Waiting for Godalming (19 page)

Icarus shook and fought to break free, but you really don’t have too much chance against the devil.

Icarus tried to close his eyes and turn his face away, but the taloned claws pressed in upon his eyeballs.

And once again Icarus found the whole of his life flashing right there in front of his eyes.

And once again he felt it hadn’t been the best of lives.

“Time to suffer, you thieving little gobshite.” And the claws of Hell went pressing in.

“Hey, scumbag,” I said. “Leave the kid alone.”

The creature turned to face me and I could see by the look on his big ugly puss that he didn’t like what he saw.

“And what’s this?” he asked in a tone that I didn’t take to.

“This is where you get it,” I said, cooler than a Carmelite in a coprophiliac’s karsy. “This is where you get what’s coming to you.”

The Beast of the Revelation looked me up and down then up and down some more.

I raised the trusty Smith and Wes Craven’s
Nightmare
and thumbed back the hammer. “The safety catch is off this time,” I said.

Cormerant let Icarus fall to the rooftop. “You have got to be kidding,” said he.

“Me, buddy, I never kid. This is the final rooftop showdown. This is where you get yours.”

“You dare to point that gun at me, you cringing gutless piece of shit!”

I cocked an eyebrow and smiled him one of my Woodbine winners. “I might not have slept for a week,” said I. “And I may be drugged up to the windows of my stainless soul. And I may have had to adopt a different persona, that of this kid’s brother, in order to cover the scenes where I left the hospital and travelled in the taxi and through the streets and up the stairs and everything. But this is
my
territory here, buddy. This is my fourth location. The rooftop where the villain gets his and I get all the glory.”

“Ha,” the devil-made-filthy-flesh laughed and evilly he did it too. “You dare to mess about with me?” he asked. “When you know who I really am?”

“You must be the devil, pal, because you sure as hell smell just like shit. But you ain’t no immortal any more. Not with there being no afterlife. You can catch a bullet like the rest of them.”

Mr Evil lunged towards me, but I took a duck to the side. Taking a duck to the side can often save your life when you’re a private eye. Mind you, you have to know which side to duck to. Knowing which side to duck to can mean the difference between bathing the babe in bechamel sauce and burning your butt on a Bessemer converter. Or chewing the fat with the fattest of friends and biting the bullet in Brixton. Or any one of a number of similar permutations, most of which are obscene.

If you know what I mean. And I’m sure that you do.

The creature lunged and I took a duck.

And damn me if I didn’t duck the wrong way.

But hey, gimme a break, I hadn’t slept for a week and I had more nose candy up my proboscis than Noah had knobbing on his ark.

And all of a sudden, and a very bad sudden it was, I had talons around my throat and more bad breath in my face than a necrophage’s dental hygienist.

“So you burn, Mr Woodsmoke.”

“Can’t you do better than that, buddy?” I asked, trying to lighten up the situation. “Surely Wood … er … Wood …” But damn me if I could think of another one myself.

But hey, gimme another break, I …

“Time to die,” said Cormerant.

“You first, shitface,” I said. And I stuck my gun right into his plug-ugly gob and let him have six of the best.

Which lightened the situation right up for me.

But darkened it somewhat for him.

The top came off his horrible head and it was raining quills.

He staggered about, and I’ll tell you, friends, he didn’t look like he was making whoopee.

“You shot me,” he said.

And I could see clear through his mouth to the sky.

“Yeah,” said I. “And if you think that’s rough. I’m now gonna kick you in the balls.”

And, my friends, that’s what I did.

And he took the rooftop plunge.

And down at ground level, and all but forgotten in all the excitement, an SAS demolition man went “three, two, one” and pushed down on the plunger, in that way they always do.

“!”

went the SHITE. Which was one very loud bit of silence.

Yeah, well, it might have been. But it wasn’t.

I’m sure he would have pushed upon that plunger. That’s what they always do, when they’re blowing things up.

But a hand fell on the soldier’s shoulder and the voice of Captain Ian Drayton said, “Hold fire.”

Back on the rooftop, I helped Icarus up. “Are you OK, kid?” I asked. “You look a little shaky on your pins.”

“Thanks, Mr Woodbine,” he said. “You came through for us. Well, you came through for
me
.”

He dropped to his knees beside the little broken dolly man.

“The bastard killed him,” Icarus wept. “Merciless bastard.”

“He’s one dead bastard now,” said I. “I’m sorry about your little buddy.”

Icarus lifted the tiny man up in his arms and kissed him on the forehead.

“Oi!” went Johnny Boy. “None of that. I know we’re friends. But not
that
friendly.”

“It’s a miracle,” said Icarus Smith.

“You never can tell,” said I.

We headed back to my office, Icarus, Johnny Boy, Captain Ian and I. We took a taxi, I recall, and the cabbie told us all about the knowledge. I don’t remember too much about what he said, but I’m damn sure he was wrong about the route to Heartbreak Hotel.

Once we were safely back in my office, I leaned my butt on my desk.

“OK,” said I, with more suavity than a Swiss sword-swallower in a Swedish swivel chair. “I guess you’d like me to explain it all to you.”

Heads nodded all round, as they generally do when I ask a question like that.

“The first thing you have to understand is that Colin did
not
put the hit out on his old man.”

“He
didn’t
?” said Johnny Boy. “But he was the prime suspect.”

“Little guy,” said I, “this isn’t some episode of
Columbo
. In the world of Lazlo Woodbine, it is
never
the prime suspect.”

“I knew that,” said Icarus.

“Well you never told me,” said Johnny Boy.

“Might I continue?” I enquired, with more retort than a Reigate squire on a cardboard box in Carfax.

Heads nodded all round again and I was set into telling of my tale. “It wasn’t Colin and it wasn’t Eartha.”

“
Eartha?”
said Icarus.

“Put a sock in it, kid. Eartha was number one on my list. She called me in to search for Her missing husband. I figured that She wouldn’t have done that unless She cared about him. Unless, on the other hand that rocks the cradle, She wanted evidence for a divorce. Which She didn’t, because God had got up to His capers with the Jewish girls before and She’s taken him back every time. So, at the start off, I figured She cared.
But
. She shows up at my office, less than an hour after He’s copped it, with the will in Her hand and She’s hardly the grieving widow. She doesn’t show a flicker of emotion on that plug-ugly puss of Hers. And that made me suspicious. She’s got the will and the will fingers Colin. I tell Her that. But She doesn’t care about that either. It seems that She’s happy to have Colin put in the frame. And as investigations prove that Colin is running the Ministry of Serendipity, an organization dedicated to dumbing down the public —
thumbing
down the public in fact — to keep them unaware that demons and angels are walking on the face of the Earth, it looks like Colin all the way. And it seems that Colin’s mum doesn’t give a flea’s fart about
him
either. To me it all smells worse than a Baskerville do-do in a devil’s footbath. But, like I say, it wasn’t Her.”

“So who
was
it?” said Icarus.

“Well, it wasn’t Colin and it wasn’t Eartha and it wasn’t even Captain Ian here.”

“Me?” said Captain Ian. “You thought it might have been
me
?”

“Sure, guy, I had you right up there on my list. Icarus goes to the movies a lot, he’ll tell you how it works. There’s only ever a limited number of suspects. And you get to meet them all early on in the plot. Like Cormerant, right?
You
tipped me off when you told me that Jesus could be seen on TV, but you weren’t at liberty to divulge his identity. You knew I’d take a hint and watch TV and you knew I’d see your brother being interviewed. You led me right to him.”

“His
brother
?” said Icarus.

“Sure, his brother,” said I. “Don’t you realize who this guy really is?”

“He’s an angel,” said Johnny Boy.

“He’s Jesus Christ,” said I.

There was a bit of a silence then, but I could live with that.

“Jesus Christ!” said Johnny Boy. “I mean … well …
Jesus Christ
!”

“Please don’t,” said Captain Ian. “No matter how people say my name, it always sounds like swearing.”

“But I mean … well … you are …” Johnny Boy dropped down to his knees, though the change in height was negligible.

“How did you know, Mr Woodentop?”

I let that one pass, because after all, he was the Lord. “I wouldn’t have guessed,” said I, “if it hadn’t been for Barry. He was stopping the effects of the Red Head drug working on me and he had to be doing that for a good reason. He knew that with the help of the drug I could solve the case and he wanted me to solve the case, but I figured that you’d tipped Barry the wink to stop me from seeing who
you
really were.”

“But
we
couldn’t see him for who he really is,” said Icarus. “And we still can’t. I mean, well, sir, you just look like an angel to me. No offence meant, of course.”

“None taken, I assure you,” said the Lord.

“He does look like an angel,” said I. “But an angel with a
golden sword
. Check out a copy of the
Bibliomystikon
[18]
‘And the Lord of Hosts shall come amongst them and slay them with a sword of gold.’ It ain’t your regular practice for angels.”

“You certainly know your occult scripture,” said Jesus.

“Lord,” I told him, “in my business, knowing your occult scripture can mean the difference between singing a psalm at a Sunday school clam-bake and spearing a clam with a jaded jackeroo. If you know what I mean and if you don’t, who does?”

“You have me on that one,” said Jesus. “But it wasn’t me who murdered my father. So just who was it?”

“Well, it wasn’t your sister Christene, either.”

“Actually I thought it might have been,” said Jesus.

“His
sister
?” said Icarus. “Where does his sister come into this?”

“Philomena
Christina
Maria O’Connor,” said I. “The dame with the dangerous digits. She was in cahoots with Colin. More of that sibling rivalry, you see. Mr Christ here, the elder son, got all the glory. Barry told me how he had his sister edited out of the New Testament. Because he had full editorial control. And they’d stopped writing Bibles by the time that Colin came along, so he never got a mention anywhere. The Godalmings are a very dysfunctional family. There’s a lot of jealousy going on there. The same as in any other family, I guess.”

“I tried to be nice,” said Jesus. “I always try to be nice. I’m noted for it.”

“It’s not your fault, Lord. Well, some of it is. But let’s just have a suspect head-count here. It wasn’t Colin and it wasn’t Eartha and it wasn’t Jesus and it wasn’t Christene.”

“So it was Cormerant,” said Icarus. “He was, after all, the devil incarnate.”

“Right up there in my listings,” said I, cooler than a catechumen at a canon’s coffee morning. “Along with Fangio for a while; you can never trust a skinny guy. But no, my friend, it wasn’t even Cormerant.”

There was a lot of sighing then and a fair bit of scratching at heads.

“So who
was
it?” Icarus shouted.

“It wasn’t anybody,” I said. “Because God
wasn’t
murdered. God
isn’t
dead.”

“
WHAT?”
they all went, and very loudly too.

“He isn’t dead,” I said. “The whole thing was a scam. A set-up from the beginning. Jesus here gave it away when he told us all about how God had to take out mortgage after mortgage on Heaven and Hell until He ran out of money. I figured, how had He done that? He’d have had to have taken out life insurance, right? A whole lot of life insurance, to cover all those extra mortgages. And who wouldn’t insure God’s life? The guy’s eternal, right? A pretty safe bet. But what if God was to die and His wife cashed in His life insurance policies to pay off all the debts and reclaim Heaven and Hell? If He faked His own death, everything would get sorted.”

“It makes some kind of sense,” said Icarus.

“Pray continue with your most interesting narrative, Mr Woodbine,” said Johnny Boy.

“I was set up,” said I. “From the very beginning. I was diverted away from the briefcase case, because I would have found things out in the wrong order. Barry told me all about how God had this thing about Jewish virgins, so I head off to the Crimson Teacup, where God conveniently shows up and then conveniently gets shot in an alleyway, right in front of my eyes.

“Making me the star witness. And what an unimpeachable witness, the greatest private eye of them all, in the pay of a most illustrious client, to wit, the wife of God. She was in on it with Him, as if you hadn’t guessed.”

“I hadn’t,” said Johnny Boy.

“I’m losing the plot here,” said Icarus. “I’m becoming confused.”

“Try to keep up, kid. It’s all pretty simple. Well, at least it is for me. So I’m right there, right? At the right place at the right time to witness the murder of God. And it might have worked too, if I hadn’t gone back disguised as a reporter and been recognized by Sam Maggot and bopped on the head. I’d have fingered Colin for sure, which was what his mum intended. But I wouldn’t have been able to prove it, so he would have walked free. So God’s wife would have got the money. Colin would have got the Earth and I’d have probably ended up in the fiery place without a sweet thank you for being such a sucker.”

“But there is no Hell any more,” said Icarus.

“Yeah, but there will be again, kid. As soon as Eartha gets the money and pays off all God’s debts, Heaven and Hell will be back on the go and all will be right with the world once more.”

“Explain about the video footage,” said Icarus. “We all saw that. We all saw God getting murdered.”

“We saw what God wanted us to see. Or rather what He wanted the insurance company to see. It would look pretty kosher through angelic eyes. They’d see two demons shooting God dead then me dealing death out to the demons. What with that, and my testimony and the weather going mad, what more proof would they need?”

“A body?” said Icarus.

“Yeah,” said I. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But would they really expect God’s widow to let them view the body of God? Especially as He died in such shady circumstances. His reputation would have to be kept intact. He was God, for God’s sake. When I was in that alleyway, I saw what God wanted me to see. And on the tape the angelic insurance assessors would see what God wanted
them
to see. Ordinary folk would see what I saw when I saw the tape for the first time. Me shooting two innocent guys. But after I’d taken the drug and Barry let the effect kick in, I played that tape again and again and I saw something more. I fast-forwarded the tape and after the bit where I fall to my knees and sully my trenchcoat and then I get up and walk from the alley with all the wild weather and everything, there’s a bit more. You have to look real close, with a true professional’s eye. But you can just make out through all the wind and rain and storm,
God getting to His feet and sneaking away
.”

“What?”
went Icarus and Johnny Boy and Captain Ian Christ as well. “You saw
that
?”

“I guess Eartha would have wiped that bit off the tape before She showed it to the insurance company.”

“So that’s it,” said Icarus, shaking his head. “You actually solved it. You solved the greatest case that ever there was.”

“Who else but me, kid? But the sadness of it is that nobody is ever going to know.”

“Why not?” asked Icarus. “I don’t understand.”

“Kid,” I said, “what did you want more than anything else in this world?”

“For everything to be put right,” said Icarus. “That was my dream, my vocation. To put the world to rights.”

“And the only way that the world can be put to rights is if all the angels and demons who fight it out down here and get mankind into a lot of sticky situations go back to where they belong. To wit, Heaven and Hell. And the only way that is going to happen is for us to keep our big mouths shut, pretend that God is dead and let Eartha pick up on the insurance. She pays off God’s debts and the world is put to rights. Am I right, or am I right?”

“You’re right,” said Icarus.

“And as no-one else on Earth but us knows anything about this, they won’t know that God’s insurance company thinks God is dead. They’ll still go on worshipping Him and God, wherever He happens to be, will be happy to let them do it. Things will be a lot better on Earth. There’ll be an afterlife once more, the good people will go to the good place when they die and the bad ones will go to the bad place. And that’s why I can never take the credit for solving the greatest case that there ever was.”

“He’s right,” said Jesus. “That’s how it has to be.”

“But it’s …” Icarus threw up his hands. “It’s dishonest. I thought that God was all good.”

“I think we’ve all had enough theology for one day,” said Johnny Boy. “Let’s just settle for this as a happy ending.”

“Yeah,” said I. “Well you would say that, wouldn’t you?”

“I just did say it,” said Johnny Boy.

“You know,” said I, with more gravitas than a gut-shot gunman at a herring-gutters’ ball. “You got me thinking back there, on the rooftop. I really couldn’t understand just how it was that you didn’t die up there.”

“A happy happenstance,” said Johnny Boy. “All’s well that ends well. Isn’t it?”

“Oh, please,” said I. “I’ve come this far, I’ve worked the lot of it out. You wouldn’t deny me a little bit of glory, seeing as how I can never ever talk about this case.”

“Eh?” said Icarus. “What’s all this?”

“Ask Johnny Boy,” said I.

Johnny Boy grinned. “Go on then,” he said to me. “Do it.”

I reached down to him and with more panache than a pool-shark on the poop deck of a Pooh-Bah’s paddleboat, I took hold of his hair and ripped off his wig and his mask.

To reveal the face of …

Yes, you’ve guessed it.

No you haven’t? Then let me tell you.

The face of Richard E. Grant himself.

Otherwise known as God.

“Dad!” said Jesus. “It’s
you
! You’ve shrunk.”

“I’ve always been a master of disguise, my boy.”

“No,” said Icarus. “This can’t be happening. It can’t.”

The face of Richard E. Grant smiled handsomely up at Icarus Smith. “It can be,” said He. “And it is.”

“No,” said Icarus, and tears were in his eyes once more. “No, it’s not fair. It can’t be.”

“I know,” said God. “You feel cheated, don’t you? Cheated and deceived. You feel now that you really didn’t do anything. That I helped you out every step of the way. But I didn’t, you know. You did it all yourself.”