Slammer (35 page)

'No.' Glass rubbed his temples with the heels of his hands.

'You were full of drugs. All those painkillers. And speed. Blood loss. Shock. Been that way for a while. Since cutting your finger off.'

'They're lying. All of them.'

'Then perhaps you'll believe the truth when you hear it from your visitor's lips.' Riddell got to his feet, placed his hand on Glass's shoulder as he passed him.

Glass didn't move, didn't turn round. Stared straight ahead.

He heard the door open. Whispered voices. Footsteps behind him, closing on him. Then a hand once more on his shoulder.

And then a voice he never thought he'd hear again. 'Nick,' Mafia said. 'How've you been?'

*

Glass stared at the dead man. 'You're a ghost,' he whispered.

'Christ, no,' Mafia told him. 'Flesh and blood.'

'If he was a ghost,' Riddell said, 'do you think I would see him?'

'But you can't be here,' Glass said to Mafia. 'You died.'

'So I hear,' Mafia said. 'Strangled myself, I believe.'

 
'Yeah.' Glass lowered his head, stared into his lap. 'I don't understand. I saw you.'

'Like you see your sister?' Riddell asked.

Hazel? Why was he bringing up Hazel? 'Hazel's … she's different.'

'Yes,' Riddell said. 'Why did you tell me about her?'

'You wanted to know what happened.'

'That story about the picnic. The horses. Her laughing at your fear. Why mention it, Nick?'

'That's what I was thinking about at the time. Anyway, what does my sister have to do with any of this? I haven't seen her in years. She couldn't even make it to my mum's funeral. Can we not talk about her? Mafia—'

'You were in a car,' Riddell said. 'Thinking about your sister.'

Glass squeezed his hands together.

'What triggered that?' Riddell asked.

'How should I know?'

'Imagining Mafia was in the car with you, maybe?'

Glass said, 'He
was
there.' He looked at Mafia again. 'Tell him. You were there.'

Mafia shook his head.

'In the flat,' Glass said, 'you told me all about how you took the blame for Watt. You don't remember that?'

'What did I take the blame for?'

'For Watt killing his wife and kid.'

'He's never been married.'

Now wasn't the time to be pedantic. 'His girlfriend, then.'

'Watt's got no kid.'

'Watt killed them,' Glass said, his chest tight. 'By accident.'

'I don't know where you got that idea.'

'You told me. In the flat.'

'This is the first time I've been out of the Hilton since I got sentenced.'

'But you didn't kill anybody. You're innocent.'

'I'm no more innocent than I'm dead.' Mafia sighed. 'Nick, I killed two people.'

'No,' Glass said. 'You covered for him. Watt told me his wife and kid were dead.'

'He didn't,' Riddell said. 'That's just what you heard. According to my notes, Watt said, "Beautiful daughter. Lovely wife. Perfect family. Where's mine?" and you asked, "Your wife and kid? Did something happen to them?"'

'You think you know everything,' Watt said.

'No, I don't—'

'Shhh. Just listen. Do you know why Mafia's in prison?'

'For murder.'

'And do you know who he murdered?'

'Mafia would never do that. No way.'

'Ask him.'

Riddell said, 'Watt never said who Mafia killed. You made an assumption.'

'Why are you doing this to me?'

'It's his job,' Mafia said.

'So who
did
you kill?' Glass asked, sure Mafia wouldn't answer.

'My parents,' Mafia said without hesitation. 'They were going to kick me out of their house. My home. I'd grown up there. Never lived anywhere else. But Mum and Dad told me they were fed up with me bringing my friends home. They kept nagging at me about the noise, and about a couple of times when some stuff went missing. Videos and that. After I'd had a wee party. But that was petty shite. I couldn't cope on my own. Eyesight's worse than I let on. I got upset. Each day they got on my back about when I was going to move out. And each day I got more upset. Finally they went to a lawyer, see if they could evict me. From my own fucking house. I hated them for that. Making it public how much they despised me.' He paused. 'So one night I strangled them.'

'Just like that?'

'Wasn't a whim, you know. Didn't happen overnight. It'd been building up for months.'

'But you killed them because they wanted you to move out?'

'I killed them because they rejected me.'

Glass swallowed. God help him, but he could almost understand. 'Why did you never tell me?'

'Killing your folks isn't the sort of thing you brag about.'

'Do you … do you regret it?'

'What'd be the point of that? They rejected me. I rejected them.'

If Mafia could kill his parents and feel no remorse, then Glass didn't know him at all. Mafia had come back from the dead a different person. 'How come nobody at the Hilton would speak about it?'

'Respect.'

'For you?'

'A bit,' Mafia said. 'But mainly for Caesar. He shattered a guy's legs for talking about it.'

'Why did it matter to Caesar?'

'My parents were his uncle and aunt. Me and Caesar are cousins.'

'Jesus,' Glass said. 'How come he didn't have you killed?'

'Dunno. I think he would've done if Watt hadn't asked him not to.'

Watt had saved Mafia's life? 'Why would he do that?'

'He's my brother.'

'I know, but being family didn't stop you doing what you did.'

'I'm not sentimental.'

'And Watt is?'

Mafia didn't reply.

'Why tell me all this now?' Glass asked.

'Riddell begged me to. Said it would help you. I hope it does.'

'I thought you weren't sentimental.'

Mafia stood there for a moment, then said, 'I should go now.'

TUESDAY, 2 MARCH

A couple of weeks later and Glass was off the worst of the drugs. He was so much better that Riddell thought he was well enough to go to group therapy. It was held in a room off the kitchen where Glass smelled meat cooking.

A middle-aged woman was looking at him as if she wanted to say something. He'd seen her before. Or someone like her. Maybe her daughter.

'What is it?' he asked her.

'My knickers,' she said, in a quiet voice. 'They're falling down.' She turned to the rest of the room. A circle of seated bodies, their pain dulled enough that they could cope.

He counted them. Seven. Plus the three nurses standing. And Glass and this woman. Twelve.

'Everybody,' she said, loudly this time. 'My knickers are falling down.'

She was wearing jeans. Glass thought it unlikely she was telling the truth about her knickers.

'Don't worry,' a tall bald guy in a T-shirt said. 'We'll not look.'

'But you must, Jason,' she said.

Glass looked at the guy's arms. One was massively scarred down the inside forearm. Maybe he'd taken a machete to it, like Peeler, stood there with his veins in his hand.

'I must have an audience. What's the use of me performing in adult films if I don't have an audience?'

'Annie,' Riddell said. 'I'd like you to stop that now, please. You'll get everybody over-excited.'

'That's the idea.' She held out her wrists. 'Would you like to tie me up?'

'I don't think so.'

'I'm excited,' another guy said, fists clenching and unclenching, mouth jerking into a series of split-second smiles. 'I'll do it.'

'How about you, Nick?' she asked Glass. 'Or would you rather I tied you up instead?'

'Do I know you?'

'Oh,' she said. 'I thought you were better. Isn't he better?'

'Annie,' Riddell said, 'that's not polite.'

'Why is this slut here?' Glass said.

'Nick, that's not polite either.'

'I've every right to be here,' Annie said.

'Fuck you,' Glass said.

'Well, fuck you too,' Annie said. 'How does it feel to kill your wife and kid?'

Glass stared at her. She was on a bed, tied up, Watt slamming his body against hers. At Mad Will's flat, making that porno film. Was it her? Was it someone who just looked like her?

Riddell touched Glass's elbow. 'Let's go to my office.'

'You're a bastard,' she shouted at Glass as a nurse tried to calm her down. 'You killed them.'

'I never,' Glass said. 'I never did that.'

Nobody said anything. Everyone was staring at him.

'I never did what she said,' he muttered. 'It was Watt.' He looked at Riddell. 'There's going to be a trial.' He whispered, 'I'm going to be there.'

*

'Must have cost a packet,' Glass said. Riddell had a fancy new computer on his desk.

'Not really. It's just a 386, 50-meg hard disk. Don't need anything too slick.'

'Right,' Glass said, the jargon lost on him.

Riddell looked at his computer screen. 'About Annie,' he said.

'Yeah. Why did she say that about me?' Crazy bitch. They all were in here.

Riddell took a dustcloth out of his drawer and wiped the screen.

'Eh?' Glass said. 'Did you tell her that? This another game?' Funny thing, Glass wasn't angry. He was more disappointed than anything else. 'Or maybe it's that she's mad. They're all mad, or they wouldn't be here. That's a fact. You can't argue with that.'