‘Is it a fucking wind-up or what? Fuck’s sake!’
‘Monkeyboy, honey, you have a seat right here.’ BlackWidow ushered him into a chair next to DeadManWalking, then poured a glass of whisky for him, too.
‘I prayed and stuff, you know? I was all ready to go. Just waiting.’
‘Oh, I know. I know well enough.’ DeadManWalking started to get agitated again. ‘Brutal. That’s what it was. Brutal.’
‘Has anyone seen Reaperman?’ asked Indigo, confident he knew the answer. ‘Because we should try to find out what happened, here. He was pretty specific about what time he was coming for you guys. Something must have happened to stop him.’
‘You’re right, man,’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘Come with me, let’s see if we can track him down.’
Indigo hesitated for only a moment. ‘Sure. Come on.’
‘Be careful,’ cautioned Mayfly, as she moved to let him out of the seat. He nodded at her, his expression grim, then squeezed her shoulder and headed out with JacktheRiffer to find Reaperman.
‘Where do we start?’ asked JacktheRiffer.
‘At his room, I reckon,’ Indigo replied, heading on up the stairs. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Indigo led the way. When they got to the door, he rapped on the wood with a knuckle and called Reaperman’s name. When he got no answer, he hammered more loudly with his fist and raised his voice, but there was still no response. Finally, Indigo tried the door handle: it turned and the door opened. As the door swung inwards, his heart was in his mouth. The place was in darkness; he reached in and flicked the light switch. As light flooded the room and he saw what was inside, he went cold.
‘Shit, Jack, look at this.’
‘What’s up, man?’
‘Looks like he decided to go first.’
Indigo stepped into the room. JacktheRiffer was on his heels and for the first time, he got a good look at what Indigo had seen.
‘Aw, Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. Christ, Indi.’
‘I know, man, I know. It’s all fucked up.’
Reaperman was dead, of that there seemed no doubt. He was hanging from the frame of the four-poster bed, a rope around his neck. His face was purple, eyes bulging, tongue protruding from between his teeth, lips drawn back in a rictus.
‘There’s nothing we can do here. We should go back to the others and let them know what’s happened.’ Indigo turned to leave. JacktheRiffer was unmoving, staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of him. ‘Jack, come on, man. Let’s go.’
‘It’s kind of … it’s …’ He gestured uselessly. ‘It’s just so fucking sad, man.’
‘I know. Come on, mate. Nothing we can do here. Come on, let’s go.’ Indigo got JacktheRiffer out of the room by degrees. He was gentle with him, understood that he was in shock, but he wanted to get back down to the rest of the group so they could decide what to do. It took him moments that felt like minutes, but he was finally able to close the door on the scene. JacktheRiffer took a deep breath, put his hand on the wall to steady himself.
‘You okay?’ asked Indigo.
JacktheRiffer nodded. ‘Just a shock, you know?’
‘I know.’ Indigo put a hand on his arm. ‘Come on, let’s get back downstairs. We have to tell the others about this. We need to decide what to do about it.’
Chapter 16
Slayer watched the drama unfold on one of the monitors in the attic room. He had a split-screen view and was watching both the group downstairs and the two men in Reaperman’s room, savouring the fear he saw on JacktheRiffer’s face. He wished he could hear what was being said.
The old man had been surprisingly difficult to subdue, and Slayer had only been able to get the rope around his neck and then string him up after first pinning him down then sitting astride him and holding a chloroform-soaked cloth over his face until he lost consciousness.
Reaperman had come round again as Slayer hauled him into position and tied the rope off, and he’d watched as the old man kicked and danced in mid-air. He was almost sorry when he died, he’d been enjoying the spectacle so much.
As he watched the two men leave Reaperman’s bedroom, he made the downstairs room full screen and waited for them to appear.
***
‘Dead! You can’t be serious!’
‘All right, John McEnroe. Do they look like they’re making it up?’ SpeedKing snapped at Technogeek.
‘Easy, boys. We’re all just taking this in. Let’s not fight amongst ourselves.’ Once again, BlackWidow was the peacemaker. ‘Okay, Indigo. Tell me what you found up there.’
‘He’d hanged himself. There’s a big old four-poster bed in the room and he’d put a rope round his neck and looped it over the top rail.’ Indigo sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. ‘It looked like he was in the middle of getting changed and then just decided to kill himself. His shirt, tie and jacket were on the bed and he was in trousers and a vest.’
‘Well, now, I just don’t understand that one bit. Why would he make such a thing about the weekend, sort out the order he was going to deal with us in, arrange the times he was going to see to the guys here,’ she indicated DeadManWalking and Monkeyboy, ‘if he planned to kill himself first all along?’
‘Jesus, I just don’t know,’ said Indigo. ‘I only know that he’s dead and that it certainly looks like suicide.’
Mayfly squeezed his hand.
‘Well, honey,’ said BlackWidow, ‘we’re going to have to take another look, and then we’re going to have to call for help.’
‘So, it’s all been for nothing.’ DeadManWalking looked devastated. ‘All the preparation, the build-up, the hope …’
JunkieScum put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I know. This puts us all back to square one.’
‘No use crying over spilt milk,’ said BlackWidow. ‘Come on, now, at least one of you needs to come with me to check this out.’
Indigo was about to offer when Mayfly yanked on his arm. ‘No,’ she said urgently. ‘I need you to stay here with me.’
‘I should go,’ he said. ‘I found him, I know what to expect.’
‘Please, stay with me?’
The situation was resolved by DeadManWalking, who got to his feet. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said. ‘I want to see this for myself.’
‘Everyone else, please stay here,’ said BlackWidow.
As the pair left the sitting room, Indigo put his arm around Mayfly and she leaned into him. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
***
‘What makes a man put together a set-up like this anyway?’ DeadManWalking said, as they climbed the stairs. ‘Helping people to die. It’s not an obvious business opportunity, not something you’re likely to see on Dragons’ Den.’
‘He mentioned his wife earlier,’ answered BlackWidow. ‘Said he spent time in prison. I think you had your mind on other things.’
DeadManWalking only hesitated a moment before he pushed open the door to Reaperman’s room and stepped inside. BlackWidow was right behind him.
‘Although I have to confess,’ she said quietly, ‘this shit I do not get.’
DeadManWalking whistled. ‘Me neither.’ He walked up to Reaperman, looked closely at him and the rope he hung from, then walked around the room, taking it all in.
‘You know what you’re looking for?’ she asked.
‘I suppose I do. In a previous life I was a literary agent. One of my clients was Terry Cottingley.’
‘The crime writer?’
‘One and the same.’
‘Do you still represent him?’
‘I don’t work any more.’ He smiled at BlackWidow. It was a bittersweet affair, but had the decency at least to be genuine. ‘But, of course, it means I’ve read all of his books, I know them inside out and back to front, and we’ve killed many a bottle of Scotch talking plot, forensics and police procedure.’
‘And does that tell you anything that helps here?’
‘I’m not sure. It makes me question what I’m looking at, but i
t doesn’t necessarily make me certain of anything.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Well, he might have committed suicide. But that doesn’t make sense, does it? To do that here and now?’
‘No, it makes none at all.’
‘Plus, if you look here, at his arms, these look like pressure marks.’
BlackWidow looked where he indicated; she saw marks on the flesh. ‘They look like finger imprints,’ she said. ‘Like they came from someone’s hands gripping him tightly.’
‘That’s what I think. And the bed’s untidy. He didn’t strike me as being an untidy person, so there might have been a struggle.’
‘So, he could have been … murdered? Is that what you’re saying?’
DeadManWalking nodded. ‘That’s how it looks to me. A murder dressed up to look like a suicide.’
‘Let’s get back downstairs and tell the others. It’s time we called for help and got the hell out of here.’
‘Just a minute,’ DeadManWalking said. He picked up Reaperman’s jacket and went through the pockets. ‘Front door key,’ he said, holding it up for BlackWidow to see. ‘We’ll need that.’ He pocketed it.
***
‘Oh no, oh no, oh no,’ chanted Scaredycat, her hands over her face, after BlackWidow and DeadManWalking had told everyone what they suspected. JunkieScum tried her best to calm Scaredycat down.
‘So, what are you saying?’ asked SpeedKing. ‘That one of us is a killer?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not. It could be suicide, it could be murder, I’m not qualified to judge absolutely. But I know enough and I’ve seen enough to raise the question,’ said DeadManWalking.
‘Jeez, we need to get people here, like, now!’ SpeedKing said. He pulled a minuscule phone out of his jeans pocket and keyed it on.
‘You shouldn’t have that,’ said Scaredycat. ‘We weren’t supposed to bring them.’
‘I know, love, but I did anyway.’
‘Good,’ said Scaredycat. ‘I’m glad.’
SpeedKing peered at the display. ‘Might not have been any point in my little rebellion, Scaredy, love. I can’t get a signal.’
‘Has anybody noticed a phone in the house?’ asked DeadManWalking. ‘A landline?’
‘No,’ said Mayfly, ‘but then again, I haven’t looked for one.’
‘Still no signal! Damn! Anyone else got a mobile, preferably not on Orange?’ SpeedKing looked around. ‘No? Shit!’
‘I honestly didn’t expect to need it,’ said Technogeek. ‘In fact, I thought it would most likely be a distraction.’
‘So, why’d you bring yours, Speedie?’ asked JacktheRiffer.
‘Fucked if I know. Mainly because the stuff said not to.’
‘Good enough. I like your style.’
‘There’s a phone behind the reception desk in the hall,’ said Monkeyboy. ‘I saw it earlier when I was having a poke about.’
BlackWidow nodded and went outside to check. DeadManWalking followed. ‘Hallelujah!’ she exclaimed, when she walked around the desk and saw the phone. She picked up the handset and put it to her ear. ‘Oh, damn.’
‘What is it?’
‘No dial tone.’ She rattled the cradle the handset sat on. ‘Nothing.’
‘Is it plugged in?’
BlackWidow followed the cord from the phone down under the desk and to the socket in the wall. ‘It’s plugged in.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘Damn!’
DeadManWalking let out a short, annoyed sigh. ‘Might as well go and break the good news,’ he said, and they headed back into the sitting room to tell the others.
‘Does that mean someone’s cut the cable?’ asked SpeedKing, when BlackWidow finished describing what she and DeadManWalking had found. ‘Is there something funny going on here?’
‘Oh no, oh no, oh no.’ Scaredycat started chanting and rocking again, her hands clamped to her face. JunkieScum continued to soothe her, talking to her quietly and helping her to calm down.
DeadManWalking shrugged. ‘Without going out to check, we can’t say. But it’s a bit Agatha Christie, don’t you think? Here we are, in a house in the middle of nowhere, cut off from the outside world.’
‘Let’s not get carried away here,’ said BlackWidow. ‘Maybe Reaperman didn’t have the phone connected in the first place, bearing in mind what goes on here.’
‘Fair point.’ SpeedKing looked at his watch. ‘It’s coming up to midnight. What do we do now?’
‘I suggest we all go to bed,’ said BlackWidow. ‘Get some sleep. We can’t ring for help, it would be madness to go out in the dark, when we have no idea where we are or what might be out there, and we need to be in decent shape to sort things out in the morning.’
‘Do you think we’re safe?’ asked JunkieScum.
‘We’re no less safe than we were when we arrived here,’ said BlackWidow. ‘If you’re nervous, why don’t you double up with someone? You don’t need to be alone, you know.’
‘BlackWidow’s right,’ said SpeedKing. ‘We need to decide who’s in which room and make sure we lock our doors.’
‘What do we do tomorrow?’ asked Technogeek.
‘Well, how about we all meet up in here at, say, eight thirty? Is that all right with everyone?’ BlackWidow asked. Everyone nodded their assent. ‘Then we can decide what to do. We can check on the phone line, and maybe a couple of us can set out to go and find help.’
‘Okay,’ said DeadManWalking. ‘I’m going to go to my room. I’ll see you lot in the morning.’
‘Goodnight, honey,’ said BlackWidow.
‘Do you want to come in with me?’ JunkieScum asked Scaredycat. She was still holding her hand.
‘Thanks, but no.’
‘You sure?’
Scaredycat nodded. ‘I’ll be frightened on my own, but what if you’re the one who …’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Thanks a bunch!’ JunkieScum let go of the hand she held.
‘I’m sorry. But none of us knows anything about anyone else. We could be anybody. And Reaperman is dead.’
‘Okay,’ said BlackWidow. ‘Each in his or her own room, then. Lock the windows and doors. Be safe, and I’ll see you all in the morning.’
They said subdued goodnights, then headed off to bed.
***
Slayer watched them go. He smiled to himself, then switched the screen option so that he had a view of each room on the large monitor. Let them sleep if they could!
Chapter 17
Indigo walked Mayfly to her door. ‘Go on in; I’ll wait here until you check everything’s okay and lock the door,’ he told her. ‘Sleep well.’
Mayfly kissed his cheek. ‘Thanks, Indi. Sleep well, yourself.’
Once he knew she was safely inside, Indigo went into his own room, locked the door behind him and checked that the window was fastened and locked. That done, he peed, washed his hands and cleaned his teeth, then kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed. He didn’t feel at all sleepy. Besides, whenever he shut his eyes, he saw Reaperman’s body hanging from the bed frame, his face a freakish gargoyle. He wondered if they should have cut him down, then figured that the authorities would very likely regard that as suspicious behaviour. He shivered, suddenly chilled. He just didn’t believe that Reaperman had killed himself. It made no sense. But he found it equally hard to believe that one of them was a killer. The only people who had really had the opportunity were DeadManWalking and Monkeyboy, and they both seemed genuinely shocked and upset by how things had turned out. He was going round in circles, looking at it first from one angle then from another, when he heard a tap on his door.
Bemused, he got up and went over to it. ‘Who is it?’ he asked softly.
‘It’s me.’
He recognised Mayfly’s voice, unlocked the door and pulled it open.
‘I couldn’t sleep. Do you want to come next door? We can listen to some music.’
Indigo figured if he was safe with anyone, he was safe with Mayfly. ‘Sure,’ he said. He locked his door and pock
eted the key.
Once they were inside her room, Mayfly also locked the door, then sat on the bed, her back resting against the headboard. She patted the space next to her. ‘Come on,’ she said to Indigo. ‘Come and sit next to me.’
‘Who’s that?’ he asked as he took his place.
‘Bic Runga,’ she answered. ‘I love her voice. Is it okay for you?’
Indigo nodded and they sat in silence for a while, just listening. Mayfly shuffled over and leaned her head on his shoulder. Indigo slipped his arm around her and rested his cheek on her hair. He felt peaceful, despite the strangeness of the situation. Bic Runga finished singing and Mayfly stirred.
‘Oh, I was far too comfortable,’ she said, then got up and selected a different album on her MP3 player, this time by Eva Cassidy. Music sorted, she went back to where Indigo lounged on the bed and perched alongside him. She brushed his hair from his forehead. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Oh, okay, all things considered. What time is it?’
Mayfly checked her wristwatch. ‘Half two.’
‘We should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be pretty hectic, I would guess.’
Mayfly leaned closer, brushed his lips with hers, then waited to see how he would respond. Indigo hesitated only for a moment, then pulled her to him and kissed her. He shuffled over to make room for her and she stretched out alongside him. Indigo closed his eyes and lost himself in the simple acts of kissing and touching and needing, then he remembered Emily’s mouth on his, her hands on his body, tried to push the thought away and failed.
Suddenly what he was doing felt wrong. Mayfly was too tall, her hair too long, her touch an intrusion. He pulled away from her.
‘What is it?’ She opened her eyes, looked into his.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, then dropped his gaze and finished lamely, ‘I just … I can’t. I’m sorry.’
She breathed out slowly, rubbed her eyes. ‘Jesus, you pick your moments.’
The Last Weekend Page 8
