Killing the Lawyers

by Reginald Hill

  "You look terrible," said Starbright. "You're too old to be up all night celebrating, boy!"

  "Don't the Welsh recognize New Year then?" said Joe.

  "Don't be silly. Can't recognize what you've never seen before, can you?"

  Starbright was obviously in sportive mood.

  Joe said, "You'll be glad to know, that business, we've got it sorted."

  Thought we had it sorted yesterday," said the Welshman suspiciously.

  "We were wrong," said Joe. "It wasn't Mary and Schoenfeld. In fact, they're the good guys. It's Doug Endor."

  Starbright chewed over this for a while but, rather flatteringly, required neither evidence nor explanation. Finally his face cleared.

  "That's all right," he said. "Never did like that slimy bastard. It'll be a pleasure to rearrange his face."

  "Fine," said Joe. "But not till after the race, promise? Don't want to upset Zak."

  He saw he'd found the magic formula and headed up the path.

  Mrs. Oto opened the door to him with a big smile.

  "Joe, come on in. You're our first-foot, we had a nice early night last night what with the race and all."

  Joe hesitated, saying, "Shouldn't I be tall, dark and handsome with a lump of coal or something?"

  "Not going to quarrel over a lump of coal, are we?" said Mrs. Oto. Which when Joe worked it out was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him.

  He went in. She gave him a kiss. Henry Oto appeared and shook his hand. Eddie, on his way up to his computer said, "Hi, Joe." And last but by far the best of all, Zak herself came running down the stairs and when she heard Joe was their first-foot, insisted on kissing him also.

  This felt like it might turn into a good year.

  She said, "Come upstairs. I've got something for you."

  He took the opportunity as they ascended of passing on the good news.

  "It's all OK," he said. "It's all taken care of. I'll save the details till later, but there's no threat, you can run as fast as you like, so long as you whup the rest of them."

  And now came a surprise which was that she didn't show any.

  "Yeah, that's great, Joe. Doug told me yesterday but it's good to have it confirmed."

  "Doug?" he said stupidly.

  That's right. Like you asked him to, that's what he said. He didn't jump the gun, did he?"

  "No, no. Just told you it was all sorted, no more problem, is that right?"

  That's it." She was looking at him puzzled and he forced a smile.

  "So what's the routine?" he said heartily.

  "Few exercises this morning, nothing heavy. Light lunch about midday. Get down to the track couple of hours before the race. Nice gentle warm-up. Last long suck at the old Bloo-Joo to bring my energy level back to top line. Then out in front of the fans, take the cheers, get them all inside me, forget about the people, focus everything I've got on what's to come, ready steady go, and run like hell!"

  "Sounds easy," said Joe. "Maybe I'll try it. You said you had something for me?"

  That's right. Here we go."

  She handed him an envelope. He opened it. It contained two tickets to the mayor's reception that evening.

  "Hey, these are for VIPs," he protested.

  "Joe, you're my VVIP," she said. "Where would I be without you? This is your evening as well as mine in many ways. Promise you'll come."

  "I promise, I promise," said Joe, who'd have promised to sign the pledge if she'd asked him with that smile.

  But his concern about Endor's tactics was strong as ever. He left Zak's room and knocked at Eddie's door. The boy invited him in.

  "Eddie, do me a favour. Those bets you tracked down the other day, can you check if they're still on?"

  "Easy peasy," said the boy. "First time takes time. After that, you know the way."

  It took a few minutes all the same.

  "Still there," said Eddie. "Plus there's a lot more money."

  "Laid on Zak losing?"

  That's right."

  This made things even more puzzling. OK, so Endor had decided he was so close to being rumbled, his best move was to play innocent, bluff it out. And OK, so it might not be easy to withdraw a bet once made. But this putting more money on, that was crazy. Unless it wasn't Endor?

  He found himself looking with renewed suspicion at Mary when she turned up with Abe, then scolded himself. No one could be that devious. Could they?

  He told her what had happened and was glad to see that either she was as taken aback as he was, or the greatest performer since Gary.

  "He's a devious bastard, we'll need to watch him," she said.

  "If he's around to watch," said Joe, thinking that in the same circumstances he personally would be long gone.

  On the way to the Plezz he watched Zak carefully to see if there was any sign that she'd been got at again. When they got out of the car, he let her stride ahead and whispered to Starbright, Tick up her locker key. Check out that it's OK, no little messages."

  "You think there might be?"

  "Just a precaution," assured Joe.

  The Welshman hurried away. Joe caught up with Zak and thought of some excuse to delay her, but found he didn't need it. As they entered the building the first person they saw was Douglas Endor.

  "Zak, my girl, you look gorgeous. Happy New Year."

  He kissed her cheek then grabbed Joe's hand and shook it enthusiastically.

  "And you too, Joe. Happy New Year."

  This is crazy, thought Joe, looking at his friendly, smiling face. Either this guy's got religion or he's on something.

  They stood for a few moments while Endor described a party he'd been at the previous night which had ended with his two snooker proteges playing a challenge match on the municipal bowling green.

  It was a good story and Zak went on her way, laughing.

  That's the way to do it, Joe," said Endor. "Some people need hyped up. With Zak, I never mention the race, just tickle her fancy with a joke or two. If she goes off laughing, I know that chances are she's feeling good enough to win."

  This was getting too much.

  Joe said, "Mr. Endor, it's over."

  "Mr. Endor? Doug, Joe. Thought we'd got that settled. What's over?"

  The game. We know what's going on. Zak knows there's no danger any more."

  "Yeah, I told her. You asked me to, remember? You done a really good job, Joe. I know it's Zak who's paying you, but I'd like to give you a little bonus."

  He put his hand into his inside pocket. If he pulls money out, I'll have to hit him, thought Joe unhappily. It was his experience that people who got hit usually hit back. But it wasn't bank notes, Endor produced, but a pair of the ornately engraved invitation cards to the mayor's reception.

  "Hottest ticket in town," said Endor. "Can't make it myself and it seems a pity to let them go to waste. Bring your best girl."

  He walked away with that jaunty, bouncy step which told all the world, Here comes the most successful guy you 're likely to meet in a long day's walking.

  What the shoot's going on? wondered Joe, putting the invites with the others. Either I got it all wrong or this guy's a runner for the Best Actor Oscar.

  It was deeply worrying. From what Mary had said, Endor made big bucks but he spent as big as he made, and most of his bets if they were his bets would be in electronic money. Once he lost, however, the bookies would look to see it turn into hard cash. And if it didn't... he recalled one of Aunt Mirabelle's more fearsome exhortations Better you owe money to a Chinese bookie than you risk the wrath of the Lord. He doubted if his aunt had had much experience of the profession, but anything that came even a distant second to her angry God was best avoided.

  He went along to the viewing cafe and ordered a whole pot of black coffee. The place was bustling with early arrivals, but he found a table to himself at the highest level right under the big TV screen. ITV was carrying the meeting and from time to time they flashed up shots of the Plezz with hyped-up trails
of the excitements to come. There was a recorded interview with Zak on screen when Beryl plumped into the seat beside him.

  "Gets everywhere, don't she? But she is beautiful," said Beryl.

  "Yeah."

  "Hey, you could try, not as beautiful as you, my love, or some flattering crap like that," said Beryl.

  "Yeah. Sorry. Where's Desmond?"

  "Where you think? Up at the counter, my sister's buying him some junk food. So why're you looking so miserable, Joe? Thought this would be Sherlock Holmes's finest hour."

  "You reckon? When he solved a big one, didn't the villain usually snarl, Curse you, Holmes! and jump over a waterfall or something?"

  "Something like that. What's up? Endor not obliging?"

  "No. Maybe villains don't act that way any more. Maybe they're like politicians. You get found out, you just move over to a better paying job in the City. I mean, what would you do if you found out your carefully planned and highly profitable crime had been blown?"

  "Well, I guess I'd move on to Plan B, and it would be even worse. Hey, my love, you going to eat all of that? You make yourself sick, I'll hose you down with ice-cold water, you hear?"

  She was addressing her young son, who came towards them carrying a tray laden with burgers, a banana split, and a glass of liquid so blue it was almost fluorescent.

  "No, it's OK, you can eat anything so long as you drink your Bloo-Joo, that's what Zak drinks and it makes you real healthy," declared the boy solemnly. "See."

  He looked up at the TV screen where the interview had broken for the commercials, first of which was Zak once more, puffing the virtues of her favourite drink. It ended with her taking a long pull at a bottle, getting down on a start-line and sprinting off into the distance.

  "Give herself indigestion if she does it like that," observed Beryl. "And you'll give yourself indigestion if you eat all that. Joe, give the boy a hand here."

  But Joe was on his feet. He ruffled the boy's hair and said,

  "I expect you can manage by yourself, eh, Des? Me, I've got work to do round here. Beryl, thanks. She's no way as beautiful as you, believe me."

  He stooped, kissed her cheek and moved away purposefully.

  "Work?" said Beryl's sister, who'd just arrived in time to see Joe leave. "You don't mean he's got himself a job at last?"

  She was allied with Aunt Mirabelle in refusing to believe that being a PI was a suitable job for a man. Where they differed was that she reckoned that any alliance with Joe would drag Beryl down, while Mirabelle was convinced it would be his salvation.

  "I think he may have," said Beryl, touching her cheek. "But I wish I knew what it was!"

  It was a good meeting with many fine athletes and some stirring contests, but for the vast majority of the spectators, it was all hors d'oeuvres in preparation for the main course. At last the moment came. The simple appearance of Zak Oto on the track produced an eruption of applause which far out-decibel'd even that given to the most popular winners so far. She turned a full circle, acknowledging it. Then she shut it off. It was a visible act, like turning off a light, and the roar of the crowd faded in response to the intensity of that self-focusing. Watching her remove her tracksuit was like watching a priestess disrobe for some arcane ceremonial. She was all beauty, not just of feature and shape, but of purpose. Beside her the other athletes looked awkward, angular, flat-footed almost. Not that they were. This was no fixed fight, no mismatch in which the contender knocks over some has-been in the first round as part of a triumphal progress to the big time. Here were champions, record holders, Olympians. And for the first part of the race they ran like that, with Zak always in touch, but never closer to the front than third or fourth, and there was just a touch of anxiety in the encouraging roar of the crowd. Then with two laps to go she emerged, so swiftly, gracefully, effortlessly, that at first it was as if the crowd didn't notice, or couldn't believe what they were seeing. One moment she was nowhere, next she was in front, and with every flowing stride she was going further ahead. The roar of the crowd climaxed, encouraging no longer, but triumphal, celebratory, warm with love and intoxicated with delight, and a touch self-congratulatory also in the knowledge that this wasn't just a here and now event, this was one for all time, this was one to savour around future firesides when you would win the envious respect of fellow sports lovers by the simple declaration I was there.

  It came as no surprise to anyone when on the huge electronic Scoreboard there flashed the message WORLD INDOOR RECORD!

  Joe, standing high up at the back of the steep tiers of seats overlooking the finishing line, had cheered himself hoarse. Below on the track Zak was being embraced by Abe Schoenfeld.

  "The girl done well," said a voice in his ear.

  He turned to see Doug Endor standing alongside him.

  "She's the greatest thing since ..." Joe's imagination failed him. He went on, "You must be sorry you won't be handling her in the future, Mr. Endor."

  Endor said, "Not really. Got my reputation to think of, haven't I?"

  This cryptic comment came out like a sneer. It was cutting-the-crap time, Joe decided. Casually he said, Thing puzzles me, the card on her pillow, how'd you manage that?"

  "Don't know what you're talking about," said Endor. "But if I had wanted to leave a card in her bedroom, I might have gone up to the John while I was visiting, slipped into her room, stood on her bed, and stuck the card to the ceiling with just enough tack to hold it there a few hours but not forever. Bright-coloured card would never be noticed in the crap she'd got up there already. Of course, I'd need to be really lucky for it to flutter down right on her pillow, but fortune favours the brave, they say."

  Joe recalled the mark he'd noticed on the postcard. He'd thought there might have been a stamp there. Idiot! Endo Venera would have been on to that like Whitey on to a pork scratching.

  He said, "Brave? Making her think her family might be involved was brave?"

  "Nothing personal. Just a way of keeping the cops out. Like recommending some local shoestring gumshoe might have been a good way of stopping her hiring some high-powered, hi-tech firm who could have been really dangerous, if I'd done something, which of course I haven't."

  Below Zak had run to where her family were sitting and was joined with them in one huge communal hug.

  "Oh, you did it all right, Doug," said Joe. "Only thing that's hard to figure is, how come you're so laid back about falling flat on your face."

  "Joe, who needs aggro? Life's nothing unless you take time off to sniff the flowers. Just look at that girl. Isn't that real happiness? And can't I feel proud I had some part in creating it?"

  Below, Zak, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses, was doing a lap of honour, pausing from time to time to blow kisses and throw blooms to the adoring crowd. Tears were streaming down her face, but she was one of those rare creatures whose beauty not even weeping could destroy.

  They didn't want her to go ever, but after three such laps, Abe took her arm and spoke into her ear and with one last wave she turned and ran down the tunnel.

  "Better get down there and say well done," said Endor. "After all, for the next few days I'm still her agent."

  Joe followed him down the stairs. They flashed their passes at the security guard and went into the corridor which led to the changing rooms. There was quite a press of people down here too and ahead they could see Zak and Abe outside the medical-examination room, talking animatedly to a group of three men and a woman. After a while Zak shrugged her shoulders, patted Abe on the shoulder and went into the med. room with the woman.

  Abe looked round, saw Joe and came towards him.

  "What's going on?" asked Joe.

  "AAA's drug-testing team," said Abe, avoiding looking at Endor.

  "Shoot. Were you expecting them?"

  They do random tests. And naturally they're at all the big medal meetings, so the winners can expect to get a going-over. But I didn't think they'd come along to something like this, inaugural meeting, not
hing at stake but a town's reputation."

  "She did break the world record, perhaps that's it," suggested Joe.

  "No. I think there's more to it. From what one of them let slip, they had some kind of tip-off. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Endor? Trying for one last smear before you go?"

  He thrust his face close to the agent's, no longer attempting to conceal his dislike.

  "Now why the hell should I do that, Abe?" enquired Endor. "Zak's clear, ain't she? You must know that, you're her coach. And if she's clear, what would be the point? Of course, if there's something to hide ..."

  Joe moved in quickly as Abe bunched his fists.

  "Better get back there, Abe," he said quietly. "I'll look after Mr. Endor."

  With one last hating glance, the coach moved away.

  Joe turned to Endor.

  "I really don't like what I'm thinking," he said.

  "And what's that, Joe?"

  "You couldn't be so low, could you? Oh shoot, now I see you close up, I believe you could!"

  "Could what, Joe? You lot are all the same, you seem to talk English, only a lot of the time us poor natives can't understand a sodding word you're saying."

  "I'm talking about fixing for Zak to take in some kind of banned drug, then tipping off the inspection team so she'll test positive. If that happens she'll be disqualified and anyone betting on her not winning will cash in. But there's more than that, isn't there? I bet you were almost pleased to have to fall back on Plan B. This way not only do you get your money, you get your revenge. She'll be finished forever, won't she? And probably Abe with her. That's why you've given me your tickets to the mayor's reception, isn't it? You reckon it's going to be the biggest wake this town has ever seen. Endor, you're so low, you make dung beetles walk proud!"

  The agent shook his head in a bewilderment belied by the pleasure in his eyes.

  There you go again, Joe. Talking in tongues. If it turns out that Yank has been feeding poor little Zak funny pills to make her run faster, then there'll be nobody more sorry than me. In fact, I may be so sorry that I'll have to sell my story to the papers to let the world know I don't think it's all her fault. Joe, you don't look so well."