Smiling through her tears, she patted his hand. This was more like it.
‘It looks lovely,’ she said.
‘The thing is –’ he hesitated. ‘The paint came to a lot more than I originally estimated.’
She laughed. ‘You sound like a real tradesman.’
‘I was happy to do it for you, mum, you know that, but I didn’t think you’d want me to be out of pocket over it.’
‘Out of pocket? What are you talking about?’
It was an awkward conversation, especially when his request for reimbursement led on to a suggestion that she advance him some of the inheritance he would come into on her death.
‘For goodness sake, Eddy,’ she remonstrated. ‘We’ve only just buried your father and now you want to talk about what’s going to happen when I die. I’m fifty-six! I intend to be around for a good many years yet.’
‘And I hope you are,’ he answered lamely.
But he did get some cash from her for the paint, which was something. By itself it wasn’t much, but it could lead to something a whole lot better, because Eddy had a feeling this was going to be his night. His run of bad luck couldn’t continue indefinitely. If he hadn’t been convinced of that, he would never have stepped inside a bookies again. That was what Luciana failed to grasp. He wasn’t about to throw good money away. He was no fool. It was insulting that she would think that of him. No, he was there to recoup his losses and make sure he ended up quids in, overall. It was just going to take time. He wasn’t addicted to gambling, not in the true sense of the word, because that would mean he was incapable of stopping. In fact, he could walk away at any time. But there was no sense in quitting when he was losing. Once he bagged a sizeable win, he would walk out of the bookies, head held high, and never return.
Even his fantastically successful father had encountered setbacks in the course of his career.
‘But I never gave up,’ he had told Eddy. ‘Whatever you do in life, stick with it. That’s what gets you through in the end.’
Perseverance was going to solve all of Eddy’s problems and make him every bit as successful as his father had been. Temporarily broke, he wasn’t going to settle for being a failure. By refusing to give up until he was back on top, before long he would be able to offer Luciana the life he had promised her. It was no more than she deserved. Although she pretended not to care, he knew how hurt she still was by the way her own family had abandoned her after the death of her parents. He was going to right that wrong and give her a life more luxurious than she could ever have hoped to enjoy with her own family. Admittedly he was betting again, having solemnly promised her he was done with gambling, but he wasn’t one of those idiots who would keep going regardless of circumstances. He wasn’t there for the thrill of the game, he was there to win, and that made all the difference.
He had seen too many guys make a packet only to lose it all because they kept going long after any sensible person would have stopped. He had done that himself in the past. But having learned his lesson the hard way, he was wiser now, and ready to walk away with his pockets stuffed full of cash. But before he could finish with the bookies for good, he had to bag that win. Although it was proving elusive right now, he refused to be put off. The whole venture had always been a test of nerve. Not everyone understood that. Like most people, Luciana lacked the grit to keep going when things went against her. If only she wasn’t so impatient, she would appreciate that he wasn’t a fool frittering away his hard-earned cash. But she steadfastly refused to acknowledge the sense behind his strategy. In the end he had caved in to her demands, and promised to stop gambling.
For a while, he had kept his word. But the lure of winning was too powerful, even for someone as strong-willed as him. He knew Luciana would accuse him of being weak if she found out he had relapsed, but the reality was very different. He was a man of vision, and he knew that if he was tenacious enough, he was bound to win eventually. Given enough chances, he really couldn’t lose, and this time he would be clever enough to leave at the right time, when he was ahead, not like the other losers he saw placing their bets with no hope of ever coming out on top. In any case, he had now lost so much he really no longer had any choice. He had to recoup his debt or Luciana might never forgive his deception.
He could imagine her endlessly haranguing him. ‘We’re ruined!’ and ‘How can I ever trust you again? It’s not just that you’re gambling again, but you lied to me.’
In a way she would be right, but it was her intransigence that had driven him to be so secretive. He would have been happy to share his plans and dreams with her if she had been open-minded. Donning the cap he wore at such times as a kind of rough disguise, he pushed the door open and slipped into a different world where no one judged him, and no one even cared whether he won or lost. Sometimes he exchanged a brief glance with someone else placing a bet, their eyes sliding rapidly away from one another with a faint smile of complicity. Occasionally, they might wish each other good luck but mostly they went about their affairs in silence, each engrossed in their own private rituals that would bring good fortune.
He felt both tension and a sense of liberation as he placed his bet, because this was the only place where he felt no guilt. The secret he was compelled to conceal was out in the open here, and no one condemned or criticised him, or even noticed what he was doing. In this place, gambling was not merely acceptable, it was the norm. He took a deep breath, considering the horses listed for the next race. When he was a teenager, long before he met Luciana, his father used to take him to the races at The Knavesmire. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall every detail of the experience: bookies shouting out the odds, horses stamping past, jockeys flying by, women in fancy frocks, their companions drinking and smoking and laughing, everyone joyous on their day out. He had never seen his father look so happy as when they were at the races together, just the two of them.
‘This one’s for you, dad,’ he whispered as he placed his bet, adding as an afterthought, ‘and I hope you rot in hell.’
If his father had left him even a quarter of his estate, Eddy’s life would be so different now. It was no matter. He didn’t need anyone else bailing him out. He would sort out his problems himself. With a sudden rush of confidence, he increased his bet. He was one of life’s winners and soon everyone would know about it.
22
Even though it was Friday Matt was in a foul mood, and Suzie was predictably bad-tempered that early in the morning. It was disappointing but hardly surprising that they were having a row.
‘You’re like a bear with a sore head,’ she complained. ‘I don’t know what you’ve got to be grumpy about. You like your job. You like working there. You can have a laugh with your colleagues. What the hell have you got to be miserable about?’
‘Are you joking?’
Her blue eyes blazed at him. Turning back to the road, his attention was caught by what looked like a body lying on the grass verge. He slammed on the brakes.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Suzie cried out.
Without answering, he slowed down and pulled into the side of the road.
‘What’s going on? Why are we stopping? Matt, I’ll be late.’
Ignoring her cries, he leapt out of the car. Running towards the bundle of clothes, his fears were confirmed as he saw that it was in fact a person lying motionless by the roadside. At the same time, he became aware of a faint whining noise.
‘I think someone needs help over here!’ he panted, slowing down to a walk and advancing cautiously, afraid of what he might find.
Reluctant to investigate further, he was tempted to turn round and call the emergency services from the car, but he kept going. If someone had collapsed at the side of the road, he might be able to help. The buzzing sound grew louder as he approached the bundle, and he detected a fetid smell. Reaching the prone figure he stooped over it, and a small cloud of flies rose from what he could now see was a woman lying on the ground. Cursing himself for having left his phone in the
car, he shouted out to Suzie.
‘Oh Jesus, call an ambulance! No, call the police. Call both!’
He heard Suzie shouting back at him from the car. ‘What’s going on, Matt?’
He knew he should feel for a pulse and check whether the woman was still breathing, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. He crouched beside her, staring at the hump of her torso. The woman was lying on her side, her face half hidden from view. Mud was splattered over her legs and back, her feet were bare, and she appeared to be wearing a dressing gown. The side of her face that was visible looked crushed, her nose crooked as though it had been broken, and there was a clear indentation across the middle of her body. It didn’t take a genius to see that she had been run over. He wondered what she had been doing, walking out there alone in her night clothes, with no shoes.
As he straightened up, he realised that Suzie was yelling at him.
‘Have you called an ambulance?’ he shouted back at her. It looked like a hit and run, which meant the police would need to be involved. ‘You’d better call the police as well.’
Wanting to protect Suzie from seeing the dead woman, he called out to her to stay where she was, but it was too late. She was already out of the car and coming towards him. Catching sight of the body lying beside him, she screamed.
‘Call an ambulance, will you?’ he repeated.
‘Is she all right, Matt? Is she –?’
He turned towards Suzie. ‘I think she’s dead.’
‘Is she breathing? Has she got a pulse? Shouldn’t we be giving her – I don’t know. What is it we’re supposed to do? Matt, do something! Resuscitate her!’
‘Calm down and call 999. There’s nothing else we can do. Tell them a woman’s been run over. Do it, now!’
He could see Suzie shaking. ‘I don’t know if I’ll get a signal out here,’ she muttered, but a few seconds later he heard her talking rapidly.
‘Please hurry,’ she gabbled. ‘The woman’s dead. She’s dead.’
Staring at the battered face beside him, Matt sighed. It didn’t make any difference to the dead woman how long the ambulance took to arrive.
‘Can we go now?’ Suzie whispered. ‘I mean, do we have to stay here?’
Seeing her shiver, Matt told her to go and wait for him in the car. When she remonstrated about leaving him there on his own, he insisted.
‘Come back to the car with me, then,’ she said.
He didn’t want to stay where he was but, irrationally, he felt it would be disrespectful to abandon his post. There was no one else to watch over the dead woman.
‘We can watch her from the car,’ Suzie added. She was shivering. ‘Come on, let’s go. It’s cold standing around here. It’s not as if there’s anything we can do for her.’
Matt’s girlfriend needed his support; the dead woman wouldn’t appreciate his presence. All the same, he shook his head and said that he would stay where he was until the police arrived.
‘It just feels like the right thing to do,’ he mumbled.
‘Well, I’m going back to the car. I don’t want to hang around a stiff. She could be diseased. Come with me, Matt. Please!’ She hesitated when he shook his head. ‘Oh, suit yourself. Although I don’t know what you think might happen to her now. You said yourself she’s been run over. It’s not as if you knew her.’
‘It won’t be for long. The emergency services know we are here, don’t they? You phoned them.’
With a shrug, Suzie went back to the car. Matt wondered whether she was right. The dead woman was a stranger to them. If he hadn’t discovered her body, he wouldn’t have been particularly interested in hearing about the victim of a hit and run. His own sense of shock was already fading and the whole incident was beginning to feel like nothing more than a serious inconvenience. He had no idea how long they would have to hang around there, waiting for the police and ambulance to arrive. A moment ago he had been afraid the sight of the battered face of the corpse would haunt him afterwards. It was strange how being there had made him feel involved with this woman. But the feeling had been transient. He had never even spoken to the woman during her lifetime. She meant nothing to him. He was shocked by how rapidly he had become disengaged.
‘She’s dead,’ he whispered, trying to rekindle the fleeting sense of grief that had gripped him only a few moments earlier.
He straightened up, his thoughts already drifting away from the dead woman as he stretched his aching knees and rehearsed what he was going to say to his colleagues at work. Only a moment ago he had felt somehow responsible for watching over his find. Now he just wanted to leave this desolate place and get to work. He was gripped by a sudden sense of futility, as though he had glimpsed into an abyss. A human being’s death ought to matter more than this.
23
It was generally quiet during the day, but at night she was sure she could hear the animal whining and whimpering. Occasionally she thought it let out a long low howl. Never a sound sleeper, her nights were now disturbed not only by bad dreams, but the thought of what was in the cellar, only a few feet below where she was lying in bed. When she asked him what he would do if the beast clawed its way up through the floorboards, he laughed at her and slapped her cheeks playfully, forcing her head back against the pillow.
‘I told you, he’s tied up, you stupid bitch. Nothing and no one can break that chain. There’s no way it’s getting out of there.’ She tried to keep her head still as he gave her another slap. ‘You think I want that fucking animal running amok around here? Bloody hell, you saw what it did to me. Imagine what it would do to you. Look!’
Wincing, he pulled back his grubby sleeve and held up his arm to display an ugly wound. The blood had dried and formed a large scab around which the skin looked pink and puffy. When she reached out and touched it gently with the tip of one finger, he drew back with a curse.
‘Fuck off out of it, you stupid cow.’
‘Does it hurt that bad?’ she asked. ‘It shouldn’t still hurt, not after all this time. You need to get that seen to.’
‘What are you talking about, you stupid bitch? Of course it bloody hurts.’ He frowned, extending his neck to peer down at his arm. ‘If that brute comes near me again, I’ll kill it.’
‘If it doesn’t get you first,’ she muttered.
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing. I never said anything.’
She slid down under the covers in an attempt to hide her shaking, inhaling the bodily smells of sweat and flatulence, warm as hot sausages. Sometimes it excited him to see how much he frightened her, but at other times her fear provoked his anger, and she could never predict which way he was going to flip. It depended on how high he was, and why, and that was anybody’s guess because he wasn’t choosy. Anything that made him high would do. They had that in common at least, although there was very little else about him that she understood. Most of his actions baffled her, like why he was keeping that creature locked in the cellar.
‘Why would you do it?’
She hadn’t intended to ask the question out loud. Fortunately for her he was feeling lazy and just laughed at her. With a sigh he lay down beside her and began stroking her hair.
‘I’m not going to let that hound down there hurt you,’ he said kindly. ‘But I’ve got to keep it for a while. You just have to trust me. I’ll keep you safe.’
When he was nice to her it made her want to cry because she wanted him to be like this all the time.
‘You need to get that arm seen to,’ she repeated. ‘If it gets infected, you might get sick. Really sick. If your blood gets poisoned it can kill you.’
His good humour vanished in an instant. ‘How come you’re suddenly the expert?’ He grabbed her hair and yanked it until she yelped. ‘What makes you such a big mouth? Are you a doctor all of a sudden?’ He released her. ‘You don’t know jack shit.’
‘I know your own blood can kill you if it turns to poison. I know it’s true because it happened to a mate of mine.�
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‘You got no mates.’
‘She had a bite, like that, only they thought hers was from a rat, and anyway she never went to no doctor and she ended up with septicaemia and it killed her stone dead. You want to get that seen to.’
‘Don’t talk shit. You said yourself that whore was bitten by a rat. What I got down in the cellar is more dangerous than a fucking rat.’
He laughed and slapped her face again, his good humour restored. She lay there in silence for a while but it wasn’t long before she thought she heard the beast whining again.
‘If you ask me, it’s scared of the dark,’ she said.
‘Who’s scared of the dark?’
‘That animal. That’s why it keeps howling at night.’
‘Don’t talk bollocks. You can’t hear it through that floor. It’s concrete. If it wasn’t for the air vent, it wouldn’t even be able to breathe down there.’
‘I hope it suffocates.’
‘For the last time, bitch, no one’s getting rid of that animal. I’m more likely to get rid of you if you don’t shut up.’
‘What you keeping it for?’
He grunted and didn’t bother to answer.
‘Where did you get it from anyway?’
‘What business is that of yours? What’s with all the questions? How come you’re so nosey all of a sudden, poking around in my business?’
‘I just wondered, no reason, only I never saw a dog like that before.’
He half sat up and grinned. ‘That’s because it’s a special. A one off. A rare breed. A rare crossbreed, I should say. Pit bull and Rottweiler.’ He punched the air. ‘There aren’t many people can control a beast like that.’
She didn’t point out that he hadn’t done a very good job of controlling it himself, before he had managed to lock it in the cellar. She might not know much, but she knew she wasn’t alone in being frightened of the giant dog.
24
Having done what she could to discover the truth, Geraldine rang Amanda to say there was no evidence to support the allegation that her brother had been murdered. There was no answer, so Geraldine left a message. That evening she tried again, but there was still no reply.
Death Rope Page 9
