Death of a Painter

by Matthew Ross

  ‘Okay, Eric, how did Eric really pass? Can you tell me, do you think?’

  ‘Mesothelioma,’ and immediately my eyes moistened again.

  ‘Asbestos? He died from lung cancer?’ Her voice had changed, gone was the giddy playful teasing, now she was using her professional voice, the care-giver’s voice. ‘Was it bad?’

  ‘Ever seen a nice version?’ I was wrong to snap, it wasn’t her fault. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No. No. Don’t be silly,’ she reached across to take my hand. ‘And if you ever want it, I’ve got a waterproof shoulder you can borrow. Any time.’

  Well done me, nothing gets the ladies into bed quicker than the slow painful death of a close relative. Way to go Numb Nuts! That had successfully dampened any heat that had been simmering during the evening. As we waited on the pavement for our cab, I tried to make small talk, but my attempts were clunky and awkward, and before I’d even realised it I’d resorted to pointing to the shops up and down the road.

  ‘That one there, that used to be a piano shop when I was growing up. My Uncle Bern used to help out in there now and again giving demonstrations. I’ve no idea nowadays where you’d buy a piano round here, can’t think of anywhere.’ I was just gabbling by now. ‘Pianos dot com maybe.’

  Perry slipped her hand in mine. ‘You’re a strange one, Mark Poynter,’ she said. ‘But you’re alright.’

  ‘And that big red one,’ my confidence was returning, I cast out the invitation to be teased. ‘That was the furniture store. The old fella that ran it was a war hero, came back from Monte Cassino with a wooden leg, now it’s the Cash X Changer...’ I tailed off because I saw it; about a hundred metres away, on the other side of the zebra crossing, the silver Mondeo, the same one I’m sure.

  ‘Oh, interesting.’ the teasing had resumed, snapping my attention back to Perry. ‘And Mr Electrician, do you have any electronics? We could make you some money, look.’ She pointed across the road. ‘We pay you for electronics, we pay you for phones, it says. So, got any we can sell?’

  ‘No,’ I said, but there was something about that, something odd but something familiar too. I cursed as I knew it would annoy me now until I could work it out.

  Twenty minutes later I paid the cab driver and when I turned round, Perry was waiting, standing outside our side-by-side front doors.

  ‘Thank you for a lovely night,’ she said. ‘Now, seeing as this is only a first date and I’m a nice girl – don’t go believing what’s written on toilet walls – I’m going to give you a kiss on the cheek. Goodnight. Maybe we can do something over the weekend?’

  ‘Sure, I’d like that,’ I said, watching the door close behind her.

  28

  I twisted the lock open to my front door and stepped inside as giddy as a schoolboy with his first crush. It had been so long since I’d felt this way it was almost alien, but it excited me. I was coming home as King of the World.

  ‘You took your bloody time.’

  Instantly, the King had been deposed.

  ‘Thought you were going to spend all night out there.’

  Sitting in my armchair, one leg crossed over the other, empty bottle of beer beside him, never looking more comfortable, was Hamlet. Brazil was sitting on the sofa, eyes fixed to the television.

  ‘I was worried you’d be bringing the tart home.’ That word, that description, made me bristle. ‘Ah, he’s sweet on her, sorry mate, just banter. Anyway, the lads said you had no chance, so I lose.’

  Lads? I looked around, as if on cue the toilet flushed, and out walked Dunlop who simply sauntered past as though he owned the place.

  ‘Nah, no chance,’ said Brazil, looking at me before turning his attention back to the screen.

  ‘What’s that, where did you get that from?’ I said, realising he was watching porn on my tv.

  ‘It’s on telly,’ he said without looking back.

  ‘What? Pay per view? So, you mean that’s going on my account then?’

  ‘Yeah. Cheers, nice one mate.’

  ‘No, not cheers, not nice one. How? What?’ I was confused, I had so many questions it was difficult to get them all out at once.

  ‘Marky,’ said Hamlet as though trying to pacify a terrible-two tantrum. ‘Marky, you’ve written your PIN number on the back of the remote, so you can’t get all lemony if people then use it, can you? He’s not doing any harm, and it keeps him quiet. He likes it, he watches it all the time.’

  That might have been true but it didn’t bring me any closer to understanding what was going on. I was just about to ask again when the doorbell rang.

  ‘Bit late isn’t it, Marky?’ said Hamlet. ‘Tell them to sling their hook, we’re not buying anything.’ And as the dumb muscle chuckled sycophantically at his quip, I answered the door.

  Perry stood on the doorstep, beaming smile, ‘I was thinking, look, well, I may have been a bit rude,’ she said. ‘No, not rude, but too quick. Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I had a really nice time and wondered if you’d want a coffee, you can come over, or I’ll come in, I don’t mind.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ I said, and it crippled me to say it but, ‘But I’m sorry, I’ve got company.’

  ‘Company? We only got back a few minutes ago.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, it’s kind of complicated,’ I said, and a chorus of laughter bellowed from the doorway behind me, no doubt caused by some joke at my expense again.

  ‘Oh. I see. Okay. Forget it, it was a silly idea, I need to be up early in the morning anyway. Thanks once again for a nice night.’

  I watched her disappear again, only when my door closed this time, I felt crushed.

  Back inside, I saw Dunlop, and an icy chill ran through me.

  ‘Put it down, give it back.’

  I moved towards him, my arms outstretched. Dunlop sat down on the arm of the sofa, gripping Dad’s banjo by the neck.

  ‘Please,’ I said, ‘Just give it to me, don’t break it, please,’ this was beginning to feel like a hostage situation.

  ‘I only want a quick strum,’ said Dunlop

  ‘No, please. Give it back.’

  ‘Let him,’ said Hamlet. ‘Go on, give us a tune,’ and Dunlop duly obliged.

  To my relief he genuinely only wanted to play it. To my astonishment he was actually very good. His fingers moved nimbly over the strings and he, Hamlet and Brazil sang along together pretty well in unison, in the same way drunk rugby teams can surprise you with their harmonies, ‘Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain, And I cannot compete with you, Jolene.’ This was becoming one of the most surreal nights I’d ever had, particularly when they all gave themselves a round of applause at the end.

  Dunlop then decided he’d done his warm-up and wanted to show off his skills. He launched into a song full of fancy finger picks and twiddly bits. The others couldn’t have recognised it as they didn’t sing but I knew it right away, ‘...I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky, and one by one they disappear...’ it was Dad’s favourite. I never thought I’d hear it again from those strings. He didn’t do a bad version, he even knew the words, ‘...through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way, you always loved this time of year...’

  Hamlet and Brazil seemed to be loving it and sat there enthralled, but it didn’t feel right to me, it felt disrespectful, I felt guilty, unfaithful, ‘...'Cause you're not here...’

  Dunlop finished to applause and cheers from Hamlet and Brazil. Before he could launch in to another I snatched the banjo from him in a fit of jealousy. It didn’t seem enough merely to prop it back on its stand, I wanted it away from him. I snapped open the buckles of Dad’s battered and scuffed case and with love and reverence laid it to rest.

  ‘Did you see them too?’ said Dunlop. I hadn’t realised he was standing behind me, he leant over and picked up a flyer from inside the case. ‘Eric ’n’ Bernie. Ever see them?’

  ‘That was my Dad, Eric, on banjo, and my Uncle Bern played the piano.’
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  ‘No way. Really. Are you winding me up? I saw them a few times at the Tap ’n’ Tin, they were amazing. That’s where I first heard an acoustic version of that song, that’s what made me want to learn it.’

  No, no, no. I didn’t want this to happen, I didn’t want to find myself liking him or having anything in common, so I ignored him and tried to get back to the point.

  ‘What’s going on, why are you here?’

  ‘I wanted to see you,’ said Hamlet.

  ‘It’s Friday night, don’t you have a club to run?’

  ‘Club’s closed all weekend,’ he said.

  ‘We haven’t got a manager any more,’ added Dunlop.

  ‘Closed out of respect,’ said Hamlet, louder than before, annoyed by Dunlop’s interruption.

  ‘Yeah, show some respect,’ said Brazil, smacking Dunlop sharply round the back of the head. Dunlop winced, so did I, it looked more forceful than a simple telling off. Hamlet didn’t seem to notice, and continued, ‘So, I thought I’d come and see you, see what you know, what you’ve found out for me.’

  ‘Seriously? It’s only been a day.’ Hamlet didn’t look happy, Brazil and Dunlop reared up like attack dogs. ‘But I’ve had a few thoughts, a couple of possible avenues to explore.’ This seemed to relax them a little.

  ‘Look,’ I said, trying to find a way to buy some time, ‘The stuff your man gave me, there wasn’t much there. I get the impression they didn’t get a lot of help at the club.’

  Hamlet smirked. ‘No,’ he said. ‘My boys here, if there’s one thing they’re good at its getting in the way. They made sure Senia kept his nose stuck exactly where my lawyer had told him he could stick it.’

  ‘I think maybe they missed something. Can I get back inside? You know, now I’m under observation?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll get someone to call you tomorrow, make it all official.’

  ‘Come to think of it, if I’m being watched, how did you even get in?’

  ‘Oh, didn’t anyone tell you, you aren’t being watched anymore. Senia couldn’t get the budget for it,’ Hamlet yawned as he spoke. ‘This is Austerity Britain Marky, don’t you read the papers? Budget cuts galore. They can’t afford the overtime to play gooseberry on your nights out with lady-friends. It’s shocking these cuts in public services it really is.’

  I thought about the silver Mondeo and maybe I looked unconvinced as he then added, ‘Marky Mark, relax, the police aren’t watching you, trust me, I get their shift rotas before most of them do. So, if you’ve nothing else to tell me, just make us a nice cup of tea and then we’ll bid you so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye. Put the kettle on.’

  Dunlop sprung to his feet and headed out to the kitchen, from where I heard the slamming of drawers and doors. Before he woke up the entire street, I went and got out the mugs, teabags and spoons for him.

  ‘Look,’ I said as I sat down again, ‘I need you to be honest with me.’

  Hamlet pulled a funny face to make Brazil laugh, but realising I was serious he dismissed Brazil with a flick of the head in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘Just for my own peace of mind, Tommy was working for you, yes? Is it done, over, there’s nothing going to come back? I’m thinking of his wife, so she can move on smoothly.’

  ‘You know he’d been doing bits and pieces for me,’ said Hamlet. I didn’t respond but I could feel my face burning. ‘You didn’t know? Marky Mark, I thought you two were close.’

  I didn’t reply and tried to fight back the embarrassment.

  ‘What was he doing?’ I asked eventually.

  ‘You really want to know? You realise this puts you back in the circle of trust? I know you’ve been trying to get away from all of it, put it behind you, and I respect that Mark I really do. So, are you sure, do you really want to know?’ I nodded. ‘Okay then, Tommy worked for me as a cleaner. You know what that means? Well, some of my business gets a little messy. He was paid to come in afterwards and clean up, and I have to say he’d do a lovely job, full redecorations, he’d make the place look like a show home, you’d never know.’

  ‘Are you talking murders?’

  ‘Murders?’ He found this amusing. After his hollow false laughter faded: ‘What do you think this is, Chicago 1920? Who am I, Bugsy Malone?’

  ‘Well what then?’ Apprehension: now I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know.

  ‘Do you know how hard it is to make an honest living these days? There’s no money in porn any more since the internet started giving it away for free. The Russians now run the whoring racket and everyone knows you don’t want to get into a fight with them. As for drugs, that’s a young man’s game these days. So, I’ve had to branch out: dog fighting. Not very nice, in fact it’s bloody disgusting truth be told. I can’t watch it myself. But it’s cheap to stage and earns a huge amount of money. I’ve got a speccy twat from the college who sets up the video coverage, it’s as clear as being there, different camera angles, the works. It’s like watching Match Of The Day, it’s that professional. And I’ve got them paying fortunes to log in and watch it live from all over the world, it’s exceptionally popular in China, who’d have thought it, eh? And I’ve got me a kid out in India putting together a portal, they call it, so that very soon they’ll be able to bet on-line on live fights. It’s becoming colossal. And that’s because I give them the full HD 4K crystal-clear experience. In the past it was all done on grotty building sites, or in shitty car parks, but my fights are indoors, multimedia. Trouble is it’s very messy, all that blood and piss, and that’s only the punters. So that’s where Tommy came in. He’d clean up, tosh new paint on the walls and no-one would ever know. In fact, he was doing such an impressive job, it’d got to the stage where I was getting the venues for free on the promise of a full redec afterwards. And he was very well paid for his efforts.’

  Things certainly made a lot more sense now, and probably also explained why he never spoke about it. I felt reassured for Jen now; Hamlet was a satisfied customer who’d paid his bills, it didn’t sound as though there’d be any comeback on her and she could keep the money. If I could get it back that is.

  ‘Any idea what he planned to do with the cash you were paying him?’

  ‘Don’t know, don’t care.’

  ‘I think he fancied becoming a property developer,’ said Dunlop. We both turned to see him in the doorway holding a tray laden with mugs, slowly shuffling his way towards us.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Last time I saw him, I asked him what he was going to do with all the cash he was earning – maybe a new car, just trying to make conversation, you know.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He said he’d got in with someone in property who was helping him out.’

  ‘Who? How?’

  ‘I don’t know. He said the property guy was helping him to get his accounts in order, I figured he wanted a good set of books so as to expand. He never told me the guy’s name though.’

  Dunlop handed out the mugs, Hamlet told Brazil to switch off his porn, and then we all sat quietly in front of the tv watching the highlights of the night’s earlier Chelsea match. I imagine should anyone have peered through the window they’d have found it a cosy sight. If only they’d known. It’s hard to relax sitting next to Hamlet, it’s like being beside a mildly annoyed grizzly bear in a suicide vest, you’re terrified the slightest thing might set it off. Luckily, Chelsea won and Hamlet left happy.

  29

  Paranoia. Hamlet swore there was no surveillance on me, but I was convinced the same silver Mondeo was following me again. Was he wrong? I’d spent so much time checking my mirror, I’d nearly gone in to the back of two cars this morning. I think I’d lost it. I couldn’t see him, but to err on the cautious side, I deliberately parked some distance away and approached the rest of the way on foot unnoticed. Almost there, not much further. I moved behind and around the parked cars, keeping low, just in case.

  I reached my target without being seen, a couple of deep breaths,
straighten up, shoulders back, chest out, ready.

  As I rounded the front of the container Old John recognised me and turned in the opposite direction but found Disco blocking his way.

  ‘Morning lads, what brings you here then?’ said Old John, trying to bluff his way out of it.

  ‘See this,’ I pointed to my face. ‘Five hours in A&E. Two days off work. You owe me John.’

  ‘What? I don’t know what you’re.... your face... ooh, nasty... what happened there?’

  ‘Don’t lie to me John, I know it was you.’

  Old John seemed about to speak, his mouth flapped but nothing came out. Then he surprised us by dropping into his white garden chair and burying his head in his hands. As we looked at each other across the top of Old John’s bald patch, I swear I heard a low chuckle coming from him.

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Disco.

  During a sleepless night I’d mulled over every possible permutation, looking for a way out of the mess I was in. I’d even considered buying back Dad’s act and doing some children’s parties. I’d heard the guy that bought it off me was desperate to offload it due to a ‘personal setback’ — he’d been caught by the birthday boy’s dad scuttling the birthday boy’s mum over the chest freezer in full Uncle Chuckie clown costume complete with spinning bow tie and squeaky red nose. Honky honky.

  Needless to say, the birthday boy was traumatised at the sight of his irate father kicking the shit out of Uncle Chuckie up and down the front garden. And so I gave that idea up as a non-starter seeing as Uncle Chuckie’s name is now verboten amongst parents. In the dark, I silently prayed that I’d hear from Mrs Wilkes soon to say that her job’s been released and I can get back in and collect my money for it. But I kept coming back to the point that most of Tommy’s money had paid off Blunt and Hamlet’s money was the only way to replace it. Whatever way I looked at it, I owed someone somewhere a lot of money, and with Chapman’s death changing ‘unlikely to be paid’ to ‘definitely won’t be paid’ there was no quick fix, no windfall. And all the time Senia was circling, desperate to set me up for Tommy’s murder. I couldn’t see any alternative, I had to help Hamlet and hope he stayed true to his word to waive the debt, while at the same time find a way to keep myself out prison.