Fireproof (15 page)

"Or rob us a wee Securicor van?"

Mike nodded. "And of course, familiarity breeds contempt. You know that old saying, ‘Who polices the police?'? That used to be on my mind a lot. The vigilantes spent a lot of time tracking down and catching burglars and drug dealers, but they used to let a lot of bad shit slide if it was done by a certain type of person. Namely IRA men."

"That's not the most surprising thing I've ever heard, Mike." Cathy said, "I've lived on this road all of my life. You hear things, you know?"

"Aye, and most of them are true, I'd bet. But some of the really bad shit is kept secret. Stuff I don't want to go on about too much, but it used to make my blood boil. The last thing I could stomach was the disappearance of a young woman and her two children. Her kids were very young. They weren't even in school. A boy and a girl. They were wee bastards, like most of them are around here, but they were still just nippers. There was no real harm in them. Well, I heard things. I heard they'd been disappeared because a top IRA gunman didn't want to pay child support. The guy, Kevin Kelly, was fucking minted, but he suspected that the youngest, the little girl, wasn't his kid. So he cut off the mother and his son out of principal."

"What a bastard," Cathy said.

"I know. But he was right about the wee girl. She was my daughter, but nobody other than me and his girlfriend knew that for sure."

He let the facts sink in. He had a sip of the vinegary wine.

"So what did you do, Mike?"

"I tortured him in his own home for two days. I brought enough food and clothes for a week, but he told me what I wanted to hear after twelve hours. The longest day of my life."

Mike paused as the memory of Kelly's screams replayed in his mind. They tore through his head with digital clarity. He blinked rapidly and pushed on with the story.

"The three bodies were buried in shallow graves near a training camp in County Louth. I tipped off the cops and they had a proper burial. I got too drunk at the funeral and told one person that I'd killed the murdering bastard. News got around fast. Kelly's older and more respected brother, Shane, arranged a hit squad to deal with me. They picked me up the day after the funeral. I was in the bar drinking a pint and nursing the worst hangover of my life when they lifted me. That's how I died for the first time."

"So you went to Hell for killing a murderer?" Cathy asked. She sounded appalled.

"I guess murder is murder. It was never explained to me though. I didn't go to chapel either. I cursed a lot, drank a lot and got arrested more than once for barroom brawling. Who's to say that my damnation was based solely on that one murder? It was pretty brutal though. And even though the deed sickened me, after all I've been through since, if I could go back in time… I'd do it all again."

The waiter brought them the main course at this point. They picked at their food in silence for a few minutes. Mike wanted to ask Cathy if she thought any less of him, but he didn't. Stupid pride; he'd rather suffer in silence than let down his guard for a second.

"How many members of the hit squad have you killed?" Cathy asked. The question sounded casual and her tone normal. She seemed unfazed by his revelation.

"What makes you think I've killed any of them?"

"It's what I would do."

The perfect woman.

"I've got two out of four so far. I've saved the best for last."

"And the guy who ordered it? The brother?"

"Shane Kelly? Dead last."

"I'd like to help."

"You'd go to Hell. Haven't you been listening to me?"

"It must be worth it. Besides, I'll end up there anyway if things work out the way I want them to. Maybe I'll get sent back like you."

"Maybe not."

"Well I intend to find out. You want my help or not?"

"Can I get back to you?"

"Of course. You have
got
to taste this." Cathy held a forkful of cannelloni out for Mike to sample.
Bellissimo
. He returned the favour with his spicy penne pasta dish. Both of them preferred the cannelloni.

"Did you get your money laundered okay?" Mike asked.

"Now there's a question you don't often hear on a first date." Cathy smiled. "Yes I did, thank you. Jill Fisher has written us a cheque for a generous donation and made a tidy sum for herself too."

"She's efficient. How much did you get in the end?"

"Just over eighty."

"Nice. So the old lady made thirty grand just because she knew some people."

"The rich get richer. But I'll not complain. I get to keep my job and Mary and Margaret treat me like a queen now. I've never had so many cups of tea handed to me in my life."

"They're nice old ladies. For robbery accomplices, like."

"They keep asking me for your address. I think they want to send you a cake and a few homemade dinners. They're distracted by your slight frame and want to fatten you up a bit."

"Well, if you come back to mine for a nightcap, you'll be able to tell them exactly where I live tomorrow."

"How convenient for you."

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes either. How about I get back to you?"

"Touché."

After the meal, Cathy put Mike out of his misery and told him that she'd like to join him for a nightcap. They walked the short distance in comfortable, full-bellied silence.

At the apartment, Mike and Cathy had the living room to themselves. Cadbury was in the shower. Again. The man had become addicted to personal hygiene. He took at least four showers a day and washed his hands every hour. His cleanliness could be compared to the Godliness of a Born Again Christian. Cadbury's new zeal for hygienic perfection was also well reflected in Mike's apartment. The place gleamed. Cadbury's dynamic turnaround in character impressed the shit out of Mike. Sometimes just a small break can make a big difference.

Mike made some Irish coffee for Cathy. He cracked open a cold can of draught Guinness for himself. He needed to wash away the taste of Chardonnay. The apartment felt warm and comfortable. Cathy looked relaxed and happy. The can of stout, chilled to perfection, dripped condensation. The moment was like a little taste of Heaven. Mike almost regretted his past decisions, but he shook it off. It had all been worth it. Besides, he'd returned. Maybe permanently.

"So what are the terms and conditions of your stay?" Cathy asked, as if she had read his mind.

"I can't kill myself anymore. Oh, and I can't get caught for murder or serious crimes. First time I killed someone in public I got into a bit of trouble."

"Is this your last life then?"

"I think so. It wasn't really spelled out. Just alluded to. I'll avoid taking the risk. I never know what body I'll come back in. I quite like this one."

"Yeah, I like the tattoos. Japanese gangster style. That's cool."

"Yeah, they are nice."

"There's another good reason to take it easy on that body, Mike. Who says you won't come back as a female next time?"

"That might get in the way of our relationship."

"Relationship? How presumptuous."

"I don't believe in beating about the bush. So how about it? You want to be my girl?"

"I haven't been asked that since I left secondary school."

"And your answer is…?"

"Yes, you can be my boy."

"That's not quite how I phrased it, but I'll take it."

"You're lucky to get it. I'm still not sure about this whole reincarnation thing. I don't understand why it was so easy to accept that you're the guy I watched gutting himself."

"Yeah, that created quite a stir, didn't it?"

"I'll say. So when are you going to announce your arrival to the faithful?"

"I'll give Tony a call tomorrow. I just wanted a few days off first."

"Well if you can't take a bit of time off to rob a security van and date your partner in crime after a trip to Hell, when can you?"

"My thoughts exactly."

Mike loved talking to Cathy. She had some pretty kooky opinions and a wonderful wit. He could talk to her for days without even trying to get into her knickers. That seemed pretty serious. He wished he'd met her before he'd died. Things could get complicated very easily in his strange, new existence.

"Hey, Mike. Nice dinner?" Cadbury stood at the door with a towel around his waist and another wrapped around his head, turban-like. He smiled at Cathy. "Nice date." It wasn't a question, it was a compliment.

"Hi, Cadbury," Mike said. "This is Cathy. Dinner was indeed nice."

"Good to hear it. I ate all the beans in the house. Four tins. I'm stuffed."

"Well done."

"Yes, it was quite a struggle at the end. Very enjoyable though."

Cadbury smiled at Cathy and left the room.

"You have an interesting roommate," Cathy said.

"He doesn't think of himself as a roommate. He's a butler in his eyes."

"I'll bear that in mind." Cathy looked about the apartment. "He seems to be doing an excellent job. Do you pay him in beans?"

"I said he could live here rent free and eat whatever he wanted. He seems to be experimenting with the freedom. I don't mind. I find a lot of his meals to be quite interesting. Last night he made squirrel skewers. I have no idea where he found grey squirrels around here, but I thought the alliteration rolled off the tongue. I tend to cook for myself though."

"Is he a reincarnation too?"

"Nope, he was squatting here when I was in Hell. Didn't have the heart to turn him out. It's worked out okay for both of us."

Cadbury came back into the room. He wore a full tuxedo and a pair of white gloves. His long grey-streaked, curly hair dampened the back of his jacket. He stood in the corner of the room, his stance and facial expression, regal.

"Nice suit, Cadbury. You really look the part now," Mike said.

"I used the money you gave me for expenses. Found it in a thrift shop. It's as good as new, but it only cost twenty quid. The shopkeeper said that she had trouble selling it because she was obliged to tell folks that someone had died in it. Some people are so weird."

"It's a very good fit," Cathy said.

"Thank you, ma'am. The shopkeeper described it as serendipitous." Mike loved how this sentence sounded in Cadbury's thick Belfast accent. Cathy looked rather intrigued by Cadbury too. Amused, but not in a cruel way.

"Did the gloves come with the suit?" Cathy asked.

"No ma'am, they were thrown in for free. The shopkeeper seemed to be very generous. Nobody died wearing these or anything."

"They're very dashing."

Judging by Cadbury's expression, Mike thought that Cathy had made herself a friend for life. He was glad they were getting on. He imagined that old Cadbury would be around for quite a while.

"I think I'll go to bed, if that's okay with you, Master Rocks."

"Certainly Cadbury, see you in the morning."

He wished Cathy a pleasant night and retired to his bedroom.

"Why did he get dressed to tell you he's going to bed?"

"He takes his job very seriously. He won't call me Mike unless he's on a shower break."

"Shower break?"

"He doesn't drink tea or coffee."

A little after midnight, Cathy asked Mike to walk her home. Mike was happy to spend the extra time with her. They walked hand in hand. Mike pecked her on the cheek at her doorstep and she kissed him on the lips. They arranged to meet each other for lunch the next day. Mike had to stop himself from skipping home.

***

That night, Mike had a very vivid but confusing dream. Tony rode Cerberus like a horse through the streets of West Belfast. Mike chased them. Cathy had white feathered wings and flew ahead of Mike, pointing in the direction that Tony and the dog were fleeing. Mike could see up Cathy's white dress when he looked up. She wore pink panties. When he caught up with Tony and Cerberus, he could see that Tony had no lower half. He was strapped to Cerberus by a pair of leather braces. He blew Mike a kiss and pulled a gun out of his mouth. Then he shot himself in the head. Two of Cerberus's heads laughed and morphed into the heads of Paul Murphy and Fat Sean Phillips. The middle one cried. Cathy swooped down and grabbed Mike and they flew away from the suicide scene. Then she dropped him and he jolted awake in his bed. His alarm clock read six in the morning. Mike got up.

He phoned Tony, thinking there was a good chance that the hoodlum high priest would still be up raising hell. He was right. Tony answered his phone and Mike could hear a horrid dance track blaring in the background. There was a lot of laughing and shouting going on. Mike told Tony to find somewhere quieter so that they could chat at a civilised volume.

"Okay, I'm out in the yard. What's the craic, Mike?"

"Well, I'm back on Earth."

"Cool. Are you coming to the mass tonight then?"

"Yeah, we'll do the big announcement. You don't seem very surprised to hear I've come back from the dead again."