Bad Men (3 page)

Pearce said, "My heart bleeds." Truth was, he could use the money. Four grand wasn't a fortune, but it would help. He had a mortgage and no job. "What do you want me to do, Baxter?"

"
Protect my grandchild."

Pearce thought for a moment. Then said, "From what?"

"
Not ‘what'.
Who
. From its father. You've seen the photo." He inclined his head towards the briefcase.

"
What about it?"

"
The baby's my grandchild."

Pearce opened the briefcase again, studied the picture. Shook his head. "She's young," he said, "but she's no baby."

Pearce listened while
Jacob Baxter explained the situation.

The girl in the photo was May, his daughter. She was sixteen, even younger than she looked, married to a man ten years older than her, and she was three months pregnant. Unfortunately, not with her husband's child. When Wallace, her husband, found out, he'd slapped her around and threw her out into the street. Fair enough, Baxter said, if only he'd left it at that. Baxter might have forgiven him for hitting her, maybe, under the circumstances. But subsequently, Wallace hadn't been able to leave her alone. Sending her threatening texts, leaving messages on her voicemail, turning up at her house, at school.

Pearce gave Baxter a hard stare. "Married, pregnant, and at school? That's wrong."

"
Not her fault," Baxter said. Then added, "She's very bright."

"
What's she doing?"

"
Looking for a summer job."

Pearce nodded. "You've told her husband to leave her alone?"

Baxter told him about the night they'd confronted him with hammers and wrenches, and how he'd given them all a pasting.

D
idn't surprise Pearce in the least. He said, "What do you think he wants?"

"
What do you mean?"

"
Does he want May back? Is that why he won't leave her alone?"

"
He threw her out."

"
Pride?" Pearce suggested.

"
He wouldn't take her back."

"
You sure?"

Jacob shrugged.

"
So, what's his game plan?" Pearce asked.

"
Revenge."

"
Against May?"

"
Primarily. But he's after the rest of us, too. There was never any love lost between us anyway, but he really hates us now."

"
What about the baby's father? His biological one."

"
Done a runner. Not just from May, but disappeared completely."

"
Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"
Not if he wants to stay alive. You don't know Wallace."

"
Very true," Pearce said.

"
Will you give us a hand?" Baxter said, looking towards his sons. He was doing a not-too-bad job of appearing calm and composed, not giving a shit. But he didn't fool Pearce. Maybe Baxter wasn't the type to bring flowers and grapes to a hospital bedside, but he wasn't hard. He had a face that was hard, but his mind was soft as a baby's bottom.

Of course, Pearce could be completely wrong.

Pearce helped Baxter prop Flash up against the wall and check that Rodge hadn't swallowed his tongue or something. He put a cushion under the big guy's head.

"
So what exactly do you want me to do?" Pearce said.

Baxter said,
"Just keep an eye on May."

"
You want a babysitter."

They were standing in the middle of the sitting room now. Both men had their arms folded. Pearce let his eyes focus on Baxter's and wasn't at all surprised that Baxter couldn't hold his gaze.

Baxter said, "I was thinking more of a bodyguard. Keep that sleekit Wallace away from her."

"
For how long?"

"
As long as possible."

"
Four grand won't last long."

"
Till Wallace has calmed down. A month should do it."

"
What hours would I be working?"

"
All the time."

"
Day, night, weekends?"

"
Stay with us. We'll feed you, give you a bed."

"
I'm not very sociable."

"
We won't be paying you for your conversation."

Pearce breathed out slowly."Where did you get my name?" he asked.

"
Guy I know recommended you," Baxter said.

"
What guy?"

"
My nephew. Cooper. Said you had what it takes. Said you'd do an honest day's work."

Cooper, huh? Loan shark. At one point he'd been Pearce's boss. He was in the nick now. Eventually got what he deserved. "That right?"

"
To be exact, he said since you'd lost your sister and then your mother, he thought that maybe now you really didn't give a toss about anything." Baxter unfolded his arms. His hand crept into the pocket where he kept his fags. Fiddled about in there for a second, then reappeared, empty. "Do you?"

Pearce wondered if Cooper was right. Could be. "If you're worried about her safety, why don't you contact the police?"

"
After what just happened?" Baxter pointed to his nose. "They'll think I'm setting Wallace up. Probably throw me in the cells again for harassment or what have you."

Pearce nodded. "Let me think about it, okay?"

Baxter looked hopeful. Then his brow ridged as Flash stirred. He glanced at his son, then back at Pearce. "Did you have to hit them so hard?"

"
That wasn't hard," Pearce told him.

Baxter shook his head, lips tight. "I'm scared," he said. "I don't mind telling you. I'm scared for May."

"
I'm sure she'll be fine," Pearce said. "Guys like Wallace like to talk. But that's usually all they do."

Flash spoke, a little breathlessly, "Not in this case."

"
How's the head?" Pearce asked him.

"
Like shit."

"
And the balls?"

"
Fuck off."

Had to give the scrawny fuck some credit. He was still game. But Pearce decided to use Flash's reply to get rid of them. He didn't want to get involved in this. He didn't think from what her dad had said that May was in serious danger. And Pearce didn't think he'd make much of a babysitter anyway. And he definitely didn't want to stay with this lot for a month. Not for twice the money.

Pearce prodded Rodge, who moaned, snorted. Pearce poked him again. "Hey, get up."

"
What's the matter?" Baxter said.

"
I've heard what you have to say. I'm not interested."

"
What?" Baxter said.

Pearce poked Rodge again. "I want you out of my house. The lot of you. Right now."

Baxter said, "When you meet Wallace, don't be fooled, Mr Pearce. He's older than he looks. Twenty-six, but looks not a day over eighteen. He's tough, though. Maybe even tougher than you. He's had training."

Training, huh? Well, now. If Pearce was a bull, that was a red fucking rag.

Baxter said,
"Let's get my sons back on their feet. If you have a moment to spare, I'd like to show you something that might convince you the threat posed by Wallace is very serious indeed."

"You a dog
lover, Mr Pearce?"

"Got a terrier."

"I didn't notice."

"He doesn't like strangers."

"Well, brace yourself. Go on, Rodge."

The side of
Rodge's face was swollen. Looked like he'd had a fight with a lunatic dentist. He glanced around. The coast was clear so he popped the boot. Held it open a foot or so.

Pearce hunkered down and peered inside. A black mutt's body was crammed in there, looking … dead. Certainly smelled like it was dead.

Yeah, Pearce liked dogs. But he preferred them alive. Dead dogs didn't have quite the same appeal.

Pearce stood up. "Is that
yours
?" he asked.

Baxter nodded.
"Just look at the way his throat's been cut."

Pearce didn't much want to look again. He said so.

"
Go on," Baxter said.

Pearce bent down again. Fido's head was hanging by a flap of skin, just a hair short of a beheading. Pearce said, "Pretty nasty, I'll give you that. But I don't see what a dog with its throat cut has to do with May being in danger."

Baxter looked around him. The car was parked down at the beach end of the street. Other cars were pulling in, driving off; couples strolled past arm in arm along the promenade in front of the car.

Pearce wondered if it was against the law to have a dead dog in your boot. Probably wasn
't. Ought to be, though.

Baxter said, "Too public here."

Rodge
eased the boot shut.

Baxter got in the car. Flash hobbled into the back, hands hovering over his bruised groin, and Rodge joined him. After a second or two, Pearce climbed into the passenger seat.

Pearce had closed the door before he realised how much the stench of dead dog had permeated the air inside the car. Felt as if he was sitting on top of the carcass. He breathed through his mouth.

Baxter reached into his pocket and took out his fags. He offered Flash one, and Flash shook his head. "The dog was a message from Wallace," Baxter said.

"
And a warning," Flash said, rubbing the back of his head.

"
An omen," Rodge said.

Pearce said, "Make your mind up, guys."

"
Found him there yesterday morning. Right there. In the boot."

No wonder the fucking thing stank. "What are you going to do with it?" Pearce asked.

"
We'll bury him. When we're ready."

"
Better hurry. He's ripe."

Baxter shrugged. "We've been busy trying to console May."

"
Could have found a few minutes to dump it somewhere. Let it rot in peace."

"
We thought it would be good for you to see it firsthand," Baxter said. "Anyway, Louis is fine where he is. It's my car. My dog. My nose."

And Pearce thought, yeah, enough of this shite. "You can sit in this stink if you want," he said. "But I don't have to." As he turned to get out of the car, he felt a hand on his arm.