by Bateman
The time showed it to be 10.15 p.m., a quarter of an hour after I knew the staff had locked up for the night, when Fat Sam Mahood was most likely labouring through the last lengths of his life. The point of view of the camera was from behind and above the reception desk, looking down on the counter and the customer side of it; it showed enough of the staff side for us to see that there was a figure hiding there, hunched over, wearing white. Then he moved out of shot. I was about to say something but DI Robinson stopped me and a few moments later the man’s face was back, right up close to the lens, and then he was beating furiously at it, his face contorted and sweat lashed, and then the lens cracked, and the picture died, but it left us with a very clear impression of a man who was not in the least bit angelic.
14
‘Now will you stay out of it?’ DI Robinson asked.
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘He’s as guilty as sin.’
He nodded. ‘You know, sometimes I appreciate your help. You have a way of looking at things that they don’t – can’t – teach at college. Off-kilter. Sometimes I think you’re from a different planet, the way you go at things.’
I raised my hand and gave him the ‘live long and prosper’ salute. He blinked at me.
‘Kepler 22,’ I added by way of clarification.
He gave a kind of half-laugh and said: ‘It’s him, it’s your Gabriel. We also have footprints down by the pool which match his shoes. He is as guilty as sin, but you’d be amazed how much someone acting dumb can mess up the system.’
DI Robinson rubbed at his chin, as if he was thinking, or debating. It was quite theatrical. And that made me think that it was staged, and that his purpose in visiting No Alibis was probably not only to reveal the evidence of Gabriel’s guilt, but actually to seek my counsel, as he had in the past.
‘So,’ he said, ‘we can close the book on this, can we?’
‘It is shut and slipped into a protective plastic jacket.’
‘Because even though we have our man, and he’s not going to be killing anyone else, there’s still an investigation going on into Fat Sam and how he operated and who he was connected to and where all his money went. If you’re sticking your nose in upsetting people, then those people we’re trying to keep an eye on will be on the alert, they’ll clam up or just go to ground. So, much as I understand why you’re involved, and asking questions, I really do need you to be stopping. That’s why I came and showed you this. Your Gabriel is guilty, can that just be the end of it?’
I said, ‘I was never really interested in Fat Sam anyway, I just wanted to know who Gabriel was. I suppose it doesn’t matter now.’
‘Okay, good, excellent. Now what about this book?’
The Chandler was back in play.
I’m sure DI Robinson was quite adequately remunerated for his crime-fighting work, but by the time he walked out of the shop, without the book, I managed to make him feel like a poverty-stricken hobo with delusions of grandeur. It is good to take people down a peg or two. I enjoy the confusion it sows when condescending types realise that while they might be proficient in one field, when it comes to another, they are hopelessly at sea; books are my business, and I excel at them. DI Robinson left a £300 deposit on the Chandler, which he would forfeit if he didn’t come up with the other £1,200 in ten days, and tramped out of the shop with a look that suggested he knew he had been scammed but was quite incapable of doing anything about it.
‘I was just looking at the Chandler yesterday,’ Jeff said. ‘You’d written the price in pencil inside the front cover. It was £200.’
‘Your point?’
‘You made him pay a deposit which is greater than the value of the book.’
‘I didn’t make him do anything. He kept upping his offer. That’s business. Besides, don’t you know, beauty is in the eye of the beholder?’
He looked at me doubtfully, which was understandable, given the state of his face. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least we can forget about The Case of the Man in the White Suit and concentrate on The Case of Making Ends Meet.’ He gave me a big, stupid grin.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said, and took up position in front of the computer. For good measure I added: ‘Don’t you even listen?’
‘To what? I don’t under—’
‘Francis Delaney, the man whom Gabriel murdered, was Fat Sam’s sidekick. Do you think Robinson just dropped that into the conversation by mistake? He doesn’t want us to drop the case – the very opposite: he wants us all over it.’
‘I didn’t get that impr—’
‘No, Jeff, you wouldn’t. But we’ve been down this road before. He can’t just come out and say he’s stuck and needs our help, but he’s saying it all the same. That’s why I played him for so much on the Chandler. He paid the deposit on the book, but needs approval from above to go to £1,200. I’ve absolutely no doubt he’ll get it, and I’ve absolutely no doubt he either knows the true value of the book or will find out very shortly. And he won’t care, because it’s not about the book, it’s about securing my services, and to get them he knows he has to throw out the budget and pay me what I’m worth.’
‘Right,’ said Jeff.
I began to type. I could feel him watching me. ‘What?’ I asked.
‘But if Gideon – Gabriel – is guilty, why are we . . .?’
‘Who says he’s guilty? Jeff, there is much, much more to this than meets the eye. Now, I am putting out an appeal to my lovely database of Christmas Club members, Facebook friends and Tweeters, seeking information on the staff of the All Star, whom I need to talk to, and then I will be trawling for more information on Fat Sam, on Francis Delaney and what might possibly connect them to Gabriel. And I want you to go home and get your suit on.’
‘My suit? Why?’
‘Because Jeff, you’re going to Francis Delaney’s funeral. Which kicks off in,’ I glanced at the time in the bottom corner of the screen, ‘. . . about half an hour, at Roselawn, so you’d better get your skates on.’
‘Why am I . . . What am I supposed to . . .?’
‘You’re to use your initiative, even though it usually gets me into trouble and you beaten up. But if you were to mingle, and surreptitiously take photographs, that would be good. I want to know who’s there, who his friends and colleagues were. I want to know about his connections and why he might have felt compelled to enter Purdysburn to try and kill Gideon.’
‘Gabriel.’
‘I know that.’
‘Who says he tried to kill him?’
‘I do. I know it. Now you’d better get moving.’ But he stood there. ‘What?’
‘Can’t you come with me? You’re so clear about what you want, and I’m really not . . .’
‘Jeff, I don’t do funerals. Not after last time. Do you remember what happened last time, Jeff?’
‘There was a fire in the crematorium.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you were nearly lynched.’
‘See? Now will you please go?’ I pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and pressed it into his chest. ‘Jeff, you were whining about not being taken to the All Star, you whined about not going to Gloria Mahood’s, and now that I’m actually giving you something to do, you’re starting to whine about that too. What the hell is going on with you?’
‘I just thought – you know, we could do it together.’
‘Together, Jeff?’
‘Like partners. You know – buddies.’
‘Jeff, as wonderful as that sounds, you know I can’t go to the funeral. And who’s going to run the shop?’
‘I don’t know. Alison?’
‘Alison is busy with Page. You need to do this by yourself, you need to own it. It’s not really about me going, is it, Jeff? You’re depressed about your exams, and you’re suffering a crisis of confidence. But you can do this, you know you can. Get out there, Jeff, and just do it, show me what you’re made of. I’ll be with you, in spirit. Go. Go.’
I guided him to the doo
r and ushered him out. He looked back at me and nodded and gave me a bit of a smile.
‘I’ll do my best,’ he said.
I gave him the thumbs-up and he walked off.
I had always thought of my faithful young friend as being rather gormless, but now I absolutely knew that he was also needy, clingy and pathetic. He fitted right in at No Alibis.
15
I called Alison. I had not heard from her. I had an inkling that Mother might indeed have hung herself from the banister, which would perhaps just about have held her frame, at least until the front door opened and that tiniest little draught was all that was required to sway the body enough to cause the banister to finally snap and her dead weight to hurtle down three flights to land on top of Alison, who had either been killed outright by the impact or was, even now, pinned under the corpse, quite unable to move, due to multiple fractures and a damaged spleen. I wasn’t sure how disappointed I was when she answered her phone.
Nevertheless I said, ‘Good, you’re alive,’ and added: ‘How is the light of my life?’
‘I’m fine.’
She waited. I waited. She waited some more, and could have continued to wait until the Rapture, so I said, ‘I meant Page.’
‘I knew you did, and he’s grand.’
‘And how’s my other little woman?’
‘You know, hanging around. Or do you mean me?’
‘You know who I mean.’
‘I’m afraid I do. She’s fine too. I was hardly through the door before she was yelling down for a hot water bottle.’
‘And you . . .?’
‘Told her to go fuck herself.’
‘I suspect you did not.’
‘Only because I’m a lady.’
I said nothing. She said nothing. With the Rapture getting closer, I said: ‘So you’re okay?’
‘I am okay. I’m just surprised that you’re phoning me. You hardly ever phone me. Not that I’m complaining. Are you coming home for tea?’
‘No. I’m on a case – I may be late.’
‘Developments?’
‘Mmm, yes.’
I told her about DI Robinson and the DVD I’d played in the machine and how he was actually appealing for my help by trying to prove there was no case for me to pursue, and Alison hmmm-hmmmed through that, but then perked up when I mentioned Francis Delaney being Fat Sam’s sidekick and explained how I’d grabbed the bull by the horns by sending Jeff to the funeral to act as my eyes and ears, seeing as how my own eyes are myopic and my ears have a variety of tinnitus which instead of emitting a high-pitched shriek plays the soundtrack from the original London stage production of Les Misérables on a constant loop.
She said, ‘So Gabriel being caught at the scene doesn’t deter you?’
‘Au contraire.’
‘Do you think, my Mystery Man, that there’s a possibility that DI Robinson doesn’t have as many sides to him as you seem to think? That he really, genuinely doesn’t want you involved in this?’
‘He would have said.’
‘As far as I can understand, he did say.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He realises his own shortcomings, and turns to me for help. We know this.’ Alison said nothing. ‘I’m going to wait for Jeff to come back from the funeral, and then I need to go through what he’s discovered. I will probably be late.’
‘When you get started, you’re like a dog with a bone.’
‘It’s why you love me,’ I said, and then hung up before she could respond. But I knew she would be smiling.
I tried to concentrate on ordering stock, but I found it dispiriting. There are very few good, new writers out there now. Most crime novels, if you ripped the cover off and gave them to a reader without identifying the author, they wouldn’t be able to tell one writer from the next. There is a template, a style, which 90 per cent of crime writers adhere to, and they are killing the genre. Crime writing is like a rogue Great White shark. It has to keep moving forward all the time, while taking care to kill plenty of people along the way. There are few stylists, few innovators, and fewer wits. If Chandler were alive today, he’d be very old indeed.
I ignored the stock, and lifted the phone.
‘I think that’s a lovely name,’ Nurse Brenda said as soon as I told her. ‘Gabriel. My angel. Gabriel. The Archangel Gabriel. Yes. Lovely. So, if I’m doing the paperwork, how long do you think you’re going to need?’
‘An hour. Tops.’
‘Really? Is that all? That might be a problem.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, the only way I can get you in upstairs is if I check you in as a patient. Visitors are strictly monitored, and since the murder Gabriel has been kept in solitary confinement, so the only way you’re going to be able to even observe him is by seizing whatever chance you can. But I doubt that will come around within a specific hour. You would need to come in for assessment, and the minimum assessment period is twenty-four hours. There’s no real way round it. But at least you’ll have a longer window during which to grab your opportunity to get a look at him.’
My throat immediately felt a little drier than normal. ‘You mean to stay overnight?’
‘Yes. It allows any drugs you may be on to get out of your system.’
‘I’m not on any drugs.’
‘I didn’t say you were, but I’m afraid it’s standard procedure.’
I rubbed at my chest. It was definitely tightening. ‘But this is just for the paperwork, surely?’ I said. ‘It can show that I’m in for twenty-four hours, but actually I’ll just be nipping in for an hour, and you’ll whip me out of there as soon as my job is done.’
There was a pause. And then: ‘I told you, this doesn’t have the approval of my superiors. This is totally between you and me. If my bosses found out about this, I’d be for the chop. It’s not done, it’s just not done. I’m doing this for Gabriel. You and I are the only chance he has. The only way I can get you into the unit is if I write here on this form that you have had a psychotic incident and require urgent assessment under secure conditions. That will require a twenty-four-hour stay. You will be assessed by a team I have no say over or access to. There is no way round it. There will be no slipping out when you’re done. There are safeguards in place to prevent any one person being able to override the system, so as far as everyone is concerned, you will be a patient, and a fairly dangerous one at that. I’m sorry, it’s the only way I can work it. Nobody can know about this. Nobody.’
I said, ‘I can’t do that. I have a shop to run. And a child.’
‘Gabriel needs you.’
‘I understand that, but—’
‘And I need you.’ She was doing it again. That voice. It could probably control the tides. ‘I’m asking for twenty-four hours to save a man’s life. And I’m not exaggerating. We run a secure unit here, but it’s nothing compared to where he’ll be sent as soon as they sort out his paperwork. I’ve seen a lot of terrible things in my time in mental health, but those places, they scare the pants off me. My Gabriel would not last in one of them for more than a few days. He would be torn to shreds. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘I’m risking my entire career for this, and all I’m asking for is a night and a day to save Gabriel. You’re not going to let me down, are you?’
‘No, but—’
‘Good. Now I want you to swear to me that you won’t tell anyone else what you’re doing.’
‘I can’t, I have a—’
‘I want you to swear to me. People talk – people always talk. It’s human nature, it’s the human condition. If this gets out, I will be ruined, I will never work in the health service again, and I could not live with that. It would kill me. So I want you to promise that you won’t tell anyone. Anyone.’
I rubbed at my brow. ‘Just my girlfr—’
‘No.’
‘You can trust her.’
‘No. You have to understand. She may swear never to tell a living soul, and that’s f
ine for today or tomorrow – but what about the day after? What about the day where you have a row and she shouts something out in anger, or she runs away and she meets someone and she tells them?’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because that’s what people do. If it’s a secret they cannot resist telling someone. Secrets are burdens. Secrets are worms that burrow into your core, and they might stay there for years but eventually they work their way out again. So I need you to promise me that you will tell no one. Promise me.’
‘Okay. I’ll work something out.’
‘Say it. Say you promise.’
‘I promise.’
‘You promise what?’
‘I promise that I won’t tell anyone I’m going undercover into a secure mental ward.’
‘You promise that you won’t tell anyone that you’re going into a secure mental ward what?’
‘What?’
‘You promise that you won’t tell anyone that you’re going into a secure mental ward what?’
I owed her nothing, yet somehow I owed her everything as well. I wanted to solve The Case of the Man in the White Suit but I most definitely did not want to spend any more time than I needed to in Purdysburn. I had a deep-rooted horror of the place and its denizens. I liked my new life in No Alibis, I liked the fact that I had a girlfriend I could parade around and show people that I had a girlfriend, and I especially liked it when she was pregnant so that people would know that I had had sex and was no longer a virgin, and I adored the fact that I had a baby I could wheel around so that people would know for sure that I had had the sex, and to be doubly sure I always added whenever people stopped to admire Page that he definitely wasn’t adopted. And I had a terrible gnawing feeling that if I was admitted to Purdysburn, even in the cause of good, and did adhere to Nurse Brenda’s conditions, that something would happen, that my incarceration and renewed exposure to the extremes of mental illness would somehow conspire to destroy a life I had so painfully rescued from the abyss. And yet, I had no choice.