Terry Hyland?”—’
‘They’ll say “half the fucking town”!’ said Murph.
‘But only one of them has his fucking body lying in their garden,’ said Johnny. ‘You don’t get it. Everyone knows I can’t stand Terry. I … I held back some of the money I owe him, and he wasn’t happy. But he hadn’t finished the jobs, and it was the only way I could get him to come back.’ He turned to Murp
h. ‘And I hired him because he’s cheap, OK?’
Everyone went quiet. Edie stared at the floor.
‘This is our lives,’ said Johnny. He gestured over to Edie. ‘And Dylan – heading to college in a couple of years. This is it. The inn is it. And, even if I didn’t do anything …’ He paused. ‘… which I didn’t! Jesus. Stop looking at me, all of you. What I’m saying is, it doesn’t matter who did this. Even with the simple fact that a dead body is found on our property – forever more, google The Inn at Pilgrim Point and that’s what you’ll see. And that’s it – we’re done.’
‘You’re not done,’ said Laura. ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’
‘It is exactly the type of thing that could ruin a business like ours,’ said Edie.
‘Do none of ye care that a man’s been killed?’ said Laura.
‘Look, we don’t know what happened to him,’ said Murph. ‘Maybe it was an accident that someone tried to cover up—’
‘Do you know who will know what happened to him?’ said Laura. ‘The State Pathologist. Then we’ll have our answer, instead of sitting around here talking about it. Just open the door.’ She started to stand up.
‘No!’ said Johnny. ‘No! I’m not opening it. Sorry.’
Laura glanced over at Murph and looked set to stand until he flicked his eyes at her chair. Johnny was pacing from one corner to the other, one foot out from the door.
‘Look,’ said Patrick, his voice calm, his eyes on Johnny. ‘You’ve locked us in here. At least spell it out for us. What is it you want us to do, exactly? Agree to not going to the guards? And then what?’
‘I don’t know!’ said Johnny. ‘I don’t know.’ He lowered himself to the ground, and sat with his back to the wall, his forearms resting on his knees, his head bowed between them.
‘If we come forward now,’ said Patrick, ‘we’re normal, good people – which I’d like to think we are. But say we did agree not to go to the guards – how would any of us know how we’d feel about it in the cold light of day?’