by Jessie Keane
I’ll finish him, and then I’ll finish you.
He wouldn’t forgive her, and he would never forget.
At ten, Annie went upstairs to the master suite and eased her aching body into bed. The thought of what Alberto had told her about Constantine still haunted her. For a long while after Alberto broke that news, she had been convinced that she was going insane.
But no.
She wasn’t imagining the whole thing. It had happened. And the worst part? She could share that knowledge with nobody. Not even Max. Particularly not Max, because, if he knew, then he would search out Constantine, find him, kill him. And she couldn’t break the code.
Now, Max knew.
So Constantine was under threat. And so was she.
What would Max’s next move be? He said he’d been to Sicily, so he’d spoken to someone in the inner circle of the family there, and they had broken the code, told him more than they should. Who, though? She didn’t think that Daniella, Lucco’s bride, had ever been privy to that sort of information. Daniella was a lightweight, not to be entrusted with such a burden.
Annie stared at the ceiling and thought: Gina.
It had to be Constantine’s sister Gina. Who else would have been told, apart from her? No one. And for years she had kept the secret, respected its gravity. Until now. Why now? What could have happened to make her betray the family and give out such information to strangers?
She didn’t know. Couldn’t believe it had happened.
Gina was sound, an insider, family.
Dislike her though she did, Annie had to admit that Gina was the last person she would have expected this from.
She reached out, turned off the light.
72
She didn’t know what woke her; some suggestion of movement, some slight noise. Her eyes opened and it was still dark, but the blue-toned moonlight was visible through the curtains, casting a ghostly shaft of light on to the floor at the foot of the bed.
She turned over, sat up. Wished she’d thought to bring a glass of water in here with her, but she’d forgotten. Her brain was scrambled, she was miserable and her midriff ached with every breath she took. Sleep had been blissful, and she hadn’t wanted to wake up. The way she felt, she hadn’t wanted to wake up ever.
But she had, in the middle of the night, because . . .
Because someone was in here with her.
Her senses were instantly alert. The floorboards creaked in this room, and that was what she’d heard, she was sure of it.
Someone’s killed Dolly and now they’re coming for me.
She took a gasping breath in and flicked on the bedside light. No, no, it was just my imagination, it was nothing, it was . . .
There was a man sitting in the chair in the corner of the room.
‘Holy shit!’ Annie yelled, floundering back against the pillows. Her bruised and bandaged mid-section cried out a protest and she clutched at it, wincing; it hurt so much that tears sprang into her eyes.
She blinked, stared; it was Max.
‘What the fuck . . . ?’ she demanded.
‘Did you forget I had a key?’ he said. ‘And you didn’t set the alarm, that was careless.’
Yes, she had forgotten he had a key. And the alarm? Yes, that was careless, but then she was in shock over Dolly’s death, and Max’s discovery of her sins, and she was shattered and hurt, and she wasn’t going to tell him a damned thing about any of that.
Annie hauled the sheets up to her chin and stared at him. ‘What, have you come to give me another bollocking?’ she challenged.
‘I might do. You bloody well deserve one.’
‘I would have tried to explain the other day if you could have been fucking bothered to let me. But no – it was more important to you to show what a big man you are in front of your boys.’ Annie sneered. ‘Lacking your bleeding audience now, aren’t you? Haven’t got the boys outside the door listening in this time. Bet that gave you a thrill, playing the big I-am, putting the little woman in order. Give you a hard-on, did it?’
‘You really do push your luck,’ he said.
‘I’m all out of luck. Haven’t you heard? My husband wants to divorce me, my best mate’s taken a bullet in the head, and everyone’s acting like I should be ringing a bell and shouting “unclean”.’
‘Maybe you should.’
‘Yeah, maybe. But I’m your wife and you owe me.’
‘What? I owe you fuck-all. You’ve been creeping around behind my back screwing that flash Yankee arsehole . . .’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No. Look. I had to keep the secret. I had to honour the code.’
‘Bollocks. Maybe now – without an audience – you might just explain to me what the fuck’s been going on?’
Annie frowned and sighed. ‘Me and Constantine.’
‘No, you and the Pope. Yes, I mean you and Constantine, or is there any other cunt I should know about as well?’
‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’
Max came and stood beside the bed and stared down at her. He moved quickly, stealthy as a cat. But he’d forgotten the floorboards, she reminded herself. He ought to have remembered that.
‘Try starting at the beginning,’ he said.
‘I don’t even know where that is any more.’
‘Let’s think about it.’ He put his hands on his hips and considered. ‘Oh yeah. How about when he was supposed to have died, and didn’t? That seems like a good place.’
‘I didn’t know about that until Alberto told me,’ said Annie. ‘I thought he was dead. I really did. Until then.’
Max cocked his head to one side. ‘Is that another fucking barefaced lie?’
‘It’s true. Constantine swore him to secrecy until then.’
‘And then suddenly he decides to tell you. You sure you didn’t know all along?’
‘You’re joking. I didn’t know anything. I thought he’d died. Damn it, I saw it happen. At first I couldn’t believe it. But then Alberto said that he’d had to do it. That they’d put in a double, an actor, to pretend to be Constantine because there had been rumours of a hit coming.’
Max was silent for a long while, watching her face. ‘All that time, I thought you and Alberto. I thought it was him you were sneaking off to see on your “business trips”. I was sure there was something going on. And you know what? Turns out I was right. Only it wasn’t the son you were seeing, was it? It was the father. You cow.’
‘No.’ Annie gulped. ‘Look. You don’t know the real story.’
‘All right, so tell me. And you’d better bloody make it good. What happened after Alberto broke the news? And when did he break the news?’
‘Five years ago.’
Max was staring at her as if he didn’t even know her. ‘Five fucking years?’
‘Max—’
‘Five years, and you didn’t tell me a thing?’
‘I couldn’t.’
Max’s face was set with fury. ‘All right. Go on. Then what?’
‘Then?’ Annie sighed tiredly. ‘He told me Constantine wanted to see me.’
73
‘You’ve been lying to me, straight-faced, for years,’ said Max, shaking his head in wonder.
‘Lying? No. That’s bullshit. I just didn’t tell you, that’s all.’
‘Oh yeah. The Mafia “code”. Your fucking “omerta”.’
‘That’s right.’
‘What a shitload of bollocks. You didn’t tell me you were seeing him. You fucking well deceived me. How the hell can you say you didn’t? You bloody did.’
‘I had to. The code—’
‘Fuck the code. And fuck you.’ Max dragged his hands through his hair then rubbed them over his face. He walked over to the wall, turned, walked back to the bed and stopped there, staring down at her.
‘And what the hell happened then?’ he asked. ‘Supposing I believe a damned word of it, that is. You heard the tale about that concubine who kept spinnin
g tales for the Sultan to stop him cutting her head off?’
‘The Arabian Nights,’ said Annie, and shot a sour smile at him, even though her heart was hammering with dread. ‘Damn, you mean you’ve actually read a book in your life? News to me.’
Constantine had devoured books. Max? She had never seen him pick up a book of any description, not once. Two such different men she had fallen in love with. Max so fiery, and Constantine so controlling.
‘Is that what you’re doing? Spinning tales to save your neck?’ asked Max.
‘Do I have to?’
Max paced around the room, hands in trouser pockets, eyeing up the rugs, the four-poster bed, the big carved-oak dressing table. Then he stopped and looked at her sitting there in the bed, grey with exhaustion, big shadows under her eyes.
‘People in this town expect me to discipline you,’ he said. ‘Severely.’
‘For what?’
‘For what? You serious? You been sneaking off to see another man for years. A man you were married to. A man you jumped into bed with when I was off the scene.’
‘Are we really going to have that conversation again? It happened years ago, Max, and I thought you were dead.’
‘Everyone expects me to make you suffer.’
‘As I already said – for what?’
‘You seriously expect me to believe that you saw him again, met up with him – and you didn’t sleep with him? Why else would you carry on seeing him, and not tell me?’
‘I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone.’ Annie sighed heavily and swiped a hand over her face. ‘Those are the Cosa Nostra rules. I don’t know how you found out about him. You never would have, from me. I swore a blood oath, Max, and that means something.’
Annie held out her hand, showed him the white scar on her palm.
‘You see this?’ she said.
‘What about it?’
‘That’s where Constantine cut me. When I married him, I married into the Mafia way of life too. It’s a serious commitment. He cut my hand and burned a picture of the saint and let the ashes fall into my cupped hands, and he said that if I ever betrayed that oath, then I would burn in hell, just like the saint was burning.’
‘And you believed that shit?’
‘It was an oath, Max. A blood oath. I would have thought that you, with all the people who work for you, would understand that.’ Annie stared at him. ‘So who gave him away?’
‘It was his sister,’ said Max.
Annie’s attention sharpened. She’d suspected it, but she found it hard to believe that Gina would betray her brother. ‘What, Gina? Really? You’re joking.’
‘That’s the only sister he had. Yeah, Gina.’ Max started pacing again, shooting her hostile looks as he did so. ‘She lost her marbles and started making phone calls. They went to Gary at the Blue Parrot. From then on I knew.’
‘God, I bet he was pleased when that happened,’ said Annie. ‘He’s moving his girlfriend into the Palermo to take over management there, did you know that?’
‘I knew it. And why not? Dolly Farrell’s gone.’
‘Gone? Someone killed her.’
‘I know that too. Your mate Hunter’s been on to me, asking what I know.’
‘And do you know anything?’
‘Should I?’
‘She was shot, Max. Someone shot her dead.’
‘Not me.’
‘Did I mention you?’
Max shrugged. ‘Maybe she was keeping bad company.’
‘Everyone loved Dolly.’
‘Not everyone. Case in point – she’s dead.’
Annie closed her eyes tight, rubbing at them with her fists. ‘Look, can we go on with this in the morning? I’m tired, I need to sleep.’
‘No, we fucking can’t. It couldn’t have been just one visit. How many times did you see him behind my back?’
‘There was more than one visit,’ admitted Annie. ‘There were quite a few.’
‘You cow,’ said Max, and came to the bed, very sudden.
He moves fast, she thought. Don’t I know that, better than anyone?
Suddenly he was leaning over her, and his hand was on her throat. It wasn’t squeezing, she took some comfort from that. His eyes might be blazing mad as they glared into hers, but his hand wasn’t squeezing and it could, easily.
‘Max . . .’ she tried to get out, but she couldn’t speak. It came out a groaning wheeze.
‘Shut up,’ he snapped.
Their eyes locked. Then, as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go. Annie’s hand flew to her throat. Max started pacing the room again, his movements tense with anger. Suddenly he stopped and turned to her. He paused. Seemed about to say something. Then he went out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. She heard him go off down the stairs, cross the entrance hall. The front door closed with a bang.
He was gone.
74
‘You sure you’re up to this? You look fucked,’ said Max.
The day of the funeral had dawned bright and clear. Annie turned as she and Max stood momentarily alone beside the hearse outside the Catholic church. She stared at him. Last night he’d been ready to throttle the life out of her; her throat was bruised. Yet today he was asking if she was up to playing her part in this, carrying her oldest friend to her final resting place.
‘I’m surprised you care,’ she said.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ he said coldly. ‘I just don’t want you dropping the fucking thing, that’s all, and making a cunting spectacle out of the lot of us.’
Annie glared at him. ‘She carried me plenty of times. And I’m going to carry her now. I won’t drop her.’
Tony joined them, ignoring Annie, nodding to Max.
‘If we’re ready . . . ?’ asked the undertaker, and his two co-workers slid Dolly’s coffin out of the hearse.
Max, Tony and Annie joined the other three black-suited men and lifted the coffin on to their shoulders. Pain clamped down on Annie’s rib, but she could do this: she had to do this one last thing for Dolly, who had helped her so much in life. Steadily, moving together, the six of them walked the coffin along the gravel path and into the church.
Inside, it was full of people, there wasn’t a spare pew to be found. There were white lilies all around the altar and when they brought in Dolly’s coffin everyone rose to their feet and watched as they carried it up to the front of the church and placed it carefully on the dais.
Drawing to one side between Max and Tony, Annie saw Ellie and Chris up near the front, and glancing back she saw Hunter, without his accompanying DS today, standing near the back; he was watching the crowds, just as she was. Their eyes met, and he nodded a faint greeting.
Then she turned her attention to the mourners right at the front of the church on the right; there was a woman there who, from the back, could almost pass for Dolly. She had the same rounded shoulders, the same puffball of blonde hair, the same firmly planted way of standing.
Doll?
No, it wasn’t Dolly. Dolly was in that box, about to be consigned to the earth. As the ceremony began and the first hymn was sung, Annie kept her eyes on that little group up the front of the church. The woman’s head kept bending as she dabbed at her eyes. Beside her, there was a man, not very tall, his build similar to the woman’s. He squeezed the woman’s arm a couple of times, tried to comfort her.
Dolly’s brother? Dolly’s sister?
The hymns went on, and the prayers, and then – at last – it was over. They carried the coffin outside, and as the organ music played on, everyone left the church to assemble at the edge of the newly dug plot, the earth decorously covered with Astroturf so that no one would see what lay beneath.
‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .’ intoned the priest.
Annie didn’t pay attention to the words. She focused on the coffin. She’d known her friend for years, but she hadn’t been aware that Dolly was Catholic. Not that it mattered. Annie’s opinion was, so long as you didn�
��t scare the horses, you could worship however and whoever you liked. What difference did it make?
Her eyes scanned the crowds huddled around the grave. That woman again . . . pale, blue-eyed . . . she had to be a sister, a niece, something. And the man. Definitely a relative. And Dolly had never ever mentioned her relatives. Yet here they were, at least two of them, attending her funeral.
Annie’s heart seemed to freeze as she met Max’s cold, accusing gaze. He was standing away from her now, among his boys: Chris, Gary, Steve, Tony. The sight of them there in black coats, all of them big and very intimidating, gave her a deep, visceral shudder so hard that her bruised and strapped-up middle throbbed. And it wasn’t just them giving her evils: when she looked around at the crowds, she could see people staring, pointing, whispering.
Suddenly, she didn’t feel safe. She felt like these people might turn on her like an angry mob, because she’d crossed the line; they believed she’d done the dirty on Max Carter, and he had more clout in this town than she would ever have. These were his people, not hers.
She was relieved when the whole damned thing was over and the crowds began to disperse. She kept her head down and got back on to the gravel path and headed for the lychgate. She walked straight into DCI Hunter.
‘Hello, Mrs Carter,’ he said.
‘Hi, Hunter. Here looking for murderers?’
‘Something like that. You?’
‘Just getting my friend buried.’ Annie thought it was coming to something when you started bumping into a copper and felt pleased to see a friendly face. Once, she’d ruled these streets and everyone had respected her. Now, she knew she could fall down dead on the pavement and they’d just step over her body. Or piss on it.
Hunter gave a sigh. ‘It’s tough.’
‘It’s worse than that,’ said Annie sharply. ‘It’s bloody awful. Listen, did you check out the CCTV in the club?’
‘I did. The stairs aren’t covered by the cameras inside. Why would they be? If anyone misbehaves, it’ll be in the main body of the club, not up the stairs.’
‘The outside ones then?’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing at all.’
