It took old Tam the best part of an hour to calm his boys down. The dogs were spooked like he’d never seen them before. They clung to him like a couple of beaten puppies, shaking and trembling. Nothing, it seemed, would induce them to venture anywhere near bay two. This was no good. Tam had to get them over their fear. He wasn’t feeling too clever himself. At seventy three he would never have believed he could run that fast. He’d managed to get into the office before the swarm caught him. But what the fuck had caused it?
Paddy had drunk almost half a bottle of Johnnie Walker, but he could still taste those fucking disgusting creatures, covered in rotting flesh. Shuddering at the thought and still gagging, the Big Man knew he had to pull himself together and deal with the problem.
“Tam, get yourself home and take the next couple of nights off, I’ll get someone to cover for you.” He peeled a few notes from the bundle he always carried. “Here, have a drink on me and I’ll see you later in the week. Any problems, phone me direct.”
Making his way back to the car, Paddy was relieved to see that there were only a few insects left in the car, a few die-hards. The smell too, was not so intense, having been exposed to the fresh air, but it was still bad enough. Reluctantly, he closed the vehicle up, preferring to wait for his brother before disposing of the evidence. Loathe to disturb Michael again, Paddy decided to make an early morning visit to the hospital.
Unwanted Visitor
Someone was talking to him in a low guttural tone. Sean thought he knew the voice, but the name was just dancing out of reach. The voice was angry; he didn’t want to listen to an angry person. Why would anyone be angry with him? Everyone liked him and Michael. Who was Michael? Was it Michael who was angry with him? No, he didn’t think so. Sean was frightened of the voice, but what could a little boy like him do? He wasn’t going to listen, no. He would close his eyes and go back to sleep till Mr Angry had gone and his mum came for him.
As he stood over the hospital bed Paddy could hardly look at his brother. The evil bastard was sleeping peacefully with not a care in the world. Well, he hadn’t, had he? Sean had nothing on his conscience, nor had he any guilt. Why would he have, when he had everyone else to clean up his shit?
Paddy wanted to wring the bastard’s neck. He wanted to smash his face in. The longer he watched Sean, the more intensely the anger mounted. He was clenching his teeth in fury. To think he had been taken in for years by this devious pig of a man, and that his mother and sister were in such a state over him. Whatever the excuse, and there would be an elaborate excuse, because Sean never put his hands up for anything. Whatever the reason for the death of this young kid, Sean had carried out the deed way before his attacker had struck.
There had been police bulletins on the news for the past couple of weeks concerning a young lad who’d gone missing. His young nephew had also spoken about the abduction at some time over the past weeks. The missing boy was his friend and he was devastated. Reports of a dark 4 x 4 vehicle having been seen near where young Billy had been abducted had meant nothing to any of the family, but this could put Michael away for years. They had all been wrapped up in Sean’s world, nothing else mattered. The Coyles had been concerned about Sean and nothing else. Never for a moment had they thought that the bedside at which they had all kept vigil held the fiend responsible for such a heinous crime.
God knew what Paddy would do to Sean if he ever recovered; maybe it would be best for them all if he didn’t. Better his mother grieve over him now, than find out what a lowlife piece of shite her son had turned out to be. Pondering on his next move, Paddy was interrupted by Dr McLeod and his entourage doing their morning rounds.
“Good morning, Paddy. Early visiting today? I’m going to have to ask you to stand outside for a few moments.”
“Doctor, I need to ask you something, man to man.”
“Go ahead.”
“What are his chances?”
“Honestly, Paddy? I can’t tell you. I’m confident he’s out of danger, but we’ll have no idea what level of brain damage he sustained until we bring him round. If all goes well today then we should begin the process soon, but you have to understand, it may take several attempts.”
Brain damage. The fucker had been brain damaged since birth, only none of them had realised it. It was as though the twins were chalk and cheese. Michael was a good man, a good son and a good brother. A brother that Sean didn’t deserve, a brother who had covered for his twin, time after time, but in doing so had allowed this twisted evil bastard to wreak havoc without fear of retribution. Well, it stopped now.
Bending over his brother’s still form, Paddy kissed him on his right cheek, the kiss of death. One way or another Sean’s fate was sealed.
Incommunicado
For a smart guy, Bobby could be a real idiot, thought Erin. How could he put both her, and himself for that matter, in danger of being arrested? He’d never exhibited this type of behaviour in Spain and he would have shied completely away from anyone remotely uncool like the cousins. So what was he playing at here?
My God, if he thought Paddy hated him now, she dreaded to think what her father would be like if the police turned up at the door with her in handcuffs. Christ, there really would be blood spilt.
Erin had called in to see Carol for a coffee and a catch up. The salon wasn’t particularly busy that morning and it was obvious Carol was dying to find out what was happening in Chez Coyle.
“His phone seems to be switched off, or maybe it’s out of battery.” Erin informed her friend. “I haven’t seen him since we parted company outside the registry office. Him, or Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.”
“Is this his way of keeping you in check? Tit for tat? You dumped him in town in front of his family, so he’s stringing you along?” Carol asked. “After all, he got what he wanted − his name on the birth certificate and a copy of it.”
“He can’t do anything without my signature since we’re not married.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve told you before, you need to be careful, our Bobby is not all that he seems and I’ve never trusted him, as you know. Try his phone again.”
“It’s switched on, but hey! Bloody hell, listen,” she handed her phone to Carol. “You know what that means?”
“He’s back in Spain,” Carol cried out. “The bugger’s skipped off and he’s back in Spain. I knew it. Damn. I knew he would pull a stunt like this.”
“It’s gone to voicemail, should I leave a message?” Erin asked her friend, holding her hand over the mouthpiece.
“Why not? He’s going to know you called anyway.”
“Hi, Bobby it’s me. Ring me when you get this.” She furiously threw the phone into her bag. “Two can play that game.”
“What game would that be?” quizzed Carol.
“If he thinks he can keep me hanging about, well, he’s got another think coming. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I answer to Bobby Mack or McClelland, whatever he wants to call himself.”
“Block his number, then you won’t be tempted to change your mind and he’ll know you’ve done it when all his calls are rejected.”
“Good thinking, ‘cause he’s a plausible devil. He’d probably talk me round.” Erin retrieved her phone and tapped away. “There, that puts ‘Big Head’ out into cyberspace. What do you think he’ll do?”
“Well, when he can’t get you on your mobile he’ll try the house phone.”
“Yeah, but no-one at home is going to answer an international call, so that cuts that route off.”
“He can’t phone me, he wouldn’t know the name of the salon, not that I would speak to him anyway.”
“Betcha he’ll send the cousins to see me. They’ll roll up in a Bentley or a Ferrari next week sometime, with some feeble story.”
The girls gloated at the prospect.
“Chase them,” said Carol.
“No, I’ll just set my mum on them,” laughed Erin. “She’s worse than a Rottweiler when she gets started.�
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“She’s fab, is Bridget, but you’re right, I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.”
“It’s funny how everyone rates Marie and Granny Lizzie as the tough ones, but my mum could sweep the floor with both of them.”
“The cousins have no chance, Ferrari or no Ferrari.”
They both laughed.
Early Riser
Paddy spotted Michael parking Margee’s little red sports car as he pulled into the yard. His brother had been reduced to using his girlfriend’s car since his had been hijacked by their brother. God knows how Michael would react to Sean’s latest fuckup. Paddy himself was still reeling from this morning’s events. Every time the incident crossed his mind he physically shuddered, and his gag reflex was on overdrive. He could still feel the beasts crawling all over his skin, especially his scalp, and he was constantly scratching.
“Okay, what’s the emergency? What the hell was so important about finding my car that you dragged me out of bed twice?” Michael sauntered over to Paddy as he got out of his vehicle.
“In the office, I’ll fill you in there.” The brothers crossed the yard to the portacabin.
The cabin was where all their serious business was carried out. Furnished with a couple of old comfortable leather chesterfields and a huge desk that Paddy had rescued years ago from a skip, the cabin was free from prying eyes and ears.
“You better sit down,” Paddy told his younger brother.
“Christ, don’t tell me you found the trunk full of bodies?” joked Michael, watching Paddy add a dash of whisky into the two steaming cups of tea.
“Hmmm,” was his brother’s only response.
“Fuck’s sake, Paddy, you’re starting to scare me!”
“Scare you? I had one of the most sickening experiences of my life this morning and it will probably stay with me forever. I looked in here on my way to work this morning, around five.”
“On your way to work?” interrupted Michael.
“I know it was early, don’t ask. And I got talking to old Tam.”
“And . . .?” Michael knew things between Paddy and Bridget were fragile, but a five a.m. start?
“And in the general conversation he dropped the bombshell that your car was parked way back in bay two. He wanted it shifted before the boys started working there, and I have to tell you it was well hidden. The person who’d parked it up didn’t want it seen, and because of that I wanted it out of the way before the dayshift boys arrived. There was no way of telling at that point what the damn thing contained.”
“I take it that’s what the phone call and visit were all about?”
“Michael, believe me, I wish to fuck I had left the bloody thing alone. It was like something out of a freaking horror movie. As I walked up the yard I could hear this humming noise, but I had no idea where it was coming from. It sounded like there was a motor running and the closer I got to bay two the louder the sound.”
“What was it?”
“Fuck, it makes my skin crawl just thinking about it,” Paddy shuddered. “The noise was coming from inside the car. It was a seething mass of insects. Millions, and I mean fucking millions of flies, bluebottles, fuck-knows-what swarming out. Jesus Christ, I have never seen anything like it in my life.”
“Fuckin’ hell!”
“The dogs were covered in the things. They ran for it, but they were still spooked hours later when old Tam took them home, and you know how vicious those two buggers are. He wasn’t too bad, he’d been down this end of the yard and he managed to get inside here. Me? I thought I was finished. What a fucking way to die. I was covered, they were up my nose, in my mouth, and I couldn’t breathe. I can still hear the buzzing. I’m sure that some actually got inside my ears, and I was swallowing and choking on them, all covered in rotten flesh.”
“Jesus fuck. Where did they come from?”
“Where did they come from? I’ll tell you where. From the decomposing body of the kid who went missing a few weeks ago. He’s in the fucking boot.”
“The boot? For fuck’s sake, how did he get in there?” Michael, astounded though he was, didn’t for a moment think that Sean had anything to do with the crime.
“Playing hide and seek! How the fuck do you think he got in there, you stupid bastard? Your beloved twin must have dumped him in there.”
“Sean? How could it be Sean? He’s been unconscious for weeks.”
“True, but he wasn’t when this poor kid met his maker.”
“But you’ve no proof it was Sean, Paddy.”
“Well, you tell me who the fuck else had access to your car? And if Sean had nothing to do with it, why the hell did he hide it? Not really the actions of an innocent man.”
“Holy fucking Moses, what the fuck are we going to do?”
“Well, we’re not going to broadcast it to the world for a start! We’ll come back tonight and sort it.”
“What about old Tam?”
“He’s kosher. He was down here when I opened the trunk. He didn’t see the body, only the swarms. I’ve given him the night off and told him I’ll get cover, but that’ll be us, bruv. We’ll crush the car and then dispose of it elsewhere. Let’s face it, even though it’s crushed, the DNA can still be traced.”
“Paddy, Sean’s a fucker all right, and he pushes his luck to the limit, but murdering kids? No way, I don’t believe it.”
“Well you’d better, and trust me, this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
It was not the time to disclose to Michael Paddy’s plans for their brother’s future, or lack of one.
Second Childhood
Why had the angry man kissed him on the cheek? He didn’t think he liked it. Boys didn’t kiss boys and he was sure it meant something, but what? Something not nice, he reckoned. Here was another question he couldn’t answer. That seemed to be all he did – try to solve puzzles. All his thoughts and questions seemed to be dancing around in his brain just out of reach and it was making him mad.
He must have dozed off again, there were now two voices, one on either side of him. The angry man was back again and he had someone else with him. The other voice was quieter and sounded sad. Who were they? What did they want with him? Maybe they’d found out he knew who’d stolen the money Paddy had hidden in the graveyard. It was Canon O’Farrell, that’s who. He was a bad man, making the boys do bad things, but he said he would tell the polis that the Coyles had stolen goods and Paddy would stay longer in jail. No, it wasn’t that, Canon O’Farrell wouldn’t snitch on him. And if he did, he’d tell what he made the altar boys do. No, it wasn’t about the canon. There was something else bothering him. Bad things, things he knew that Paddy and Michael wouldn’t like. There they were again, the names. Who were Paddy and Michael? Were they his brothers? He was sure he’d thought of them before, but he couldn’t remember. What were they saying now?
One voice was low and difficult to hear. Something about drugs: that Sean (he was sure that was his name) was selling them. How could he, a little boy, sell drugs?
The other voice, the kind one, kept saying it wasn’t true. He liked that voice. He wanted the other one to listen. He wanted the nice voice to keep on telling the other that it wasn’t true, but he thought it might be. Maybe he had been selling drugs for the canon. No, he was being daft, how could a little boy sell drugs? His mother would thrash him if she found out.
He needed to go back to sleep.
The Rain in Spain
For the first two or three days back home Bobby spent the majority of his time lazing by the pool, topping up his tan, and his evenings on the pull. Thoughts of his son and Erin were very few and far between.
His mother had wasted no time while he had been gone. There had been a number of changes; the main being that Diane had finally got her wish and emptied the old man out, to Bobby’s extreme disapproval.
“Listen, Bobby, he had to go. The staff were beginning to talk. They were well aware he had taken up residence in the pool house.” Diane told
him. “This is a six-bedroom villa for goodness sake, why on earth would a guest have to sleep rough? No, it was time for him to move on.”
“So where is he, and who’s looking after him?” Bobby knew the ex-priest had been pushing his luck, but he felt a sense of responsibility towards him. After all, he had been his father’s business partner, even if he didn’t approve of the merchandise. At the back of his head, buried deep, was the faint hope that if this old bugger had survived then maybe his father had. A long shot, but who would have put money on the priest making it?
“I’ve set him up in a nice little apartment in the old town, one your father apparently used from time to time,” she sneered. “And old bugger-lugs knew all about it. In fact, it was him who told me of its existence. As for who’s looking after him, well, I’ll let you find out for yourself. Believe me, he’s well catered for.”
When he met the young boy who answered the door, Bobby understood right away what his mother had implied. She was right, the old coyote seemed to be extremely well looked after.
“So, you’re back then?” croaked the old priest. “What reception did you get from the Coyles? I’m sure they were all delighted to see you and welcomed you into the bosom of their family.” Bobby thought he could detect a note of amusement.
“Oh, they took to me to their bosoms alright, especially the Big Man. He couldn’t have been more pleased to see me, so much so, he moved out for most of the time to give me space,” said Bobby sarcastically.
“Well done boy, well done, you’ve certainly stirred up a hornet’s nest. What about the girl? How did she take to you appearing on the scene?”
“Yeah, she was fine. She seemed pleased to see me − a bit lippy, but I soon put her in her place. By the way, how you lot can live in that godforsaken place, I do not know. Even when it’s hot it’s bloody cold and everybody’s miserable.”
The Betrayal Page 8