Ascension Day (63 page)

Jouliern skimmed from people at the tables who wanted extra chips without going to the chip-cashing booths. ‘It happens a lot apparently if they’re in the middle of a game or a roll and don’t want the delay of cashing at the booths.

‘So they’d be cashed at the table, and at the end of the night Jouliern had the responsibility of taking all the cash from the tables and tallying with the chips provided. At that point, though, he’d pocket some of the cash and feed in chips from his own pocket – there was control of cash in the club, but not chips – and then the extra cash would be left in an envelope under the bar with Gerry.

‘The only problem remaining then was that as part of that cash control at the Bay-Tree, each employee, including Jouliern, was searched going in and out, and was allowed no more than fifty bucks in their pockets. So they needed a courier to get those money envelopes out… which is where yours truly came in.’

‘What, you went every night?’ The first question that Jac had asked.

‘No, three nights a week. All I could manage. And Jouliern kept the skimming light too from the tables, so that the fluctuations wouldn’t show.’ Alaysha shrugged. ‘That no-cash-out policy also gave Gerry some problems in paying Ferrer. Often, the only chance Ferrer would get to collect cash off Gerry was at night at the Bay-Tree. So Gerry would put Ferrer’s money in an envelope with his name on, and tell Security that it was to give to Ferrer later. First couple of times Security said, “Okay, we’ll give it to him ourselves when he calls.” But then when Ferrer complained about one of the payments being light, they said that Gerry could give it to him directly. “Just as long as you know that if he doesn’t call by for it, it stays here with us when you leave. He’ll have to pick it up later.” That was the golden rule –
no
cash out of the Bay-Tree – no matter the circumstances.’

Alaysha eased out a slow, heavy breath, as if glad she’d finally shared some of the burden. ‘The whole thing went well, no hitches. And everyone was happy: Gerry paid off Ferrer, I saved my mom’s life, and Jouliern… well, he never shared with us why he was doing it.’ She pouted thoughtfully, which eased into a faint smile. ‘Maybe half a million good reasons – because that’s what he ended up getting away with.’

The shadows in her eyes deepened again then, and the smile twisted as she forced a brief, ironic chuckle. ‘Bad choice of words – because in the end it doesn’t look like he
got away
with anything.’ The shadows sunk deeper still, hit something darker, more troubling. Raw fear, panic. ‘You see, ten days or so ago I read in the paper about George Jouliern disappearing. And I thought – Malastra’s found out about the skimming, and it’s only a matter of time before the knock comes on my own door and I’m next to go “missing”.’ Her neck pulsed as she swallowed hard. She held one palm out. ‘That’s why I got the gun from my mom’s. Not so much because of Gerry, but because I feared Malastra’s men would be coming for me.’

Jac nodded slowly. He understood now why she’d done it, probably
too
well. If in those last months of his father’s life there’d suddenly been a miracle cure, and at the same time someone had laid on a plate a clean, ingenious robbery to pay for it, with high chances of getting away with it, he’d have gone for it. No question.  

He thought it’d be hard to beat his own nightmare dilemma; but hers, possibly on a Malastra hit-list, was equally as crushing. The mention of his father, though, reminded him: look to the positive. ‘How long now since you read about Jouliern disappearing? Ten days or so? Then another four or five days before he’d have been officially reported as missing. At least two weeks. If that knock was going to come on your door, it would have probably happened by now. Chances are Jouliern didn’t say anything about you – they just don’t know.’

‘Or they’re still putting all the pieces together.’

He could see that his words did little to lift the crushing worry from her shoulders, her eyes haunted, looking for solutions that weren’t there, her body trembling as she no doubt thought not just about her own neck, but how little Molly would possibly cope with her gone; Alaysha’s mother now with not many years left to be able to take care of her. He reached one hand out and lightly touched her arm, tried to lift her out of her dark mood.

‘Hey, come on… you know what I’ve said makes a lot more sense than any other scenario.’ Her eyes lifting a bit, a faint, reluctant smile. ‘But, you know, if you’re still worried – just try and keep one step ahead. Stay at your mom’s as much as possible, and when you’re in town, maybe stay at my place. I know it’s only next door – but you can look through the spy-hole and see if anyone suspect is calling at your door. Gives you that extra minute or two to get out or phone for the police, whatever.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate it. And I’ll probably take you up on that offer.’ She forced a tame smile, then let out a fresh breath. ‘But enough about me. What about you – the fugitive of the hour?’ Her expression became more solemn again. ‘How are you coping, Jac?’

‘Oh, God.’ Jac lifted his eyes heavenward for a second. ‘Where to even start?’ He tried to keep his explanation just to filling in the gaps in what Alaysha probably already knew from Langfranc or news bulletins, so that it wasn’t too rambling. He raised the first full smile from Alaysha as he described walking through Libreville earlier that day disguised as Ayliss, already sweating because he was nervous, and with the unbearable heat of the prison and the extra padding and make-up, it literally pouring off of him. ‘I feared the make-up would start running and half my face would come unstuck and start peeling off. I had to call Morvaun straight after: emergency pit-stop for face maintenance!’ Alaysha was by now openly laughing – it was good to see her like that, Jac thought: the problems hanging over them for a moment forgotten. ‘Morvaun in fact has to follow me round from hotel to hotel, giving me regular patch-ups.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Next one is here tomorrow at seven a.m., before I head out. Meanwhile, you’ll have to answer the door if room-service calls.’

She nodded, her smile fading as she became pensive again. ‘And how did it go with Durrant?’

He sighed heavily before explaining, the images from just over an hour ago burning fresh through his mind: the serge-green safe with a twist lock, just as it had been twelve years ago; apparently it would have been too much upheaval to have it moved or changed. The new owners seemed to remember the bookshelves being on the right-hand side, though the library now was just another bedroom, and the grandfather clock would have obviously been moved along with Roche’s other furniture and possessions, they pointed out. Though at that moment they suddenly recalled the sales brochure Roche’s realtor had done at the time, which they’d kept – and there it was proud in the corner on the hallway shot: a full-length walnut-cased grandfather clock.

Jac shook his head. ‘Everything…
everything
matched Larry’s descriptions from the session. Not a single thing wrong. And it hit me in that moment, Alaysha, harder than ever… he
had
to have been there that night. And all this crap with pool buddies and other places he might have been – I’m wasting my time. Have been from day one.’ Jac grimaced awkwardly. ‘Only I didn’t know it until now.’ Jac bit at his bottom lip, but this time as he went to shake his head, it seemed to lock, leave him transfixed, staring into mid-space. ‘And the thing is, I can’t blame or even get annoyed with Larry for it – because he simply can’t remember, doesn’t know whether he was there and killed her or not.’ 

‘It seems a shame to give up now… just when you’re so close. Only six days left.’

Jac let out a half laugh, half defeated sigh. ‘That’s the thing, Alaysha. I should have given up long ago… back when you told me to after almost drowning in the lake.’ Jac shrugged helplessly. ‘Certainly before now – on the run from a murder rap, life in tatters, not able to contact even my own family. My only escape walking around like an overweight wax doll, worried that half my face might melt off at any moment and people will start pointing… it’s him!
It’s him
!’ This time Jac’s smile was forced, pained. Alaysha knew that she wasn’t meant to join in.

Her eyes darted uncertainly for a second before she asked, ‘But I thought you had some guy with dance lessons for his kid that would have meant Durrant was definitely playing pool that night?’

Jac nodded. ‘Yeah, Bill Saunders. Though problems there, too. Larry remembered Saunders being there, which meant high chances that game
was
a Thursday night. But I called Saunders just before heading here, and he told me that once every month the dance teacher would change the day around. Then also a couple of times a year she’d close the classes for her holidays – one of which was always at Carnival time. In February.’ Jac grimaced. ‘Like so much else with Larry, hardly have you grabbed hold of it – the next moment it’s cruelly yanked away.’

Alaysha was thoughtful, the shadows back in her eyes, though from concern for him and Durrant this time rather than herself. ‘But what if you find something that convinces you he was innocent
after
the six days, when it’s too late – you’d never forgive yourself for giving up at the last moment. Especially with all you’ve been through.’

   ‘I know what you’re saying, Alaysha. But I’m tired, and I don’t know what else there is to find out. And there’s the real worry that I’ve been doing all this to try and free a guilty man.’ As Jac exhaled, it felt as if that breath was taking his last strength with it. ‘Every time I get up off from the canvas hoping that with the next punch I’ll hit something to convince me that Larry wasn’t there that night and didn’t do it – another blow comes to tell me that he was, knocks me back down again. And this time, Alaysha, I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to get back up.’

She reached out and gripped his arm then, lightly shaking, as if she might be able to inject some extra energy from herself into him. ‘But it’s only six days, Jac, and then you’ll know for sure. And if you still haven’t found anything and it looks as if Larry
was
there that night – at least then you’ll be able to tell yourself that you tried everything. Did all that you could.’

 Jac nodded and closed his eyes for a second in acceptance. He could see the sense in what Alaysha was saying, but the sudden turnaround made him question, ‘What makes now so different to before – when you were urging me to give-up, throw in the towel? Or is it just one of those perverse women-things:
always
take up an opposite stance?’

Alaysha could tell from Jac’s sly smile that he was ribbing, but the effort of making it bore out what he was telling her: he was tired, defeated, had no strength left. ‘Because
before
Jac, you still had a long way to go – now you don’t. Now there’s only six days left to hang on.’

Six days
. Said that like, it didn’t sound long, but with the way Jac felt at that moment, it seemed like a lifetime. He’d felt tired and worn-down before the nightmare with Gerry and the gun. But running like a rabbit from the police and the role play with Ayliss, worried that at any minute, a few words wrong or bumping into someone who’d known Ayliss, the game would be up – the BOP hearing and walking back into Libreville had been particularly nerve-racking, draining – all of that had sapped his last reserves, so that now he felt he had nothing left to give.

Alaysha watched Jac crumble before her, saw his painfully conflicting emotions, wanting desperately to continue, but not sure any more how to, or whether he had an ounce of energy or resolve left to be able to… and that vulnerability, as before, made her realize how deeply she cared for him,
loved
him, made her suddenly want to soothe him, comfort him, protect him.

She leant in close then, putting one arm around him and gently rocking, ‘Oh, Jac…
Jac
,’ starting to plant light kisses on his forehead and one cheek.

The softness and closeness of her made Jac melt. Jac, without knowing her thoughts, thinking how vulnerable
she
looked, still in her underwear, cross-legged before him, more concerned about his welfare than her own – even though a threat to her life might hang just around the corner for her. And in that moment, he didn’t think he’d seen anyone so beautiful; not just outside, but inside too. Body and soul. 

A couple of tentative kisses by his lips, and then their tongues were touching, teasing; then suddenly the kisses became deeper, more passionate, and they were tearing the remaining clothes off each other.

Jac remembered reading somewhere that in times of war, people made love more frequently and fervently. While the bombs dropped around them, in air-raid shelters or ditches or bedrooms that shook with nearby explosions, they fucked. Soldiers visited whores the night before they went to the front line, or lonely women took them in for the night because they seemed exciting or different or had a packet of cigarettes or some nylons to give them. And much of that desperate love-making was not only because it might be their last chance, but because in those few moments they were reaffirming that they were still alive, still vital; while so much around them was being robbed of life by bullets and bombs, they were indulging in the one act that represented continuance of life.