Heavenly Pleasures (22 page)

‘Now, tell us where the disks are.’

‘There are no more disks,’ said Mr White.

‘Look, give us a break,’ said Tait ‘You left our employer’s business, you handed in your laptop, you turned over all your records. But there’s a committal hearing on Tuesday and you’re the main prosecution witness. You know that we have to kill you, but the boss needs to know where your records are.’

I noticed that he knew all the long words which related to criminal law.

‘You’ve got them,’ Ben White insisted. ‘But you don’t need all these people. You just need me. Let the others go and I’ll tell you everything.’

‘So, there are extra records?’ said Tait.

‘Yeah, all right, there are extra records,’ sighed Mr White. ‘Let the others go and let’s get on with this, it’s a cold night.’

Trudi touched my arm. ‘What to do?’ she asked.

‘I have no idea,’ I said. ‘Can you reach the stairs?’

‘Girls will have called cops,’ she said. ‘If I go for stairs, I’ll be seen. Door’s shut.’

‘Then we wait,’ I said.

‘For what?’

‘A great fall,’ I said. Meroe had been right about the swords. Maybe she was right about this, as well.

‘Where’s Lucifer?’

‘Fell off my shoulder,’ said Trudi. ‘Somewhere here.’

The night was getting darker, as nights have a habit of doing. I was chilled to the marrow and wet from the shrubs. Tait took Kepler’s arm and shoved the gun into his face. Check again.

‘Where are the records?’ he screamed at Mr White. Down in the street, sirens sounded. Cherie had not wasted any time. The cops were on their way. I felt frantic and helpless. I began to make my way towards the group. I would, I realised, much rather die with Daniel than mourn him.

Looking up, I saw the nearest tall buildings windows lined with fascinated faces, and I hated humans more than I have ever hated them before. What would the poet say? ‘Butcher’d to make a Roman holiday’? They would make a sideshow of our death and even now, I would bet, someone up there was on the phone to a radio station, as a special reporter, talking about the showdown on the roof. I worked out that if I crept along behind the bower I could get to the temple of Ceres under cover, so I did that. In fact, I castled.

Tait shook Kepler. Jon cried out, ‘No!’

Kepler smiled seraphically, said something in a language I did not know and leaned into Tait’s hold, turning him so that his back was toward the other gunman. Then he did something complicated with one hand and a flying foot, and the gun shot out of Tait’s grasp and fell off the roof. Jon joined him in holding Tait, both of them sheltering behind him. A knight’s move. Bull had fast reflexes. He grabbed Mrs Dawson. She was so small that he had to lift her almost off the ground to bring the gun to bear on her. A pin.

It was a perfect Mexican standoff. In the movies this always ends with one side or the other giving up but Jon and Kepler were not letting go of Tait and Bull was hanging on to Mrs Dawson. I hoped she wasn’t too terrified. She was an old lady, after all.

I got to the temple of Ceres. Big deal. That meant I could straighten up from my terrified crouch, but it didn’t do me a blind bit of good. There was nothing in there I could use as a weapon. Trudi always put her implements away. I cursed her neatness. I longed for a spade or a rake. I could just hear the good meaty smack a spade would make, colliding with the back of a Twin’s thick head. Then I stepped on something that squeaked and almost had a heart attack. It was Traddles’ missing toy, a blue dog gone with a noise-maker inside it. I grabbed it gently. No one had heard the noise. Daniel was talking.

‘Look, guys, this hasn’t worked,’ he said reasonably. ‘Killing us is only going to get you life, instead of the eight years or so you’ll get for false imprisonment and assault. You haven’t hurt anyone yet. Why take it any further?’

‘You know how much we’re getting paid?’ asked Tait. ‘Ten big ones.’

‘Not from that company, you aren’t,’ said Mr White. Tait scowled.

‘What d’ya mean?’

‘I mean that that company hasn’t got a pot to piss in. They don’t have a brass razoo. They are broke. Bankrupt. They owe gazillions to their creditors, who will be lucky if they get five cents in the dollar.’

‘Oh, jeez,’ said Bull. ‘I said we ought to get it in advance!’

‘That would have been wise,’ said Mr White. They thought about it. This took time. Mrs Dawson shrugged herself disdainfully out of Bull’s loosening grip and reached behind her, as if to stretch her back. She hadn’t shown the slightest sign of fear. If this was a chess game, she was queen.

‘Nah,’ decided Bull. ‘I say you’re lying. Boss said he’d send a helicopter for us. Give us the records or I kill the old lady.’

Just then we all heard the clatter of an approaching helicopter. Bull said, ‘See! I told you this deal was all right!’ and raised the gun to Mrs Dawson’s neatly coiffed head. I refused to close my eyes. I was going to witness what happened next.

What happened next was that I threw Squeaky at Bull and he flinched, and Mrs Dawson produced a small gun from behind her back and shot Bull in the wrist. Blood flew. The gun fell. She stalked him across the roof.

‘You cannot say that I am not a patient woman,’ she said to him. ‘I have listened to you for long enough. Now you will get down on your knees or I will shoot you in the leg. This is my own gun and I am quite used to firing it.’

Daniel followed her as Bull backed across the garden.

Trudi rose from the undergrowth. I grabbed the fallen gun. Kepler and Jon threw Tait to the ground and bound him with some handy rope which he had thoughtfully brought with him. Mrs Dawson looked like a small, immaculately dressed figure of Retribution.

‘This is my son,’ she said. ‘My own son that you have been trying to kill. Helicopter or no helicopter, you are going to jail for a very long time.’

They had almost run out of roof. Bull was witless with shock. He backed one step too far, caught his heel on something, and fell off the roof. Far down, we heard a horrible splatting thud which I do not wish ever to hear again.

‘Oh dear,’ said Mrs Dawson without a trace of emotion in her voice.

Trudi dived and grabbed and hauled up a small orange furball on a string. He had been dangling eight storeys from oblivion by his lead, over which the dead man had tripped. It had been hooked on a flower pot.

‘Mrrow?’ said Lucifer. Trudi caught him up and hugged him. I hugged Daniel, Jon hugged Kepler, Mrs Dawson hugged Mr White.

There was a lot of hugging to be seen from the helicopter, which was hovering overhead. I looked up into its glaring searchlight, wondering if it was staffed by bad guys humming ‘Ride of the Valkyries’. But it was marked in stylish blue and white and was, of course, Daphne, the police helicopter. Check and mate.

C
_HA
PTER NINETEEN

It was a long night. We had, fortunately, been filmed by a concealed video unit as well as by an enthusiastic amateur in one of the overlooking buildings so we didn’t have to go over the facts too often. Jon and Kepler held hands in stunned amazement that they were both still alive. Mrs Dawson surrendered her gun, pointing out that she had a licence for it and she wanted it back in due course. Her son Ben sat beside her, looking very proud and vaguely embarrassed, as grown-ups rescued by their mothers often are. Mrs Dawson insisted that the interviews took place in her apartment, and kept Daniel busy opening more champagne. To celebrate, she said, life and the joy of being alive. I got rather drunk on relief and champagne in equal proportions.

Large men in vests had ker-thumped through Insula, seeking any more assailants and finding none. The only other arrest was made by Letty White, who recognised a notorious rapist who had jumped his bail in the crowd which gathered outside. She had brought him down with one ferocious tackle, described by a large sergeant as ‘ouch’. Trudi had found the gin

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and shared it with Cherie and Andy, who fell right off the wagon again. The Professor, coming home from his dinner date, had been appropriately horrified. Tait had been taken away, weeping for his dead brother. Further revelations were expected in the papers. Especially about who had told him that the roof was not bugged.

Kylie had been visited by a doctor who had prescribed sedatives and a night’s sleep for herself and Goss and I told them that they deserved a day off. I left a note for Jason in the bakery that he had a day off, too, and to come and visit after noon. I put a note on the shop door saying ‘Closed for Repairs. Open Again Monday’. No customers would have been able to make their way to Earthly Delights, anyway. There was police tape saying ‘Crime Scene—Do Not Cross’ all over the place.

Then we trailed home and went to bed. I couldn’t sleep, and lay awake looking at Daniel and pondering how much more, now, I had to lose. We had come very close to the edge of disaster. If Mrs Dawson hadn’t been so unexpectedly armed … Finally I resorted to a sleeping pill and did not wake until Jason, agog, rang the bell at noon on Friday.

Then we went through it all again. Jason was disappointed that he had been left out of the action. When he went off to spend an afternoon playing video games, I called around. Everyone was all right. The girls were still sleeping. Mrs Dawson and her son were having afternoon tea. Trudi was in, reading bulb catalogues and playing with Lucifer. The Professor and Nox were taking an afternoon nap. Meroe was with Cherie, concocting hangover cures for Andy. Jon and Kepler were staying in bed until further notice.

The police were leaving, taking their tape with them. I said to Daniel, ‘What about a little celebration? Saturday night?

Tonight everyone will want to stay in and do comforting things. But we do need to talk this over. For one thing, I want to know where those disks were, if there were any disks.’

‘It’ll be too cold in the garden,’ he said.

‘What about the atrium?’ I asked. ‘We can put a cover over the glass door. It’s big enough for all of us and Horatio can stare at the fish. He likes staring at the fish. Everyone can bring their own chair and Trudi has a trestle. We can order in the food from Cafe Delicious and Del and his family can come as well. They close at three on Saturdays.’

‘A good notion,’ said Daniel. ‘Tell you what,’ he added, noticing that I was yawning again, ‘you go and have a little nap, and I’ll organise it.’

I woke in the late afternoon, profoundly grateful that we were all alive. Daniel had gone out and left me a note saying that there was goulash in the oven and I wasn’t to do anything. I had a bath in voluptuous lilac foam. I dressed in my purple chrysanthemum gown. I hugged Horatio, who allowed me this liberty as cats do when you really need to hug them. Then Daniel came back.

‘All set,’ he said. ‘With food and wine and one nice surprise —I hope.’ He wouldn’t tell me anything about the surprise and I didn’t feel like teasing him. I felt like sitting on the couch in the warm darkness, watching the whole
Star Wars
trilogy, until I fell asleep again. So we did that. The Empire rose and fell, and eventually the Jedi returned, and when I woke again it was Saturday.

It was a lazy day. I read a book, finished it, and read another book. I didn’t feel like exerting myself. I felt fragile, breakable, and unwilling to let Daniel out of my sight. He felt the same and came in and watched me take a bath.

Meroe called and offered me some of her herbal tea and I drank it. It tasted like cut grass. She informed me that the tides of fate had now rolled on and that our prospects for the future were very bright. In view of her accuracy in telling me about swords, I was prepared to believe in this one too. She told me that she had also dosed Kylie and Gossamer with the cut-grass tea. Kylie had originally been intending to ask her father to find her another place to live but had now decided to stay. She and Goss had spent the previous night on the phone to all their friends and this had effectively worn out their shock. And they hadn’t seen Bull die, of course.

Meroe was on her way into the street, to incense the pavement where Bull had landed and make sure that his spirit wasn’t hanging around. I told her I thought this was an excellent idea—the last thing we needed was the ghost of a thug haunting the place—and could I help? But it appeared that she had to do this sort of thing on her own.

The day passed with agreeable slowness. I knew that everyone was doing the things that made them feel better. Those who were not making love were making soup or planning gardens or reading detective stories or watching TV or eating macaroni cheese. Insula was comforting itself for its exposure to violence and sudden death. It was as though the building, also, needed soothing. A car backfired and we all, as it were, jumped together.

By seven, the trestle table was up and draped, with one of those frightful Klee sculptures in the middle—Ben White’s joke, I fancied. The glass door to the street had been covered with some of Jon’s Javanese fabrics, figured with gold-edged flowers. Del Pandamus and his entire family, including a reluctant George, had brought enough food for an army and a lot of bottles of ouzo. Each Pandamus carried a folding chair, from a big canvas one for Del to a tiny pink armchair for their youngest, Chrysoula. She had yet to be talked out of wearing her fairy dress which her grandma had made for her.

Jon and Kepler brought a folding bamboo love-seat. Daniel and I carried down a variety of seats for various people. We also had a crate or so of wine. The Professor was not there, which was odd. I wondered if he had received an invitation and Daniel assured me that he would be along, so I stopped wondering. Instead I took a piece of spanakopita and a glass of red and greeted the girls, who had dressed in their best: glittery dresses held up by witchcraft or faith, sparkly make-up and uniformly golden hair. Chrysoula identified with them imme
diately, informing me that they were all fairies together. Andy raised a glass of sparkling water; he was off the booze again. Cherie was actually wearing a non-Goth dress, something in dark blue which fell elegantly to the floor. But she had Pumpkin bear with her. He always came to these parties.

Mrs Dawson made an entrance. She was wearing a dark chocolate dress in heavy satin, very plain, with a huge gold brooch on the shoulder—some sort of stylised lion. It looked like it had come from an archaeological site. Ben White was with her, hovering at her shoulder, handing her a glass of champagne and a plate of those moreish nibbly meze things which Greeks do so well: pickled eggplant, vinegared octopus, barbecued quail, lamb kofta. Daniel joined me at the table as I gathered a zucchini patty, a mushroom cooked in red wine and a ball of labneh with a piece of flat bread. Yum.

‘Is this a scotch egg?’ asked Andy Holliday suspiciously.

‘No,it’s kibbeh.You’ll like it,’Daniel told him.‘I’ll have one.’

Meroe, a strict vegetarian, was delighted to find that there were more veggie dishes than meat. She selected tomato borek, village salad, pickled lettuce, felafel, fried chickpeas and baked haloumi.

‘I am making a pig of myself,’ she confessed.

‘Hey, me too. But don’t eat too much, this is just the entrée. There’s moussaka and lemon chicken and you can have the broad bean and artichoke casserole, it’s terrific.’

‘I can’t imagine why Greeks are so healthy,’ she commented.

‘They don’t worry too much,’ boomed Del. ‘They eat and drink and sleep like dogs. You like Greek food?’ he asked Meroe.

‘It’s wonderful,’ she assured him, and he clapped her on the shoulder and went on to gather more dolmades, which he ate two to a bite. He then poured Daniel and me a big glass of ouzo and raised his glass in a toast, which meant that I had to skol a glass of ouzo, which meant that thereafter the proceedings were clothed with a gentle pink glow. I noticed that Jon and Kepler were managing to eat Greek food without trouble. Kepler was fascinated by the exotic fare, as I had once been with Chinese cuisine. The only thing that Kepler left on his plate was baked cheese. Nothing is going to make Chinese people like cheese.

Jason had started at the far end of the table and was working his way along it, in the manner of a vacuum cleaner.

The dinner was moving on to main courses and still the Professor had not come. Where was he? I had a conversation with Mrs Dawson about that providential gun.

‘Well, dear, when it appeared that my son was going to do a very brave thing, I felt that I ought to be prepared,’ she told me, eating pickled octopus with skill and grace, which I never could. ‘So I joined a pistol club. It isn’t hard at all,’ she said. ‘In fact I don’t know what men make all that fuss about. Just a matter of a good eye and a steady wrist.’

‘Did you move here because he was hiding here?’

‘No, he was hiding here because I moved here,’ she said. ‘I know the graziers, of course, and they were happy for my son to get some use out of the apartment. I once danced with their ancestor,’ she said. ‘He stood on my foot. He was a clumsy man. I didn’t, of course, realise the lengths to which those scoundrels would go. I would not willingly have put you all in danger. When I saw those poor girls threatened I was appalled at what I had done in bringing Ben here.’

I watched Kylie and Goss put the moves on George— their taste in men was abysmal. They giggled, a little elevated by danger, but apparently unharmed.

‘I think they’ll forgive you,’ I said.

‘They shouldn’t. Once I saw those twins, I knew that I had to do something about the—they were my fault. But how did you and Daniel get free?’

‘I had a knife in my pocket. What I want to know is how Kepler and Jon got free. I know the knife hadn’t reached them.’

‘You can’t tie Kepler up with ordinary rope,’ said Jon. ‘I told you, he teaches martial arts. It was just a matter of manoeuvring the attacker into a situation where he couldn’t kill anyone else before we disarmed him.’

‘What did you say to Jon in Chinese?’ I asked Kepler.

‘If this doesn’t work, I’ll see you in heaven,’ he said.

‘Only one thing we need to know, then,’ I said. ‘Where were those—’

The door opened. Professor Monk came in. Behind him, rather shyly, came Selima and Brian and both of the chocolate shop sisters. Vivienne had brought Kat with her.

‘We have had some discussion,’ announced Professor Monk.

‘And Vivi and me have agreed to accept the Professor as our new uncle,’ said Juliette.

‘Since we are staying at Heavenly Pleasures,’ said Vivienne.

There was a cheer. The sisters were gathered in and supplied with plates and delicacies. Selima recognised most of the food and guided Brian in his choice. They were sweet together, shy and devoted. I got a glass of wine for Juliette. Vivienne and Kat stuck to ouzo. George sidled up to Juliette.

‘So, do I still have a job?’ he asked, exerting every ounce of his charm. He positively reeked of it.

‘Well,’ she said. Del arrived next to her.

‘You take him back, I keep him in line,’ he said in his big, hoarse voice. ‘He make trouble, I give him to his Yai Yai.’

The tiny black-clad old lady in the plushest armchair gave George a look which went straight through all pretensions and pierced his worm-eaten little soul as on a hook.

‘Yeah, okay, Uncle, I’ll be good,’ he said.

‘I see you are,’ threatened Del. Vivienne approved of Del. She held out a hand. ‘Deal,’ she said, and they shook. Then they all had to drink a big glass of ouzo to seal the bargain. George decided that discretion might be a good idea, and went to bring Yai Yai a nice plate of lemon chicken and a new glass of wine.

‘In about three hundred years he might even turn into a passable human being,’ commented Daniel.

‘Not all his fault,’ said Del. ‘His rotten father leave his mother, my sister, alone. He never finds out what it is to be a real man. Now he learns,’ said Del, and drank some more ouzo.

‘That was very nice of you, Dion,’ said Mrs Dawson to Professor Monk, handing him a glass of the good wine.

‘Not at all,’ he disclaimed virtue with an elegant wave. ‘They had been betrayed by one uncle. I was quite fooled by Max. I thought that they could do with another. And I am excellent uncle material.’

‘They are lucky to have you,’ said Mrs Dawson warmly. ‘Every grown-up woman needs an indulgent uncle, who will take them out to lunch occasionally.’

We were all full of food. The wine was running low. Vivienne popped outside for a moment and brought in a couple of large thermos jugs, the sort that big caterers use.

‘You will need cups,’ she said. ‘But you’ll like this.’

‘What is it?’ asked Jason, emptying his wineglass and lining up for whatever was going. He had eaten at least three ordinary dinners and would undoubtedly take home the residue. For night starvation, from which he suffered, he told me, cruelly.

‘Chocolate grog,’ said Juliette, lining up cream and nutmeg on the denuded table.