The Runaway (60 page)

It was a revelation to her, that these feelings had been inside her for so long, suppressed, unused.

She met him thrust for thrust, and as she felt him tighten, felt his whole body stiffen, she climaxed again, a longer, more intense orgasm than before.

It was over in minutes but neither of them had ever experienced anything like it.

He held her to him, feeling all-powerful, as if he could squeeze her until he broke her bones. Their breathing was still erratic, he could feel the quick beating of her heart. Finally he knew the meaning of real love-making and it was a revelation. He knew that he would never again feel like this with anyone.

They didn’t speak, there was nothing to say. Eventually he rose and picked her up like a doll, taking her into the bedroom. As they lay on the bed together, they both felt as if they had come home. Tommy was forgotten, Deirdra was forgotten, their children were forgotten as they enjoyed each other.

It was a honeymoon period, a time for them alone, and they both knew they had to savour it while it lasted. Whatever happened now, they were once more an item, once more together, and neither wanted to think further than that.

 

Harvey O’Connor, a third-generation Irishman, was dressed in a white coat and loafers. His good suit was covered up, around his neck he had a stethoscope and in his top pocket a collection of scissors and medical implements.

He looked at himself in the mirror of the washroom and winked approvingly. He was nondescript, his sandy hair and brows making him blend into any crowd. As he left the washroom he smiled at two young nurses and they smiled back absentmindedly.

In the pocket of his white coat he had a syringe already prepared and as he entered Tommy’s room he was smiling reassuringly. Tommy was still in a state of shock, still staring ahead. His breakfast was beside him, uneaten. The smell of eggs was rife in the room, and made Harvey screw up his nose in distaste.

He took the syringe from his pocket. It contained a mixture of insulin and cyanide. No one was too concerned what he did; the death certificate had already been written out hours ago. It was just a case of taking the appropriate steps. In other words, administering the injection and leaving the hospital with the minimum of fuss.

A nurse, a middle-aged Mexican called Juanita, would discover the body and alert the right people. As Harvey pushed the needle into Tommy’s arm, he noticed the man’s healthy muscular physique and sighed. It was a shame, but it had to be done.

This was worth twenty thousand dollars to him, and unlike most jobs he was to talk about it to certain people.

It was to become known that a murder had been committed.

Whether it was the prick of the needle or the inherent urge to live which is strong in everyone, Tommy turned to face him, pulling his arm away in the process. Harvey dragged Tommy closer, forcing the needle in deeper. He plunged the poison into his system and watched in satisfaction as Tommy’s eyes glazed over and his life was quickly extinguished.

Harvey let out a deep sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was to have to beat the man to death, or try and suffocate him.

Positioning the body on the bed in a sleep position, he closed Tommy’s eyes and pulled the sheet up around his neck. Then, smiling gently, he picked up a piece of Tommy’s breakfast toast, scooped some scrambled egg on to it, and ate it. It was cold, but he was ravenous. He even sipped at the coffee, grimacing with contempt at its cheap taste. Hospitals were the pits where food was concerned.

On cue, Juanita entered the room at nine-fifteen. He left then, and let the woman do her stuff. It was a job well done, and a profitable hour’s work. What the hell? He had even had breakfast thrown in.

 

The call came at 10.35, as Eamonn and Cathy emerged from the shower. Eamonn took it and afterwards showed the practised sadness of a funeral director as he told Cathy the news.

‘Tommy had a massive coronary this morning. There was nothing that anyone could do. It was due to the drugs he had taken, and his lifestyle.’

Cathy sat stunned, numb with shock, as she listened to him talking. While she had been making love, her husband, poor Tommy, had been dying.

Eamonn guessed her thoughts and said gently, ‘Come on, Cathy, we weren’t to know, were we?’

She shook her head, her distress evident. He went to her and pulled her into his arms. She tried to break away but he held her tighter.

‘Don’t do this, Cathy, don’t beat yourself up. You weren’t to know what was going on, none of us was.’

She understood the logic of his words, but could not accept them yet. But she allowed him to hold her. Suddenly, she was cold, so cold. Her body felt as if it had been locked into a freezer, so chilled had she become.

Eamonn dressed himself then, knowing he would have to take her to identify her husband’s body. As he slipped on his shoes he heard the buzzer sound. Coming out of the bathroom, he saw his wife and two youngest children standing in the hallway.

Cathy was white-faced, grim-looking.

Deirdra smiled at them both and said cheerily, ‘Good morning.’ She held out her hand to Cathy. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met?’

Eamonn closed his eyes and felt a sinking in his heart. Cathy stared at Norah as if she had seen a ghost. He ushered his wife and children through to the lounge and said sadly, ‘This is Tommy Pasquale’s wife, Cathy. Cathy, this is my wife, Deirdra.’

His wife stood there, all dignity and viciousness.

‘Tommy died this morning,’ he told her. ‘I’m just taking Cathy to the hospital to sort things out.’ He saw with satisfaction the shock on Deirdra’s face. She even put her hand to her mouth, a gesture which on any other woman he would have enjoyed. As it was her pudgy hand annoyed the life out of him.

‘My God, I’m so sorry.’ Deirdra knew she was in the wrong, knew she was ‘out of order’, as her husband would have said. Knew that she had been barking up the wrong tree.

‘So what brings you here anyway?’ He pressed home his advantage. ‘I thought I mentioned I was letting the place to some friends?’

He knew he was being unfair but to catch her like this, to have the chance to put her on the spot, was too much to resist. Cathy stared at the two antagonists and felt her heart sink. So this was Eamonn’s wife, this was the woman she had envied over the years. This plump, unhappy woman, with the beautiful hair and the clothes that did nothing for her.

Deirdra didn’t answer her husband; Norah did. ‘Mummy said we’d come and get you, and make you come home with us.’ Her little voice was matter-of-fact, her eyes dancing.

Eamonn knew that Cathy was aware of the situation and thanked God she wasn’t a woman to panic, to let others unnerve her.

Cathy stared once more at the little girl and then said softly, ‘I’d better get dressed.’ She turned to Eamonn and said, ‘Thank you so much for all your help. I’ll be fine now, really. I know Tommy would have appreciated what you’ve done, he always had a high regard for you.’

Deirdra was mortified. This woman had just lost her husband and she, Deirdra, had arrived like the avenging angel.

‘Please, my husband will take you to do whatever you have to,’ she said hastily. ‘I met Tommy many times at our house. He was a good man. He spoke of you and your daughter many times.’

In her ignorance, Deirdra had hit on the one thing to make Cathy crumple. At the other woman’s words, she felt the tears come then her whole body began to shake with an ague-like shuddering. She collapsed on to the settee, her legs weak, eyes pouring tears.

Norah, a sensitive child, put her hand on Cathy’s arm. ‘Mommy, shall I get the lady a glass of water?’

Paul, only seven and frightened by all the emotion in the room, began to cry. Eamonn picked him up and cradled him in his arms. His eyes bored into his wife’s. He conveyed his utter contempt for her in a matter of milliseconds. Even Deirdra’s sadness and pain didn’t make him any easier on her. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to make her pay for her intrusion, and he was doing just that.

Five minutes later she and the children were gone, her halting condolences still ringing in Cathy’s ears as Eamonn poured her a stiff drink and forced her to sip it.

Finally, Cathy spoke to him. ‘She wasn’t what I expected.’

Eamonn sighed heavily. ‘She wasn’t what I expected either, but there you go. We were both disappointed in our own way.’

Cathy nodded sadly. ‘Tommy tried, but I never really gave him a chance, you know? I was very hard on him, and yet I’m a hypocrite. A twenty-four-carat hypocrite. I made his life hell because of his involvement in the Cause. Yet you were the instigator of it all, and I don’t care any more. Or not at this moment anyway. How I’ll feel once I’m back in London, I don’t know. I am as selfish as you, and I must admit that to myself.’

He took her hands in his. ‘You’re not selfish, you gave him a good life. He spoke highly of you and your daughter.’

‘She’s not his daughter, Eamonn, she’s
your
daughter. I always knew deep down, but seeing your little girl today . . . they look like sisters. They’re so alike it’s unbelievable. That was Kitty as a younger child. That was her, from her hair to her voice. Tommy knew, I think, deep inside. All those years and we never had another, never once did I fall pregnant. She has his name, but nothing else.’

‘He was her father, he brought her up, he loved her.’

Cathy shook her head. ‘Kitty never liked him. I know that’s weird, but it’s true. She never really took to him, prefers Desrae, loves him, but pretty much blanked out her so-called daddy. In the end he gave her a wide berth. They were antagonists as she grew older. She won’t be heartbroken over the news and neither am I, really. Isn’t that a terrible thing to admit? In some ways I feel relieved about it all. Desrae will mourn him properly, but he’ll be the only one. Tommy’s mother died a couple of years ago, he had no one really close.’

They were silent for a while, each with their own thoughts.

‘I’d like to see Kitty, I really would,’ Eamonn said at last.

Cathy smiled at him through her tears. ‘When you visit London, come to me. Promise me that you’ll always come to me, Eamonn?’ Her voice was heavy with distress. ‘Don’t abandon me now, after all this.’

She sounded so desolate. Then, as if she were playing a part, she pulled herself together. Standing up, she said seriously, ‘I’ll have to make arrangements to take him home.’

Eamonn shook his head. ‘We’ll bury him here, that’s the best thing. I can arrange it in no time.’

Cathy looked at the man she loved more than anything in the world and with those few words, in her heart, recognised that Tommy Pasquale had not had a massive heart attack. Somehow, this man was responsible for his death.

Yet, even knowing that, she couldn’t hate him, because now that Tommy was gone, the drunken, drugged up Tommy, the gambling Tommy, the man with debts all over London, she could finally be free. Really free. Because she had known since the day of her marriage that Tommy would never have allowed her to leave him, he would have seen her dead first.

Her only thought was:
We are all tainted, the three of us. We’re all tainted somehow and we will pay for it in the end
.

 

Jack Mahoney was in his Queens office. The area was once called Blissville and normally, as he looked over the industrial wasteland it had become, that made him smile. Not today. He shook his head sadly as he listened to Petey and Eamonn arguing.

‘He had to go. Igor was nervous; Anthony Baggato even mentioned it, for fuck’s sake. Tommy
had to go
. Now will you all leave it, please? I sorted it as I sorted Flynn. As I sort fucking everything out for this firm.’ Eamonn’s voice was loud, hard. ‘I liked Tommy well enough, we all did, but he made a fatal mistake and we can’t afford too many of those.’

Petey was not impressed. ‘You did this all off your own back, Eamonn. We should have been consulted.’

‘I did consult you, for fuck’s sake!’

Petey bellowed at his friend: ‘Only after the fucking deed was done! Harve told me, for Christ’s sakes. I should have known before him. I should have been involved, but you just did what you wanted as usual, Eamonn. Fuck me, and fuck Jack.’

‘I wasted him to keep us in the frame. If we’d swallowed him and his antics, we would all have been dead men pretty damn quick. Can’t you see what’s going down here? Igor isn’t a fool, he isn’t fucking stupid. He’s involved with the Armenians, the Russians, and anyone else you’d care to mention. I can’t afford to have him worried about anything, anything at all.’

Jack spoke finally. ‘So who’s going to mule now? Who’s going to take the stuff over to England?’

Eamonn shrugged. ‘I am. I’ll take it over this time and set up something else while I’m there.’

Petey looked disgusted. ‘I suppose you’ll be holding the hand of Tommy’s bereaved widow, eh? The fucking whore! You’ve been stupping her since she arrived, you think I don’t know about it? That’s why you wanted him out of the frame. This ain’t nothing to do with business, this is pure fucking, nothing more nor less.’

Eamonn’s fist made contact with Petey’s chin a split second after he’d finished speaking. Petey was launched into the air and over the desk at a speed that belied his size.

Jack rushed to his unconscious brother and, looking up, said sadly, ‘The truth always hurts, Eamonn. Remember that in the future. If you were Mafia, touching a dead man’s wife would mean death.’

Eamonn laughed then - a nasty vicious sound. ‘Well, we ain’t the fucking Mafia and Petey ain’t no fucking Lucky Luciano! When he wakes up, you tell him to think long and hard before he ever strikes up a conversation like that again. If he does, I’ll fucking kill him.’

With that he left the office, his rage so acute he could almost taste it. Sitting in his car in the small parking lot, Eamonn let his temper subside.