The meanest Flood (49 page)
Authors: John Baker
Still driving at speed she glanced over at the magician. There was something childlike about him in his nakedness and he was going through some trauma with the injury to his jaw. He held it in position, wincing with pain, and obviously found it difficult to close his mouth. A thin trickle of drool coursed its way down his chin.
‘Look at you,’ she said as she went through a red light at the end of Clarence Street. She was compassionate. She didn’t know why but she was filled with warmth. ‘Look at the state of you.’
He said something in reply but she couldn’t make out what it was. Marilyn didn’t think where she was going, she wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the two men who were trying to kill Danny. Gillygate was congested so she turned into Lord Mayor’s Walk and sailed through another red light at the end and over into oncoming traffic on the one-way section of Foss Islands Road, the heel of her hand on the horn. The oncoming traffic peeled off to let her through, irate drivers hitting their own horns in reply, mouthing obscenities through their windscreens.
When she glanced over at him, Danny had his eyes closed and appeared to be smiling. He felt her gaze and opened his eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he said. He spoke each syllable slowly, with difficulty.
She reached over and laid the palm of her hand on his thigh. ‘It was nothing,’ she said. ‘I’d do anything for you, Danny.’
They left the one-way system behind and hit the comparative calm of Paragon Street.
She eased up on her speed. Danny moaned softly and shook his head. He was covering his penis with his free hand, an attempt at modesty. He spoke again, ‘I thought they were going to kill me.’
‘So did I,’ Marilyn said. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Only when I speak.’ He creased up briefly, wincing hard. ‘And when I laugh.’
She turned into Fishergate and then impulsively into Blue Bridge Lane, intending to park there and think what to do next. But the river had claimed most of the lane and was gradually climbing up to occupy the rest. Marilyn pressed the brake pedal and the car came to a stop with its front wheels in the water.
‘We should do something about your jaw,’ she said. ‘Shall I drive to the hospital?’
‘You could take me home,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask the doctor to come round.’
She looked at him, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Where are your clothes?’
‘I didn’t have time to get them,’ he said. ‘I had to leave fast.’
Marilyn pursed her lips. ‘You’re going to have to explain this. I’m not a mind reader. What’s going on, Danny?’
‘It was an illusion,’ he told her. ‘My masterpiece.’
She turned to him. ‘Who were those men? And whose house was it? I don’t understand what you were doing there. Who was that woman?’
Danny pointed at his broken jaw and made an incoherent sound. He appealed to her with his eyes. The sound he made could have been the word ‘home’, and Marilyn was quite happy to take him there if he would put her mind at rest.
‘Were you having an affair?’ she said. And then, as an afterthought, ‘Who was the boy in the boot?’
‘Not an affair,’ Danny said. ‘I told you, it was an illusion. The boy was necessary.’
‘There was a woman in that house, Danny. I saw her go in. And you came out naked. That wasn’t an illusion.’ Marilyn waited but Danny didn’t reply.
‘When she came to the door you were dressed and a few minutes later you were naked. That can only mean one thing.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t what you think.’
‘So enlighten me.’ Marilyn hit the steering wheel with the flat of her hand, then she hit it again. When Danny didn’t reply she settled into a rhythmic thumping, her eyes fixed on the naked man next to her.
‘Stop it,’ Danny said. ‘Will you take me home now? I need to see a doctor.’
Marilyn continued her thumping of the steering wheel. Her lips and eyes were set and she wasn’t going anywhere until Danny came up with a suitable answer.
‘Stop that,’ the magician said, reaching over and grabbing her wrist.
She shook herself free and struck out at him, her hand glancing off his shoulder. Danny struck back, trying to keep his jaw out of the struggle. ‘All right,’ he shouted, ‘I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. But not here. I’ll tell you at home.’
‘It better be good,’ Marilyn told him.
‘It’s not what you think.’
Marilyn composed herself and released the hand brake. She turned the key in the ignition and the starter motor turned over and died. She turned the key again.
Danny groaned and pointed out of the windscreen. Marilyn followed his gaze and saw that the car was slipping forward into the water. She had her foot on the brake pedal and she pulled back on the hand brake but it didn’t stop the vehicle from sliding down the greasy slope into the overflowing river. She tried the ignition again but it didn’t fire.
‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘Get out! Just get out of the car.’
She opened the door and slipped into the filthy, freezing water, feeling it grasping at her thighs like a hungry lover. She lost her footing for a few moments and hung on to the car door to regain her balance. The vehicle continued to move down the slope but hit something and came to a halt just before it was fully submerged. The roof was still clear of the water.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, looking around for Danny, her anger now completely evaporated.
‘Danny?’ Then she shouted loudly, ‘Danny!’
But he wasn’t there. Marilyn splashed her way around to the passenger side and wrenched open the door.
Diamond Danny Mann was underwater, fumbling weakly at the catch on his seatbelt. Marilyn brushed his hands aside and tried to unlock it herself. There was something wrong with the mechanism and try as she might, she couldn’t get it to open. As she tried again, submerged by the black water, she heard Danny’s last breath escape from his lungs, expressing itself as a series of bubbles heading for the surface.
Marilyn came up for air and dived again to have another go at the seatbelt, but it refused to move. Danny’s eyes were open, as was his mouth, and one of his arms was beginning to float in the water.
She came to the surface and shouted for help, climbing on to the roof of the car. A young cyclist came wading into the water and Marilyn watched him through the sunroof of the car as he finally managed to unlock the faulty seatbelt and drag Danny’s naked body to the roadside.
She climbed back into the water and went to him. His eyes were open and staring in disbelief and specks of detritus from the river were stuck to the cornea. Water was trickling from the corner of his mouth. The young cyclist was sitting on the pavement next to Danny’s body. He was a blond boy, dripping wet, and he was shaking his head from side to side and looking as though he was going to cry. Marilyn went down on her knees and, cradling Danny’s broken head in her arms, she began rocking backward and forward and humming a lullaby that her mother used to sing to her when she was a child.
Marilyn had never seen anyone quite so dead before, not without the ceremonial mask that an undertaker fashions. She wished her mother was here to see how brave she was, how well she was coping with it.
44
Geordie was out of bed, sitting on a chair next to the table. ‘The stitches are out,’ he said, feeling his shoulder. ‘It’s still stiff but they say it’ll clear up. There’ll be a scar but I don’t care about that.’
‘You like scars,’ Janet told him from the entrance to the kitchen. She had Echo on her hip and was looking even more savvy than usual. Sam was standing behind Angeles by the window, both of his arms around her, taking them all in. Ruben, his right hand in a cast, was eating half a pork pie that Janet had brought on a tray with some triangular sandwiches. Sam and Ruben had been released by the police after nearly eighteen hours in custody.
On the couch JD was sandwiched between Celia and Marie, and Barney was gnawing at his shoe.
‘What happened to your moustache?’ Sam asked. ‘Gone,’ Geordie told him. ‘Janet shaved it off.’
‘It was awful,’ Celia said. ‘You look much better without it.’
Geordie was worried about Celia; the medics had put her on some tablets to try to stop the thing growing in her head. But it was exciting having the boss back on the street. ‘So,’ he said to Sam, ‘tell us the story.’
Sam looked over at Ruben but the big guy shook his head, reached for another half pork pie with his left hand.
‘Ruben smashed two of his knuckles,’ he said. ‘And he was hopping up and down in the street because I’d already done for one of his legs, and now he’d broken his hand as well. All the neighbours were out, keeping well clear but not wanting to miss anything, and that’s how we were when the police arrived. Me in the gutter clutching a bloody bayonet. They took us in the van, dropped Ruben at the hospital and put me in the slammer.’
‘Why was the murderer naked?’ Celia asked. ‘Was he a pervert?’
Sam shrugged. ‘He didn’t want to get blood on his clothes. After he’d killed the others he had a shower. Maybe he thought he’d leave less evidence.’
‘So why’d they let you go?’ Geordie asked. ‘It was your word against his and he was dead.’
‘They had the woman who drove the car, and then Conn turned up, Alice’s youngest. Apparently he was stuffed in the boot of Danny Mann’s car and she’d been driving round the Yorkshire Moors with him all day. Let him out in Whitby and the kid’d had the nous to get a taxi home. The woman with Danny was out of it, crazy.
‘And after that they had to check on the things I was saying. What clinched it, the guy was ID’d by a planeload of people flying from Oslo to Newcastle. He tackled some drunk on the plane. There’s a couple of air hostesses swear they’ll never forget his face.’
‘Don’t forget the pubic hair,’ Marie said. ‘It was a lot of work tracking that down.’
‘Don’t go into that again,’ Celia said. ‘I can’t bear the thought of men with dolls. So undignified.’
‘And it’s all over?’ JD said. ‘You’re out of the woods?’
‘Yeah,’ Sam said. ‘Apart from the shouting, the media circus, Danny Mann’s finished. Gone.’
‘He was an illusionist,’ JD said. ‘That’s what I do. Every novel is an illusion.’
‘And Ruben?’ Marie said. ‘You gonna join the firm?’ He shook his head and wiped his lips with a paper serviette. ‘Going back to Nottingham,’ he said. ‘I’ve got milk to deliver, soon as this hand is better. Plus there’s a woman interested in me. Therapist. We’d make a good match. She’s exactly what I need.’
The doorbell rang and Janet answered it. She ushered Alice Richardson into the room with her son. Sam went over and embraced her, asked how she was. He introduced everyone.
‘The river level’s falling,’ she said. ‘We took up the sandbags this morning.’ There was a tremor in her voice and she was pale.
‘Never mind the river,’ Geordie said. ‘How are you coping? You must’ve thought the guy was gonna kill you. Shock and trauma like that can make a mess of a person.’
‘I’m going to be all right,’ she said. ‘I slept last night, and I’ve got a supportive family.’ She smiled. ‘It wasn’t the best experience I’ve had.’
‘And this must be Conn?’ Janet said. ‘You had a pretty bad experience yourself.’
‘No,’ Alice Richardson said. ‘Conn’s fine, but we left him at home today with his sister. This is Dominic.’ She looked over at Sam. ‘I wanted you two to meet,’ she said. ‘You’ve got a lot in common.’
Sam and Dominic looked at each other. All the eyes in the room moved from Dominic to Sam, and then back again, searching their faces.
It was Geordie who eventually let out his breath and whispered a single word.
‘Jesus.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
For their valuable and helpful criticism, comments and insights I would like to thank Anne Baker; Donna Moore; my agent Mic Cheetham and my editor at Orion, Jon Wood. Any inaccuracies or offended sensibilities are the responsibility of the writer alone.
