BLOOD DRUGS TEA (A Dark Comedy Novel)

by Saunders, Craig

  “I know. I spoke to Johnny. It should be interesting. He’s not going to come out of that well.”

  “Yeah, he’s ill anyway. Do you think they’re just going to fit him up because he’s ill? I mean they’ve got no real evidence, right?”

  Well that was true. It was all circumstantial. There was no physical evidence linking Joe to the girl.

  “Maybe, but he’s definitely their best suspect. I don’t think he’s going to be coming out of there for a while.”

  “How long can they hold him for?”

  “If he’s charged? Until the trial if they think he’s a danger to anyone else, I think.”

  “Do you think he’s a danger?”

  “To be honest Pill I don’t know what to think anymore. Last week I would’ve said no way, but there’s just so much evidence against him, and even Joe won’t say he didn’t do it. He’s not helping the situation.”

  “Do you think he did it?”

  I hedged my bets. “I’m not sure anymore.”

  “Well,” he said, “at least we know it’s not a serial killer.”

  “It never was,” I said.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Hold on Pill, there’s someone at the door.”

  “OK,” he said.

  I went to get the door. It was Reb. He followed me back up the stairs.

  “Did you miss me?” he said.

  “Yeah, we’ve been in tears since you’ve left,” I was still holding the phone. “The conversation’s been suffering for snorkels.”

  “Humpf,” said Reb, which was like hunf with a dose more sullen.

  “Pill? I’m going to have to go. Reb’s here.”

  “Alright man, I’ll catch you later.” He hung up.

  I thought about the serial killer angle Pill was so bent on. A strange serial killer. A killing spree of one. I don’t think that counts as a serial killer. Single kill. Like, Unreal. I’m on fire. There was no immolation involved, but I’m sure the Unreal clans get my drift.

  “Hey,” said Reb. “I was just out and thought you might fancy getting out for a bit. I was going to take a walk over to the park. Do you feel up to it?” He looked at me hopefully. He had a puppy dog expression and I’m fairly sure it took a lot for him to put himself out there every time. I’d never given him the impression the feelings he had toward me were reciprocated but he still came around asking for me just the same. I felt for him, in a strange way. I knew what unrequited love could do to a man.

  “How come you’re not at work?”

  “I knocked off early. Not many dead people about today I guess. It was quiet at the morgue. You know, quieter than usual.”

  I decided to go. My back was still giving me gip but I thought a bit of gentle exercise would help.

  “Yeah. Why not? It’s not like I’m doing anything here. Let me get my coat.”

  Reb sang quietly as he walked. Everyone was singing today. I felt singularly unlike singing.

  We walked out to the park. It was raining, a light sheen on the air, as we walked. He seemed happy to be out in the open. He always walked. I don’t know if he walked to forget or to remember. He didn’t really drink so I guess this was as close as he got to oblivion. He walked at an easy pace. I think walking relaxed him. He seemed happy, I was just worried about the rain. If I stayed out in this for long enough I’d get soaked.

  My back ached but it felt a little easier. As we rounded the fir trees in the centre of the park (at least I think they were fir trees. They’re shaped like long triangles and they were still green. That’s about the extent of my knowledge about trees) he asked me what I thought.

  “I thought you were a bit off key,” I said.

  “No,” he said. “About the case.”

  I thought about it for a while. There didn’t seem to be any point in denying it anymore. At least not to myself.

  “I think the police have got a case. It flows. Like blood of an anaemic’s flayed back. Joe’s in real trouble.”

  *

  16. Girl-on-girl Action

  I came back from my walk past dinnertime. The walk back took me longer than the walk out. I had sauntered.

  It was about seven o’clock and I was hungry. The walk had awakened my minimal appetite. My hair was wet and there was rain clinging to my coat. I swept a hand through my hair as I walked up the stairs and flicked off the excess water.

  I’d left Reb outside his house. I know he’d watched me till I walked out of sight.

  For the first time ever I felt alone in my house. I walked up the stairs to my front room thinking dark thoughts. The case had gone badly wrong. It should be simpler than this. I should have my friends around me.

  When I got upstairs I could see there was a message waiting for me. I played it back. I heard Pill, from somewhere that sounded like a pub. He wanted me to call him back on his mobile. I wondered what he wanted this time. I boiled some eggs and made some coffee while I waited. Only when the coffee was done did I think to sit down with my soldiers and boiled eggs for my supper. It wasn’t like Pill to call more than once in a day. It wasn’t like he didn’t have anything better to do. I would have thought with payday looming he’d be out looking to score. Instead of taxing my brain I decided to call him back instead. He was home.

  “Pill?”

  “I’ve found the girl.”

  “What girl?” I was taking a while to get my mind back on the case. I’d all but given up on it already.

  “The girl who ran away. The girl at aerobics.”

  “Really? How’d you find her?”

  “The barman in the Moose. You know, down by the wharf. I went in there after work and asked him if he’d ever seen the girl that was killed in there. Turns out he had. He’d seen her with one of his regulars. Her name’s Mary. Mary Hunford. Wears a red coat. I also got a half of greens. You want me to bring it over later?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Greens weren’t to be turned down. Greens and solids were like boiled eggs and caviar. I’d been on boiled eggs for long enough. “What about the girl? Where do we find her?”

  “Easy. She’s on the game.”

  “Really?” Didn’t sound like the kind of girl Tracey would be hanging out with, but then she’d obviously had a darker side.

  “Yeah, she works on King Street. The barman said she comes into the pub before she starts work. He doesn’t mind the working girls hanging out in the pub as long as they’re not on duty. The barman said they looked real close.”

  “Nice location. Close how?”

  “Like couple-close. They were holding hands.”

  “Ah,” I said. That sounded interesting. What else had Tracey Hardingham been up to? A real dark horse.

  “Meet me in the Partridge?” I said.

  “Sure,” said Pill.

  I called Reb and told him to meet me there, too. We’d need his car to get down to the wharf. I put my plate in the kitchen as I walked down the stairs to pick up my coat.

  *

  The Partridge was quiet when I got in there. The weekend would see an upsurge in business but now the work crowd had left, it was only regulars in the pub. Pill and Reb were at the bar by the time I got there, talking to Harry. I wondered what she was doing out. She must have been going through torment. I didn’t think I would have seen her out tonight.

  “Harry,” I said as I approached them. “What are you doing here?”

  “I didn’t want to be alone. I figured at least in here I might see a friendly face.” She smiled at me.

  She looked good but bad. Her face looked drawn from what I guessed must be worry. Or anguish, if you want to be melodramatic.

  “Any news on Joe?” she asked.

  “Yeah, he’s still in. They’re doing a psychiatric evaluation on him. Johnny said he’s not making sense. I think he’s in the middle of one of his funny turns. I don’t think he’ll be out just yet.”

  “Good,” she said with vehemence that surprised me. “I don’t want see him ever again.”


  I said nothing.

  Reb coughed. “We know where the girl you chased is.”

  “Where?” asked Harry.

  “Down by the wharf.”

  “What is she? A wharf rat?”

  “No, she’s on the game.”

  “How’d you find that out?” said Harry.

  “Pill’s got many a trick up his sleeve. He asked around. You know what he’s like,” he said, smiling at Pill, “girl in every port, barman in every pub.”

  Pill got around.

  “So, you going down there to talk to her?”

  “Yeah. You want to come?”

  Harry thought about this. “No. I don’t think I’m in the right frame of mind for sleuthing. I’m just going to go home and put some music on. Maybe carry on drinking. I’ll see how the mood takes me when I get home.”

  “Fair enough,” said Reb. “We’re going soon. Got to get there before kicking out time. Barman in the Moose knows the girl.”

  Tom came in.

  I watched Harry out the corner of my eye while she greeted Tom. She smiled at him despite the pain she must have been going through.

  Secretly I want you, I thought.

  I wanted to feel the things other people said they felt, like I read in books. It was kind of sick, but I wanted to taste the inside of her mouth, I wanted to taste everything inside her….

  Pill, Reb and Tom engaged in small talk, knocking me from the thought. Harry looked back at me. “What do you think I should do?”

  “Like you’ve done. I think you should have left him. Nobody should treat you like he did.”

  “But what if he is the killer!”

  Jackpot! I felt like singing tonight. I always wanted to be a barbershop quartet. There was no way she was going to get back with him now. She was really free. That one sentence made me realise there was no going back for her.

  I felt bubbles of joy rising inside me. I felt like everything was connected. It was a feeling I’d get sometimes when I was stoned. Like the world was whole and I was an integral part of it. I didn’t know what to say to her. She waited for me to speak and I waited for the feeling to subside.

  “It looks bad for him,” I conceded. I made my voice sound sad but a secret part of me thought, fuck him. She’s mine.

  *

  Harry was free and I felt myself drifting away.

  We think in terms of bodies and worlds, and space – it all works on the same principles. Mutation isn’t chaos, some outside thing. It’s all the same. It’s like cancer. Empire is just the same as cancer in a body. Left unchecked it will expand and grow. Smaller societies are our white blood cells. Revolutionaries are our white blood cells. Through the destruction of the cancer we can continue to grow. It’s a cycle repeated over and over again. Chaos is just nature’s way of expanding. Society isn’t immune to nature’s rules. It’s as much a beast of nature as the flora and fauna.

  I floated so high then, I wasn’t sure if this was my thought or someone else’s. It sounded familiar.

  I thought this while Harry was speaking to me. I’d smoked too much lately. My thoughts weren’t my own anymore. I didn’t know whose they were but they felt alien running through my head.

  I took a sip of beer and thought about leaving. I needed some fresh air. I felt like I could run through rain without getting wet.

  I used to run in the rain to avoid the raindrops. Then I realised I’m not made of ink. Now I just take the rain.

  I finished up my pint, holding Harry’s gaze. My mind felt like the enemy again. I could take it in a fair fight, but sometimes my mind fights dirty. I was sure it was a parasite. Enjoying my torment. It wouldn’t let me think thoughts of conquest. Just defeat.

  Elation waned.

  *

  We all got ready to leave. Harry said her goodbyes as we got into Reb’s car. He hadn’t bought it himself. His parents had bought it for him as a graduation present five years ago. It was past its prime. Like me, I thought, crouching painfully to fold myself into the back seat. There were MacDonald’s wrappers littering the back seat of the car, cartons and cheeseburger wrappers. I could smell the sickly, fatty after odour of Reb’s morning egg and bacon muffin.

  I wound the window down. My head cleared in the fresh air. It smelt like rain. I wound the window down and stuck my head out, sniffing the air. Reb started the engine and we drove away. I watched Harry walk away out of the back window, my head craned round.

  Reb watched me in his rearview mirror.

  *

  We drove the five miles or so down to the wharf. The city got noticeably dirtier as we drove. The further we got toward the docks the more delinquent the surroundings became. The docks never behaved themselves. No matter what the city threw at the docks, police in a drive to clean it up or ill-advised money, it didn’t work. The docks just kept right on misbehaving themselves.

  It was dark. Darker than other areas of the city. The darkness drew a different kind of denizen. People who spent all their lives clinging to the underside of life. Whores and whoremongers. Dealers and clubbers. Cops and robbers.

  This was as seedy as Bridgend got.

  The wharf was on a long jetty going out into the North Sea. The boats here were too far away to see, despite their size. Cargo containers all but blocked off the view of the sea from where I was walking. The whole of the wharf was contained by a wire fence topped with razor wire. There were always undesirables trying to get into the wharf. The houses facing the area reflected the class of people who frequented the area. They were ramshackle, I believe the word is. They all sported boarded up windows, cracks in the glass front doors where people had tried to kick them in. There was dog shit on the pavement, although I didn’t figure many people down here owned dogs, let alone walked them. The road was wide to allow the articulated lorries access to the wharf. There were big warehouses down here, also with broken windows although nobody had bothered to board them up. They’d been down here at the turn of the century, when they’d still bordered the sea.

  The wharf jetty had grown out since then, making these warehouses redundant. There had been talk of a rejuvenation package in the nineties, but it had never materialised. They would have knocked down all the old warehouses, some of them towering like obelisks in the dark. It would have been a shame to knock them down. They might be good for nothing but they added character. They overlooked the little lives played out in their shadows like grim sentinels.

  I guessed there would be rats. Rats and the sea go together. A peculiar affinity but it holds true nonetheless.

  I walked up to the pub. Ambled. The Moose was a rough dive. There were fights in here most nights and the police didn’t bother to come down unless someone was stabbed or glassed. The area’s population kept their troubles to themselves. The police by and large left the area alone. They occasionally came down hard on the area when there was a poorly devised plot to clean the area back but the scum always came back to the surface afterward, like grass springs back after footsteps.

  I pushed open a door with cracked glass and ducked my head to get in. The Moose had been built to service sailors back at the turn of the century and people back then must have been shorter. It had the look of a cottage inside, all hanging beams in dark wood and jauntily angled walls. There were doors in the walls where there was nowhere to step out of.

  The drive had done me good. It had cleared my head. I knew now that whatever I thought about Joe I wouldn’t sleep right if I didn’t get to talk to the girl in the red coat. Not that I slept right anyway but you know what I mean. It would play on my conscience. That’s what I’m trying to say. Sometime the words just don’t come out right. I feel like a mental flid some days. I know I’m not supposed to say flid. Don’t get uppity with me.

  We walked over to where the barman stood. I left my coat on and my hands in the pockets. The barman was wiping the top of the bar down. It looked sticky with split beer. He was wasting his time. All the beer mats were sodden.

  It was a quiet
night in the Moose. The clientele all had pale faces and kept themselves to themselves. There were a couple of sailors at the dartboard laughing loudly in the way that drunks do, but the rest of the bar was quiet.

  “Pill,” he said. Now I should point out that while Pill’s the kind of bloke that wipes his cock on the curtains post-coitus, he’s a real charmer with people. He’s got a knack. People warm to him, even if they’re a bit wary of shaking hands with him.

  The barman didn’t offer his hand to any of us. Pill made the introductions. “These are a couple of friends. Just wanted to hear what you told me earlier. This is Mark.” The barman had a strong face, with a nose that had been broken more than a few times. There was scar tissue over his eyes giving him the look of a Neanderthal, but he didn’t look dumb the way some people with thick brows do. There was the light of a certain intelligence behind his eyes. He looked at me with shrewd eyes. I guessed you got a sense of people’s characters working in a tough pub like this. He obviously didn’t think I was trouble. He was right. I’ve never been trouble.

  “Mark,” I said and held out my hand. “Jake.”

  He shook it. He looked to relax a little bit. Even though he knew we weren’t cops he was only talking to us because he knew Pill. I should really be polite.

  “What time does she normally come in?” It was past ten.

  “She comes in before she starts work. She works ‘til the early hours of the morning. But she’s not come in tonight. It’s not unusual. She don’t come in every night.”

  “I don’t suppose you know where she lives?”

  “No. You’re not going to cause her any trouble are you?”

  “No. That’s not our intention. We just want to ask her some questions.”

  He looked at me like he was making a judgement. “Well, if you’re Pill’s friend I guess you must be alright. Her patch is down past the Shufflers (that’s the other pub on the wharf). You might find her down there. She wears a red coat, thigh length, most nights.”

  “Thanks,” I said. We left without having a drink. He didn’t seem put out. He just went back to polishing his bar. No one looked at us as we made our way out. It paid to keep yourself to yourself in the Moose.