Jail Bird

‘I need you to come with me somewhere,’ she said.

‘Okay. I’ll come back over.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Pleasure,’ he said, and hung up.

56

Nick was there in his Mercedes within the hour, and boy was Lily glad to see him. He asked where she wanted to go and without fuss he drove her there. She’d had time to get washed and dressed, but she’d been too shaken to eat. Anything she swallowed would just come straight back up, she was sure of that.

In her mind’s eye she saw again the blackened door beside the little shopping arcade, the drone of the newsman’s voice. A woman dead in a house fire. But the police suspected arson. And the dead person was Suki Carmody, who had seen something bad in Lily’s cards, who had been afraid and had tried to warn Lily to take care.

Well, here I am, taking care, thought Lily as Nick drove with casual grace through the streets.

And now she was here, at Jack’s office.

‘You want me to come in with you?’ asked Nick, setting her down in the side road just off the High Street.

‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She didn’t want Nick loitering around

Jack’s office, listening in and disapproving about what they were discussing.

Lily got out and walked over to the office. The door was half open.

‘Hey, Jack?’ she called out to silence. She felt a shiver of apprehension creeping up her spine.

She was just rattled over Suki, that was all. Suki was dead. Bev was in intensive care. Winston was fuck- knew-where.

She pushed forward, went into the office where she and Jack had sat and chewed the fat over Adrienne’s list.

‘Hey…’ she started, and then she sagged against the door as a dizzying spiral of shock travelled all the way up from her toes to the roots of her hair.

There was a bloodied bag of bones sitting in Jack’s chair.

It was just blood, and sinew, and…well, it had a head, but even that was covered in gore. There were splashes of blood up the walls, and there was blood coming out of a big cut on the thing’s left arm, it was pumping, it was pumping, oh fuck it was arterial blood, of course it was. She saw the dirty-blonde tufts of hair sticking up, stiffened with gouts of blood, on the thing’s head. The phone dangled loose on its cord, brushing the bloodied floor.

She felt vomit rise hot and sour into her mouth and turned to one side, half choking on it.

Oh my God, Jack.

She stood there, swaying on her feet, aware that someone some distance away was moaning, and then she realized that it was her.

‘God – Jack…’ she groaned out.

And then the door swung slowly shut behind her. Lily half turned, all the hair on the back of her neck standing up, a hot spasm of fear clutching at her. Winston was standing there, big as a barn door and clutching a bloody machete against his soiled grey t-shirt. He was staring at her, and he was weeping.

‘Winston…?’ Lily gasped out. ‘Oh Jesus, Winston, why…?’

The death woman was there. That was all Winston knew. She was standing right there in front of him, the one who had brought death to their happy home. Suki was dead, and Bev…who knew? She might not pull through either. Their home was wrecked. Their life was wrecked. And all because they had opened the door to the death woman and her helper.

‘You didn’t have to go an’ do that,’ he sobbed. ‘Not jus’ ‘cos she slept with your man. Why’d you have to go and do a thing like that?’

‘Winston,’ said Lily, aware that her voice was shaking, aware that she was in extreme danger here. He thought she was responsible for the fire…? ‘Winston, listen. No. I didn’t…’

Shockingly suddenly, he lifted the machete and charged at her.

Lily pulled out Leo’s Magnum from her bag without the slightest intention of doing so. It was slick, automatic – self-preservation. She didn’t want to die, oh shit, she couldn’t end up like poor bloody Jack, cut to ribbons…so she held the Magnum steady and pointed it two-handed, straight at Winston’s huge barrel of a chest, and shouted: ‘Hold it!’ in a voice she didn’t even recognize as her own.

He stopped in his tracks, snorting like a bull, tears and sweat and snot pouring down his face, the machete raised ready to strike her down.

Jesus, Winston, don’t make me have to shoot you, thought Lily, nearly paralysed with shock, fear clawing at her and making her light-headed.

She was holding the Magnum steady, although it was heavy and she was scared of it going off. Leo’s gift to her – thanks Leo – but oh God she didn’t want to have to use the bloody thing, she didn’t want to have to shoot anyone, she didn’t, she didn’t.

She’d have to go back inside if she did. She couldn’t go back inside…

But Winston stood still, crying, staring at her. The machete dropped from his hands, adding another scarlet splatter to the ruined carpet. Then he turned on his heel and half ran, half fell out of the door and was gone.

Lily stood there like she’d been turned to stone.

Then, behind her, she heard a groan.

She turned.

Blood was still pumping out of the thing in the chair, and she thought, Wait. Dead bodies don’t pump blood because the heart ain’t beating.

Jack was alive.

And now he was stirring, trying to move.

She put the Magnum away and leaned out of the open door, looking for Nick’s Mercedes. She spotted it parked up a hundred yards away and shrieked at the top of her lungs. ‘Nick! Nick!’

Nick was out of the car like a shot.

He came at a run, surging in through the door, nearly knocking her flat on her arse. He looked at the thing in the chair, which was now trying to speak, bloody froth bubbling on its lips.

‘ Fucking hell,’ said Nick, as Lily took out the old mobile

she’d borrowed off Oli and started with shaking fingers to call for an ambulance.

He snatched it out of her hand, shoved it into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of leather driving gloves and pulled one of them on. He gave Lily the other one. ‘Don’t leave your prints anywhere, okay? And not your mobile phone, dummy. Use his landline, but we’re going to do this first. Now what we’re going to need,’ said Nick, ‘is your tights. Get them off. We got to tie off that arm before he bleeds out. Then we fuck off. Quick.’

‘Is he going to die?’ Lily asked shakily, pulling on the glove.

‘Maybe,’ said Nick with crushing brutality. ‘We’ll do what we can.’

57

Kings was buzzing and Si and Freddy were happy with their new Head of Security, Brendan Gibbs. He was a tough bastard but not a loose cannon like that fucking Jase – who was still hanging around like a bad smell, propping up the bar, acting like he was still cock of the walk. Freddy watched him and promised himself he was going to sort him, very soon.

‘Saz is in with the new hubby,’ Freddy told Si as they sat upstairs in the office throwing back a few single malts.

The news that his niece was in was not particularly welcome to Si. He had plenty of punters in here, the evening was going with a swing, and he knew most of them were high as kites on E and cocaine. Which was fine,