Faceless (56 page)

Verbena would have been over the moon. Even taken her under her

wing, because she loved to be in control of everyone. But Marie

Carter, although grateful, had no need of the help his wife would

have loved to bestow. In fact, she could probably help Verbena. At

least Marie Carter lived in the real world and not the one of

tree-lined avenues and dinner parties that his wife inhabited.

Ossie was angry with himself for his thoughts as he felt they were

mean. But Verbena had pushed it too far this time and he had had

enough. As he put the kettle on she spoke, her tone aggrieved and

her voice soft as if she was still on the verge of tears.

‘There’s fresh coffee in the percolator.’

‘Instant will do for me. You know I prefer Nescafe.’

She did know and it annoyed her. Even when they went to dinner

at people’s houses he requested it, and every time he did so he

angered her that little bit more. He didn’t even drink decaf like

everyone else. He enjoyed saying he needed the jolt of the caffeine

to wake him up. And him a doctor!

As he spooned two heaped teaspoons of coffee into his cup she

stopped herself from saying another word about it. For the first

time ever she was worried, really worried, because he had slept in

the study and he had never done that before. She had expected him

to come out to the kitchen and cajole her into going to bed as he

normally would. Instead she had heard him go into the study and

that had been that. She had even had a shower and put on perfume

in case he wanted to make love to her to seal their making up. That

was what usually happened. In fact, if she was honest, that was

usually the best bit.

But since Marie Carter had come on the scene he had changed.

Her son had changed too and she felt strangely alienated by it all.

They wanted her to capitulate and at least pretend she liked that

woman but she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.

She watched as he poured water on to the coffee granules. As she

looked at him in profile she was reminded of what a handsome man

he was. Many women gave him a second look, she had always been

aware of that. Even some of her friends gave him the glad eye now

and again. As he was now, in his boxers, barefoot, he reminded her

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of an African prince. She could see him in her fantasies coming to

save her and then taking her roughly on a dirt floor somewhere.

She blushed as she thought of it but it had always turned her on.

He was everything to her, he and her son. If they would only realise

that fact, and maybe appreciate her for it, how much happier they

would all be.

He padded past her without another word and she heard the

door to the study close. A few moments later the TV came on and

she felt lonelier than she had ever felt in her life. He was watching

the news, completely uncaring about the fact that he had broken

her heart.

But she would not give in, she was determined on that much. She

decided that if he liked sleeping in the study so much then that was

where he could stay. See if she cared.

Jason came into the room, still looking sleepy. He kissed her

automatically and she hugged him to her.

‘Are you OK, sweetie?’ Her voice was tender as she spoke to him.

He nodded.

‘I just feel a bit funny, Mum. I woke up and felt as if Tiffany was

near me. I really felt that she was close by. It was eerie.’ He paused

and she could see him frown as he tried to find the words to explain

what had happened. ‘I sort of felt like she was trying to tell me that

everything was going to be all right now.’

They both turned to the doorway as Ossie appeared there and

said gently, ‘She loved you, Jason. She was trying to let you know

that.’

‘Do you think so. Dad?’

His voice was hopeful. He was desperate to believe what he was

being told.

‘I know so. So be glad you had the chance to say goodbye

properly. Come and have some breakfast, son. Shall I do us all some

ham and eggs?’

He was trying to bring normality into a house that had been

anything but normal for days. And twenty minutes later, as he

watched his son eat enough for a platoon of soldiers, Oswald was

grateful to whatever God there was for bringing this child into his

life.

376

Chapter Twenty-Seven

C 1’ know you’re in there, Marie.’

A. Sally Potter’s voice was a harsh whisper.

Marie opened the door slowly and Sally walked into the room

before she could be refused admission.

‘Look, Sal, I’m really tired …’

‘I’m not surprised! I heard you pacing the floor half the night.

What the fuck is up, Marie?’

The two women stared at each other for long moments; it was

Marie who looked away first.

‘What have you done, love?’

Sally’s voice was gentle but elicited no response from her friend.

‘You look dreadful and you look guilty. You look like I did after I

wasted my old man. Now your business is your business, I accept

that. But you don’t need any more trouble in your life. None of us

does. So tell me what’s wrong.’

Sally’s earnest plea broke through Marie’s reserve and she said in

a frightened voice, ‘I did it again, Sal.’

‘What are you talking about, Marie? You did what again?’

‘I killed someone.’

Now she had said it out loud she felt easier inside. It was as if by

saying it she had made it true.

Sally’s face paled.

‘What the hell you talking about, girl? Who the fuck you

supposed to have killed?’ The prison jargon was back without a

second’s thought.

‘Patrick Connor.’

‘What - the black pimp?’

Sally’s voice held admiration now.

‘That is one bad bastard.’

‘Was. He was a bad bastard and that’s why I did it. He was my

son’s father - I think I told you about that? Well, he duffed my

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daughter, put her on crack and then he killed her. Had her killed in

the worst way possible. I had to do it.’

‘I heard about your girl. I didn’t come in because I know that,

like me, you need to deal with your grief in private. One of the

legacies of a life spent in prison. It was only last night I started to

worry about you because you were pacing the room.’

They were quiet for a few moments and then Sally left. She

returned a few minutes later with a half-bottle of brandy. She poured

out two glasses and, giving one to Marie, watched her as she downed

it in one gulp.

‘That’s it, girl, it will help settle your nerves.’

They both sat on the bed.

‘How did you do it?’

Marie sighed and said gently, ‘I beat him to death. It seems that’s

what I do best.’

She held out her glass and it was refilled instantly.

‘I took an iron bar, which is obviously my weapon of choice, and

confronted him over my girl.’

She gulped at the drink before she carried on talking.

‘He laughed at me. That rotten bastard just laughed at me as if it

was the funniest thing he had heard in years. He said, “So what you

going to do, Marie, kill me? You ain’t no fucking killer, girl, you’re

just a stupid whore.” And he kept laughing so I hit him.’

She finished the drink quickly and held out the glass once more

to be refilled before she continued.

‘And I hit him and I hit him and I hit him. And then he was on

the pavement trying to crawl away from me and so I hit him again.

And then I knew he was dead. So I ran.’

‘What did you do with the wrench, Marie?’

‘I slipped it down a drain hole then I went into the toilet at a

train station and washed the blood off my hands. My shirt was

spattered as well, so I slipped that off and threw it away and just

wore my dark jacket pulled tight round me.’

Sally was nodding as if in agreement.

‘Good, so there’s nothing to tie you to it. Where did you get the

wrench?’

‘From a builders’ supply merchants round the corner. I went in

there and sorted through the tools until I found something

smallish but heavy. He is one strong fuck as I have always known,

but then so am I. He used to joke about my right hook years

ago. Anyway, I binned it, just walked out nonchalantly. I didn’t

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want to be seen buying it, you know.’

‘Are you sure he killed your girl?’

Marie laughed nastily.

‘I have the fuckers doing it on video. That’s what sent me over

the edge. He gave her to three nonces. He not only got shot of her,

he made a few quid on the deal - now why am I not surprised about

that? One was a judge and one was in the GPS. The other bloke is a

barrister or something. Just pieces of shit who took my baby and

literally beat and fucked her to death. What kind of way is that to

go, screaming, and terrified out of your mind? Who the fuck do

these people think they are - and what makes them tick? What made

them want to do something like that to someone else? A lovely

young girl with her whole life ahead of her.’

Marie was sobbing now, the crying of a woman completely over

the edge. One of the other women knocked on the door, alerted by

the high-pitched noise coming from the room. As she popped her

head around it Sally said softly, ‘Her daughter died, she’s upset. Got

any hard?’

The woman came back a few moments later with a bottle of

Scotch.

‘Take this. I hope she feels better soon.’

She looked at Marie with compassion. They had all heard about

it. She left the room and Sally cradled Marie in her arms until her

crying subsided. Then she held up the bottle of Scotch and said

craftily, ‘If they knew how much contraband was in the place they’d

freak out. Feeling better?’

Marie nodded.

‘A bit.’

‘Listen, Marie, what you done was right. You done a good thing

and you should be proud of yourself. Now have another drink and

try and get a few hours’ sleep. You’ll feel better if you do.’

‘Will you stay with me?’

Sally nodded.

“Course I will, for as long as you need me.’

Alan listened to the policemen talking and wondered what the hell

was going to happen to him now. If they put him on remand it had

to be in segregation or he’d be dead in hours. Because Mikey was

dead, he wasn’t that important to them any more. He knew it, and

more to the point they did.

‘Why would Mikey Devlin have killed Patrick Connor?’

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That name frightened Alan Jarvis so much he was rendered

speechless. Connor could bring Marie into the equation. She had

had a child by Connor and now she was seeing Mikey. The

implications were legion, especially as she was out on licence and

should not be near anyone with form.

‘Did Mikey kill him then?’

The policeman frowned.

‘I’m asking the questions here, remember.’

Alan shrugged.

‘I know nothing about that. If I did I’d have said so. I opened me

trap about everything else, didn’t I? I’d hazard a guess that if he did

kill him - and that’s a big if, mind you - it would be over the old

Persian rugs. They were both at it after all, and Mikey, like I said,

wanted to become even bigger. Supply the whole of the fucking

country. Saw himself as a bit of an Escobar, if you know what I

mean.’

The plainclothes policeman rolled his eyes to the ceiling in mock

boredom before he answered sarcastically.

‘What - he wanted to score an own goal in the World Cup and

get shot? Well, one out of two ain’t bad. At least he realised one of

his dreams. I can’t see Mikey in the England squad. A bit old like,

don’t you think? Though the way they’ve been playing he could still

get a shot at it, I suppose.’

Alan shook his head in disgust.

‘Very fucking funny, I don’t think. He saw himself like the

Colombian drug dealer of the same name. You know, the Mr Big of

the smoke. Don’t forget that cunt Escobar ended up running his

country. He even owned the jail they banged him up in.’

‘Well, bully for fucking Escobar. But none of this answers my

fucking question, does it?’

‘Well, that could be because I don’t know the fucking answer. I

can only hazard a fucking guess.’

The policeman, DI Teddington, was not a happy man at the best

of times. Even his colleagues didn’t like him.

‘I’ll hazard my fist in your fucking face in a minute!’

Alan had finally had enough.

‘You dare and I’ll beat your fucking brains out, you ponce! Now

bring me a real filth with some real fucking power in this place and

I might have something to talk about, mightn’t I?’

Teddington was incensed. He was small fry by police standards

and it bothered him. He acted the hard man all the time, but with

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his balding red head and extremely white skin, he was constantly the

butt of jokes. He was always looking for the worst in people and

invariably found it.

‘You cunt! You fucking lairy cunt!’

As he started beating Alan three PCs came running into the room

and pulled him off. As they dragged him out of the door he was still