by Owen Mullen
‘That was clever of you. And the answer is?’
‘Hundreds.’
The last time Nina had been in my flat would have been eight or nine years earlier with Cheryl. I’d opened the door to find the two of them sniggering like children. They weren’t big drinkers and the wine they’d had at lunch made them silly and giggly. A gallon of black coffee went a long way to sobering them up before I’d called a taxi to take them home. Even back then, Danny was causing problems. When Cheryl went to the bathroom, Nina told me my brother hadn’t been home in days. Rebecca – just a toddler – kept asking where her daddy was. Lunchtime boozing wasn’t Cheryl’s scene, but she’d been unhappy, and Nina had volunteered for the job of cheering her up.
A long time ago.
My sister cast an amused eye around the lounge without passing comment. There was no need.
I didn’t disagree; by any stretch of the imagination it was awful. Coming across as ungrateful wasn’t easy. ‘Danny had it ready for me coming out.’
Nina said, ‘I offered to help. He wouldn’t let me near it. Does the roof leak?’
‘Not so far.’
‘Then you’re winning.’
The small talk was wearing thin – neither of us had any talent for it. I said, ‘I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.’
She made a face and came to the point. ‘I want to speak to you about Danny. I take it you’ve seen the video.’
‘I was there, Nina, and everybody in South London’s seen it. So what?’
‘I’m worried.’
‘About him?’
‘Christ, no, don’t give a monkey’s about him. About how he’ll react. What he might do.’
‘You’re afraid he’ll start a war with Anderson?’
‘We’re already in a war. I’m afraid he’ll blow us all up. You must’ve seen the change in him since you went away.’
She gripped the arm of the couch and leaned nearer. ‘He isn’t sane, Luke. I’m serious. Our brother isn’t sane. Tell the truth, he’s never been right, has he? And yeah, I’m not forgetting what he did for us in that hellhole of a house. But even back then, don’t you remember?’
I did remember.
‘Nina, why are you here?’
She looked away, her fingers playing with the band of her watch, and didn’t answer, wanting me to get there by myself, reluctant to say what she’d come to say.
‘This video is the beginning of the end for him.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘He’s a laughing stock, a joke.’
‘And… let’s hear it. C’mon, Nina, spit it out.’
She took a deep breath. ‘We have to get rid of him. You can take over. I’ll get involved. We’ll run things together.’
27
The clock on the wall showed a minute past five. Apart from its relentless ticking, the only sound in the office was the quiet click as the safe door sprang open. Eugene Vale knelt on the floor with his back to Yvonne; over his shoulder she saw his hand reach inside and reappear with a bundle of notes, bound with an elastic band. He got to his feet and sat down behind the desk; she noticed sweat marks at the armpits of his shirt. Eugene was nervous. That made two of them. On the surface at least, Yvonne seemed calm. Underneath she was anything but. It had all been so easy. She’d left them no choice, had them exactly where she wanted them and the excitement was almost more than she could stand. Nina Glass bowing down to her.
Unbelievable!
Eugene Vale weighed the money in his palm, using it as a prop to make the point he’d made several times already, looking and sounding more serious than she’d ever seen him. ‘You’re up to your neck in it now.’ He pushed the wad across the table. ‘This is a lot of cash and there’s more coming. For Christ’s sake be smart with it or you’ll get us all killed.’
Yvonne lifted the banknotes and ruffled them through her fingers. ‘I’m not stupid, Eugene. Or hadn’t you noticed?’
He shook his head. ‘Okay, just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Nina isn’t somebody you want to fuck with, believe me.’
‘I won’t be fucking with her so long as she sticks to her end of the deal.’ Yvonne came around the desk and kissed him on the lips. ‘Fucking with you, that’s a different story. Our new arrangement better not put you off me. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.’ She traced the inside of his thigh. ‘What about right now? Call it a celebration.’
Vale eased her away from him; sex wasn’t happening. ‘I can’t, Nina’s expecting me.’
Yvonne whispered in his ear. ‘You’re forgetting something, darling.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yeah. Nobody’s interested in what Nina Glass wants. From now on, all that matters is what I want.’
It had taken less than two minutes for the threat to arrive. It wouldn’t be the last. Nina was right, there was no other way, though even thinking about what they had to do made him want to throw up. But however bad he felt, it wasn’t as awful as what would be waiting for him at Fulton Street.
Vale chose his words carefully, aware of how important it was to avoid upsetting this woman. He eased his hand inside her blouse and played with her erect nipple. ‘Maybe you’re right. We should have a party.’ His other hand slid up her skirt and teased her through the flimsy material. He whispered, ‘Just you and me. But first, let’s go get smashed.’
‘You said you’re meeting Nina.’
‘She’ll just have to wait, won’t she? And you’re buying.’
Vale pulled the car into the evening traffic and changed through the gears. In the passenger seat, Yvonne watched him out of the corner of her eye. The proverbial shoe was on the other foot but, so far, he was taking it well. Getting him to agree to split the skim had never been in doubt. Yvonne had had more than her share of men and knew they came in types. In her experience, few were as strong as they thought they were. Women were the ones with character. Fortunately, it wasn’t moral fortitude she was after. The Eugenes of the world had their uses, fine for having fun and not much else – she didn’t really like Vale, if she was telling herself the truth.
‘How did Nina take it when you told her?’
‘Not good, as you can imagine. She isn’t used to people telling her what to do and doesn’t handle it well. Even Danny’s found that out.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Went crazy. Threw stuff. Spouted a lot of wild talk. I pointed out that we weren’t in a position to argue. Better to accept it and make a deal.’
Yvonne didn’t believe him. She couldn’t picture Eugene having the balls to go up against Nina Glass.
‘And she agreed, just like that?’
The car rolled to a stop at traffic lights. Not “just like that”, no, of course not.’ He pointed to the mark above his eye. ‘It took hours to convince her. You don’t know Nina, do you?’
‘She’s looked down her nose at me a couple of times in the office.’
‘If you did, you’d understand who you are dealing with and think yourself lucky to still be walking around. She’s a Glass. Which means she’s unpredictable. Getting her to agree to what you wanted was anything but easy. You should be thanking me.’
Yvonne stroked the inside of his leg. ‘I’ll thank you later. You won’t have much left for her tonight and that’s a promise.’
Vale picked a corner of the pub that meant their backs were to the bar so they wouldn’t be noticed. He hadn’t been here before, didn’t know anybody and nobody knew him. It was early and still pretty quiet. Yvonne was in fine form, relishing her new status. ‘What’re you having, partner?’
‘A whisky, preferably a large one.’
She laughed. ‘It’s your money.’
‘Not any more.’
She came back with four drinks on a tray. ‘No use doing a double run, is there? A toast. To new beginnings.’
Vale said, ‘You’re going to get pissed.’
‘What if I am? You’ll look after me.’
‘You’
re liking this, aren’t you?’
‘Loving it.’
‘My advice would be to enjoy it while it lasts.’
‘Why wouldn’t it last?’
He threw the first whisky back in one go.
‘Why wouldn’t it last, Eugene?’
‘This isn’t a game. If Danny twigs, everybody involved will disappear. Me, you, even his sister.’
Yvonne’s teeth were white against the flush of hard liquor on her cheeks. She leaned closer, amusement sparkling in her eyes. ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’
Yvonne wasn’t falling-down drunk, but she was getting there. She slurred when she spoke – which she did non-stop – her voice booming against the racket from the jukebox. Most of Vale’s whisky had soaked into the dark earth in the potted plant next to him and every few minutes he checked the time on his watch. His nerves were shot; he wasn’t cut out for this. Sober, Yvonne was volatile and headstrong; with a bellyful of alcohol, she would be uncontrollable. Returning her wet, unwelcome kisses was the surest way of shutting her up. Vale felt her tongue probe his mouth and shuddered. There was lipstick on the shoulder of her blouse – how the hell had that got there? – and at one point she had her hand inside his shirt. Inebriated women were the opposite of invisible. He had to get her to the car before her clumsy advances attracted enough attention for someone to remember the hot little ticket pissed out of her head and the guy she’d been with.
He put his palm over the top of her half-empty glass – the fifth double in two hours – in the circumstances, a high-risk strategy. ‘I think we should leave, Yvonne.’
His suggestion confused her. ‘Leave? I don’t want to leave. And go where?’
‘To your flat. We’ll stop at an off-licence and get a couple of bottles of wine.’
The cunning she’d proved herself capable of was there in the corner of her drink-dulled eyes.
‘You’re horny. You’re horny for me, aren’t you? Admit it.’
Vale lied, hating himself and her. ‘I admit it.’
It wasn’t enough; she toyed with him. ‘How horny?’
‘Very horny.’
She grinned. ‘You’re an old man. Why should a young thing like me bother with an old man?’
Vale smiled at the insult, for a second thinking it was going to go easy. Then the grin morphed into a petulant frown and she turned on him like a child recalling some half-remembered slight. ‘You haven’t been very nice to me.’
He sensed trouble building and moved to cut it short. ‘Don’t be silly. ’Course, I have.’
‘No, you haven’t.’ She waved a flaccid arm at the room. ‘I could have any man in this pub. Any of them. All I have to do is snap my fingers.’
He took her hand to quieten her, gently massaging the fingers, whispering. ‘But they won’t be as good as me. When we get to the flat, I’m all yours. You can have anything you like.’
A sly smile flickered over Yvonne’s red lips.
‘Anything?’
‘As long as you ask for it. You have to ask.’
‘And you’ll stay all night?’
‘And I’ll stay the night.’
Doubt reordered her features. ‘But you’re meeting her.’
He took her face tenderly in his hands, her skin hot and unblemished: he detested her.
‘The only woman I’m interested in is right here. Let’s go.’
Yvonne fell asleep in the car. At her front door, she took forever to find the key and an age to fit it into the lock, while he looked anxiously over his shoulder. All it needed was a guy out walking his dog or some nosey neighbour to spot them and the plan would have to be aborted. Bad news, because Eugene wasn’t sure he could go through this again.
The flat was small, dimly lit and poorly furnished with a jumble of mismatched second-hand stuff: a maroon armchair beside an old TV, close to an unlit gas fire. Across the threadbare carpet, a faded two-seater couch that had known better days sagged in the middle where Yvonne parked her greedy arse and watched soaps when she wasn’t chasing men – that particular piece of furniture would’ve seen plenty of action on many a Friday night after the pubs closed. A drying horse hung with towels and bras and thongs and there was an ironing board squeezed behind it against the wall. In winter, the room would be draughty and hard to heat. Yvonne’s home was barely functional, yet it wouldn’t be cheap. Vale was witnessing the life of a single girl in South London and understood why blackmail would seem attractive.
She dropped her handbag on the floor, kicked off her shoes and fell into the armchair; it sighed under her weight.
‘If you tell me you love what I’ve done with the place, I’ll fucking scream.’
She had a sense of humour, he’d give her that, and for a moment he almost forgot how the evil bitch had forced her way into their business. Then he remembered her threat to expose them to Danny Glass and felt his resolve return. Nina was right: it would never be over. What they were doing had to be.
And it had to be now.
There were tumblers on the draining board. Eugene screwed the top off the wine, bought when he’d stopped the car at an off-licence, and three-quarter filled each glass.
He shouted through to her. ‘How long have you lived here?’
She didn’t reply – maybe she’d fallen asleep. Sleeping wasn’t on, at least, not yet. He took the tablets Nina had given him from his jacket pocket, dropped three of them into one of the drinks and started counting. The magic number was ninety. Ninety seconds for the Xanax to dissolve.
That was a fact – they’d timed it. Twice.
After twenty seconds nothing had happened. Vale kept his voice steady and called over his shoulder. ‘Bloody hell, Yvonne. When was the last time you washed these?’
The question got the response he expected but bought him some time.
‘Fuck off!’
At forty: the pills sat in the bottom like stones in a muddy stream and a pang of anxiety rippled in his chest.
At sixty, a faint line of bubbles peeled away and he relaxed.
By ninety, the Xanax had disappeared.
He lifted the glasses, turned and bumped into Yvonne at his shoulder.
‘Christ’s sake. Don’t creep up on people.’
‘I wasn’t creeping. What’s taking so long?’
He handed her the drink. ‘Should make washing-up liquid your first investment. Does it never occur to you to clean this place up?’
‘Won’t be here much longer.’
‘True.’
She leaned her head against him and let him guide her back into the lounge: her hair smelled of strawberries. Knowing what they were going to do terrified him; he was trapped between two women with cold-blooded murder the only way out.
Yvonne gulped down a quarter of the wine and wiped her mouth with her hand. Vale talked to keep her distracted. ‘What’re you going to do with the cash?’
‘Get out of this dump for a start. After that… it depends.’
‘On what?’
She giggled. ‘How much I screw out of you and your girlfriend.’
‘Today’s only a fraction of what’s coming.’
Yvonne took another pull. ‘Then I’ll retire and be a lady of leisure.’
‘You’re too young to retire.’
She put the glass on the floor and unbuttoned her blouse. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage to amuse myself.’
The material fell away and Vale felt himself stir. What a waste.
‘And if Danny finds out?’
‘I’ll be long gone before that happens.’
‘You better be.’
Yvonne wasn’t listening. She took a step towards him and kicked over the tumbler. Wine spread in a dark pool on the carpet. Vale jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll get you another.’
‘Forget it.’ She dragged his head between her breasts and moaned quietly while he sucked her nipples. Eugene broke away. ‘You’ve got a long night ahead of you, have to keep your strength up.’
In the ti
ny kitchen, he went through the process again, pouring the wine and adding three more Xanax. The drug wouldn’t have time to dissolve – all he could do was pray she was too drunk to notice.
He needn’t have worried; the rush of lust had passed. Yvonne was on the couch, snoring loudly. Vale shook her. When he got no response, he raised the tumbler to her lips. Wine spilled down her chin and pooled at her throat. He dialled Nina’s number.
She was in her car anticipating his call and answered on the first ring.
‘We’ve got a problem.’
‘What kind of problem?’
‘One I can’t handle. You need to be here.’
Nina cursed under her breath – dealing with him would have to wait. Unless the police didn’t buy the set-up. In that case, she’d have no choice. She’d shop him to Danny. He’d believe her because she was his sister: Eugene would die a painful death.
In the flat, the half-empty tumbler of wine and the unconscious Yvonne told Nina all she needed to know. She barked at Vale. ‘How much has she had to drink?’
‘Between the pub and here, a lot.’
‘How many pills?’
‘No idea. Her glass got kicked over before she could finish it. Been trying to get her to take the rest.’
Nina peeled off her jacket and threw it away. ‘Hold her nose. If she can’t breathe, she’ll have to open her mouth.’
Vale did as he was told. Nina pressed the tumbler hard against the line of white teeth and waited. Yvonne groaned, her lips parted and Nina poured the lethal cocktail into her, only stopping when she started to choke.
‘Christ, you’re going to drown her in wine. If—’
Nina cut Eugene off. ‘You had your chance, so shut the fuck up.’
The second attempt was more successful; some of the wine missed the mark. Yvonne spluttered and moaned, but most of it went down her throat. Nina produced a box of Xanax wrapped in tissue from her pocket and set it down on the carpet. Plastic gloves followed. She snapped a pair over her hands and gave another pair to him.
