The Rule

by David Jackson

  ‘Open the door, you pussy,’ Ronan ordered.

  Barrington took off the chain and allowed him in.

  ‘And take off that fucking hood,’ Ronan continued. ‘What are you, a fucking Eskimo?’

  Barrington pulled back the hood of his parka. Ronan noticed how shaken up he looked, his eyes wide with fear.

  ‘Jesus, man. It’s Ronan, yeah? I mean, like, you ain’t no ghost, are you?’

  ‘You heard, then? About Joey?’

  ‘Yeah, man. The saddest news. I feel for you, man.’

  ‘How’d you find out?’

  Barrington’s shrug was barely perceptible within his massive coat. ‘Word is everywhere, man. Everyone’s talking about it.’

  ‘Plus there have been cops all over the show, asking their questions.’

  Barrington’s eyes darted, as though he was trying to do a quick assessment of how much he should say. ‘Yeah, like they do. They’ve been knocking on every door in this building, man.’

  Every door. Meaning, I’m just one of many.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Why were they here?’

  ‘Search me. I’m guessing someone must have seen him around.’

  ‘They didn’t come here because you and Joey used to be tight?’

  ‘Nah, man. Nothing to do with me pacifically. They was rousting everyone.’

  ‘So what happened when they got to you?’

  ‘Usual shit. Routine inquiries is what they said.’

  ‘What’d you tell them?’

  ‘Nothing. Didn’t even tell them I knew him. That’s for them to figure out.’

  ‘But they showed you photos, asked if you’d ever seen his face?’

  ‘Yeah. I told them I’d never seen the guy in my life.’

  ‘And they were fine with that?’

  ‘Totally, man. I put on a good act, you know what I’m saying?’

  ‘Right.’

  The punch from Ronan took Barrington completely by surprise. It split open his lip and sent him sprawling back onto the sofa. As he tried to get up again, blood gushing from his mouth, Ronan pulled out his gun and aimed it at Barrington’s face.

  ‘Stay down! Stay the fuck down!’

  Barrington cowered, his quivering hands an ineffective shield. ‘What are you doing, man? What’s going on?’

  ‘Why are you lying to me?’

  ‘What do you mean? What about?’

  ‘The police. They came here before the door-to-door started. Two detectives, a man and a woman. They came to this building and they took the lift up to the eighth floor. Your floor.’

  ‘All right, all right. They did, yeah.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they knew about me and Joey. Knew we used to hang out.’

  ‘So what did they ask you?’

  ‘Just if I’d seen him recently.’

  ‘And you said what?’

  ‘That I hadn’t. Not for months.’

  ‘Right. Because that was the truth. It’s the same thing you said to me on the phone yesterday, so it must have been.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Exactly.’

  Ronan hit him with the gun, opening up his cheek. Barrington yelped.

  ‘You’re lying to me again.’

  ‘I’m not, I’m not.’

  ‘You are. Joey was here. He was out doing deals. The only reason he’d come to this shithole would be to see you. Now tell the fucking truth, or so help me . . .’

  Ronan cocked the trigger of his Colt, put it to Barrington’s temple.

  ‘All right, Ronan. Cool it, okay? He was here. I bought some gear off him.’

  ‘Did you tell the cops that?’

  ‘I told them he was here, but not about the deal. I’m not stupid.’

  ‘Matter of opinion. What happened then? Deal go south? Did you kill him? DID YOU?’

  Muzzle hard to the temple now. Ronan’s index finger squeezing against the trigger.

  ‘No! No! Swear to God. He was fine when he left here. Sound as a pound.’

  ‘Then why’d you lie to me? Why even bother making up all this shit if that’s all that happened?’

  ‘Because he told me not to tell anyone.’

  ‘I’m his fucking twin brother.’

  ‘I know, but that makes it worse. Joey said he definitely didn’t want you or your mum to know.’

  ‘Why? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Your mum hates me. She doesn’t trust me an inch.’

  ‘Right now I feel the same way. What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Because he was doing deals for her. Your mother. She got him the drugs. He was doing it all for her.’

  24

  When Ronan left Barrington’s flat, he didn’t know what to believe. His twin brother was dead, and yet everyone but Ronan seemed to know more of the truth than he did. Barrington, the police, even his own mother were able to see different parts of the picture, while he was completely blind. What angered him most was his mother. She had used him, and that was something he could never forgive.

  He wandered aimlessly along the corridor, and then pushed through the fire doors leading to the stairwell. He sat down on the cold, hard steps, took out his phone and made a call.

  ‘Ronan? Where are you? Why haven’t you rung me?’

  ‘I’m talking to you now, Mam.’

  ‘Don’t get cheeky with me, lad, or you’ll feel the back of my hand. I’m still your mother, you know.’

  ‘Yeah. Lucky me.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Nothing. Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Where are you? Have you seen that shitbag yet?’

  Ronan couldn’t be bothered relating the encounter in detail. ‘He doesn’t know anything, Mam. I’ve just spoken to him.’

  ‘What do you mean, he doesn’t know anything? You told me the police have been crawling all over his place. Why would they be doing that if they didn’t suspect him? Who else lives there that Joey would know?’

  Ronan sighed. ‘Nobody, Mam.’

  ‘Precisely. You did show him you mean business, didn’t you?’

  Ronan raised his voice. ‘Mam, will you listen to me for once? He doesn’t know anything. They got together, did some business, and then Joey left.’

  ‘Business? What do you mean, business?’

  ‘What do you think I mean?’ He wasn’t going to be any more explicit on the phone.

  ‘For Mental?’

  Still sticking to the lie, he thought. One of her sons is dead, and she’s lying through her teeth to the other one.

  ‘No, Mam, not for Mental. For you.’

  There was a detectable pause before she answered. ‘What?’

  ‘You lied to me, Mam. Why?’

  ‘What are you going on about?’

  ‘Barrington told me. Joey was doing business for you.’

  ‘And you believe that grubby little toe-rag rather than your own mother? What kind of son are you?’

  ‘The kind who doesn’t like being treated like an idiot.’

  ‘I haven’t done any such thing. You’ve let that sneaky bastard pull the wool over your eyes. You were too soft with him. I’ve sent a boy to do a man’s job. Bloody hell, I could do better myself. That conniving prick probably killed Joey himself. You do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘ENOUGH!’ Ronan’s shout echoed up and down the stairwell. ‘Enough, Mam. Stop it. Please. Tell me truth.’

  A much longer pause now.

  ‘I needed the money, lad. I’m skint. Joey was doing me a favour. Helping out his old mum.’

  Here we go, Ronan thought. Trying to grab the sympathy vote.

  ‘What do you mean, skint? Since when? I thought you were loaded.’

  A bark of laughter. ‘Loaded? What gave you that idea? Everything I had I spent on you and Joey.’

  And now the guilt trip, Ronan thought. Make it my fault.

  ‘You should have told me, Mam. Should’ve been straight with me.
’

  ‘I . . . I knew you wouldn’t approve.’

  She was right: he wouldn’t have approved. Not because he was any better – God knows, he’d done some bad things in his time – but he’d believed that his mother was out of the game, that there was no longer any danger of her going to prison or ending up like Joey.

  ‘Shit, Mam. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you just come to me for help?’

  ‘You know me, lad. I stand on my own two feet. Always have and always will.’

  So that’s it, he thought. Stubborn pride. A dead son because of her inability to deal with the shame of asking for money.

  He knew Joey wouldn’t have had the same qualms. They might have looked alike, but they never thought alike. Joey would always have done precisely what his mother desired, no questions asked. She had banked on that.

  ‘Come over, Ronan,’ she said. ‘We can’t talk about this on the phone. Come over and we’ll have a proper chat.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, and terminated the call.

  He sat there for two full minutes, just thinking. This whole thing had turned to shit, and a big share of the blame rested squarely with his own mother. She was the one who’d sent Joey out to do drug deals. She’d lied from the beginning. Had even tried to continue with the lie over the phone.

  It made him wonder how much of her grief was real.

  Sure, she had wailed enough. Yelled the house down for hours after the police had delivered the news. The gin bottles were in for a battering after that performance.

  But was it genuine?

  He’d done most of his own crying in private. Was embarrassed to admit it even now. It was how he’d been brought up. A real man doesn’t cry, and especially not in front of others.

  But this was his brother, for Christ’s sake. And not just any brother, but an identical twin. In their younger days they’d done everything together. And although he hadn’t spent as much time with Joey since their dad had died, there had still been a connection there that was stronger than any other he had ever experienced.

  And now it was over – all because Joey had been sent on an errand by a mother who didn’t even seem to know where it had taken him.

  It was only when Ronan heard noises coming from further down the stairwell that he hauled himself to his feet and started plodding downwards.

  Two flights below, he met the source of the noise. A big bastard. Hardly dressed for office work – hardly keeping with any kind of fashion either – and yet carrying a briefcase. What was that all about?

  The guy looked up the stairs at Ronan. Did a double-take. Came to a full stop, staring.

  Ronan gave him his best What the fuck are you looking at? glare, but the man just stood there open-mouthed.

  Freak, thought Ronan.

  He continued to descend. The freak remained frozen on the turning.

  ‘Something to say, lad?’ Ronan asked.

  ‘H-hello,’ the big man said.

  ‘Hello? That it?’

  The man searched for words, and suddenly found a whole avalanche of them. ‘Are you well? Have you just come from my flat, from 1204? Did my mum or dad tell you my name? It’s Daniel. Daniel Timpson. Did you want to sleep on our sofa? It’s comfy, isn’t it?’

  It was then that Ronan realised the guy had been severely short-changed. After the stress of recent events, this light relief made Ronan smile.

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  Daniel Timpson broke out a massive grin. ‘Would you like to be my friend now? We could watch Adam-9 together.’

  ‘Another time, maybe.’

  Ronan squeezed past Daniel’s bulk and started down the next flight of stairs. He could feel the man’s eyes on his back. At several points he looked up the central tunnel of the stairwell and caught sight of Daniel way above. He was leaning over the metal bannister, just watching and grinning happily. Like a big soft kid.

  25

  Daniel practically fell up the stairs. He wasn’t built for speed, but he made it to his flat in record time. Too excited to find his key, he banged repeatedly on the door and called for his mother.

  When she opened the door, consternation written all over her face, he wanted to dance with her.

  ‘Mum! You and Dad were right. I saw him. He’s all fine again.’

  He entered the hallway, dropping his briefcase and shucking off his coat.

  ‘What are you talking about? Who did you see?’

  ‘Did he come here again, Mum? I saw him coming down the stairs. He smiled at me. I think we’re going to be friends now. He’s not upset with me.’

  Daniel clomped into the living area. He needed a drink of water after his dash upstairs. In a pint glass. He always drank his water in pints. His dad preferred beer, but Daniel thought it was horrible stuff.

  ‘Daniel, what’s going on? Who did you see on the stairs? Who’s not upset with you?’

  Daniel filled his glass and downed it in one long draught.

  ‘Daniel!’ his mother repeated. She sounded a bit annoyed now, and he wasn’t sure why, because this was such a good thing.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Calm down and tell me who you’re talking about.’

  ‘The man. The one who was here on our sofa. Joseph Cobb.’

  His mother flinched. She seemed strangely alarmed.

  ‘I don’t think it was him, Daniel.’

  Daniel nodded vigorously. ‘It was! You made him all better. He had his sleep on the sofa, and now he’s good again. That means I didn’t hurt him. Not really.’

  ‘I know you didn’t really hurt him, but I’m sure this couldn’t have been the same man.’

  ‘It was. He walked right past me on the stairs. He smiled at me and spoke to me.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Well . . . I asked him if he wanted to watch Adam-9 with me, and he said he would another time.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be inviting people to do that, Daniel. What have we told you about talking to strangers?’

  ‘But he’s not a stranger. He’s the man we looked after, with the money and the gun. Joseph Cobb.’

  ‘STOP IT, DANIEL! STOP IT!’

  Daniel blinked. Why was his mother so angry? What had he done wrong?

  ‘I don’t want to hear that name again, okay? I don’t care who you saw or who you spoke to, just never talk to me about that man again.’

  Daniel could feel himself welling up. Everything was too confusing. He had thought his mother would be delighted by the news, and she was completely the opposite.

  ‘Sorry, Mum,’ he said.

  She stared at him, then nodded. The doorbell rang.

  ‘That’ll be your father. I don’t want you to say anything about this to him, all right? You’ll only upset him.’

  Daniel lowered his head. ‘Fine.’

  His mother went out into the hallway. Daniel knew he would struggle to keep his amazing news to himself. He was no good with secrets. They always jumped out of his mouth even when he tried as hard as he could to keep them locked up inside.

  Don’t tell Dad about the man, he commanded himself. Say nothing about Joseph Cobb. Nothing.

  And then he heard his mother’s scream.

  26

  It was obvious from her reaction that she knew something.

  Ronan didn’t think he had a particularly scary face. A bit rough around the edges, maybe, but not piss-your-pants terrifying. Plus, he’d put on his best smile when she’d opened the door. He’d had a good success rate with women when showing them that smile.

  And yet here she was, screaming the place down.

  She knew something.

  He barged into the flat. The woman back-pedalled, her hands to her mouth. Ronan pushed the door closed behind him. Through a doorway on the right of the hall, the big bastard appeared. He began steaming towards Ronan and making a weird ape-like rumble in his throat. Ronan decided to take no chances. The guy might have the IQ of a pea, but he was the size of an
ox and could do some serious damage.

  Ronan pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man-mountain.

  ‘DANIEL, NO!’ the woman shrieked. She grabbed Daniel by the arm and did her best to hold him back. ‘NO!’

  ‘Listen to her, Daniel. Stay right there, or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.’ He switched his aim to the woman. ‘And if that makes no difference to you, I’ll blow your mum’s brains out too. How about that, Daniel? You want me to kill your mum?’

  Daniel stood there, panting in indecision.

  ‘Move,’ Ronan ordered. ‘Back inside. Both of you.’

  The woman took the initiative, leading Daniel back through the door he had just exited. Ronan followed them into a large living space. This room looked similar to Barrington’s, with an open-plan dining and kitchen area, but Barrington didn’t get the hallway or the additional bedroom.

  That realisation triggered another thought.

  ‘Who else is here?’

  ‘Nobody,’ the woman said.

  ‘The bedrooms. Who’s in the bedrooms?’

  ‘Nobody. I swear.’

  ‘You’d better be telling the truth, because if I hear the slightest noise that doesn’t come from one of you two, I’m going to start blasting. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘I understand. I promise you, there’s nobody else here.’

  ‘Your husband. Where’s he?’

  ‘At . . . at work.’

  ‘When will he be home?’

  ‘Any minute now. I thought it was him at the door.’

  ‘Anyone else live here?’

  ‘No. No, it’s just the three of us. Look—’

  ‘Shut up. Sit down.’ He used the gun to indicate the sofa. They obeyed. Ronan grabbed one of the wooden chairs from the dining table and sat facing them.

  ‘You,’ he said to the woman. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Gemma. Gemma Timpson.’

  ‘Okay, Gemma. I don’t have to introduce myself. You already know me.’

  ‘No. I—’

  ‘Don’t fucking lie. I saw how you reacted out there. I’m guessing you don’t scream every time you open the front door. Your son here knows me, too. I wasn’t sure at first, him being a bit slow and everything, but he recognised me on the stairs. Isn’t that right, Danny boy? Who am I, Danny? Go on, tell your lying bitch of a mother here who I am.’