The Front

by Mandasue Heller

  Lee couldn’t have cared less.

  Fuck me! he thought as a blissful rush vibrated through his body. I gotta get hold of some of them tranqs!

  Meanwhile, down the corridor in the delivery suite, the midwife was busy shouting encouragement. Drifting up from between Wendy’s splayed thighs, her voice was distant and muffled.

  ‘Don’t push until the contraction stops. Good girl . . . You’re doing very well!’

  Wendy bore down and screamed – a low, animal grunt that rose in intensity until she was bellowing: ‘GET . . . IT . . . OOOUUT!’

  The midwife calmly carried on with her manipulations as if she were deaf. After a while, she turned to Sam and gestured him over. ‘Want to feel baby’s head, daddy?’

  Sam’s hand fluttered around his mouth. He felt sick.

  ‘I don’t want him touching any-fucking-thing!’ Wendy roared. ‘Get him out of here! AAAAGGGHHH!’

  Sam’s eyes swam as the bloody head slid out. He could still hear Wendy screaming, and the midwife talking, but they sounded odd. Buzzing. In the distance. Not here and now.

  Back at the flat, Suzie’s eyes were burning. It was almost quarter to five in the morning, and she was so tired she was having a hard time keeping them open and focused. But she couldn’t go to sleep. Mal wouldn’t let her.

  She watched nervously as he paced the floor, puffing on his millionth cigarette. She was dying for one herself, but he wouldn’t let her have one so she had to make do with breathing in his smoke as he blasted furious streams of it her way.

  He was really angry again, and she didn’t know why. He’d started soon after the others had left to go to the hospital, but he’d ranted on about so many different things in the meantime she couldn’t pinpoint the cause. And he was drunk, which didn’t help, his breath venomous with brandy fumes – having finished almost two of the bottles by himself.

  ‘Well?’ He abruptly stopped pacing and stood directly in front of her, his hands balled into fists. ‘WELL?’

  ‘I d-don’t know what you m-mean,’ she stuttered. And it was true, she didn’t. She hadn’t even heard the question.

  Leaning over her with a fist on each arm of the chair, he snarled into her face, ‘I said: Are . . . you . . . shagging . . . Ged . . . sweetheart?’

  Shrinking away from him, her voice little more than a whisper, she said, ‘No, of course I’m not.’

  He grinned, his face an evil mask. ‘I don’t believe you!’

  ‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘Mal, please believe me. I wouldn’t do that to you. Honest to God!’

  He stared at her for a moment, weighing up whether to believe her or not, then with a grunt, he pushed himself away and began to pace the floor again. Taking yet another cigarette out of the packet, he lit it and sucked deeply on it before turning to torment her again.

  ‘Want one, doll?’ His voice was teasing. ‘Want one? Want me to give you one?’ He came towards her slowly, a malevolent smile curling his lips as he cocked his head to the side, saying again, ‘Want one, doll? Want this one?’ He waved the cigarette under her nose, almost touching, but not quite. ‘I said . . . do you want this one?’

  She called on every ounce of will-power not to make a sound as he touched the glowing red tip to her bare arm – tentatively at first, then gradually increasing the pressure, until she could smell her own flesh cooking, and hear the fine hairs crackle. Biting down hard on the inside of her cheek, she tasted the copper tones of blood on her tongue.

  Suddenly – mercifully – the phone rang. As its shrill insistence broke the tension, Mal pulled the cigarette off her skin and put it to his lips. Sucking on it hard, he blew a thin stream of smoke into her eyes, patting her cheek as they began to water. ‘There, there. Don’t cry!’

  Dropping a kiss onto the top of her head, he strolled calmly to the phone and snatched up the receiver, saying, ‘Yeah?’ in a shockingly normal voice. Taking a last drag on the cigarette, he dropped it and ground it out on the carpet. ‘Oh, hi, Ged. How’s it going down there?’

  Suzie didn’t move an inch, sure that he’d be back to finish the job as soon as Ged put the phone down. And he’d be twice as bad if she tried to escape.

  ‘No kidding, man!’ Mal laughed suddenly. ‘A girl? That’s great! Hey, Suzie.’ He kicked the back of her chair. ‘Wendy’s had a girl!’

  Suzie smiled and nodded.

  Mal leaned against the wall, grinning broadly. ‘Yeah, man, sound . . . sound! So what about Lee? How’s he doing?’ He listened for a moment, then laughed out loud. ‘Hey, Suzie, listen to this. Lee felt up some nurse so they give him a knockout shot! Kinky bastard! Pass us one, doll.’ He gestured to the cigarettes on the table.

  Suzie reached for the pack and went to hand one to him. When he motioned for her to light it for him, she breathed an internal sigh of relief. He’d calmed down.

  ‘You not having one?’ he asked when she passed it to him. Scared that he might change his mind, she quickly lit one and inhaled deeply.

  When he finally put the receiver down, Mal rushed across the room and pulled her up out of her seat. Holding her around the waist, he twirled her around and around, yelling ecstatically: ‘A baby girl! A baby girl!’

  Suzie laughed along with him, and wondered – not for the first time – how he’d feel if she got pregnant? Would it make him as happy with her as he was for Sam and Wendy?

  Back at the hospital, Sam slumped further down in his seat, watching Ged make the calls Sam should have been making. He’d just told Mal, and was now trying to get through to Sam’s babysitter, Louise. She wasn’t answering, which was hardly surprising, given the time. Sam was just glad she’d decided to stay over last night, or they’d have been well and truly stuck. He’d have to remember to pay her extra.

  He was also truly glad he’d had Ged to help him through this terrible night. Ged had been fantastic. Taking control when Sam had fallen apart. Getting Wendy here in the nick of time. Sorting Lee out. And now, making the calls. If he hadn’t been here, Sam didn’t know what he would have done. As it was, he was still recovering from a very humiliating faint. He dreaded to think what Mal and Lee would say when they heard about it. He’d never live it down.

  The birth had been horrible. Blood and gore running down Wendy’s legs. Green snotty gunk covering the baby’s head. Revolting! And Wendy screaming and yelling, telling him she hated him. The midwife had told him to take no notice, but she didn’t know Wendy like he did. She’d meant it, all right.

  Again, he thanked God for Louise. There was no way he could face going home to his kids right now. Much as he loved them, he couldn’t bring out their good sides like Wendy did. All he got were the petulant sulks – the fighting and screaming.

  And now there was another to add to the fray. Another to walk all over him.

  Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Aggro. That was all he ever got these days.

  Putting the phone down, Ged looked at his watch, frowning. Surely Lee was finished by now? Pushing past a stinking wino who was approaching him with a begging look on his face, he strolled towards the snotty receptionist to ask her to check. Just as he reached the desk, Nurse Frosty-knickers herself came around the corner, pushing Lee in a wheelchair. She half-smiled at Ged as she unceremoniously shoved the chair out through the doors.

  Ged called Sam and they followed them outside, wincing in the blinding early-morning light.

  ‘Bleedin’ ’ell!’ Lee moaned, throwing his good arm across his eyes with a grimace as a burst of birdsong shattered the silence. ‘Where’s me gun? Let me shoot the twittering bastards!’

  ‘Shut up!’ Sam hissed.

  ‘Here, nursey,’ Lee said. ‘You gonna give me a kiss before I go, then?’

  Ignoring him, the nurse asked Ged to please bring the chair back when his friend was in the car, then marched back inside with her head held high.

  ‘She fancies you, mate,’ Lee slurred, an inane grin on his face.

  ‘Shut up!’ G
ed hissed, shoving the chair towards the car.

  When they were all in the car, Ged suggested they go back to Mal’s and, to his relief, they agreed. He didn’t want Lee at his place – he’d never get rid of him. As for Sam, he’d have gone anywhere rather than home to his kids right now. And Lee’s place wasn’t high on anyone’s list – including Lee’s – as somewhere nice to relax after the night they’d had.

  Anyway, their money was still at Mal’s. They had to go back for that if for nothing else.

  Fifteen minutes later, Suzie opened the door to let them in, then quickly scuttled into the kitchen. Filling the kettle, she busied herself with the cups as she listened to them through the open door. She’d intended to stay out of the way so Mal couldn’t accuse her of anything later, but when he shouted to her to come and join them, she went through reluctantly. Perching on the arm of Mal’s chair, she pulled her cardigan sleeve down to cover the burn on her arm and looked at the floor.

  Lee had a bulky white bandage wrapped around his head like a turban, and another around his arm beneath his T-shirt that gave him the appearance of bodybuilder’s biceps. Lying on the couch, he gazed at his arm in wonder, angling it this way and that – on a total high as he saw himself with muscles for the first time ever.

  ‘Shee-it, man!’ he laughed. ‘Wish I knew what they put in the tea in that place! It sure makes you feel good, whatever it is!’

  ‘Go on, you cunt!’ Mal teased. ‘From what I hear it wasn’t the tea that got you going, it was you getting your hand up that nurse’s knickers!’

  Lee grinned, relishing the memory of almost forgotten female flesh. ‘She had a right arse on her, though, didn’t she, Ged?’ he leered. ‘What was she like, eh? A right slap-arse face on it too!’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ged agreed, smiling indulgently. ‘She was a bit of a monster. Didn’t put you off though, did it? Still, at least she was an adult.’

  ‘Phwoaar, yeah!’ said Lee, totally missing the sarcasm. ‘All woman!’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Sam yawned. ‘She was one of the ugliest birds I’ve ever seen in my life.’

  ‘You would say that,’ Lee said. ‘You’ve got Wendy.’

  ‘How is Wendy?’ Mal asked.

  ‘Fine.’ Sam yawned again and stretched out on the chair. ‘Sleeping it off when we left, lucky cow! I’ll tell you what, I’m going for the snip after this. No way am I going through that again!’ Closing his eyes, he was snoring within seconds – wiped out, physically and mentally.

  ‘He’s got the right idea,’ Ged said, yawning. ‘I think I’ll head home and get my head down for a bit.’

  ‘Nah, man!’ Mal said, throwing Ged his stash tin. ‘Don’t break up the party. Make a smoke. Anyhow, Suzie’s making a brew, ain’t you, Sooze?’

  Suzie nodded and went to the kitchen, glad of an excuse to escape.

  Ged yawned again. He was dog-tired. ‘All right.’ He relented. ‘One smoke, one brew, then I’m off!’

  ‘Good man!’ Mal smiled – his earlier suspicions forgotten for now. ‘This is good, innit?’ He grinned, looking from Ged to Lee. ‘The gang’s all here. And what a night, eh?’

  ‘Y’ can say that again,’ Lee laughed, gingerly patting his head. ‘Anyhow, talking about what a night . . . How was it?’

  ‘How was what, mate?’ Mal asked.

  ‘You know,’ Lee said. ‘The night?’ He looked from Mal to Ged, but their faces were blank. ‘The job,’ he said finally. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Oh, yeah!’ Mal slapped his forehead. ‘I forgot all about that. Well . . .’ He flashed a grin at Ged. ‘You’ll be pleased to know it went very well indeed!’

  ‘How well?’ Lee squawked. ‘How much? Come on, don’t keep me in suspenders!’

  Mal waved a hand towards Ged. ‘I’ll let the brains of the operation tell you.’

  Ged licked the edge of the Rizla papers and carefully stuck his roach in, taking his time to light the spliff before answering, by which time Lee was crackling with excitement.

  ‘Sixty-eight thousand, six hundred.’

  Lee’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re joking? Tell me you’re joking!’

  Ged grinned, shaking his head.

  ‘He’s not,’ Mal said. ‘We’ve counted it, and it’s right.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Lee said, and raising a hand, fingered the dressing on his head. ‘Shit! That’s the best compensation I ever got for taking a whack! How much each?’

  ‘Seventeen grand!’ Mal’s face was glowing. ‘Seventeen grand, matey! What d’y’ reckon to that then?’

  ‘I reckon we should be celebratin’!’ Lee whooped, throwing himself back on the couch and kicking his legs up in the air. ‘Ow! Seventeen grand! Oh yes! Oh yes! Ow!’

  Ged nodded towards the empty brandy bottles on the floor. ‘Mal’s been celebrating already.’

  ‘Is that what it was for?’ Lee said, vaguely remembering Mal offering him a swig. ‘Looks like I’ve got some catching up to do.’

  ‘Wait till the drugs wear off first,’ warned Ged, ‘or we’ll be taking you back in with an overdose.’

  Lee shrugged. ‘Who cares? I can buy me own stomach pump with me seventeen grand! Jeezus! I can’t believe it! Wa-hay!’

  Mal laughed, leaning over to take the spliff from Ged. ‘Never expected that much, did you?’

  ‘No way.’ Lee grinned. ‘Shit, that Pasha’s got some business going down there! We’ll have to do him again!’

  Mal and Ged looked at each other. Lee obviously didn’t remember what had happened.

  ‘Er . . . I think you did him for the first and last time already, mate,’ Mal said, pulling hard on the smoke.

  ‘What d’y’ mean?’ Lee asked, totally bewildered by their grim expressions. ‘I didn’t do nothing . . . Did I?’

  ‘You shot him,’ Ged said quietly.

  ‘Yeah,’ Mal added, a little too gleefully. ‘He went down like a ton of bricks. Sure looked done in to me.’

  Lee shook his head dazedly. They were winding him up – they had to be? He’d only taken the gun to wave about and frighten Pasha – not shoot him. Nah! He couldn’t have!

  He grinned at them hopefully. ‘You’re having me on, aren’t you?’

  Ged shook his head. The smile slid off Lee’s face. Now he was really confused. He couldn’t remember anything between hiding in the bushes and Wendy sponging his head – and even that wasn’t too clear after the elephant shot.

  ‘Is he dead?’ he asked at last.

  ‘I reckon,’ Mal said.

  ‘So what exactly happened?’ Lee asked.

  Between them, Ged and Mal outlined the events of the night. Lee listened in stunned silence.

  ‘Still,’ Mal concluded. ‘At least it wasn’t you. That’s something, isn’t it? He tried to kill you first. You just happened to be a better shot – and a good job too!’

  ‘Yeah!’ Lee agreed indignantly. ‘The bastard could have killed me, innit?’

  Mal nodded. ‘That’s right, mate. So he deserved it, didn’t he? It’s his own fault.’

  Ged didn’t say anything. This was Mal’s twisted logic for you. It wouldn’t occur to him that the bloke was only trying to defend himself and his property. Oh, no! He shouldn’t have done that. He should have just let them come and take it – or maybe he was supposed to just hand it over with a smile?

  ‘So what happened to me gun?’ Lee was asking now. ‘Who’s got it?’

  ‘Ahhh . . .’ Mal grinned sheepishly. ‘We didn’t think about that. Sorry, mate.’

  Lee slumped down on the couch, his face as sad as could be. ‘You mean I’ve lost it, and I haven’t even finished paying for it?’

  Mal shrugged. ‘Looks like it.’

  Ged steepled his fingers beneath his chin, deep in thought. He’d totally forgotten about the gun. Things could get very bad if the police got their hands on that. But there was nothing they could do about it now. The best they could hope for was that Lee’s prints would be too smudged to be identifiable if it was found
.

  ‘Do you want me to go and have a look for it?’ Suzie offered, coming back with the brews.

  ‘Don’t even think about it!’ Ged warned as Mal’s eyes lit up. ‘None of us is going down there again. Someone’s bound to have found him by now.’

  Even Mal had to agree that Ged was right this time. It was gone six in the morning and completely light outside.

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ he said. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see what happens, eh?’ Turning to Lee, he said, ‘You could get life if they find it. How d’y’ reckon you’d cope with that then?’

  ‘Probably better than you,’ snapped Lee, totally sober now. ‘Don’t forget your prints are all over it an’ all!’

  7

  ‘Who found him?’ Detective Chief Inspector Ted Jackson asked without looking up from his notepad. ‘One of ours or a civvy?’

  Tilting his head to the side, he put the finishing touch to his rough sketch of the body before closing the flap of his pad over with a snap and turning his full attention on the young constable who immediately blushed. ‘Come on, lad. It’s not that difficult a question!’

  ‘Er . . . the milkman, I believe, sir.’ PC Paul Dalton wilted beneath the DCI’s gaze. ‘We took the call at five-thirty. I believe it came from that box round there.’ He pointed out of the gates towards the front of the shops.

  Jackson nodded and abruptly turned away. Dalton retreated with relief. The man had the aura of an alligator circling his prey. And they were on the same side! God only knew what he did to his suspects.

  Jackson squatted down beside the body for a better look. The Asian victim, Pashratar Singh, had been shot through the head. But since he was lying on his side in a macabre travesty of the recovery position this wasn’t immediately apparent. He was approximately five foot five, Jackson assessed. Well padded, and – he glanced at the hand-made leather moccasins – well-heeled. Obviously making a fair profit if the brand new jeep was anything to go by. A bit surprising, given the location of his business, but Jackson knew from experience that Asian shopkeepers had a knack of turning pennies into pounds wherever they were. Something to do with working their arses off morning, noon and night. A lesson their British counterparts could usefully learn, in his opinion.