I’d been handling Cassie all wrong. Coming on hardass was where she lived. If there was a next time, I’d be Mr Diplo-fuckin’-matic till I cornered. Then, we’d rock ’n’ roll.
A wino was witnessing ‘I was never a social drinker, only a social security drinker.’ I’d asked Doc if his boozin’ had been as serious as he told it. He’d answered, ‘Lemme put it this way. I was living in Bradford for six months before I realized it was Darlington.’
Quite.
I still had the Astra, I dunno why. It’s a woman’s car in truth. If you need a second car, then it’s as good as any. But for the main event, the numero uno, the big friggin’ cheese, it’s window dressing. Got home and planned a slow evening of strong drink. The phone went.
‘Dave?’
‘Yeah… hey… Doc, is that you?’
He never called me by my Christian name, I actively discouraged it. Only when heavy shit went down did he resort to it. Right now, I’d swear he was sobbing, his voice sounded broken.
‘Dave, it’s Laura – she’s dead.’
‘What!’
‘It’s true Dave – she went under a train… oh God.’
Now he was sobbing, I said, ‘I’m on my way buddy, just hang tight… OK.’
‘OK.’
The flaming Astra wouldn’t start. Then I realized I was flooding the engine and forced myself to calm down… OK… OK… try again. Burned rubber outa there.
As I drove I could hear Doc in my head, the thousand things he’d said. Once, ‘You never hear of Tom Leonard?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, you ignoramus, he proposed that long-term prisoners be given the freedom to purchase their own cells.’
The police cars were parked outside his house. I went in and came face to face with Quinn. What appeared dangerously close to a smirk was plastered on his grey-hound snout. He nodded.
Doc was sitting in an armchair, a bottle of Scotch between his legs. I crouched down, said, ‘I’m so sorry buddy.’
He looked blank, asked, ‘I dunno, should I drink whisky, Laura says it makes me cranky.’
‘How about some tea?’
‘I’d like some tea, two sugars please.’
A uniformed cop was in the kitchen, his shoulder micro-phone emitting squawky messages. I asked, ‘Do you know what happened?’
‘It seems she’d been shopping and was changing trains at the Oval for the Northern Line to Morden. She went under at approximately five forty-five. Rush hour, it didn’t half bugger up the timetable. We got her name from her handbag.’
I made the tea, the cop’s mike was eating at my nerves, I snapped, ‘Can’t you shut that bloody thing off.’
‘No can do Sir, any chance of a cuppa?’
I gave him the look, said, ‘No can do pal, know wot I mean?’
Doc took the tea but was unsure what to do. I said, ‘Drink it.’
‘OK.’
He took his reading glasses from the table before him. I thought ‘Wot, he’s going to read
Before I could act, he began to feverishly polish the lens, saying ‘This was not a boating accident.’
For that moment, he was Richard Dreyfuss in
I said, ‘Let’s take this outside.’
Before I could get into it, he said, ‘I hate to laugh and run but, it seems you’ll need a new partner, it being a two-man job.’
‘You want to explain that Quinn?’
‘Yer repos – I mean wot else are you two into?’
I’d clenched my fists, never had I wanted to take down a guy so bad, I could taste blood in my mouth, said, ‘You like to put it in people’s faces Quinn, get right in there and fuck. Keep it up.’
He gave a huge grin, ‘Oh, I intend to. Next time you have an away day, that you take a wee excursion, I’ll be there. You’re all mine Cooper.’
‘Good, I’ll be looking forward to it… you mangy piece of shit.’
Returning to Doc, I took it as a positive sign that he was drinking the tea. He said, ‘According to Freud, a man doesn’t become a man till his father dies, so I wonder what he reverts to when his partner goes.’
‘From the evidence, a babbling idiot.’
He turned to look right into my face, added, ‘She really didn’t like you.’
Jeez, thanks a bunch Doc, I needed to hear this now. I didn’t say anything. Gave one of them wise head- nodding gestures, reeking of understanding. But, he thought I wasn’t getting it, grabbed my arm tightly, ‘No, I’m serious Davey. She didn’t care for most people, but she fuckin’ loathed you.’
I tried to interpret this as grief but, if he kept it up, he’d really be in bloody shock. ‘She said you were a cold fish, that beneath your frosty exterior was more ice.’
I thought she’d had a rough deal. Doc’s years in prison, his uncertain future, her horrendous death… and then I thought… fuck her.
The funeral was huge, villains like the full show. Cops came too though not in a mourning capacity. What a display of cars! I once read Maurice Gibb describe success. Remember him, the Bee Gees. He said he was standing at his front door looking at a street packed with motors and knew, ‘They’re all mine.’ I looked at the line of vehicles and knew, they’re all repos.
Noble came, same lousy raincoat, said, ‘She was a good ’un.’
‘You knew her?’
‘Never laid an eye on her – or a finger – but what the hell else is there to say.’
Doc looked downright elegant. Black suit, tie, and the manic-shined black Martens. His daughter, Emma, was out from the boarding school. A flash little piece of jail-bait, she asked me, ‘Did you know my Mum?’
‘She was a good ’un.’
‘I don’t think she liked you.’
Great.
The reception was Irish, booze and food. Doc was in the middle of the crowd, stories chasin’ the whisky, or is that vice-versa. Anyway, like that. He was saying, ‘So this wanker takes a look at me, sees I’m a big ’un, says I used to be scared of a couple of blokes… I says yeah… and I’m the both of ’em.’
Maybe it was the wedding he’d never had. I strolled over to read the condolences. A mountain of them, you’d swear Laura had a lock on Mother Theresa. The tributes to a woman who never was. I felt if no one had showed, Laura would have respected that. One card I had to pick up, it read:
With gravest respects,
Louis MacNeice
‘What!’
Doc touched my arm, said, ‘Can I get you a bit o’ grub, a drink?’
‘No… no thanks, you don’t have to play host… OK’
‘Jaysus, don’t bite the face off me, I’m just trying to be hospitable.’
‘What? Oh right – look Doc, I’m sorry, it’s just there’s something weird going on.’
Doc pushed a drink into my hand, asked, ‘Are we still on?’
‘You mean next week. Jeez, I dunno – under the circumstances, shouldn’t we, you know.’
‘You think I’m not bloody up to it. Don’t worry about me fella, I’ll keep my end up.’
