by Alex Barclay
‘Yes!’ said Laura.
‘I don’t think anyone’s getting what I’m trying to say,’ said Johnny.
‘Oh my God,’ said Laura. ‘It’s pretty fucking clear—’
‘I mean why I’m saying it,’ said Johnny. ‘Like – how important this is.’
‘We do!’ said Laura. ‘But that still doesn’t mean we’re going to cover up a crime! Jesus.’
Murph looked at Johnny. ‘Because what’s the plan? If we went along with you?’
Laura nodded. ‘Yeah – like, what are you going to do with Terry? Bury him out there, keep your head down and hope no one comes looking for him? Throw him in a ditch and hope it’ll look like a hit and run?’ She paused. ‘Jesus – Johnny’s looking at me like “that’s not a bad idea”.’ She turned to Edie. ‘Can you please just call the guards? This is madness.’
‘No!’ said Johnny. ‘No! I told you. That’s not happening.’
‘I think you’ll feel differently in the morning,’ said Laura. ‘I think you’ll be glad we talked sense into you—’
Johnny exploded. ‘I won’t! I won’t feel fucking different. I won’t. I’m not watching my life go up in smoke because of that prick. I can’t. I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘He could … go into the water. If he went into the water, then …’
‘Oh my God,’ said Laura. ‘This is—’
‘It could look like an accidental drowning,’ said Johnny.
‘It wouldn’t,’ said Clare.
‘Why not?’ said Johnny.
‘There would be no water in his lungs,’ said Clare.
‘Am I even hearing this shit?’ said Laura.
‘But he could have had a fall that knocked him out,’ said Johnny. ‘And that would explain the bang on the head, and then he could have fallen into the water.’
Murph nodded. ‘Yeah – one minute, he was working away – hundreds of feet from the edge of the cliff – next minute he went flying.’
‘“The bang on the head”?’ said Laura. ‘Fuck me.’
‘Not if he was down on the jetty,’ said Johnny. ‘He could have slipped on the jetty, cracked his head, and fallen into the water—’
‘Seriously,’ said Laura. ‘I can’t believe I’m listening to this shit.’ She let her head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. ‘As if he’d be down on the jetty on a night like tonight.’ She sat up. ‘Is it because you’re drunk or what?
‘It’s not shit!’ said Johnny.
Murph turned to him. ‘Look – nobody wants to be in this situation, we get it. But I’m not sure you’re the right person to be taking the lead, here.’
‘I own the fucking place!’ said Johnny. ‘Who else is going to—’
‘God forbid Edie might have a—’ said Laura.
‘Stop it!’ said Edie. ‘Stop it – all of you.’
‘But – what does he think’s going to happen, here?’ said Laura. ‘He keeps us here for the night, and wears us all down? We promise to say nothing, then we head off, and he hopes no one cracks?’
‘Just … just let me think,’ said Johnny.
‘Hmm … not sure your thinking’s a hundred per cent,’ said Murph.
Johnny clambered to his feet and strode towards him. Murph jumped up from his chair, knocking it over. ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. Fairly fucking aggressive, there.’
‘Fuck you,’ said Johnny, stabbing a finger at him.
Murph looked at him, wide-eyed.
‘What?’ said Johnny. ‘What?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Murph. ‘You tell me.’
‘What are you getting at?’ said Johnny.
‘What am I getting at?’ said Murph. ‘Was “fairly fucking aggressive” not clear enough? But, OK – if you want me to spell it out … you’re an angry bollocks who’s just made a lunge for one of your mates. So, the state you’re in, it’s not a big leap to think Terry Hyland pushed you over the fucking edge. And that maybe you pushed back just that little bit harder.’
27
Johnny stared at Murph, then broke away, shaking his head slowly. He took a few steps backwards.
‘Look,’ said Murph. ‘Why don’t you just hold up your hands and say, “Lads, I fucked up, and I need your help.”’
‘Because,’ said Johnny. ‘I did not do fucking ANYTHING.’ He slammed his fist hard against the side of the confession box. Everybody jumped.
Laura knocked over her drink. ‘Jesus Christ!’ Johnny handed her a pile of napkins from the shelf behind him. Laura grabbed them out of his hand and held them to the trickle flowing down the side of the table. ‘He’s lost the plot altogether.’ She turned to Edie. ‘Is he on drugs, or has he stopped taking whatever he’s supposed to be taking?’
‘Laura,’ said Patrick.
‘I’m serious,’ said Laura, throwing the balled-up napkins on to the table. ‘He’s expecting everyone here to take this massive hit for him, when he’s in a total state of— I don’t know what. Madness? Paranoia? And we’ve all got a lot of alcohol in our systems. Bar you,’ she said, looking at Patrick. ‘Does any of this seem sane to you? Honest to God, it’s like a load of psychiatrists nodding away, going along with whatever nonsense the mentallers are telling them.’ She let her arms flop out over the chair. ‘Jesus. CHRIST. CALL THE GUARDS.’
‘Fine – we call the guards,’ said Johnny. ‘And here’s what’ll happen: we wait an hour or more for them to get here from Bantry. Then we sit around all night, while they take our statements, and then it’s the morning, and the State Pathologist’s here in her white suit, with the CSI guys in tow, and what happens if a post mortem is inconclusive? I get to walk around town like Kevin fucking Crossan for the rest of my life? Jesus Christ.’ He looked over at Edie. ‘Imagine that? And, of course, you’ll have the journalists and the photographers making sure they’ve got a good shot for the front page of the Sunday World. “Murder at Luxury Inn” has a nice ring to it. Or “Mysterious Death” even better. You’d read it, wouldn’t you?’
‘“Mysterious” has too many letters for a headline,’ said Murph.
‘Shut up, Murph,’ said Laura.
‘But this isn’t about “God love us, we’ll end up in the papers”,’ said Patrick.
Laura turned to him. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Someone’s talking sense. Plenty of innocent people are involved in dodgy situations, or they’ve witnessed a crime, they do the right thing, they might be in the papers for a week, and that’s that.’
‘And none of us knows the ins and outs of Terry’s life,’ said Patrick. ‘He could have been involved in a lot of shady dealings, which could lead the guards directly to whoever’s responsible for this.’
‘Except there are no guarantees that they will!’ said Johnny.
Laura turned to Edie. ‘What’s your story? Are you going to go along with this madness?’
Edie said nothing.
‘Wow,’ said Laura.
‘Jesus,’ said Johnny, looking over at her, ‘I forgot what a pain in the hole you are.’
‘And I forgot what a self-centred prick you are,’ said Laura.
‘It’s not just me!’ said Johnny. ‘It’s Edie, it’s Dylan.’
‘It’s my fucking life too!’ said Laura. ‘Everyone else’s here too and you’re expecting us all to lie to the guards, lie in court if it came to it.’ She looked across at Clare. ‘I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?’ She turned back to Johnny. ‘Have a think about that. And then you’re expecting us all to sleep at night for the rest of our lives?’
‘I care about your lives too,’ said Johnny.
‘You do in your hole,’ said Laura. ‘You had to guess how many kids I have! Did you go visit Murph’s dad when he was up above in the hospital? Do you know Clare’s kids’ names? Do you know—’
Clare’s hand went down on Laura’s arm, and she squeezed tight.
‘Look – I’m sorry I’m not as stuck into everyone’s lives as you all are,’ said Johnny, ‘but that’s just … me. It doesn’t
mean I don’t give a shit. I—’
Patrick got up from his chair and stood at the edge of the mantelpiece.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Show of hands.’
‘Show of hands?’ said Laura. ‘Are you joking?’
‘And if the majority wants to go the guards, then that’s what we do,’ said Patrick. ‘What’s the alternative? Stay here all night looking at each other?’
‘And, sorry, lads,’ said Murph, ‘but anyone could come looking for Terry in the meantime.’
‘I can’t stay, either way,’ said Clare. ‘So you’ll have to let me go.’
‘I can’t stay either, then,’ said Laura. ‘I have to go too.’ She shrugged at Johnny, then turned to Patrick. ‘Right, so, Patrick. Show of hands and we can all get the fuck out of here—’
‘Well, you won’t be getting out of here if we go to the guards,’ said Johnny. ‘You’ll have to hang around.’
‘At least they won’t lock us in,’ said Laura.
‘Right,’ said Patrick. ‘Raise your hand if—’
‘Not a show of hands,’ said Clare. ‘Pen and paper. Let’s keep this anonymous.’
‘But we’re all friends here, aren’t we?’ said Laura.
28
Clare gestured to Patrick. ‘Patrick’s the sober one. Does anyone have any objection to him doing the honours?’
‘I can’t believe you gave that job away,’ said Laura.
‘What – counting to six?’ said Clare.
‘No – being in charge,’ said Laura.
Clare exchanged glances with Edie.
Johnny tore out a chunk of pages from the back of the notepad by the drinks and handed them around. Edie handed out pens from the cabinet drawer.
‘Straightforward vote,’ said Patrick. ‘YES – we call the guards. NO – we don’t.’
Everyone wrote their answer, and folded it over. Patrick collected the pages, walked back to his table and unfolded them. He looked up at everyone. ‘The results are four for YES – we call the guards. And two NOs.’
Johnny slumped against the wall, and let his weight take him down to the floor, where he sat with his head in his hands.
‘Jesus, what did you expect?’ said Murph. ‘Obviously, yourself and Edie are the “Nos” – because you’re the ones with the most to lose.’
Edie’s head shot up.
‘I don’t think Edie was a “No”,’ said Laura.
Edie turned to her, a flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Why do you say that?’
Johnny turned to Edie, his eyes wide. ‘You voted “Yes” to the guards?’
‘Because I know you didn’t do this,’ she said.
‘So do I!’ said Johnny. ‘That’s not the point! Jesus, Edie. Were you listening to anything I said?’
Edie’s hands trembled. She glanced at Laura, who was staring ahead, jaw set, lips pouting, gaze unwavering.
‘So,’ said Laura, ‘if Edie voted “Yes” – who was the other “No”?’
‘Laura,’ said Patrick. ‘Come on.’
Murph started to count on his fingers. ‘It’s not me, it’s not Clare, obviously. It’s not Patrick.’ He frowned.
‘Murph,’ said Patrick. ‘This isn’t helping.’
‘So it was you, then,’ said Murph. ‘That raised hand was a ruse.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ said Clare. ‘It was me. I voted “No”.’
Everyone’s heads whipped around to her.
‘You?’ said Laura, straightening in her seat.
‘Yes,’ said Clare.
‘I’ve seen it all now,’ said Laura.
‘I can understand Johnny’s concerns,’ said Clare.
Johnny sat up. ‘Thank you!’ he said. ‘Thank you.’
Laura looked at Clare. ‘Are you joking me?’
‘Johnny is right,’ said Clare. ‘If he didn’t do this, like he says, that doesn’t mean the guards won’t come to a different conclusion.’
‘This is an irreversible decision,’ said Patrick. ‘I’m not sure everyone gets that—’
‘Of course we get that,’ said Clare. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Sorry but think of the regrets we might have if it all goes horribly wrong for Johnny and Edie? Or if our lives end up—’
‘Nothing’s going to happen to your life,’ said Laura. ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’
‘It’s all very honourable to want to go to the guards,’ said Clare, ‘but you need to know that what happens after that will be completely out of your control. Once the genie is out of the bottle—’
‘There is never just one genie, though, is there?’ said Patrick. ‘What about bottle number two, genie number two? The one that appears a year or two down the line? And then we’ll all be hitting the headlines for covering up a murder. How is that going to play out? How can we justify that? Because, in that case – every single one of us is guilty. It will be obvious that we all agreed to this, that we spoke about it, that we voted on it, and that there was consensus. Otherwise, obviously, someone would have come forward. It means six people made a clinical decision—’
‘It’s hardly clinical,’ said Clare.
‘Well, I’m not seeing a lot of emotion from you,’ said Laura.
‘Excuse me?’ said Clare.
‘Lads, lads, lads,’ said Murph.
They fell into silence.
‘How did he get here?’ said Murph. ‘Terry. Is his van here? He’d hardly have been out walking – a night like tonight.’
‘I didn’t see it,’ said Johnny, ‘but that doesn’t mean it’s not somewhere.’
‘Someone could have seen him drive up,’ said Laura.
‘Of course,’ said Murph, ‘because it’s a busy thoroughfare.’
‘Well, he could easily have texted someone he was heading this way or he’d be held up because he had to stop by the inn.’ Laura paused. ‘Look how that good deed turned out for him.’
‘Everyone knows they don’t go unpunished,’ said Murph. ‘It’s his own tough.’
‘Stop,’ said Laura. ‘And he easily could have texted someone since he got here.’
‘If he had any coverage,’ said Clare. She looked at Johnny. ‘Did he have a mobile with him? Because they’ll be able to trace him pretty accurately with that.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Johnny.
‘Well, does he usually have one?’ said Murph.
‘Why are you all acting like you’re figuring out how to cover up a fucking murder?’ said Laura. ‘What was the point of the vote, so?’
‘Not always,’ said Johnny, ignoring her, answering Murph. ‘There’s fuck-all coverage, so we use the walkie-talkies when he’s here. We’ve Wi-Fi in the house, so he might have WhatsApp, but that’s not going to work outside. And it obviously wouldn’t have worked tonight anyway.’
‘The thing about the phone, if we had it,’ said Murph, ‘is that it might have something on it, a text or whatever, that might prove to you’ – he looked at Johnny – ‘that you have nothing to worry about, and we can call the guards and be done with it. Terry could have been in the shit somewhere else and it has nothing to do with you.’
‘Well, I know it has nothing to do with me,’ said Johnny. ‘That’s the whole point.’
Edie stood up. ‘Sorry. I need to breathe.’
Everyone looked at her. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like my husband to excuse me. Because there is one place I can think of to check for Terry’s phone.’
Laura looked at Edie. ‘You do what you want, girl. It’s your house. And your husband.’
Edie walked over to Johnny. He took the key from his pocket, and unlocked the door. ‘Where are you going?’ he said, quietly.
‘Just … checking something,’ said Edie. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Johnny locked the door after her.
‘This is a joke,’ said Laura.
Edie took the stairs down to the basement. She was guided to the boot room by the glow from the emergency wall lights. She threw her heels into one of the slots,
pulled on black rain boots, and grabbed a guest raincoat that went down to her knees. She ran into the utility room, and unhooked a set of keys from the rack. She pulled up her hood and paused at the door to look out through the small glass panel. The rain was striking the ground like spears.
She braced herself, opened the door, and went out into the wild night. The wind took her breath away. She paused, her hand to her chest, then ran up the slope towards the front of the inn, struggling to walk in the shifting, rain-soaked gravel.
She glanced into the car park, and saw three cars: hers, Johnny’s, and Patrick’s. She kept walking towards the chapel, nestled in a wishbone gravel path, and took the rear one to the chapel gate. She unlocked it and stepped out on to the narrow side road. She looked right and saw Terry’s van, parked up against the ditch, under a canopy of trees.
Clare shifted in her seat. ‘Johnny’s right about the attention this would bring, not just on the inn, but on all of us personally,’ she said. She stood up. ‘And I don’t know if you can see how we all look, but, to the outside world, we’re going to look like a group of drunk, entitled rich people, partying in a luxury hotel. Definitely drinking, possibly drugs. Some local inconsequential perhaps stumbled on to a secret, something our privileged world didn’t want revealed.’
‘But we’re not “rich people”,’ said Laura.
‘I’m not talking about how we see ourselves,’ said Clare. ‘I’m talking about optics.’
‘What the hell is “optics”?’ said Laura.
‘How this will look to the outside world,’ said Clare. ‘How, for example, you could view tonight, versus how a newspaper would view it based on how their readers would like to see it. The facts: we’re in a luxury inn, recently featured in Condé Nast Traveller – insert quotes from that – owned by a local rugby legend and his glamorous wife, the daughter of wealthy English blow-ins. “Among the guests” were a multi-millionaire hedge fund manager, the former director of nursing of the local hospital, the former sergeant’s daughter, a district court judge, and …’ she turned to Murph.
‘The newly appointed principal of the local secondary school.’
Everyone stared at him.
‘I know,’ said Murph. ‘And you thought the night couldn’t get any more fucked up.’