After He Died

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After He Died Page 26

by Michael Malone


  Before she could talk herself out of doing it, Paula pulled out her mobile and pressed out a text.

  Sorry I was a bit crabbit today. Seeing that poor boy like that got to me.

  She read it over. That didn’t seem too way out there. Then she thumbed out some more.

  Now at my in-laws. Hope you’re having a more exciting evening.

  There. Was it too needy? Should she add a little emoticon? Something to show how she was not looking forward to spending time with Bill and Daphne?

  Enough.

  She pressed the send button.

  The noise of the rain hitting the car eased a little and without giving it another thought, Paula threw her phone into her handbag, climbed out of the car, and ran along the pavement towards Bill and Daphne’s door.

  As she reached it, she saw it was slightly open. Then she noticed it had been propped ajar with a half-brick. She turned and looked up and down the street to see if perhaps one of the neighbours had propped it open while they went out to their car. But there was no one about. Whoever had walked past her car before had disappeared. She pressed the buzzer, so that Daphne would know she was there, and ducked just inside the close, out of the rain, urging Daphne to hurry up and answer – she was spooked down here in the dark.

  Seconds later, a voice sounded over the intercom.

  ‘Come in,’ said Daphne. Paula hurried towards the stairs, thinking about the tenor of those two words, trying to find clues as to the woman’s state of mind, but she got nothing. Daphne had been entirely neutral.

  When she arrived at Bill and Daphne’s landing, she noticed that the door to the flat opposite was open. A sliver of light from the hall inside sliced across the doormat. That was weird. Maybe the owner had gone down to the bins in the court at the back door? She’d never met the new owner. For years it had been old Mrs Paterson who lived there. But she’d died a couple of years back and she’d never heard from either Bill or Daphne who’d bought it.

  She turned to Daphne’s door, expecting it to be open but it was firmly closed. She knocked and waited.

  Nothing.

  She knocked again louder now, but still there was no response.

  This was strange. Daphne had just answered the intercom.

  She pressed the side of her head against the door and listened for movement, but there was nothing. The space inside seemed silent.

  A noise from behind her, somewhat similar to the cry of an urban fox. It sounded again. That wasn’t a fox; it was a woman. And it was coming from the flat opposite Bill and Daphne’s place.

  Heart thumping, Paula made her way across to the other door, placing her feet lightly on the floor, ready to run at any second.

  Another cry, then: ‘No, Bill. No.’

  That was Daphne. Definitely Daphne, and without further thought Paula pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  ‘Daphne? Bill?’ she shouted into the flat. It had the same layout to the one at the other side of the building: a large square hall, this one with bare unstained floorboards, as if the owner had not long ago pulled up the carpet – and off the hall four doors that must lead to the kitchen, sitting room and two bedrooms, all of them closed and even in the weak light Paula could see that they all needed a coat of paint.

  ‘Daphne?’ Paula shouted again.

  And there – weeping. It sounded as if it was coming from behind the sitting-room door. She felt a flurry of worry. Bill. What was happening to him? She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  And nothing made sense.

  All the lights were switched off, so it took a few moments for Paula to work out what she was seeing.

  She reached out with a hand to the wall beyond the door where a light switch should be, and fumbled about for a moment before she found it. She pushed it up. Nothing happened.

  ‘What…?’

  All she had to go on was the electric light coming in from the streetlights outside, but there on two chairs, upright, hands behind their backs sat Bill and Daphne. Both were staring at her with a look of fear and warning.

  There was a noise, a chuckle, and then behind them, emerging from the shadow, was Anton Rusnak.

  ‘You took your time, Mrs Gadd. Care to have a seat?’ His accent was much less pronounced than she’d heard during previous conversations.

  ‘What…?’

  He pulled a seat from somewhere and placed it in a position that formed a rough triangle with Bill and Daphne.

  ‘Sit.’ It was a command. And then, with a chill, she saw he was holding his right hand up, and there was the glint of a long blade.

  She sat, and looking over at Bill and Daphne, saw them properly for the first time. Bill had a swollen right eye, bruising down one side of his face and a cut on his lip. Daphne’s blouse was torn open, exposing one large bra-clad breast.

  ‘You okay? Bill? Daphne?’ She looked up at Rusnak, trying to ignore the fear that was now pulsing through her body. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You can stop pretending now, Mrs Gadd. We know you weren’t the little lady who only did lunch. Time to tell the truth.’

  ‘What the hell are you on about?’

  In two steps Anton was looming over her. His hand shot out. A slap sounded into the room. Pain sparked across her cheek.

  Paula fought back a cry.

  ‘I have no time for lies, Mrs Gadd.’ His voice was deep, quiet and unnerving. ‘I have already killed three people and I won’t hesitate to kill another three.’

  Three?

  Kevin, Elaine and Danny. So not Thomas. Not Joe. She tried to take in the scene, while working out what this all meant.

  Daphne gave a little whimper, disrupting her thoughts.

  ‘Just tell him, Paula. Tell him, please?’ she begged.

  ‘Tell him what? What am I supposed to know? I’ve no idea what’s going on.’

  Rusnak snorted. ‘You know everything, Paula. Tommy and I shared plenty of drunken evenings. He adored you. No way would he keep all of this to himself.’

  ‘You killed poor Kevin?’ she said, as if she was hearing his words on delay. ‘And Elaine? What the hell did she do to deserve that?’ Her pulse boomed in her neck now. Dear God, this was horrible.

  ‘It deflected the police from what was really going on. We all benefit from that.’

  ‘We all what?’ She studied him, trying to find the man who had helped her when she’d been mugged. Unless…

  His arm shot out again. Paula’s head rocked back, pain exploding down the right side of her face.

  ‘Tell him, Paula, or he’ll kill us,’ Bill begged.

  ‘I don’t bloody know anything, Bill. Aren’t you people listening?’

  Rusnak took a step outside the triangle, moved behind Bill and pressed the tip of his knife against the side of his neck. Even in the weak light Paula could see a trickle of blood run from where the point was pressed against Bill’s skin.

  ‘Okay,’ said Rusnak, staring into Paula’s face. She’d never seen a pair of eyes so dark, so lacking in anything that could be considered human. ‘Let’s play your game for a moment. Bill here will explain what has been going on.’

  But Bill’s head slumped onto his chest as if that was beyond him. As if he didn’t want Paula to hear about his folly. Rusnak grabbed a hold of his hair and pulled his head up.

  ‘Speak,’ he commanded.

  Bill jerked up and shot him a look of loathing, a look that promised if he wasn’t tied up Rusnak wouldn’t be getting it all his own way. Then he looked over at Paula.

  ‘So sorry, Paula,’ he shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry for everything,’ he said.

  ‘Just tell her,’ Daphne screamed suddenly, as if she was about to lose control.

  Bill lifted his head up as if it was taking all of his energy. As if he was resigned to whatever was going to happen next.

  ‘I know Joe told you about how he got into debt, how the casino sold his debt on and the loan sharks added a ridiculous amount of interest.’ He swallowed and h
is voice changed. ‘Anton and his crew helped him out…’ Was that guilt she heard in his tone? Was Bill responsible for introducing Joe to Anton? If he did, how on earth would Bill know someone like that?

  ‘What does that have to do…’ Paula was shaking with fear but determined this man wouldn’t notice.

  ‘Stop playing the fool, Mrs Gadd,’ Anton said. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

  Then, his eyes remaining on Paula, he spoke to Bill. ‘Carry on, William.’

  ‘These guys needed a legit business, so the deal was that Thomas was to open some weird account things. All legit, like, using some kind of legal loophole. There was one million pounds in each of them.’

  Paula pretended to be surprised. ‘Wait. One million pounds? In how many accounts?’

  ‘Don’t bother, Mrs Gadd,’ Anton said with a quiet certainty. ‘We know you know.’

  ‘Yeah, one million in ten separate accounts,’ continued Bill. ‘And if Thomas complied they’d write off Joe’s debt.’

  Paula thought this through. She’d been right. She could see Thomas coming through for Joe. He wouldn’t think twice to help him.

  ‘And if he didn’t?’

  ‘If he didn’t,’ Rusnak chimed in, ‘Father Joe would be lying in some nice piece of consecrated ground.’

  ‘You’d kill a man of the cloth?’ Paula asked with real shock.

  ‘Is only man like the rest of us. The people I work for demand results, Mrs Gadd.’ As Rusnak spoke he stepped back into the shadows till all she could make out in the gloom of the room was his large, louring outline. ‘I don’t get results, then my family pay terrible price.

  ‘There’s one piece of jigsaw we need you to complete for us, Mrs Gadd. Before your husband’s heart attack he withdrew one hundred thousand pounds from each of these ten accounts and hid it from us. He told Bill this was their commission, isn’t that right, Bill?’

  Bill nodded.

  The mention of Thomas’s heart attack reminded Paula that she hadn’t ever had an answer to the question of Bill’s presence when Thomas died.

  ‘You were with him, Bill,’ Paula said quietly. ‘At the end. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Bill looked across at her, his expression difficult to read in the darkness, but she imagined she could see shame. ‘I could have been a better brother to you, Paula.’

  Daphne snorted.

  ‘Enough,’ shouted Anton.

  ‘It would have helped to know that you were there,’ Paula said.

  Anton put his blade to Bill’s throat. ‘Enough.’

  ‘What about Joe?’ Paula asked Rusnak. ‘What have you done with Joe?’ She looked at Bill. ‘The young priest said it wasn’t like him to leave without saying. He said he hadn’t even packed his toothbrush.’

  ‘Joe’s fine,’ Bill said and there was certainty there. ‘He must be away on a retreat or something.’

  ‘Now if we’ve sorted the family out, could we concentrate on the matter of a lot of money, please?’ Anton said with heavy sarcasm, stepping towards her, and shouting: ‘One million pounds, to be precise!’

  ‘I don’t know anything about the money,’ Paula said rearing away from his sudden outburst. ‘Honestly.’

  Paula thought through the transactions she’d seen on the screen, and then became aware of Anton’s scrutiny.

  ‘It’s strange. Sometimes experts do get it right,’ he said with unnerving calm. ‘You looked up and right, Mrs Gadd, which means a visually remembered image.’ He moved closer to her, pointing the knife. ‘You saw my bank accounts. And I need to know where that missing million is.’

  ‘I told you, I don’t bloody know.’ She kept her eyes on Anton, looking straight ahead, wondering how else she might be betraying herself. As she did so she tried to assess the distance to the door. Could she get there before he did? But if she did get away, what would he do with Bill and Daphne? Would that put them at more risk?

  As if he could read her mind he said. ‘Don’t think about running. That will only make me angry. I do crazy things when angry.’

  Paula looked around, desperately trying to think of something that might get her out of this situation – get them all out alive. The room was almost bare, displaying nothing that suggested anyone might be living here. A long table rested against the far wall. At one end there was a chair that matched the ones they were all sitting on. Before that there was a laptop, printer and what looked like a large roll of duct tape. Underneath the table she could see that the floor was lined with boxes of various sizes.

  Anton watched her sizing the place up and grinned. ‘What do you see, Paula? Tommy always said you were smart lady.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me,’ Paula said, hearing a tremor in her voice. She tried to swallow her fear and anger, to inject strength in her voice. Men like this respected courage didn’t they? ‘You’re wasting your time here. Why don’t you let us all go and we’ll pretend it never happened?’

  Anton looked up to the ceiling as if he was considering this, then made a buzzer sound. ‘How about this? You tell me where the money is and I let you all go?’

  ‘Anton, please,’ Paula said. ‘I don’t know where it is. Really.’ She heard a little girl in her voice and hated him for making her sound like that.

  ‘I think you do, Mrs Gadd. And I need you to tell me where it is.’

  That was the second time he’d said the word ‘need’, rather than ‘want’. And she thought there was a hint of desperation there each time he said it. This was a lot of money. Could it be part of something bigger? Might he have been fleecing a larger operation and it had gone awry? She remembered the article about the Moldovan Government she’d told Joe about. Was this a similar type of operation?

  He’d also said if he didn’t get results his family would suffer. What exactly did he mean by that? If he was in a corner, that would make him even more dangerous.

  At that thought Paula blanched. If this was part of something bigger they were all in trouble.

  Rusnak read her face as she processed all of this, and as if he’d guessed where her mental journey had taken her he nodded. ‘I think you are understanding the severity of this situation.’ He smiled. ‘Let me impress that upon you further.’ He moved across to her and pulled her to her feet. ‘Would you like some Polish meat? Where Bill refused, I won’t and he would have been nicer.’ He tutted, and his expression froze the blood in her heart. He leaned down and sniffed at her neck. Licked it.

  She recoiled with a jerk, but the chair behind her stopped her from moving any further away.

  And then she thought: Where Bill refused? What did he mean?

  Anton gripped her arm with one hand and touched her face with the other. It was still smarting there from when he had slapped her and she grimaced. The evidence of her pain drew a cold smile from him, his eyes suggesting he was keeping himself on the leash, and warning that if he let himself go the result would be terrifying.

  ‘Please, Anton, please,’ she begged. ‘I don’t know anything.’ She had no idea how she was still on her feet her legs were trembling so much.

  He leaned down, cocked his head to the side and pressed his mouth against hers, pushing his tongue inside just for a moment. She choked, gasping in disgust, her knees gave out and she fell back onto the seat.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Paula heard Bill say. And again. ‘That’s enough. You were just supposed to scare her a little. She clearly doesn’t know anything.’

  What?

  Paula moved her head to the side and looked beyond Anton. Bill was on his feet, glowering at the big Pole. There was something in his eyes that took Paula completely by surprise, and judging by the way Daphne was looking up at him, she saw it, too.

  Partnership.

  Whatever was going on here? Whatever this was, he saw himself as Anton’s equal.

  43

  ‘Do you think our Danny suffered?’ Heather asked Cara, her eyes like a haunting.

  Cara had carefully told Heather about how she’d arrange
d to meet Danny with Paula Gadd – the woman whose husband Cara held responsible for Sean’s death. ‘I wanted her to know what kind of man he was,’ Cara had said, sadly.

  Then she went on to tell the older woman how, when she and Paula had found her son, he was already dead. She decided to miss out the part about the knife sticking out of him, the pool of congealing blood in his lap.

  Cara shook her head in answer to Heather’s question, then coughed to clear her throat of emotion. ‘No.’ And the word was barely audible, so she said it again. ‘The police said it would have been very quick.’ She paused. ‘Mind if we go in the kitchen?’ she asked her, having a look around the room at the crowd of women, and suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  ‘Sure, doll,’ Heather said with a tight smile. She climbed to her feet as if it was costing her the last reserves of her energy. ‘C’mon.’

  In the kitchen, there was no room for any chairs, so they leaned against the cabinets and watched the kettle while it boiled. The space was narrow enough to stand in the middle of the floor and put a hand on the cabinets on either side. Eyes drawn to the ceiling, Cara noticed there was a large hole.

  Heather noted where her eyes had gone and explained. ‘I had a leak and the plumber had to get to the pipe.’ She gave a pained smile. ‘Danny was supposed to fix it ages ago. Said all it needed was some plywood. Wouldn’t let me get a man in to fix it … said it was his job.’ She turned away from Cara to face the kettle that had reached the boil. ‘What was it you wanted, hen?’

  ‘I’ll just have a glass of water, if you don’t mind. I’m kinda coffee’d out today.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Heather said with a small glint in her eye as if she’d just located her sense of humour. Then it immediately faded as the tears welled up. ‘Water?’ Heather asked as if stirring herself and finding some energy. She reached up into a cupboard. ‘There’s some glasses. Help yourself.’

  Cara reached up and pulled one out, then filled it at the tap. She leaned her back against the sink and faced Danny’s mother.

  ‘He had his up and downs, you know?’ Heather was staring at the wall. ‘He talked about mibbe coming into some money, just a week or so ago. I said, aye so you will. He was always full of big talk. But he was getting there. It was all that two steps forwards and one step back sorta thing. He’d do well – and I have to thank you for helping him getting to see his weans. He was made up about that, so he was. And then…’ she shook her head ‘…there would be a cheap score and he would … Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy.’ Her head fell forwards so that her chin was on her breast bone as she gave in to her weeping.

 

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