"I don't really live here," Tina said. "I mean, I do — what I mean is I spend most of the time in my bedroom. You should see the state of that!"
Adam perched on the edge of his seat. Leaning back, he felt, might damage the cushions. He was about to ask Tina if she would explain why there wasn't any blood on the floor when Brewer said, "You sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Got the car outside. No problem giving you a lift."
Tina stepped back into the sitting room, holding the newly rinsed cloth in her hand. "I'm okay," she said. "Really. Where's Joe?"
Brewer looked at Adam. Adam stared back at him. "We don't know," the lawyer said. "We hoped he'd be here." An awkward silence descended, during which Tina dabbed her nose with the cloth and Brewer flicked imaginary fluff off his trousers. "Thing is, Joe's sort of disappeared," he said at last. "The police are looking for him. We need to find him. He's in a lot of trouble."
"So I hear." Tina opened the cloth, inspected it, folded it again. "I don't understand, though. I thought he was off the hook."
Brewer explained about the football fans who'd seen Joe at Cooper's flat. "When he was supposed to be with you," he told her.
"I hoped it wasn't true," she said. "Bugger. The police must know I lied. So now I'm in the shit along with Joe."
"I imagine they had their suspicions anyway," the lawyer said.
"No wonder Cooper refused to pay me."
"Cooper doesn't know about any of this."
Her eyes bored into Brewer's. "He does."
Brewer held her gaze. "If he refused to pay you, it must be for some other reason."
"He told me he wasn't going to part with any cash on account of the new witnesses. He told me what you just told me. I said I'd retract my statement. He told me to go ahead. See if he cared. He said Joe was well fucked. Past our help. I got the impression Cooper had come here to gloat. I offered him a cup of coffee. I was going to throw it at him. I think he knew, but he played along for a while. Came into the kitchen. I felt him creeping up behind me. I didn't wait for the water to boil. Just turned on my heel and kicked him in the balls." She demonstrated, swivelling, her right foot shooting out in front of her with sufficient speed to make Adam flinch in his seat. "Wiped that smug grin off his face."
"But how would Cooper know about the witnesses?" the lawyer said.
Tina said, "I couldn't say."
"I don't know Mr. Cooper," Adam said. "But I get the distinct impression that he's no friend of Joe's."
Brewer said, "No question, somebody set up Joe. It would have to be somebody close, somebody who knew Joe pretty well. Could be Cooper. I mean, there aren't too many candidates."
And it was somebody close to the family who'd raped Gemma.
"I could have done it," Tina said. "Jealous prostitute thing, you know? Sick of hearing Joe prattle on about his wife."
"Does that really happen?" Adam said.
She ignored him. "And I'm pretty mean with a baseball bat."
"Are you?" the lawyer said. "Look what Cooper just did to you."
"Get me a baseball bat. I'll show you."
Adam looked at her.
"You fancy some?" she asked him. "Want to try me?"
Adam grinned. "I'm sure you'd win."
"Cooper caught me unawares," Tina said. "You'd think I'd know better. Anyway, I doubt Joe's wife would have been as tough a proposition as Cooper."
"Let's say you're right." Brewer stood up and faced Tina. "You're now a murder suspect. Would you consider going to the police? Voluntarily?"
"I've had more than enough contact with them."
"One way or another you're about to have more."
"I'll wait, thanks."
"Even if going to see them got you off the hook for your false statement? And cleared you as a suspect?" He paused. "And if it helped put away the man who did that to your nose?"
Tina threw the cloth into the kitchen. It landed with a smack in the center of the sink. "What did you have in mind?"
THIRTY-TWO
It occurred to Joe that although he might not be able to reach Cooper, his lawyer wouldn't have the same problem. Ronald wasn't on the run and the police weren't going to arrest him if he appeared at Cooper's flat. And if Cooper wasn't at home, Ronald could wait at his flat until he turned up and nobody would bat an eyelid. Getting his lawyer to beat the truth out of Cooper might be a shade more difficult, but at least Ronald would be able to arrange a safe meeting place with Cooper where Joe could do the physical work himself.
Joe picked up the phone and called Ronald. He sounded flustered when he answered. "Problem?" Joe said.
"We were just talking about you. Where are you?"
"In your flat. Taking it easy. Just like you suggested."
"I called earlier. Where were you?"
"Popped out for a chat with my new best friend, DS Monkman."
"I hope you're taking the piss, Joe. Look, we need to see you. We have things to discuss. Stay there, please. We'll be right over."
"We?" Joe said, but Ronald had hung up. Joe considered calling him back, but decided not to bother. He'd see him soon enough. Along with whoever he was bringing along. Cooper, maybe? Joe felt a nervousness flutter in his stomach and spread towards his groin. Not knowing the truth was eating him up. He hoped the lawyer was bringing Cooper. He formed a fist with his right hand and smacked it into the open palm of his left. After a while he became aware of a low, rumbling sound. His eyes were wet at the corners. He let out a long breath. The rumbling sound stopped and he realized it had been coming from his chest.
A cigarette. What he'd give for a cigarette right now. Not to smoke it. Just to light it and hold it between his fingers and watch it burn down.
Some comfort.
That sound again. He gasped.
What he really wanted was to talk to Gemma. Find out how she was doing up in Orkney. Maybe he could ask her why she'd left. Something happened that had forced her to leave. Or so Ruth had said. Something Gem hadn't been able to talk about. And Joe had no reason to suppose Ruth was wrong. Why hadn't Gem said anything? He hated the idea of his daughter suffering. More than anything in the world. Well, one thing was certain. She would never suffer again.
He should ring Adam. Joe had the number somewhere. Shit, it was at home. Not a problem, though. He could get it from directory enquiries. Then he remembered that Adam was in Edinburgh and his landline number wouldn't be of much use. Ronald had left for a meeting with him, though. If anyone knew how to get in touch with him, it was Ronald.
Joe called his lawyer again, but Ronald's mobile was switched off. Joe would just have to wait.
They arrived fifteen minutes later. The lawyer and Tina and Adam. Tina had taken a thump on the nose. The swelling made her nostrils even larger than usual. It was strange seeing her in company. Joe couldn't remember that ever happening before. He nodded to her and she nodded back. Adam looked troubled, clutching a book to his chest.
"Adam," Joe said, "I didn't kill Ruth," hoping those few words would help put him at ease.
"Mr. Brewer explained," Adam said. "I'd like to believe you."
Ronald said, "Mr. Wright has something of Gemma's he wants you to have, Joe."
Joe put his hand to his mouth. His fingers pressed against his lips. Adam stepped forward and detached the book from his chest.
"This will tell you what you want to know." Adam held the bottom edge of the book with both hands. "Gem entrusted it to me," he said. "She didn't want it to fall into the hands of the police. It's her diary. What's in here is very private. Something happened to her, Joe—"
"You know about that?"
"I took the liberty of turning down the corners of the relevant pages."
"It's in there? What happened to her? Why she left?"
"Read it," Adam said.
Joe reached out, accepting the diary. He opened the book and saw her name written in red ink. He rubbed his thumb over it.
Adam said, "Maybe we should leave you alone."
"Let's go through to the kitchen," Ronald said. "I'll make coffee."
"Adam," Joe said to the retreating figure of his wife's cousin. "What I said about Ruth. It's true. Whatever you might think."
Tina placed her hand on Joe's shoulder as she passed.
THIRTY-THREE
The sitting room door was slightly ajar. The rise and fall of animated voices carried from the kitchen, although Joe couldn't make out any of the words. He looked at the passage he'd just read, and read it again. When he finished, he read it again. He placed the book on the cushion next to him and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he picked up the diary and read the passage once more. It still made no sense, so he read it again.
He read it until he knew it by heart.
He flicked forward to the second passage Adam had marked. He read each sentence a dozen times before advancing to the next. The words made no sense. What they said, what he read into them, was overwhelming. He started with the first sentence again. Moved on to the next. Just a rape, I tell myself. His brain rejected the concept. He couldn't imagine Gemma being hurt like that. He moved further down the page, across to the next page. Gemma was reminiscing about that time he took her up Calton Hill to see a meteor shower. An insignificant event in his own life. Who'd have expected she'd…Joe's shoulders started to shake.
He moved on to the next passage. After a while he closed the diary. He was still shaking.
Maybe the whole thing was an elaborate hoax. Someone else had written the diary. Maybe Gemma had made it all up. It was a bad joke.
He knew it wasn't. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he knew this had to be dealt with. He swallowed, picked up the diary and opened it again. His mouth was dry as paper. He forced himself to read through the marked passages once more. He tried to understand it. Gemma's words did not state that Cooper had raped her. No, not exactly. More of an indication. Someone had raped her, of that there was no doubt. Someone close to her. Someone who referred to himself as Daddy. Someone who called her Gem. Someone she suspected Joe would kill if she told him who it was. Someone in a position of trust. A man who was capable of doing a thing like that was certainly capable of murdering Ruth. But Cooper wasn't mentioned by name. Still, Joe knew it was him. No more proof than he had before, but the weight of circumstantial evidence was crushing. Only a fool would doubt Cooper's guilt now. And Joe was nobody's fool.
He closed the diary and pressed it to his chest.
Joe didn't know where to take this. Killing Cooper with his bare hands might have been satisfactory if Cooper's only involvement had been to kill Ruth and frame Joe for the murder. But if Cooper had forced himself on Gemma, Joe couldn't begin to imagine the pain he'd have to inflict on the scumbag for justice to be done. Death was far too lenient.
Joe couldn't understand why he wasn't angrier.
Bile rose in his throat. He stood up and spewed all over the carpet. He doubled up. Folded to his knees. Puked once more. His guts hurt. His damaged ribs were throbbing again. He stayed on his knees, resting his head on the arm of the settee. His head was hot. Thumbs pressed into his eyes. His stomach lurched again. He made a retching sound. He shuddered. His nose was running. His stomach cramped. Nothing left. He wanted to throw up. His pores had opened and sweat coated his skin. His stomach was empty. He retched, croaking like a frog. A moment later, he croaked again.
When he raised his head, Adam was looking down at him. He offered Joe a glass of water.
The diary was still clutched to Joe's chest. He gripped it so hard his fingers hurt. Then he laid it on the settee and accepted the glass from Adam. Joe poured the water down his throat. The cold water salved the tenderness in his gut and diluted the rancid taste in his mouth.
"More?" Adam asked.
Joe wiped his brow. He cradled his head in his hands. When he looked up again, Adam had gone. Joe breathed jerkily. He'd made a mess of the lawyer's carpet. Ronald wasn't going to be too happy.
Adam returned with another glass of water. Ronald and Tina came with him.
"Sorry about that," Joe said, indicating the puke on the carpet.
Ronald disappeared into the kitchen, saying nothing. After a moment, Joe heard the sound of running water.
Adam said, "Was it Cooper?"
"Why do you say that? You don't even know him."
Tina said, "You want to talk about it, Joe?"
Joe looked at her and shook his head. He couldn't hold her gaze. Her nose was puffy and shiny and comical and yet not at all funny. He wiped his mouth. "What's it to you?"
Adam said, "We're all concerned."
Joe told him to piss off.
"If that's what you want." Adam walked towards the door. "Good luck," he said. "See you at the funeral."
Joe looked across the room at him.
"Day after tomorrow," Adam said. "Brewer has the details."
Joe wasn't sure which funeral Adam was referring to. He said, "Gemma's?"
Adam said, "Your lawyer has the details."
"I asked you if you're talking about my daughter's funeral."
Adam nodded.
"Here? In Edinburgh?"
Adam nodded again.
"And Ruth?"
Ronald returned from the kitchen, wearing a pair of rubber gloves and carrying an orange basin. "That's been delayed," he said. "They still need the body."
Adam stood in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, shoulders hunched. His eyes were focussed on Ronald's attempts to mop up Joe's sick. "You didn't do it, did you, Joe? You didn't kill Ruth?"
Joe knew he should be grateful to Adam for bringing Gem's diary. The guy had travelled several hundred miles to hand deliver it to someone who'd not so long ago been intent on killing him, someone who was also wanted for the murder of his cousin. Someone who — shit! Joe suddenly realized why Adam's behavior had been so strange. Jesus fucking Christ! How could he have believed that for a minute? Joe waited until Adam's fascination with the lawyer's cleaning activities finally wore off. "You thought I had sex with my own daughter," he said, calmly.
Adam opened the door. "I should never have doubted you, Joe. I'm sorry." He hung his head for a moment, then said, "Who was it? Do you have any idea?"
Joe spoke in a monotone. "A friend of mine. Cooper."
Adam looked at him. "What about Ruth? Do you think he was…responsible?"
Joe nodded.
"Can you handle it from here?" Adam asked.
"Go."
Adam apologized again.
Joe watched the door swing shut. "Didn't think you'd have the stomach for it," he muttered to himself.
Tina said, "What did Cooper do?"
"In a minute," Joe said. He tapped Ronald on the shoulder. "Give me the gloves. I can clean up my own puke."
THIRTY-FOUR
Despite an apparently thorough cleaning, the carpet still stank of vomit. Joe had sluiced disinfectant straight onto it and the smell of antiseptic-masked sick had driven the three of them into the kitchen where they now sat round Ronald's kitchen table. Joe and the lawyer faced each other. Tina sat between them.
"Thanks for telling us," she said to Joe.
Joe stared at his hands. He'd washed them, but they still felt sticky from wearing the gloves. "My trusting friend Adam knows about it," he said. "Why shouldn't you two?" He flexed his fingers. He could still make out the faint scar where he'd broken the whisky glass that night at Cooper's.
"Nothing we can do about your daughter," Ronald said. "She's dead. Any evidence of a rape has died with her."
Joe said, "Is that right?"
"We have to concentrate on Ruth's murder." The lawyer paused, making eye contact with Joe, then switching his gaze to Tina.
Joe felt Tina's hand on his arm. This time she said, "Is that right?"
"Forget Gemma. This is the question we need to address," Ronald continued. "Do we have enough evidence to persuade the police to take Cooper into custody?"
Tina leaned back and studied the young man, her forehead
creasing. Joe noticed a tiny shake of her head before she leaned across and slapped Ronald hard on the cheek.
Ronald reeled back in his chair, eyes wide. After a minute he put his hand to his face. "What the fuck was that for?" He rubbed his cheek, his mouth hanging open.
"You want to tell him, Joe?"
"Next time you dismiss my daughter like that," Joe said, "it'll be me who hits you." He paused. "I might even use my fist."
"I'm breaking the law here." Ronald closed his mouth. He kept rubbing his cheek.
"Your choice."
"I'm doing it for you."
"Crap."
"Tina?" Ronald held his hands out, palms upwards. "You know this man better than I do." His face creased in a grimace, lips pulled back from his teeth. Momentarily he looked his age. "What's his problem?" Fingers rigid, his hands balanced invisible weights.
Tina didn't say anything for a moment. Then she reached for Joe's hand and squeezed it. "He told you, Ronald."
"This has nothing to do with Gemma," the lawyer said, sinking back in his chair. He touched his cheek again. "Whatever Cooper may or may not have done to her is entirely speculative."
Joe's fist lashed out, narrowly missing the lawyer's chin.
"Okay, okay," Ronald said, leaning back, breathing fast. "I won't mention it again." He looked at Joe, gaze dropping to Joe's fist, still balled and ready to strike once more. "Okay?" Joe rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. "Okay," the lawyer continued, "but can we concentrate on procuring evidence that'll put Cooper away for the eminently more provable crime of murdering your wife? Face facts. We won't be able to prove that he raped your daughter, Joe. She's" — he spread his hands — "gone. She can't testify. Not to mention the fact there'd be absolutely no way of obtaining physical evidence after this length of time."
Joe wondered. He'd pulled his punch. He didn't really want to hurt the boy. Ronald was genuinely trying to help and he'd put his neck on the line. Not just breaking the law, but offering Joe, a stranger, a possible criminal, a possible murderer, the sanctuary and hospitality of his home. Dubious hospitality, mind you, given the lack of available entertainment. Tina's slap ought to have been sufficient warning, but some people just didn't know when to stop. If Joe hit him properly and knocked his lights out, he'd probably wake up mumbling something about Gem. He was that kind of persistent little bastard. It was built into him.
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