The Stone Gallows (38 page)

‘YA FUCKIN' PSYCHO! YOU'RE A FUCKIN' NUTJOB! HELP!

HELP! HE'S TRYIN' TO KILL ME!'

I looked around. There were a few parked cars but no people. An empty can of Coke rattled as the breeze skittered it across the concrete like tumbleweed. I strengthened my grip. ‘Shabsy, I have a little boy.

He's the most important thing in the world to me, but he's gone missing. The person that paid you and your pal to beat me up might have been the one that took him. If I don't get him back, I have nothing left in my life. Right now, you are standing between me and my son, so if you don't stop whining and start helping, then you have nothing to offer me. Given that I genuinely don't give a fuck what happens to me or you, I will probably start with your eyes and make my way down the rest of your body. I know that I'll get caught, but that will provide you with absolutely no comfort whatsoever because you, my friend, will be busy being eaten by flies in a ditch.'

‘THERE'S A GUY IN THE SAME BUILDING! ONE OF YOUR

NEIGHBOURS!'

I moved the lighter away. ‘One of my neighbours?'

‘He bought some hash from Dave about half an hour before we saw you. He had cash. A lot of cash. I remember thinking that he seemed to be paying a lot of money for a quarter.'

‘What did the neighbour look like?'

He shrugged. ‘Like a dopehead.'

‘Dreadlocks?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Gotcha.' I let go of Shabsy.

Lee.

11.20.

It had been more than three days since the fire, but the smell of burning lingered still. The door to what remained of my flat was black round the edges and criss-crossed with crime-scene tape. On the concrete wall leading up the stairwell to the next landing, somebody had daubed the words BURN IN HELL, BABYKILLER. The mystery graffiti artist had struck again. I ignored it. I wasn't there to rake over old coals, either literally or metaphorically. Nor would I allow myself to feel falsely sentimental over a place that had always felt more like a bolt-hole than a home.

This was nothing more than a business call on an old acquaintance who happened to live in the same building.

I didn't bother knocking, just raised my foot and kicked the door as hard as I could. The bolt gave and the door flew open, slamming into the wall and sticking. The hallway was in darkness. I moved quickly but carefully, mindful that I didn't know what kind of crap Lee might have lying around on the floor. Nothing spoils a dramatic entrance quite as much as tripping over a basket of dirty laundry.

The layout was the same as Liz's flat; bathroom and kitchen on the left, bedroom on the right, living room at the end of the hall. I went for the bedroom, leaping onto the double bed and dropping to my knees on either side of the sleeping figure, pinning it to the mattress.

The curtains were slightly open and a sliver of pale light splashed into the room, illuminating the head of the bed. I grabbed a spare pillow and used it to cover the just-waking face, driving it down with all my strength, fully intent on smothering the little bastard. Lee started to thrash weakly from side to side, his movement restricted by my weight and the quilt that pinioned his arms to his sides.

I counted to ten before removing the pillow. In the moonlight, Lee's face was bone pale, the eyes dark hollows filled with white terror.

His mouth opened to scream; I filled it with pillow.

Somewhere above my head, a door slammed. My entrance had not gone unnoticed.

Lee made a horrendous, choked sound at the back of this throat–
Ag gh agh
– and I willed him to be quiet, hoping that whoever I had woken would have the good sense to decide that whatever was going on was nothing to do with them. I didn't particularly want to hurt anybody else, but I was done fucking around. I leaned in, whispered into Lee's ear. ‘Make a sound and I'll kill you.' Then I took some of my weight off the pillow, feeling Lee's chest rise as he sucked air through fabric. The struggles– pathetic as they were– eased up slightly.

A woman's voice said, ‘Everything alright?'

It was the old bat with all the cats. It sounded like she was standing right outside the flat. I called out, ‘I'm fine.'

‘It was quite a nasty bang.'

‘I'm sorry about that.'

‘The door seems to be broken.'

‘I forgot my keys. Had to break in,' I shouted. ‘I'm sorry, I'm in the bathroom. Had a bit of an emergency, if you know what I mean. I ate a bad Doner kebab.'

‘Who is that?'

‘It's Lee,' I struggled to remember her name. ‘Mrs Rankin, now isn't the best of times.'

‘I was asleep. I had quite a fright.'

‘I'm sorry. I'll try not to let it happen again.'

‘I have a heart condition, you know. My doctor says that I shouldn't be subjected to undue stress.'

For once, I managed to resist the temptation of a snappy come-back. Instead, I settled for saying, ‘I'm very sorry, Mrs Rankin. I promise I'll be more careful in future.'

I heard a final harumph, then the shuffling of slippers on concrete as she made her way back up to her flat. I leaned forward, whispered into Lee's ear. ‘You going to play nice?'

Beneath the pillow, I felt his head nod. I gingerly released the pressure, ready to re-apply it if the bastard so much as crossed his eyes at me. He coughed and spluttered, unable to cover his mouth. I ignored the saliva as it hit my face. ‘Morning, Lee.'

‘Stone. . . you crazy. . . what the hell. . . '

I raised the pillow. ‘Shut up.'

He did as he was asked.

‘I'm going to ask you a series of yes/no questions, to which you will either nod or shake your head. Do you understand?'

‘Yes.'

I pressed the pillow down for a count of five before releasing it. ‘Do you understand?'

‘Yes!'

‘Obviously you don't.'

I moved the pillow back, this time for a count of ten. When I removed it, I saw that the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. He choked and gasped for a few seconds, the skin of his cheeks leeching from white to a shade of pale blue. From where I straddled him, I could feel his heart beating in the base of my crotch.

‘Lee, I'm going to explain it one more time. Do not speak. Just nod or shake your head. Understand?'

This time, he did, nodding so hard that he started coughing again.

With relief, I noticed that the blue in his cheeks was fading; for a few scary seconds I had wondered if the kid would die of a cardiac arrest before I was finished. ‘Lee, I believe we have two mutual friends. Dave and Shabsy. They used to hang around outside the shop across the road. Is that right?'

Nod.

‘Did you pay them to jump me?'

Nod nod.

‘Are you the person who's been leaving little graffiti messages on my front door?'

He shook his head, but not before I saw his eyes give a guilty little flicker. ‘Do you know who it is?'

Nothing. I moved the pillow in closer.

He nodded.

I leaned in closer, whispered in his ear. ‘This time, you can speak.

Who?'

His voice was hoarse. ‘My girlfriend.'

The girlfriend. The one that none of us had thought existed.

‘What does your girlfriend look like, Lee?'

‘Black hair. Thin. She's very pretty.'

‘Is she the same age as you?'

Shake shake.

‘Older? Late thirties?'

Nod nod.

‘You said that your girlfriend's name was Jane? Is that right?'

Nod nod.

‘Does the name Sophie mean anything to you?'

His head bobbed up and down frantically. ‘It's her middle name.'

‘No it's not,' I told him, thinking back to the initials on the cheque I had banked. ‘It's her first name. Jane's her middle name.'

My inner thigh was starting to cramp. ‘Lee, I'm going to get off you now. Don't think of it as an invitation to try anything.

It's been a long night and only my kind and generous nature is preventing me from hurting you very badly. Understand?'

He nodded. The bedsprings gave a familiar squeal as I climbed off.

Lee sat up in the bed and took a few deep breaths. I flicked on the light, causing us both to blink. His face was ashen. The bedroom was a disgrace, even for a man of my low standards. Clothes were spread across the floor like fabric snowdrifts. Plates of half-eaten food were stacked on a dirty little bedside table. On a shelf directly opposite the bed was a portable television/DVD player, an open DVD case beside it – something called
The Lord of the Rings
. I picked it up and examined the cover artwork: two naked girls wearing wizard-hats and strap-ons. ‘This isn't the Peter Jackson version, is it?'

Lee looked at me blankly.

I put it down. ‘Although I did hear that the movie version strayed significantly from Tolkien's original book.'

He said nothing, his eyes flicking down to the floor. I pressed the ‘eject' button on the DVD player; three seconds later the drawer slid open with a squidgy little whine. I took the disk out and snapped it, not because I had anything against porn but because I wanted to remind him where the balance of power lay. ‘Put some clothes on and make me a cup of coffee.'

Thirty seconds later, the two of us were in Lee's kitchen, which was only marginally more pleasant than his bedroom. I leaned against one of the counters, keeping my eyes on him as he went about the business of filling the kettle and spooning coffee into mugs. He behaved himself, although I did catch him eyeing one of the carving knives in the drawer. I tutted and wagged a finger at him. ‘Don't be a silly-billy. Tell me about Sophie. Or Jane, if you prefer.'

‘What about her?'

‘Where did you meet? How long have you been together. Is it true love? Are you going to buy a bungalow in the suburbs and grow sun-flowers together?'

He looked at me like I was crazy. ‘She's married.'

‘I know.'

‘She just wanted an affair. No strings.'

‘What did she do? Knock on your front door, tell you that she'd just moved in next door, was having a dinner party and had run out of coffee and could you help her out?' I shook my head. ‘Not even you're dumb enough to fall for that.'

‘She backed into my car, scratched down the one side. There was no real damage, but she was really sorry about it, couldn't stop apologising. I think she thought I was going to go mental about it. She asked if there was anything she could do to make up for it. I asked if she would let me take her out for dinner, thinking that she would shoot me down in flames, but she didn't. That's how it started.'

‘She just happened to hit your car?'

He shrugged. To him it was nothing more than a minor car accident that had led to casual sex with a bored housewife who looked like a fashion model. Truly, it was a love story for the ages.

‘So what's she got against me?'

Lee took his time to think about it before shaking his head.

‘Dunno. One day – it was about four weeks ago, I reckon – we were lying in bed when she told me that she had seen you getting into your car. She told me about how you knocked over that kid, said that scum like you should be thrown in a hole and forgotten about. I said that you were probably just trying to get on with your life and she started to get really wound up.' He shook his head as he poured the kettle. ‘I mean, really angry, crazy angry. She started shouting that I was like all the other men and I was just trying to excuse your actions. We ended up having this massive big row and I said as a joke that if she was pissed off at you then maybe she should do something about it rather than take it out on me. She did. I'd been painting my bedroom and had some paint left over. She just grabbed a brush and went crazy, writing all kinds of stuff on the walls.'

‘What about beating me up? Whose idea was that?'

‘Her again. She had seen those two losers hanging around outside the 24hr store. She offered them a hundred each to give you a kicking.

She even showed them your photograph.'

‘Where did she get it?'

‘Hell, I don't know. Maybe she cut it out of a newspaper or something. Anyhow, she showed them your picture and they recognised you and agreed to do what she wanted. The two of us were watching for you coming home. When they attacked you? On the bottom landing? Ja. . . Sophie and me were standing with the front door open, listening to what was going on. When you sent the two of them packing, she wasn't happy. She was really pissed off.'

‘Sorry to disappoint.' I said. ‘But it wasn't really her, was it? It was you that paid them off. She might be pulling the strings, but you're the one doing the dirty work, aren't you?'

He paused, taking his time. ‘Might've been.'

‘Lee, I got to tell you. This one's a bunny boiler. She's got something against me. The crazy bitch is stalking me.'

He silently spooned coffee into two mugs that looked like they had been used as a receptacle for semen-stained tissues. I picked up one of them, emptied the granules into the sink, and washed it carefully beneath the tap before giving it back to him. ‘I would rather not catch anything, if it's all the same to you.'

‘What do you mean she's stalking you?'

‘I mean she's fucking stalking me. She's sport-fucking you because you happen to live next door to me. Do you really think a woman who looks like she does would have anything to do with a loser like you if she didn't have some kind of hidden agenda?'

‘Stranger things have happened.'

‘Not in this life, son.'

‘Yeah, well. So what if she is? I got my hole, didn't I?'

‘Lee, the woman's a fucking psychopath. I think she's kidnapped my son.'

He leaned on the kitchen counter, his eyes searching my face.

‘You're not kidding, are you?'

‘I'm not generally known for my sense of humour.' I nodded behind him. ‘The kettle's boiled.'