Stay Dead (28 page)

‘Max—’ she said, turning toward him.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ he said.

‘Max—’

‘I
said
, shut up.’

And having said that, he turned away from her and stared out of the window, jaw set.

Tony gunned the engine and drove them back to Holland Park.

She shut up. Tony drove on, through the steadily hardening rain. When the car pulled up outside her house in Holland Park and Max dragged her out, she thought maybe he’d go and leave her
there. But he didn’t get back in. He slammed the door shut, and the other three men shot off in the Jag.

‘Come the fuck on then,’ he said, and grabbed her arm and hauled her up to the steps to the big imposing navy-blue doors of home.

Once inside, Annie went on unsteady legs across the hall and into the drawing room. She peeled off her coat and dropped it on to the carpet, then slumped down on a Knole sofa
and put her head in her hands.

‘
Shit
,’ she said with feeling.

Max was pacing about again. Suddenly, he stopped in front of her.

‘Oh, you think those at the church were scary? You ain’t seen fuck-all yet. What in the name of . . .’

His words trailed away and he started his restless pacing again.
Not
a good sign, she knew that. Then he was back in front of her. ‘You low-life cow. I don’t know why I
bothered to do that. I must be off my fucking head. You’ve been cheating on me with that flash Yankee
bastard
—’

‘I haven’t.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Max’s eyes were blazing. ‘You admitted you’ve been seeing him. What, you been playing tiddlywinks or something? Or chess like in that
film? Or have you been doing what we all
know
you’ve been doing? That is, dancing the horizontal tango with that American
prick
.’

Annie sat there, head bowed. ‘You said you wanted a divorce,’ she said slowly.

‘What?’

‘A divorce. That’s what you said. So what the fuck? What’s the use of all this? You want a divorce, you got one. Simple as that.’

Max lunged forward and yanked her to her feet. Every ache in her body started setting up a protest, and Annie let out a yell.

‘Oh, don’t give me that, I ain’t even touching you. Do you know the lucky escape you’ve just had? That was a fucking lynch mob there at the church, all out for your
blood, and I had to walk you out of there with a bodyguard of three blokes who were none too sure they wanted to bother. They did it because I told them to, that’s all. And that made me look
like the world’s worst fucking fool.’

Annie stared into Max’s eyes from inches away. It had taken her a while to realize it, but he hadn’t been trying to intimidate her at the church by surrounding her in that way.
He’d been
protecting
her. And when he’d cornered her at his mum’s old house, he hadn’t been planning to hurt her; it had all been for the benefit of the three men
waiting outside the door. He’d told her to scream, and she had. In actual pain, although he hadn’t known or intended that.

Annie started to smile.

Max glared at her. ‘What?’ he snapped.

‘I love you, Max Carter,’ she said, wincing as her damaged rib set up a riotous ache. ‘Every macho, hot-headed bit of you.’

‘You
what
?’

Annie pushed herself free of his grip. She dragged her hands through her hair and stared intently into his eyes.

‘For God’s sake
listen
,’ she said. ‘This is
me
. This is not rumour. This is not someone talking in the pub after too many sherbets. I’m telling you
that I never slept with Constantine when we met up again. I saw him, yes. But sleep with him? No.’

‘You must think I came upriver on the last banana boat,’ he sneered.

‘No, I think you’re smart. I
know
you are. When you stop behaving like a jealous arsehole and start thinking, you’ll work it all out.’

Max stood there staring into her eyes for a long time. Then he said: ‘You know what? I don’t have to think about it, I can just beat it out of you.’

‘But you won’t do that,’ said Annie. ‘The great Max Carter, beat a woman up? Nah. That’s never going to happen.’

‘Oh, you think so.’

‘I
know
so.’

Max’s eyes narrowed. Then he turned away from her, walked a few paces, came back.

‘And while I’m working all this out, what are you going to be doing?’ he asked.

‘Finding Dolly’s killer,’ said Annie.

‘Yeah? On streets where everyone wants you strung up from the nearest lamp post? That’ll be a neat trick.’

‘One word from you would change that.’

‘Yeah. If I could be arsed.’

‘I need some help,’ she said.

Max raised an eyebrow. ‘I heard you
had
help. For what it’s worth. Jackie Tulliver. That cunt’s a drunk these days, what use is he to you – or anybody?’

Annie remembered that Max hated drunks, and would never tolerate them anywhere near him. He’d been scathingly harsh in the past about her mother, Connie, who’d been a useless alkie
and so – in Max’s eyes – beneath contempt.

‘I wasn’t thinking of Jackie,’ she said.

Max’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, have a day off. Me? No bloody way. You’ve made me look enough of a fucking idiot already.’

‘No, not you.’

‘Who then?’

‘I want Tony. I want my driver back.’

After Max left, Jackie showed up. Annie guessed he’d been skulking about outside, just waiting for Max to go before he showed himself. Maybe the man had
some
pride
left, after all. Didn’t want his old boss to see the state he was in.

‘So what’s next?’ he asked when she let him in and led the way back across the hall and into the drawing room.

‘For you? Hopefully a bath. And a shave, would that hurt?’

‘Hey, no need to get personal,’ he whined.

Annie sat down and looked up at him. ‘What happened with your mother?’ she asked.

Jackie flinched as if she’d struck him. ‘What you talkin’ about that for?’

‘She died, Steve told me. What was it then? Heart? Cancer?’

Jackie stood there, looking at the floor. ‘I ain’t talkin’ about this.’

‘Maybe you should.’

‘I don’t
want
to.’

‘Why? She died of old age, I suppose? People do die, Jackie. It’s sad, but it’s part of life. Unavoidable.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. What’s next, that’s what I came to say. Not to talk about things I’d rather not discuss, OK?’

Annie drew a breath. After today, and seeing Max again, she felt tired out, literally wrung dry. She longed to get some more painkillers down her then fall into bed and sleep. If Jackie
didn’t want to talk about what was bugging him, fair enough. She didn’t have the energy to push it. Instead, she would move things forward on what happened to Dolly.

‘Dolly’s brother and sister.’ Annie picked up her bag, pulled out a scrap of paper with Sarah’s address on it. ‘This is her sister Sarah’s address and her
married name. I don’t know Nigel’s address. I want you to find out everything you can about both of them. Talk to them, if you can – although I think you’ll find they
don’t say much. Tell them you were a friend of Dolly’s and you’re in bits. Work their emotions if they’ve got any, which I doubt. Don’t mention you’re doing this
for me, OK?’

Jackie’s thin shoulders slumped and he glanced at Annie. ‘You know what? I
did
like Dolly. She was straight as a die. A nice person.’

‘Dolly was the best.’ Annie was silent for a moment, fighting down that horrible black wall of grief again. ‘That’s your first job, then. All right? There’s another
brother, Sandy, he’s in a home. I’ll find out where and see if there’s any chance of getting any sense out of him. And there’s another brother, Dick – don’t know
anything about him yet. Except that he’s living abroad. The father had an accident years ago on the railways, he was a shunter. So maybe the Delaneys
didn’t
carry out
Dolly’s wishes. Anything you can find out about that would be good. What are the narks saying to the Bill?’

‘Nothin’. Precisely fuck-all.’

‘Keep pushing on that.’

‘Jesus! What am I supposed to do in my spare time then?’

‘You got anything on Redmond Delaney yet?’ she said.

‘Still lookin’.’

‘Well, hurry the fuck up, will you? I want him found. The rest of the Delaney mob are toast, but I know for a fact that he’s still walking. Don’t approach him. Just find him.
And go easy. I want to talk to him in person.’

‘That whole family’s poison.’

‘They’re all dead, Jackie. All except Redmond. How hard can it be?’

‘All right, all right! I’m on it. What the hell do you want to talk to him for?’

‘Dolly wanted her old dad hit, remember? Ellie told me that Dolly approached the Delaney mob to do the job for her. So my thinking is, was that “accident” really an accident?
Who knows? As Redmond’s the only one left, I’m hoping
he
does.’

Annie reached for her purse, thumbing out a few twenties. She handed them to him. ‘I don’t want this going on drink, you got me? I want everything about Dolly’s family you can
find. They’re Catholics – check the parish records, dig up anything and everything. This should be enough to get you started.’

Jackie nodded and took the money, folded it and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. He turned away from her and went to the door. Then he paused.

‘You sure about this Delaney thing? You open a wasps’ nest, you’re gonna get stung, you know.’

‘Do it,’ she said.

Jackie nodded again, his hand on the doorknob.

‘Something else?’ asked Annie when he hesitated.

‘She was crossing the road,’ he said and when he glanced up she saw tears in his bloodshot eyes. ‘My old mum. Too slow, see? Arthritis in the hips. Far too slow. Boy racer
comes through, takes her out. Bounced fifty feet,
smack
on to the pavement. Dead the minute she hit the ground.’

While Annie sat there with her mouth open, wondering what to say, Jackie slipped out through the door, and was gone.

Next morning, Tony was there with the Jag. She answered his knock, and he looked like he wanted to be somewhere,
anywhere
, but here, talking to her.

‘Morning, Tone,’ she said.

He grunted. As always, he was immaculately dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit, white shirt and dark tie. Bald as a coot, ugly as sin and tanned to a turn, eighteen stones of muscle sporting
twinkling gold crucifixes in each big cauliflower ear. He smelled good – some sandalwood-based aftershave. Once her staunchest supporter, he was looking at her now like he wanted to spit in
her face.

Without a word he turned away from the door and led the way down to the car. He opened the back door, and she got in. Then he closed the door behind her, and slid behind the wheel.

‘Where to?’ he asked.

So that’s the way it’s going to be
, she thought.

She told him the address, and without a word he edged the car out into the flow of traffic and drove her there.

‘Wait for me,’ she said when they arrived. Without waiting for a reply – she didn’t think she was going to get one anyway – she got out and went up the front path
to the Foster household.

It was a neat little terrace, one of a row of identical houses, and the whiteness of the curtains and the pristine condition of the front step, the rampant health of the plants in the hanging
baskets on either side of the door, all screamed that this was the home of someone who was careful to make a good impression on the outside world. Annie lifted the highly polished brass dolphin
door-knocker and banged it, hard, twice. She waited. Half-hoped that Sarah Foster née Farrell would be out.
Drains and radiators
, she thought. Some people drained you – like
Sarah and her charmless, repressive brother Nigel – and others radiated warmth, like Dolly.

But all too soon the door opened and there was Sarah, wearing a tobacco-brown knitted woollen skirt that had never been in fashion and never would be, a thin lambswool cardigan in a washed-out
shade of lavender and a lemon-coloured blouse. She stared at Annie with a fixed and immobile expression.

‘Oh – it’s you,’ said Sarah, sounding neither pleased nor put out by it.

‘Can I come in?’ asked Annie.

‘What for?’

The woman had no social skills. No charm. No
chutzpah
. But this was Dolly’s sister and somewhere inside she must have a grain, a tiny seed, that resembled Dolly.

‘I’d like to talk to you. About Dolly,’ she said.

‘It’s not very convenient. I’ve had the police round asking questions, and
people
. . . ’

Jackie Tulliver would probably be one of those people, Annie guessed. Christ knows what this buttoned-up little article would make of
him
.

‘And if you don’t mind I would rather not discuss the subject any more.’ The thin voice, the repressive mouth, everything served to irritate Annie, but she ignored that, fought
against it. She had to keep her tongue under control here, or she’d never even get to first base.

‘This is your sister we’re talking about,’ she reminded Sarah.

‘I know that.’ Two dull red spots appeared high up on the pallid cheeks.

‘Then spare me a few minutes, because I would like to know what was going on with her, what happened, how she came to be killed like she was.’

For a moment Annie thought Sarah was going to slam the door in her face. But that would show a bit of passion, a bit of feeling, and she didn’t think Sarah had it in her. Instead, she
opened the door a little wider, then her hand apathetically dropped to her side. Without a word she turned and walked off along the hallway. Taking this for an invitation, Annie followed. She
closed the front door behind her, and followed Sarah into a tiny pin-neat box of a kitchen.

‘You’d better sit down then,’ said Sarah gracelessly, seating herself at a tiny, old but clean grey-laminate kitchen table.

Annie sat down. It was dark in the kitchen, not much daylight seeping in through the north-facing window. The place felt chilly and smelled faintly musty, although outside it was supposed to be
summer.