Blood Tears (20 page)

‘You’re on your own there, mate.’

Two hours later, I’m in front of a mirror, wearing a navy tracksuit by FILA. My T-shirt is another source of amusement for Kenny. It is from Next, and is light blue except for the huge circular target right in the centre, coloured navy and white. The bullseye is a lovely shade of red.

The hair is something special as well. The last time I saw a haircut like that, Paul Gascoigne had just signed for Glasgow Rangers, resulting in every football fan of a certain blue tint to his or her nose under the age of thirty-five getting their hair cropped and bleached platinum blonde.

‘I look like a middle-aged ned.’ I run my fingers through what remains of my hair. ‘All I need is a bottle of Buckfast.’ Kenny is on his knees, stuffing a fist into his mouth, trying to control his laughter. ‘Did you have to get me a tracksuit? And the T-shirt, ya bastard!’

‘There’s… not… a policeman in the whole of Strathclyde will know you.’ Words escape past his knuckles.

‘That’s true. But they’ll all be chasing me. I’ll be a major suspect for every petty crime committed in the last twenty-four hours.’ A laugh escapes from my throat.

‘Listen. The tracksuit is something loose and comfy until you lose your weight. Then I’ll get you some trendy threads. Okay?’  Kenny leaves the bedroom and I can hear his laugh echo in the space of the hall. I follow him downstairs and walk in front of Calum. This time his lack of response should earn him a medal.

Kenny walks to the main entrance of the flat and turns to me, ‘I need to go now, but I want you to think of this place as your home. Calum will stay and keep you company for a few days.’ He looks me up and down, ‘Don’t go scaring any old ladies.’ Laughing, he opens the door and leaves.

Dinner is a grilled chicken breast covered in herbs, with some broccoli. Calum cooked it. Without a word he walked over to the kitchen, pulled a few items from the fridge and within half an hour he thrust a plate on to my lap where I sat on the settee. His, he ate at the kitchen’s breakfast bar.

‘So where are your instructions, Calum?’

‘I don’t know what you mean, sir.’ He must have been brought up well: he finished chewing before he spoke.

‘The hair dye had them printed on the box. Where are yours?’

‘Oh,’ his eyes have the look of someone who has seen too much. ‘Very funny, sir.’

‘Look, Calum. This is hopeless. If you are going to spend any time in my company a personality is required.’

‘Certainly, sir.’

‘And stop fucking calling me sir.’ I give up. The man thinks he’s playing the lead part in a new movie called
Mission Inscrutable
.

In between mouthfuls, I pick up the TV remote and switch on the telly. We have a choice of
Neighbours
, some bowling competition, the news or another repeat of
Friends
. Or a plethora of nothing programmes on satellite TV. I could do with a laugh, so I go back to the news. Some news presenter with the hint of a regional accent is talking about the Prime Minister and how he’s fucked up again. Then we have the usual “Let’s Finish with Some Good News” slot.

Some poor sap has a cat that has been stuck up a tree two hundred times and it’s cost the taxpayer tens of thousands of pounds in call-outs from the Fire Brigade. The cat owner is interviewed wearing his best cardigan.

‘I love Benji.’ He’s trying to tell the nation why they should continue to save his best and only friend in the world. Christ, this eejit’s as sad as me.

Then we have the round-up of today’s news.  My face flashes on to the screen.

The newsreader says, ‘Detective Inspector Ray McBain, wanted by Strathclyde Police for murder, escaped from custody. This man is dangerous and should not be approached by members of the public.’ The piece must have been hurriedly put together because the photograph is pretty blurred. Judging from the building behind me, I’ve just left court and I’ve turned just as some snapper has taken the photo. The blurring effect has been kind. I look almost handsome, in a chubby, cute sort of way.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Don’t know why I’m upset. I should have been expecting it. This is big news. It’s not often any policeman, let alone a high ranking one, is a suspect for murder. I have to hope that, by tomorrow, today’s headlines are lining everyone’s fish suppers. Maybe another bigger story will break and I’ll get left alone.

Theresa will know now. I pick up the phone and dial her number. It’s ringing. Pleasepleaseplease be in.

‘Hello?’ Her voice is wary.

Oh sweet relief. ‘Theresa. It’s me.’

‘Ray!’ Her voice goes dim as if she’s cupping her hand to the receiver. ‘Where are you? What the hell is going on? Are you okay? I’m worried sick about you.’

‘Can you meet me somewhere?’

‘What, are you insane?’

‘I need to see you. To explain.’

‘I don’t need this, Ray. The press will be all over you. They’ll find out about us.’

‘I didn’t do it, Theresa.’

She paused just a moment too long for my liking. ‘The thought never crossed my mind, Ray. But do you think running away is going to solve anything?’

‘I was with you the night of the first murder, Tess. It couldn’t have been me.’

‘I said that I believed you, Ray.’

‘Christ, do I need to see a friendly face. Can you come and visit?’ The pleading note in my voice disturbs me, but I am past caring. I need Theresa to be on my side. I give her the address and ask her to get here as soon as possible, before hanging up.

Calum is on his feet, facing me across the room. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

He must have overheard me. Nosy bastard.

‘I don’t give a fuck what you think, Calum.’ Regretting my tone I try again. I should keep on the good side of this guy. ‘Sorry, Calum. It’s just… you heard Kenny earlier.  A blowjob is the best tension reliever known to man.’

He suddenly grins, we are both men together, ‘Why didn’t you say that? I’ll leave the flat when your lady friend arrives. Give you some space.’ He continues to grin, now looking less like a bodyguard and more like a teenager on double helpings of testosterone. I force a grin in reply.

‘Must be feeling a bit horny eh? After being locked up,’ he says.

‘Aye. I could screw the buttonhole on a fur coat.’ I feel bad about misrepresenting Theresa like this, but it is one sure way of smoothing over her appearance.

Thirty minutes later the intercom rings. Calum motions me over.

‘This your friend?’ He’s all business again. I look at a small screen showing Theresa’s worried, pinched face in black and white. I nod. He buzzes her up and then opens the door, leaves the flat and walks over to the stairwell. The door to the landing opens and he barely gives her a look as they pass each other, he going in, she coming out. I could have kissed him; by not drawing her attention to him he had allowed her to feel some semblance of normality.

I’m standing in the doorway and with my first sight of her in the flesh, I forget how I must look to her. She looks at me, her expression neutral, and then at the plaque at the side of the door. Then she looks at me again.

‘Oh, Ray. It’s you! What have you done to your hair?’ She takes my hands and I pull her into the flat. We sit on the settee facing each other. Her line of sight keeps sliding up to my head. A smile creeps into her expression and before I know it we are both laughing. The release I feel from this is enormous, like Charles Atlas has gone and sat on someone else’s shoulders. I sober up first, the last few mouthfuls of laughter drying to a dust that coats my tongue.

‘I’m so sorry about this Theresa, but I needed you to know…’

‘Sssh, Ray,’ she presses a finger against my lips.

‘But…’

She squeezes herself against me. I can’t help but notice the press of her breasts against my chest. A certain part of my anatomy notices it as well.

‘As long as you’re okay,’ she says, while I try to clear my head. Which is pretty difficult considering my blood flow is going in a southerly direction. Well, they do say that danger is an aphrodisiac.

‘You believe me. Don’t you?’

‘I was with you. Remember? You were in my bed for most of that night.’

‘Most of it?’

‘Well, you arrived late. And…’ She paused as if fighting against the blush that was working its way up her neck towards her face.

‘And what?’ I aim for a neutral tone. And miss. She has given this a lot of thought.

‘Och it’s nothing, Ray.’

‘It’s not nothing. You’ve had some doubts about me.’

‘No, no, no. It’s just… you are in the papers and everything.’ She shifts in her seat, pushes her hair behind her ear. ‘I’d be mad not to go over everything. Put yourself in my position, Mr Policeman. Would you not wonder, if only for a moment or two?’

‘Of course I would,’ I say. That’s what I love about Theresa. She doesn’t stay on the defensive for long. ‘Sorry. You were saying…’

‘Right. I was saying nothing really. Just that you were doing your sleepwalking thing.’

Me? Sleepwalking?

‘We fell asleep at one point, after you did your stud muffin thing.’ Her smile sent a charge of heat direct to my groin. Another quality I love about Theresa; she loves sex. ‘Then I woke up and saw you standing over me. Like you had been sleepwalking .’ She held her hand to her chest. ‘I don’t mind telling you that it freaked me out a little.’ A small laugh. ‘But you have done it before.’

‘I have?’

‘Yeah. A couple of weeks earlier.  I caught you in the kitchen. You were even spookier that time. Fully dressed as well.’

‘Seriously?’ This was too weird. ‘What was I doing?’

‘Standing at the sink. Looking out into the garden. You wouldn’t have seen much, it was pitch black.’ She pursed her lips as if searching for an apt phrase. ‘Your eyes were open. And yet when I touched your shoulder you turned to face me as if I had just woken you up.’

‘Did I say anything?’

‘No. You just wore this expression of complete bewilderment. So I took your hand and guided you back to bed. Where I helped you take your clothes off and shagged you rotten.’

We both laugh though our joy sounds as shallow as a minute old puddle.

‘Were there any other times?’

‘No. Well, not that I noticed anyway.’

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘Dunno. I thought you were aware of it afterward and that you didn’t want to talk about it.’ She held my hand. ‘You did look like you had seen a ghost. And you quickly learn that if Ray McBain isn’t in the mood for talking, that nothing is going to open him up.'

‘I’m sorry, Tess. Must’ve been horrible for you.’

‘Look at you,’ she squeezes my hand. ‘Up to your neck in shit and you’re worried about me?’ She straightens her spine and sets the line of her jaw. ‘I’ll phone the police. Tell them about you and me.’ She turns to look out of the window and then looks back at me. ‘But it doesn’t need to go public does it?’

‘Your husband wouldn’t need to know, unless your alibi didn’t clear me and they decided to have their day in court. In which case you would be called as a witness. But you’re not doing it. I got myself hooked in this mess and I refuse to drag you into it.’

‘What do you mean?’ She tilts her head to the side.

‘If I hadn’t tried to conceal my name from a list of… Theresa, do we have to go through this right now? What about the phone calls?’

‘Ah. The phone calls.’ Her expression hardens.

‘Sorry.’

‘What the hell were you trying to do? Get me a quickie divorce?’

‘Sorry.’

‘I mean, c’mon, Ray. The deal was no phone calls.’

I’m not apologising again. I cross my arms, ‘I’m sorry.’ You held out for a while there, Ray. ‘What did you tell whatsisname?’

‘I told him that I’d met you one night when I was with the girls and you got me confused with one of them. Poor sap loves me that much, he believes everything I say.’ Her expression is one of regret. She looks away from me out of the window.

‘Thanks.’ Relief softens the pull of my shoulders. That’s one less thing to worry about. I slump back on to the sofa. ‘How long have you got?’

She looks at her watch, ‘
He’s
away to Newcastle for the day. Said he’d be back around nine. So we’re safe for a couple of hours.’ She curls into me and lays her head on my chest.

The smell of her hair is intoxicating. It is lightly damp. Everything in the world that is feminine is bound up in these dark brown fibres. I slide my cheek slowly down the brown silk and breathe the scent in to the back of my throat.

She pats the bulge in my tracksuit, ‘Don’t even think about it, big boy.’

‘You know you want to.’ I laugh. If she doesn’t, I think I’m going to burst. Her finger traces the outline of my penis through the fabric. She then cups my balls.

‘Mind you, if I don’t empty these first I’m not going to get much sense from you. Where’s the bedroom?’

We’re lying on the bed, Theresa curled on her side, me spooning her from the back. We fucked twice. I came within seconds each time. Feel as if I’m sixteen again. I tried to apologise for not seeing to her pleasure first but the words came out sounding anything but sorry. It is difficult to speak properly when synapses are sparking all over your body.

Despite everything that has been going on, at this moment I feel fulfilled. Cars are swishing past in the rain outside, the police are charging around hoping to lock me up for a murder I didn’t commit, and I’m wearing nothing but a smile, sharing a silk sheet with a beautiful woman.

As if she were an exotic creature, I lift her hair out of the way to lick at her bare shoulders. Kissing her pale skin just where back meets neck, I wonder, is there any place in the world softer than this? A note of pleasure escapes from her mouth. Her buttocks spark at my groin. Her skin should be cloned, packaged and sold under the brand “Heaven”. She moves her cheeks against me and once certain of my arousal, reaches back and guides me home. This time we are making love and it feels… so right. This is a sensation that is so new to me I stop thrusting.

‘Don’t stop, Ray. I’m close,’ she breathes.

‘I love you,’ I hear myself say.

‘I love you too. I love you too.’ She pushes her back against me.