Dead End

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  Slider nodded. He remembered Marcus’s glee when he called Lev out from the bedroom. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘I took the tube and went to Stefan’s house. When I got there I saw Marcus coming out. I almost turned away, but he saw me and called to me. I went up to him, and he said, “Grandpa’s at home. You’d better go in and have it out, hadn’t you?” And he laughed. It made me angry. So I went in.’

  ‘Wait a minute, you said this was Tuesday afternoon?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sir Stefan was alone?’

  ‘Yes. Except for Buster, of course.’

  ‘Did Buster see you?’

  Lev looked puzzled. ‘He let me in. Why?’

  ‘No, nothing, it doesn’t matter. Go on please.’

  He resumed slowly. ‘Buster showed me to Stefan’s study, and in a minute Stefan came down. He was in a bad temper, I could see straight away. He said he was just going out to rehearsal, that he was in a hurry, and asked me what I wanted. I said that I would come with him, that I would like to watch the rehearsal, and we could talk afterwards, but he said he would be busy and that it wasn’t convenient. He was so cold, I couldn’t bear it. I said he was always too busy to see me these days, and so it began. We quarrelled. I accused him. He admitted it, and said it was none of my business, that I should be grateful to have been noticed by him. I asked how he could bear to touch a woman in that way, and we – he—’

  ‘Yes, I understand. Things grew heated. You both said things you didn’t mean.’

  Lev shook his head. ‘He meant them. That was the worst thing. He meant them. And then he told me to leave, and said he never wanted to see me again. I said he’d be sorry, and I ran out. I was crying, but I was angry too. I wanted to kill him, Just then, I wanted him dead.’

  Slider nodded. ‘You knew about the revolver?’

  ‘I knew about it, but I didn’t think of it then. He’d showed it to me once. He was very proud of it, and he liked to get it out and touch it. He made me hold it once and it – it – excited him.’ The transparent cheeks showed a rush of blood. ‘But I didn’t think of it then. It was afterwards, when I went out into the street, Marcus was waiting for me. He asked how I got on. I told him everything. I was so hurt and angry, you see, and I said to Marcus I wanted to kill Stefan, forgetting it was his grandfather. But Marcus didn’t care about that. When I said I wanted to kill him, Marcus took the gun out of his pocket and said, “You’ll need this, then.”’

  ‘He had Sir Stefan’s revolver in his pocket?’

  Nod. ‘I asked him where he’d got it, and he said he’d taken it just now in case I needed it. I didn’t want to touch it, but he shoved it into my pocket, and when I tried to stop him he said to be careful, it might go off, and when I tried to take it out again he said not to be a fool because someone might see it. And then he patted me on the shoulder and said good luck and left me.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘I went home. I got the bus and went home, with the gun in my coat pocket, feeling huge and hot and as if it was burning a hole. I thought everyone looking at me must know. When I got home I took it out and put it on the table and I thought I could never touch it again. But when I remembered what Stefan had said and how he had treated me, I was so angry and miserable I wanted to die. I picked it up again, thinking I might shoot myself. Oh, I don’t know what I was thinking! And then I remembered the time Stefan had first shown it to me, and then I really wanted to kill him. I decided I would go to the rehearsal the next day, and I would shoot him in front of everyone, shoot him down in public, and then shoot myself afterwards.’ He nodded, his eyes dreamy again. ‘It seemed so good, and I was quite calm then. We would be together for ever, and no-one else would be able to have him. I sat up all night, and I smoked – Marcus had given me a bit, along with the gun – and I thought about it, and in the morning it still seemed very good to me. So I had a shower and dressed myself and put the gun in my coat pocket and got the bus back to Shepherd’s Bush. It was the forty-nine, the same bus I always took when I went to see him at his home, and that seemed right, too, like a pattern.’

  Yes, Slider thought, that was the missing element. The theatricality of the act – shooting Radek down in front of witnesses – had always seemed ludicrous: it did not fit quite comfortably with the notion of Alec Coleraine killing for financial gain. But as the final, suicidal act of a jealous lover, particularly of one so young, ardent, idealistic, and half out of his peanut with illegal substances, it made perfect sense. Like a pattern.

  ‘And so you went to St Augustine’s church, and you shot him,’ Slider said.

  Polowski’s eyes widened. ‘No! I didn’t! At least, I suppose I must have, but I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t mean to kill him.’

  ‘All right, son,’ Slider said. ‘Just tell me about it.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Some Enchanted Afternoon

  In the kitchen Atherton had been hearing the story from the other side. It was an account to amaze but not much to delight.

  ‘How did you know what the relationship was between your grandfather and Lev?’ he asked, at the point in the narrative when it was evident Marcus knew.

  Marcus, sitting on the kitchen table and swinging his legs with deliberate insouciance, said, ‘Grandpa told me himself, of course. I think he saw it as part of my education to corrupt me – not that I saw it as corruption. I mean, who cares these days? I’d have guessed anyway. He didn’t keep anything from me. God, if his adoring public only realised what a filthy old goat he was! He’d do anything, with anything, to anything, and he didn’t care if we knew it. Well, apart from Mum, of course.’ He screwed up his forehead in perplexity. ‘For some reason he really minded what Mum thought of him – and she’s so strait-laced, she’d have done her pieces if she’d ever discovered he was bi. I think she may have guessed that he had the occasional bonk with a female – I mean she’s not totally naïve – but it would never cross her mind that he’d do it with a boy.’

  ‘And you kept the secret from her too?’

  He looked indignant. ‘What d’you take me for? Do you think I’d deliberately upset her? I love my mother, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘I suppose everyone’s got one weakness,’ Atherton remarked.

  ‘Besides, Grandpa would have killed me if I’d split on him. He had a filthy temper, you know – not something you’d provoke twice.’

  ‘So if you knew about Lev and your grandfather, why did you tell Lev about Kate Apwey?’ Atherton asked.

  ‘Oh, just for fun,’ Marcus said indifferently.

  ‘Weren’t you afraid your grandpa’d find out it was you who spilled the beans?’

  ‘Even if he did he wouldn’t have cared. He’d finished with Lev. He’d got bored with him, only Lev didn’t realise it, of course. I was doing Grandpa a favour really, getting Lev off his back.’

  ‘And Lev? Weren’t you supposed to be his friend?’

  ‘We knocked about together, but he was a bit of a geek really. I thought it’d be fun to stir him up. He had no idea what Grandpa was really like – he thought he was a genuine saint. So I painted him the real picture and watched him go green. Then I went round to Grandpa’s and wound him up. It worked a treat – better than I’d expected, actually, because Lev arrived just as I left, so he came in for it all hot and steamy, before the old boy had had a chance to cool off.’

  ‘God, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?’ Atherton said, amazed.

  ‘It was fun. You had to be there. I hung around outside and waited for Lev to come out, and when I saw the expression on his face! If looks could kill! So I gave him the gun and said if he—’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Grandpa’s revolver. He always kept it in his desk drawer, loaded. I took it when he wasn’t looking and gave it to Lev.’

  Atherton controlled himself. ‘I suppose you had a reason for doing that?’

  ‘Yeah, I told you, it was all a bit of fun. I thought Lev was
so mad he’d go and wave it under Grandpa’s nose and give the old boy a fright.’ He slid his eyes sidelong at Atherton and, evidently feeling something less warm than total approval emanating from him, attempted justification. ‘Well, he deserved it, stingy old bastard: all that money he had, doing nothing, and wouldn’t give me a measly penny. Of course, Lev’s such a wimp I didn’t really think he’d actually shoot him—’

  ‘But if he did it wouldn’t matter?’

  ‘Well, we’ve all got to go some time,’ Marcus said virtuously. ‘Grandpa’s had a good innings anyway. And Dad says he’s got – said he had a heart condition,’ he corrected himself. ‘He could have gone off any minute. It’s not like he was young or anything.’

  Youth was, of course, the only justification for being allowed to go on existing. Atherton had come across enough villains in his career to know that while they were all utterly self-serving, most were too stupid to be anything else. Marcus was a new phenomenon, and he stared at him with the professional detachment of a naturalist observing something particularly horrific in the insect world.

  ‘I don’t think you realise it,’ he said gravely, ‘but you are into serious naughties. By taking the gun and giving it to Lev you’ve made yourself an accessory.’

  Marcus sniggered. ‘You make me sound like a bloody handbag or something. Accessory!’

  ‘It’s no laughing matter, I can assure you. You could even be facing a charge of conspiracy to murder. That’s twenty years in chokey.’

  But it was impossible to frighten this appalling young man. ‘Crap,’ he said robustly. ‘I didn’t think for a minute Lev would do it. And in any case, he didn’t mean to. It was an accident. He’ll tell you.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Atherton said. ‘In the meantime, you’d better tell me what happened on Wednesday.’

  Marcus shrugged indifferently. ‘Well, I got up, got dressed, went down to the shop and got some stuff for breakfast, messed around a bit – you don’t want to hear all this, do you?’

  ‘Not at this point. You can skip to the interesting bit.’

  ‘All right, at about half-eleven I got a phone call from this bloke who said he had some gear to sell me, really good stuff, but expensive. Only I was brassic, of course, and he said he’d let it go to someone else if I didn’t take it quick. So I telephoned my father and told him I owed some bloke and he was after my blood. Well, to tell you the truth, I’d already spun him that one a couple of days ago, to try to get him to cough up, and he hadn’t, so I upped the stakes a bit: I said the bloke was threatening to carve me up if I didn’t come up with the money. Poor old Dad believes all that stuff, you know. He thinks he’s Philip Marlowe, poor old geezer! Anyway, he said come up and see him right away and he’d see what he could do.’ Marcus’s mouth turned down. ‘That was a wasted journey. It turned out he was just playing me along. He dragged me all the way up to Tottenham Court Road and then said he couldn’t give me anything. I was furious! We had a row, and I told him what a bastard he was: he didn’t even care if I got cut up. He said he just hadn’t got it. I said in that case why didn’t he kill Grandpa—’ He stopped and smiled at Atherton. ‘Which was amazing irony when you consider, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Amazing,’ Atherton said hollowly.

  ‘Well, eventually I saw there was nothing to be got out of Dad, so I left him and went off to see my mate Steve. I’d given my last bit of brown to Lev last night to cheer him up, you see – which I thought was pretty generous of me – so I went to see if Steve had got a bit in the house, which he usually did. I thought a smoke would calm me down. I mean, I don’t like rowing with Dad, you know, only he’s such a schmuck, I just lose patience with him. Anyway, I was still there, at Steve’s, when Lev phoned me from my flat to tell me he’d killed Grandpa.’

  ‘How did he get in to your flat?’

  ‘Oh, I’d given him the key a couple of weeks before. We were mates, I told you.’

  ‘Mates. I see. And how did he know you would be at Steve Murray’s?’

  ‘Good guess. I spent a lot of time with Steve. Anyway, Lev said he’d shot Grandpa and he didn’t know what to do. So I told him to stay put, do nothing, speak to nobody.’

  ‘In your flat? That was a bit risky, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Well, to tell you the truth,’ Marcus said with a grin, ‘we’d had a bit by then, so I probably wasn’t thinking straight. All I know is, when I put the phone down and told Steve about it, we both thought it was terribly funny. We rolled about and laughed ourselves nearly sick. You know how it is when you’re high.’

  Atherton offered no response, and Marcus shrugged. ‘Anyway, as it turned out no-one had seen Lev properly or recognised him, which was amazing when you think he goes about in that geeky duffel coat, which nobody but him would wear. And he’d worn that hat before, too. But no-one came looking for him, so I just let him stay. I thought eventually if he didn’t get found out he could go back to Poland. I could probably get Mum to cough up enough for that, once she’d got Grandpa’s money, and I thought it would be sort of appropriate really, for his money to pay to get Lev away. It was quite fun when you came round to Steve’s and you obviously hadn’t a clue what you were looking for. But when you turned up here, I knew the game was up. It’s been a laugh, though.’

  ‘You are, without exception, the most appalling animal I’ve ever met,’ Atherton said with a mild, David Attenborough sort of interest.

  Marcus looked sulky. ‘Save that for Lev. He’s the one who killed Grandpa, not me.’

  Slider had found a box of tissues under the television, and Lev was now on his fourth. His eyes and nose were pink in his white face, so that he looked like an albino mouse; but he was talking freely, evidently glad of the chance to get it off his chest. Slider remembered Freddie Cameron saying, ‘They like to tell the tale, old chum, they like to tell the tale.’ Murder bestowed a kind of celebrity on both doer and done to. He had interviewed murderers in his time for whom it had been the one significant event between their birth and their death, and they had recounted it, not exactly with pride, but with a sense of occasion, like the Queen’s Jubilee or When Gran Won the Premium Bonds. And when the murder was a crime passionel, of course, it was an integral part of the affaire, to be told along with the first sight, the first kiss, the first quarrel. Oh darling, they’re playing our tune. ‘When you shoot your true love, across a crowded room …’

  ‘I don’t know if I would have done it if I’d met him face to face when I first got there,’ Lev said, hunching miserably over his soggy tissue like a bird in the rain. ‘Maybe if it had been an ordinary hall … But that church – do you know it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, of course, you must have been there. I was forgetting. Well, it is not like an English church, is it? It’s very Russian in a way. We are Catholics in my family, but there are Orthodox churches in Poland too, and it made me think of home, and Mamma, and my brothers and sisters. When I first went in, the orchestra was there, but there was no sign of Stefan, so I had to stand and wait; and it was dark and smelled of incense, and there were the saints and the icons and the statue of Our Lady. And bit by bit all my anger and hate drained away and I felt very small and frightened, as if I was a little boy and God was watching me. And then Stefan came in. He stood at the side talking to some people, and when I saw him I remembered how much I owed him, how he had given me everything, brought me from Poland, given me the best teachers, arranged concerts for me. And then when I saw him walk across to the podium, as I had watched him so often, I knew I loved him, and I could never hurt him.’

  ‘You were still standing at the back of the church?’

  ‘Yes. I hadn’t moved. I had planned to walk down right to the front and call his name, and when he turned round and saw me, then I would shoot him. I don’t know if I would have. I don’t know if I could ever really have pulled the trigger. It isn’t a thing you can know ahead of time, is it?’

  Slider shook his head. ‘I’ve never been in that positi
on.’

  ‘No. No, I suppose most people haven’t.’ He blew his nose and continued, his drowned eyes staring at nothing. ‘When he appeared I had taken the gun out of my pocket, but still I didn’t move. And when he walked across the platform, all that filled me was love and care for him. He looked ill, and old, and frail, and I was suddenly afraid he might die – isn’t that ridiculous? After planning to kill him, now I was afraid he might die.’

  He stopped, and Slider had to prompt him. ‘So what happened next?’

  Lev looked at him with sudden blue. ‘I don’t know. Truly, truly I don’t know. I must have been pointing the gun at him automatically, because I didn’t know I was. I was tense and anxious, seeing how ill he looked – worried for him. Maybe I was squeezing the trigger, but I didn’t mean to.’ His hands were clenched with it now. ‘He picked up the baton, and then he stopped. I know all his movements, I have watched him in life and on film a thousand, thousand times, and I knew something was wrong. I started forward, a step, one step only, and he collapsed and – and I heard the explosion.’ He put his hands up to his face, flinching at his own touch as if he hadn’t known he was going to do it. ‘I didn’t know what it was at first. I thought it was a bomb or a mortar or something. I thought of the IRA. It was so loud, you see, and close. I thought the roof would fall in on me. And then I smelled the smoke, and I looked down and saw the gun, and I realised I must have pulled the trigger. He was lying there, so still, and I was standing here with a revolver in my hand, and I almost died of horror. I realised I must have shot him, and I couldn’t think of anything to do except run away. But truly I didn’t mean to. You must believe me.’

  The blue was desperate with appeal now. They like to tell the tale – and it matters how it is received.