BLOOD DRUGS TEA (A Dark Comedy Novel)

by Saunders, Craig

  He came in around six o’clock. I had only two pints in just under half an hour but I already felt full of self pity. Why did I always have to deal with the tough stuff? Pill came in and sat down next to me with a pint of lager – I was drinking Guinness. Pill usually cheers me up. It didn’t work. I figured if I sat in the pub for long enough the police would pull Joe in and I wouldn’t have to tell Harry about it.

  “Hey Pill,” I said.

  “Jake. You look proper miserable. What’s up?”

  “Joe. The police are going to question him. Turns out he beat up some girl. Broke her jaw. He was committed for it. Didn’t serve any real time but I guess a psychiatric ward counts as time too. I never knew.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was going to be so bad. So they know about Joe and the girl, Tracey?”

  “Yeah. They know. They did the same thing you did. They went in all the local boozers and asked around. Turns out one of the barmaids recognised her and told the police she’d been in with someone who looked like Joe. He’s pretty easy to pick out in a line up. Big as he is, he sticks out.”

  “That’s tough. How’s Harry taking it?”

  “She’s not. I haven’t had the heart to tell her. I don’t know what to say. I figured if I stayed in here for long enough she’d find out anyway.”

  “Why’d he lie about knowing the girl?”

  “Maybe he killed her,” I said. I knew as soon as I’d said it that it didn’t ring true.

  “You really think so?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t know why he lied about the girl. We’ll find out when the police let him go. We’ll have to ask him.”

  “You think they’ll let him go then?”

  “Yeah, I’m fairly sure Joe’s not a killer.”

  “Fairly?”

  “Fairly.”

  We fell into silence for a while and drank our pints. The inside of the Partridge was all dark wood and it was already smoky. The three cigarettes I’d smoked since I’d been in here were adding to the ambience.

  “Ah,” he sighed. He’d spotted the barmaid, Patricia. I don’t know why he fancies her. She’s cute but overly made up.

  “What do you see in her?” I asked.

  “She makes my bad bone sing.”

  I laughed. It was slightly strained. ”Where did you hear that? MTV, I suppose.”

  He clucked. “Might’ve been,” Pill said sulkily.

  “Give it up, Pill. You ain’t never gonna be cool.”

  “Well, that was an interesting spat of grammatical stumblry. Anyway, you don’t have to like her. It’s enough that I do.”

  “Eh? Grammatical stumblry?”

  “Nevermind. I’m just being pernickety.”

  “Eh? I said. I rubbed my eyes. I wasn’t sure if Pill wasn’t making sense of if I needed some more sleep. It had been a rough day already.

  The secrets were pilling up. We sat hugging our beers and waited for nothing in particular. Pill sighed a lot as he watched the barmaid pulling pints and the after work crowd start coming in. Tom, our favourite barman, wasn’t on yet. Ordinarily there would be a bit of banter with Tom but today we waited in silence.

  Eventually Tom came in from the cold shaking his head to dislodge some of the rain clinging to his crew cut. He noticed us and raised a hand in our direction. I got up to get another couple of pints.

  “Fit girl,” said Tom by way of greeting, eyeing Patricia, who was serving at the other end of the bar.

  “She’s alright, I guess.” I put the two pint glasses down on the bar and asked for the same again. Tom knew what we drank. He set about pulling the pints. He left the Guinness to settle three quarters of the way full. I knew he wouldn’t put a shamrock on it, which was just one of the reasons I liked drinking in here. I don’t drink as much as I used to. I used to be a right lush, but these days I kept my consumption down to a minimal six pints in a night. I only drink pints and wine now, as a general rule. I don’t let my drinking get out of hand. I keep a bottle of scotch about the house, though. Just for medicinal purposes.

  Tonight was strictly a pint night.

  “Why don’t you like her?” asked Tom. “She’s stunning.”

  “Who, Patricia?”

  “Yeah, why don’t you fancy her? Every man who comes in here fancies her.”

  “Cause she’s a fucking moron, Tom.” I said. “When you get a bit older you’ll realise there’s no shortage of beautiful outsides in the world.”

  “I’m as old as you are, you wally.” Wally was as offensive as Tom got. He was a good barman.

  “How’s it going?” said Pill, who’d come up next to me at the bar.

  “Alright. What do you think of Patricia?”

  “Fittest girl in the pub. Jake thinks she’s a thicky.”

  “Who cares?” said Tom.

  “You’re all sexist. The only reason she’s got a job is because of her looks. She can’t even add up.”

  “Bollocks,” said Tom. “The only reason women get jobs in the first place is because men are sexist. If we weren’t sexist who do you think would employ them?”

  This went on for a while. I drank some more.

  Tom coming in stopped Pill and I discussing Joe. I didn’t want to go home cause I didn’t want to face it.

  *

  It was eight o’clock by the time I got home. I should have been the right side of drunk but instead I just felt like I was getting a headache. I lay back on the couch and stared at the telephone. I still hadn’t called Joe. I guess he would have been pulled in by now. I knew I should call Harry but I couldn’t face it.

  The phone finally rang. I picked it up on the eleventh ring. I figured whoever it was would get bored and leave me alone, but it obviously wasn’t going to happen.

  “Hello,” I said into the receiver.

  “Jake, it’s Joe.”

  “Joe,” I realised as I said it I was sounding dumb. I wasn’t expecting Joe to be out yet. He didn’t know I knew and I wasn’t ready to let on yet but he told me anyway.

  “I’ve been at the police station this evening.”

  “Really?” I said for want of anything better to say. “What’s going on?”

  “They think I killed the girl. Harry was here when they came for me. She’s not here now. I don’t think she’s talking to me. They told her why they were bringing me in. I think she called Harvey to find out what was going on after they took me in.”

  “So where’s Harry now?”

  “I don’t know. I think she’s annoyed at me. I can understand it.”

  He sounded sane. I wondered if this was a good time to tell him what I knew or if he’d think I’d been holding back. I couldn’t stand accusations at this point. I decided to let him tell his own story.

  “Yep, she probably is. She only leaves yours when you’ve had a fight.”

  “How come? I didn’t do anything. She shouldn’t have left. I got back and there was no-one here.”

  “How come she’s annoyed with you Joe? What happened?”

  “I hit a girl once. I don’t know why she’d be annoyed about that.”

  “You hit a girl?”

  There was silence on the phone for a while. “Yeah. I hit a girl. I mean if they want equality you think they’d take a punch as well as a guy, but it turns out this girl couldn’t take a punch. I broke her jaw.”

  “And you never told Harry this?”

  “I didn’t see any reason to.”

  “Why did the police pull you in Joe?”

  He sighed. “I knew the girl.”

  “The girl you punched?”

  “No, the girl who died.”

  “And Harry found out?”

  “The cops must have told her about it. There was a note, for fuck’s sake. We’ve been going out with each other for years and she left a note.”

  “What did the note say?”

  “Said she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. Why is she so annoyed?”

  “I think that’s
the point. You lied to her.”

  “For fuck’s sake. I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell the truth. She’s annoyed for no reason. Fucking hell, it’s not like I raped her dog or anything.” As an afterthought he added, “or forgot her birthday.”

  “You lied to her.”

  “Where’s she going to go? It’s not like she’s got a job or anything. She can’t just leave me.”

  “You don’t live together.”

  “But we spent all our time together.”

  “She’ll be fine on her own.”

  “But what about me?”

  “You’ll be fine.” I couldn’t really say anything else. My head was pounding with deceit and stout. I should call Harry but I didn’t know what to say.

  “I think they think I did it.”

  “Were you with Harry?”

  There was a pause. “No. Not that night.”

  “How did you know the girl, Joe?”

  “I was seeing her. It was just a fling really. I saw her a couple of times. We met in pubs, mostly. Harry didn’t know.”

  “Does she know now?” I was reeling. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t imagine Joe sleeping around on Harry. But I was glad. When Harry found out she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. I felt sorry for Joe but I knew now that things were really over between them. I tried to concentrate on the conversation with Joe but I couldn’t really think straight. All my mind and my heart kept saying over and over was that Harry was free.

  “Joe, did you do anything?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t think so. I can’t remember killing anyone.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What do you mean you can’t remember? You either did or you didn’t.”

  “Well the police think I did it. I must have done something. I can’t remember. Why would the police be after me? What if I have done something? I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “Joe, the police are looking at you because you knew the girl and because you’ve got form. You’re probably their best suspect now but who knows what they’re thinking. You’ve got to be honest with them.”

  “I told them about the girl, but they still think I did it.”

  “If they really thought you did it you wouldn’t be at home now, you’d still be in a cell.”

  “They said they’d want to talk to me again.”

  “I imagine so. Is there anything else Joe? Are you holding up OK?”

  “Yeah, I feel a bit paranoid but then I would, wouldn’t I? I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared.”

  It wasn’t like Joe to admit he was scared. I didn’t think Joe could get scared.

  “Try to get some sleep, Joe.”

  “What about Harry? Have you heard from her?”

  “No I haven’t. I’ll let you know if I do though.”

  “What am I going to do without her?”

  “You should have thought about that before you lied to her,” I blurted before I could think better of it.

  All I got in reply was a grunt from the other end of the phone. In any other man it would have been a sob. I remembered Joe was my friend too, then, but it was too late. He was gone.

  I hung up the phone and managed to feel forlorn and wistful all at the same time.

  *

  I milled around for a little while after that, feeling listless and worrying about Joe and the police and thinking bad thoughts about myself for feeling happy that Harry had left Joe. She’d never left him before and I had no reason not to think it was final. Harry didn’t mess about when she decided on a course of action. I thought about phoning her but I knew she’d phone me when she wanted to talk. I worried about her for a little while and almost completely forgot that Joe was wanted by the police.

  Things had definitely taken a turn for the worst. It should have been a good day. Harry had come over and we’d had lunch together. We’d gotten no closer to solving the crime but I really didn’t think Joe had done it. It just didn’t seem like him. But then Joe was erratic at the best of times. Perhaps he’d been having one of his episodes. He obviously hadn’t been with Harry on Saturday night. But where had he been? I didn’t think I was going to come to any startling conclusions. I was tired too, from an emotionally charged day and lack of sleep. I smoked some and listened to the radio, but I didn’t feel any better. The gear just made the thoughts in my head worse, and they started biting back. I stopped smoking and made myself a cup of warm milk. I drank it on the sofa, trying to get my thoughts under control and wished I could meditate or something. My back was throbbing and my head was running away with me. It was no good.

  I went to bed with a hangover at eleven o’clock. I lay down in my clothes because I was too low to be bothered to remove them. I didn’t sleep. Joe’s conversation kept running through my head. I felt like I should be elated. Harry and Joe had split up. It was everything I wanted. But not like this. I worried about it all night and thought of calling Harry a thousand times. But not like this. It was too late. I lay in bed with an aching back and an aching head and thought about Harry. I thought about Harry in bed next to me and I couldn’t think of anything else. I should feel bad for Joe but what if Joe was wrong? What if he had done something? Joe wasn’t mine to worry about.

  It took a while, but a combination of beer, worry and drugs made me spin into sleep.

  *

  Wednesday

  14. A Pint of Wife Beater

  I woke up early. I’d actually gotten some sleep last night but it was only seven o’clock. Sometimes beer works and I get some sleep. I was feeling brave. I threw open the curtains in the bedroom. It was a long time since my musty bedroom had seen daylight. The wind outside battered the windowpanes. It blustered and threatened but the grey overhead passed without further comment, for now.

  I felt muzzy headed and the excesses of the day before were still dumping in my head somewhere. I didn’t know what the day would bring but I wasn’t looking forward to it. I was guessing the police would call Joe in again today. No doubt Harry would want to talk at some point but I wasn’t sure I was up to the task. Sleep, what little I’d had, hadn’t allayed my concerns. I didn’t think I could talk to Harry without worrying about Joe, although all I wanted from her was to take her in my arms and offer her some comfort. I was sure she’d be in need of comfort about now.

  I left the same clothes on as I’d gone to bed in and didn’t bother to do anything apart from put a pot of coffee on. Well, I did have a slow poo and stood examining my droppings for a while, but you don’t need to know about that.

  I thought maybe I’d call Reb and see if the toxicology report had come back in today. I didn’t really feel like doing anything constructive but I couldn’t just sit about waiting all day. I had to do something.

  The coffee finished and I sat down in the front room with my first coffee of the day and waiting for the phone to ring.

  *

  I was smoking my third cigarette of the morning with my second cup of coffee when the phone finally rang. I waited for a while to see if the caller was serious, but when the phone didn’t stop I picked it up. It was Reb.

  “Morning, Reb, what’s the news then?”

  “Awake are we? I didn’t think I’d catch you this early in the morning.”

  “I’m up. Not doing anything either. Just got up a little while ago.” I put out my cigarette in an overflowing ashtray and got up, taking the phone and the ashtray into the kitchen with me, where I dumped the contents and set about cleaning up while I was on the phone. My back was giving me merry hell but we can’t all be fit young things. It would pass.

  “What’s that noise?” asked Reb.

  “Just running some water for the washing up. What have you been up to?”

  “Just working really. Any news on the case?”

  “Yeah, there’s a girl we want to talk to. I reckon she might know something about the case. The police are doing a reconstruction but I think it’ll be a waste of time. It turns out the girl was having an affair w
ith a school teacher but he’s a dead end. As is the boyfriend. I might give the boyfriend a call today, see if he can remember anything else. I don’t think he’s a good bet though, even though he’s been cooperative so far. I don’t know really. There are things that don’t ring true. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What doesn’t make sense?”

  “Are you OK to talk?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’m on a break.” It was only eight o’clock but I didn’t ask.

  “Well, the muffler, for one. Then there’s the note. Nothing about that makes any sense. It’s too short. It doesn’t say anything really useful. It’s like it was an afterthought. Then there was the fingerprint. It looked small, like a woman’s. I wish I’d have known that the print wasn’t yours. Could have saved a lot of trouble really. Then there’s the ring. Where did she get the ring from and why wasn’t she wearing it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the killer left it there?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But then who gives a girl a wedding band unless they want to get married? It certainly wasn’t the boyfriend.”

  “What else doesn’t make sense then?”

  “Well, why hadn’t she broken anything else apart from her head? You’d think she would. I guess she could’ve landed plum on her head but do you think so?”

  “I’ve seen falls in here before. They’re not always smashed up. You’d be surprised.”

  “OK, then, let’s suppose she did fall on her head. Why would anyone break her neck first?”

  “Before we get into that I should give you my news. There was heroin in her system and alcohol. Apart from that nothing dodgy.”

  “We knew that anyway.”

  “I know, but there’s something else. There were garrotte marks around her neck. She wasn’t asphyxiated but someone definitely tried to strangle her. The way her neck was broken lends credence to the fact. It wasn’t broken by the fall, it was a side ways snap.”

  I tried to get my head around the concept. Someone had tried to strangle her and broken her neck then thrown her off a multi-story car park. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.