Six Dead Men (7 page)

She sobbed as she accepted it. Deed waited in silence as she gradually calmed herself, blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes. He thought she clutched at the piece of fabric as though it were a lifeline. When she finally spoke he had to lean in to hear her.

“I think it’s me.” she whispered.

“What do you mean Miss Bricot?”
Just explain this to me so it makes sense Madie.

Her voice was small. “I mean me. I’ve done this.”

Deed smiled even though his stomach knew she was right.

He saw the conviction of her statement written in her expression. Her anguish was affecting him in a strange way. Deed suddenly wanted to prove to her she was completely wrong. He wanted desperately to make her see she could in no way possible be answerable for the deaths of these men.

You can’t be responsible; you’re just a slip of a thing.
“You? How exactly did you do this?
You weigh hardly anything at all. There’s no indication of poison.
You don’t have the strength to kill these men and there’s no physical evidence to prove they were killed with a weapon. Do you mean you poisoned them in some way?
She can't have done.
The lab results found no toxic substances. You only feel this way because you knew them, that’s all. It’s just coincidence. It has been known to happen you know, coincidence I mean.”
Why am I trying so hard to convince her? Or am I trying to convince myself?

“You don’t understand. It was me! I know it was!”

“Well then how did you kill them Madie?” Deed was shocked by his use of her first name.
Oh God. Has she noticed? No, she hasn't
. But he liked the way it felt when her name passed over his lips, like a sigh of contentment. He wanted to say it out loud again.
Madie... Fuck, focus Robert.
Deed pulled himself back to the interview. His inability to accept she was guilty seemed to be affecting her greatly. She was crying again and chewed on her bottom lip. She made no attempt to stem her tears with his handkerchief. They fell freely as she tried to articulate why she was guilty.

“I...I....”

Madie stood up from her chair abruptly and paced backwards and forwards in front of Deed’s desk. He could feel the tension and confusion radiating from her stiff-legged walk. Deed stood and walked around the table. He caught hold of the tops of her shoulders and steadied her with his hands.
She's like a startled deer.
Beneath his touch he felt her begin to still.
It's like I can feel her emotions through my hands.
He heard her breathing become less ragged and felt some of the tension in her body ease as she leaned in towards him slightly. Her scent rose to his nostrils and engulfed his senses. Deed tightened his grip on her shoulders and drew her in towards him. His arms seemed to move of their own accord and wrap themselves around her frame. The detective in him knew he was crossing over the bounds of conduct. It seemed though that Robert, the man, could not help himself.

A moment of slow motion pleasure stole over him as he felt her body heat seep through the cotton of his shirt. His heartbeat quickened. Everything else stilled. The office sounds from the squad room became muted. The very air seemed in a state of stasis. He closed his eyes, revelling in the moment and his lips brushed against her hairline in an unconscious kiss. She stiffened and pulled away from his embrace.

“No...” Madie whispered. Then, “No!” in a clearer, more definite tone. She tried to pull away from Deed. But Deed, the man was reluctant to release her from his embrace. She dropped his handkerchief as she placed the palm of her hand squarely on his chest and pushed him away forcefully. “No.” she repeated.

Still trapped inside the centre of serenity they had created, Deed stumbled as Madie pushed him aside, pulled open the partially closed door and left his office too swiftly for him to react. Still in a state of bewilderment Deed moved stutteringly out of the pause touching Madie had produced and wandered to the door of his office. Johnson was up and ready for action at his own desk. He gave Deed an enquiring glance but Deed waved away the offer of assistance.

He turned back into his office and was encountered by the accusing mound of his crumpled handkerchief. Deed bent to retrieve it and stared at it dumbly where it sat in his palm.
Why on earth did you do that? Whatever possessed you? Are you insane? If she decides to lodge a complaint your career is over. Jesus Christ, Robert, you’re an idiot.
He dropped the handkerchief onto his desk.

Feeling the need to do something physical, Deed shuffled the files on his desk together into a pile and re-filed them. Madie's perfume still lingered in his nostrils? He stared down at the notes he had made of her interview. He rewound the tape on his Dictaphone and listened to it again. Then he tore the notes from his note pad, ejected the tape from the recorder and popped them both in an envelope. He licked the gum of the heavy duty envelope, folded the flap and moved to put it in his top drawer. Deed turned towards the jacket hanging behind his door and placed the envelope into the inside pocket next to his battered copy of
Sonnets from the Portuguese.
Only then did the detective in him feel he had awoken fully from a waking dream.

I saw my first video phone footage when I was sixteen. It was a revelation. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it — distribute.

A few months later the boys and I were partying when Ronnie X brought round this girl he’d picked up at a club. She was high and hoping to score some more dope so what happened next was inevitable. X man was all about showing his prowess to the boys and liked to poke his girls in full view of the rest of us. He always managed this ‘cos the girls were more or less completely out of it. I’m not saying he slipped them rohypnol or anything like that, but he always picked the ones who were well gone already by they time they headed home with him.

I downed my shot of vodka and wandered over to watch X man’s antics. He was huffing and puffing and the girl was squealing away. So I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began recording. I was all the big time directors thrown into one, eyeing up my angles, looking at the lighting. Yeah right! I didn’t care a shit about any of it. I was just enjoying the spectacle.

The first person I showed the footage to the next day was Raj. “Holy crap.” Was his response. “Shit man DM’s. This is quality. Let’s have another look.”

“First time was free my man. Second time you gotta pay.”

He didn’t even blink. Just coughed up the two quid. I showed the clip to every other fucker I met up with that day and pulled the same trick I’d pulled with Raj. I got so cocky I began to up the price. I made it to six quid before people just walked away from a second viewing. And so was born my mighty enterprise.

I gave X man a cut. He was my leading man after all.

*****

I’m rushing from HQ, as I like to call the garage where we operate our phone porn business. Me and Raj have spent the day sorting the resolution and editing our latest mobile phone snuff film production to distribute on the net. It was touch and go whether we would finish on time because Raj kept stopping to enjoy the merchandise. It doesn't take much to get Raj going. A shot of someone putting a pair of handcuffs on the girl was enough and he nearly lost it completely when the four guys in the video were howling like wolves and fighting each other for who got to go first. I finally told him to stop spanking the monkey because I wanted to finish early on account of the fact it's my birthday.

I’m the business brains of the outfit, the front man. Raj smokes a bit too much weed to keep it together. Like today I mean - getting himself all worked up like that. Usually when he starts going for his toolbox I plug in my iPod. As long as he does what he's supposed to. He's an IT genius, always going on about artefacts, digitizers and encoders - whatever they are. Just know they make it possible for us to have the highest hit rate on a website like ours. The competition's tough out there with everyone thinking they can film stuff and put it on the net. But they don't have Raj to keep the cops chasing round the net trying to find us. Without him they'd be on our doorstep in an instant. He's the one that does all that complicated rerouting stuff they always go on about - everyone thinks our little earners come in from some place in India. I make sure the films come in on time and that my online contacts receive the films to deadline. This way the money keeps flowing steadily. Raj's cut goes on one thing and one thing only. No, that's not true, sometimes it's two things. I'm kinda trying out this savings thing called ISA.

Now Raj is just a short term investment. I can tell it’s getting to the point where I’ll have to cut my losses and recruit a new guy. I’m doing a bit of sourcing right now. No good getting the wrong sort of person in on the deal. I’ll keep Raj on as a silent partner. Lots of weed and enough screen time and he’ll be happy. I think Adrian might be just right. I’ll check him out a bit more before I let him in on the deal. If too many people know about your operation you can screw the whole thing up. But Raj is getting just a bit too carefree. Just as well most people don’t pay him much attention. It helps to have a partner who’s thought of as a weed head.

Now normally I’d have a bit of R and R and join Raj in the sensual enjoyment of the latest product but today is my 18
th
and I’m planning an unforgettable night. I’ve told the boys to meet me at the pub for last orders before the night of excess begins. First though, I’ll have to endure the family dinner mum has planned. She'll go spare if I don’t turn up for that. Knowing her, every relative under the sun will be there and the whole thing will turn into an event worthy of a street carnival. My life is not worth living if I don’t turn up for the family gathering. It’s annoying the way mum still sees me as her little boy but there’s something so reassuring about it at the same time. When I used to mess up at school she always backed me, even when I was in the wrong. She’d die if she knew what business I’m into. She thinks I work in IT - thanks Raj. Had to explain the large amounts of cash I throw about. I know how to keep mum sweet — a few presents here and there, a bottle of Dolci and Gabbana or Gucci and she’s happier than anything.

I jump off the 322 at the stop by The Dog and Star and bump into this girl I vaguely recognise.

“Hey there DMs.”

I stare at her, recognition not coming right away.

“Madie...”

“Allie’s sister.” I finish her sentence as I remember who she is. “Man, you’re looking fine.” And damn she is. She's wearing these jeans that tell you where everything you can't see is.

She smiles with pleasure. “Where you going in such a rush?”

Suddenly I feel embarrassed. I don’t want to mention mum’s iron rule over me. “Getting ready to meet the boys and make things happen tonight.”

“Any special reason or is it just the usual?”

“It’s my birthday man, the big 1. 8.”

“Hey, many happy returns!” She stands on tiptoe to peck my cheek, but I’m caught by surprise. I jerk my head slightly and the kiss touches the corner of my mouth. A thrill passes through my body and I’m a bit stunned as my nose is filled with the smell of her perfume.

“Oh, that’s my bus.” She hastens towards it and shouts out, “Have a good one.”

I just stand there watching her go. I can feel myself getting a woody. I’m just standing there smiling stupidly.

I’ve been pacing the kitchen floor, watching mum ring round my friends. She hasn’t seen me for a day and a half. She knows it’s not like me to leave her hanging with no phone call or text. At first she wasn’t all that bothered when I didn’t come home from my night of revelling. Mum knows I’m a young man in my prime and I need to sow my oats. She knows I’ll come home when I surface from my alcohol and drug haze. She doesn't approve, but there’s not much she can do really. And anyway, she still thinks I’m a good boy. And if anyone tries to dispute this fact she’ll help them remember the truth.

Raj hasn’t helped to ease mum’s worries. He’s still really spaced out since he scored a megawatt cube of hash off a Moroccan dude we met at the club. Selfish bastard didn’t even tell me about his score. Just kept it to himself. When mum talks to him on the phone he can’t even remember me leaving the club. He rabbits on about seeing my killer moves on the dance floor. Mum reaches for her inhaler cause anxiety makes her asthma flare up. I can hear the wheeze rattle deep down in her chest. How come I never heard that before?

I told the boys I was heading for the toilet. But I felt like I needed to be outside, get some fresh air. They’d come and find me or I could get in again a bit later. I’m tight with Jordan, the bouncer on the door.

When the fresh air hits me I come over all weird. Sort of see my life flashing before my eyes. Doesn’t really take that long. I feel this disappointment, you know, that I’m not going to be able to do much with my life. I can’t help feeling I’ve wasted the bit of it I’ve had. Don’t really know where this feeling is coming from. I mean, I’ve done way more with my life than any other fucker I know. I wonder if it’s the Es I’ve taken before I went into the club. Strange Es. I’ve never had that feeling off Es before. Shame I think. Shame it all has to end so soon. Why does it have to end?

I tuck myself into that little dead end alleyway alongside the club. The one where we all go for a quick pee before heading off to get a kebab. Usually there are about two or three junkies down here sharing a needle. But tonight it’s just me. I’m glad, because if I’m going to be sick I don’t really want an audience. The brickwork snags against my top as I slide down the wall and slump on the ground. In the dim security light I see crumpled crisp packets and chocolate bar wrappers, used condoms, someone’s shit and needles everywhere. I even think I see a rat, but I’m not sure. I feel the damp from the gutter’s dribble beginning to soak through my jeans. How on earth did I let myself get in such a state?