Part 26 (1/2)
When I was finished I folded the sheet, slipped it into an envelope and scrawled 'Denise Gorman' on the front. I pinned the envelope to the doorframe and took one last look around. All things considered, I approved.
I ghosted back across the street, ducked into the alleyway. The snow had finally stopped falling, the frosty air causing the snow to harden, crunch underfoot. It was nearly as cold as the marble slab in my chest, the one someone was chiselling my name into, or maybe that was just my heart thumping. The ache in my side was a blunt knife grinding on stone. My stomach was churning eggs, and the ulcer was emitting the kind of high-pitched scream only musically inclined dogs can hear.
I dug the Maalox out of my pocket, poured the contents down a drain, threw the empty bottle into the river. I was going to need all the pain I could get, just to keep me sane. The bottle bobbed away towards the bend and the bridge, heading for the open sea. I bade it bon voyage and told it to watch out for icebergs.
I was sweating despite the cold. The first thing I did when I lurched into the car was turn the heating up full blast. The second thing I did was freeze rigid, because that's pretty much protocol when someone grinds something cold and hard, something that feels suspiciously like the barrel of a gun, into the soft flesh just below your left ear.
”I'm halfway to shooting you already. Sit still.”
I sat still, unloading the words like they were cut gla.s.s.
”Where's the pederast?”
Wondering how he had managed to squeeze himself into the back seat without the help of a blowtorch. There isn't much room in the back seat of a Fiat Bravo and Brady needed more room than most.
”Where's what?”
”Your b.u.m chum. Galway, the f.a.g.”
”You tell me.” The gun ground into my neck. ”Start with Conway. Stutter once and I'll blow your head off.”
I took a gamble on how much Brady knew, started with Conway.
”Conway came to me about his wife. He reckoned she was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around. I got the impression he was after something else but I did what I was paid to do.”
”Nice job.”
”Pays the bills. I don't get to stick guns in strangers' ears but then you can't have everything.”
”Stick to the facts.”
”Shut the f.u.c.k up and give me a chance.”
There was a long silence, the kind that doesn't like itself. He said: ”Go on.”
”Next thing, I'm getting a hammering from some blokes who like their job. They tell me to stay away from her, they don't say who but I presume they mean Helen Conway. Next morning, you and the f.a.g turn up. By now I know Conway's trafficking E so I presume that's what you're after. Any idea of who had him offed, by the way?”
”I'll ask the questions.”
”Say again? I get deaf when someone sticks a gun in my ear.”
There was a moment, a very tense moment, when I thought I'd pushed it too far. Then something detonated beside my ear, a safety-catch being clicked on, and he took the gun away. I rubbed at my neck. There was a circular indentation maybe a quarter of an inch deep just below my ear.
”Go on.”
”So I find out Helen Conway might be doing the dirt. Photos to prove it, too. I reckon it's a job well done in quick-smart time and that Frank Conway's in for a nasty shock that can wait until after Christmas. I'm sentimental that way. Mind if I smoke?”
”Don't try anything funny.”
I left the balloon animals in the glove compartment, rolled a twist. Sparked the smoke, watched two middle-aged men, both wearing Santa Claus hats, stagger across the footbridge, holding one another up. The man on the left detached himself, stopped and steadied, unzipped.
”I went for a few pints. It's Christmas, the job's Oxo, and my brother's home for the holidays. That's Gonzo, by the way. And Eddie. Robbie too, apparently.”
”I can cross the T's myself.”
”Gonzo ODs. On the way home a car pulls up, and some bloke with a cannon puts me in the river. I'm presuming you know that better than I do.”
”You think it was me?”
”Come on, Brady. You and the f.a.g come around giving me grief about Conway. Then you haul me into the station because you think I'm hooked up with Conway, because Gonzo is. Next thing I know, someone's trying to blow me away and the only f.u.c.kers using those things are the Provies and Branch. And the Provies haven't been in touch lately.”
Brady laughed, although he didn't much like the taste of it.
”For one, Rigby, Provies and Branch aren't the only ones with popguns, every half-wit with an ounce of dope has an Uzi tucked under his oxter. For two, I wasn't there. If I had been, you'd be panned out beside your brother. What next?”
”This morning I run around to my mate, Herbie. He's the bloke developed the shots of Helen Conway carrying on, and if I'd left it another hour he'd be on the slab with Gonzo. So I go to see Conway. You were looking for him and you did the shooting. I put two and two together.”
”And came up with three. Nice work, Shamus.”
I let it slide, seeing as how he was one hundred per cent right.
”So Conway gets excited and bolts from cover. Next thing I know he's chumming down with the bloke that's s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his wife. She's there too. I figure there's more to it than wife swapping, but I don't think too well on my feet. So I tell them to leave me alone. If they don't, the negatives wind up on the front desk of every redtop in the country. Then I walk away. I haven't seen Galway since last night, and that's one of the very few things I'm happy about at this moment in time.”
I stubbed the cigarette, left out the phone-call from the pros and started to roll another twist. Brady mulled things over.
”You're lying.”
”You have a gun, Brady. You're mad as a rat. What would you do in my position?”
”I wouldn't roll over for the first f.u.c.ker who put the rush on.”
”Don't flatter yourself. Conway gave up his right to confidentiality when he tried to st.i.tch me up.”
Brady remembered something.
”You think Conway was looking for something other than proof his wife was having it away. What was he looking for?”
”I don't know. He was doing pretty well around town, developments coming up like mushrooms. Maybe he was looking to go legit, to get away from the pills, and that he was greedy.”
”Aren't we all?”
”No. Anyway, when I found out who Conway's wife was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g, I reckoned Conway was trying to squeeze him on a re-zoning scam. The building trade will never do so well that the land can't come cheaper.”
”You said Conway didn't think she was playing away.”
”He didn't. When I asked him who was lifting her skirt he said he didn't know, which is bulls.h.i.+t. People think the worst even when they've no reason to think it, and the worst usually has a monogram on its pee-jays. So I reckoned Conway was setting me up with the basics, just to get me warmed up, and then he was going to come back with a name. The name would be the politico he wanted to squeeze. I'd start digging and if I turned up anything tasty Conway would use it to put the bounce on.”
”That's a bit of a long shot.”