Dead of Winter (19 page)

K
arl startled awake in bed, gasping for air. A tightness in his stomach felt as if he’d been performing crunches all night. Another nightmare had mugged him.

The nightmares were becoming more frequent, more intense – more visionary than fantasy. His dead mother covered in blood, banging on the window to be let in from her pursuer and
eventual
murderer. Standing beside her, Detectives McKenzie and Cairns, both smiling, holding her back. Their gun-blasted faces were barely recognisable in the torrential grey rain, and the empty eye-sockets made the two dead detectives look even more angry and cruel than Karl had remembered.

You want your mother, Kane? Come out and get her,
mocked a leering Bulldog, while Cairns pulled at her clothing, stripping her. She was a skeleton. Nothing more.

In the background’s foggy madness, he could hear his father screaming to be freed, hoping to help his tortured wife, make it up to her for not being there when she needed him so badly.

Please
, his father kept pleading, over and over again.
Please
…

There were other faces, too, appearing intermittingly. Sarah Cohen, and Laura Fleming, sad and filled with blood.

He glanced at Naomi. Something about her stillness scared him. He reached and gently touched her, and was instantly relieved when she stirred slightly.

Reaching for a tumbler of water on the table, Karl downed the liquid in one gulp. It tasted nasty and slightly dusty. The small clock on the bedside table told him it was almost two in the morning.

How long had it been since he had had a good night’s sleep? He couldn’t remember exactly.

‘Karl?’ said Naomi, voice groggy.

‘It’s okay, love. Go back to sleep. It’s still early.’ Easing his tired body out of bed, Karl stood.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ In reality, the nightmare had terrified him. ‘Too much booze last night.’

Naomi began yawning.

‘You sure that’s all?’

‘Sure I’m sure. Go back to sleep. I’m going downstairs, look at a file on one of our clients.’ He leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead.

‘Make sure you wear something decent, just in case you bump into Lipstick walking about. She’s still not sleeping the best at night.’

‘She can join the bloody club, then. I’m not sleeping too well at night, either, but you never hear me complain. Anyway, when the hell’s she moving out? I can’t even walk about in the nude any more, showing off my manly figure.’

‘You should have thought of that before bringing her here.’

‘I thought that was
your
idea?’

‘I love you,’ Naomi mumbled. Seconds later, she was asleep.

Downstairs, he turned the office light on and looked at his face via the wall mirror directly above the desk. An earlier blush of freshness stimulated by Hennessy had vanished, leaving him looking haggard and defeated. In the darkness beyond his eyes, bloodshot gelled. The eyes held the dazed look of a man not knowing how he got here.

‘Fucking zombie eyes,’ he mumbled, turning the light off before easing the window curtain back slightly, peering into the street. Nails of rusted rain were hammering from an iron sky, turning paved snow into filthy tents of slush.

To Karl, the spreading night was cold and dead. The main streetlight had fused so the only light on the narrow cobble lane of Hill Street came from the neon lights of dingy coffee
hideouts
and an after-hour club of pathetic old guys, usually
wearing
youngish clothes, clearly trying to hold onto something long gone.

He caught a glimpse of the tiny item resting on the desktop just as he turned away from the window: a beautifully crafted piece of origami, fashioned into a rattlesnake.

‘Please don’t make any sudden moves, Karl,’ a voice said.

Karl stood perfectly still. In the semi-lit darkness, the
claustrophic
nature of the tiny office came together in a rush, like two hands cupping around him.

‘Turn –
slowly
,’ instructed the voice.

Karl turned
very slowly
to see a man, standing near the far corner.

‘Over there, away from the window. Take a seat.’ The voice was cold, blunt and solid, like the weapon in his hand.

Ominously, Karl could make out a bulbous silencer attached.
Quiet murder. Premeditated
. Almost immediately, his stomach began percolating. The dead brandy came to life, swirling about in his stomach like tossed sea. He wanted to vomit. He sat.

‘By now, most people would be asking silly questions, Karl. Not you. I expected that. You’ve probably so many enemies, this inevitable day is stamped in your consciousness.’ The intruder flicked on the office light.

In the glaring exposure, Karl regarded the scarred features of the man. He looked to be suffering from acute rigor mortis. The skin looked powdery, shining pale as eggshell. The protruding lips were fat and obscene, like skinned garden snails. The eyes, though, were fully in command. Piercing blue. Winter cold.

A man who could – at the very least – quite easily strangle another human being with piano wire
, thought Karl.

‘Sorry to destroy the myth, but I
am
going to ask a silly
question
.’ Karl tried desperately to make his voice sound calm. ‘What exactly is it you want, Mister…?’

‘Peter will suffice. I’m here to tie up all loose ends.’

‘That lovely piece of origami wouldn’t be me, by any chance, Peter?’ said Karl, ‘A rattlesnake? I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but have to admit rattlesnake was never mentioned.’

‘Take it as a compliment. There is no creature more deadly or masterful than a rattlesnake, once provoked. Your enemies have probably never given you respect, Karl; that’s one of the secrets of your longevity.’

‘And there’s me thinking it was Palmolive soap and daily doses
of vitamins.’

Karl could smell the man’s aftershave. It reminded him of the eighties.

‘I know quite a bit about you, Karl, your personal demons, the senseless murder of your beloved mother. I also know you can be a demon when it suits. A very dangerous demon, indeed, as the two dead detectives would testify, if the dead could talk. You’re not the sort of person one would want to have tracking them.’

‘I’ve no intention of tracking you down, if that’s why you’re here. Honestly.’

‘I honestly don’t believe you, Karl. I know your nature. We’re similar in our single-mindedness. You’re like a trusted and
relentless
bloodhound, working for the Jews. You
would
try and track me down, and possibly succeed. I can’t afford that possibility.’

‘It was you who murdered Sarah at the graveyard, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes. A necessity.

‘Very brave of you.’

‘Your sarcasm is eating away at what little time you have left. I’m giving you time to make peace with your god, Karl. Don’t waste it with childish insults.’

‘Why are you doing this? Money?’ Karl’s brain was on fire. If he could only get this madman to come closer, make a desperate grab for him. In his mind’s eye, Karl saw the third drawer in his desk, the push-out niche containing his gun.

‘It’s the closing of the book, Karl. All chapters have been completed – except this one. Now I’m down to the last line.’

‘Doesn’t a condemned man at least get a last request, Peter?

Peter seemed to think about that. ‘I suppose that could be arranged, providing it’s sensible. What would you like?’

‘One last cigarette? I’ve a packet in my desk.’

‘Okay, but just the one. We don’t have much time.’

‘Thanks,’ said Karl, trying to keep his hand from shaking as it eased opened the third drawer. His fingers touched the gun, and then slowly gripped it. In an instant, Karl had it pointing at Peter’s head.

‘Very good, Karl.’ Peter pretended to applaud. ‘Now you know why I made you a rattlesnake.’

‘I guess I can be a bit of a snake when I want to. Now, why don’t you lower your gun, Peter? Both of us can still come out of this alive. You walk out the door. I forget you even came here.’

‘And if I don’t? Would you shoot me, Karl?’

‘It doesn’t have to end this way.’

‘Don’t you know I’m invincible? God ordained me in this armour. Nothing can stop me.’ Peter aimed his gun at Karl’s head.

Karl immediately pulled the trigger of his gun, hard. Nothing.

‘I found your gun about five minutes after entering your office. I removed these from it before returning it to its hiding place.’ Peter put his hand in his pocket and produced a family of
bullets
. ‘Don’t you know that a clandestine place is usually the most obvious?’

‘Obviously not,’ said Karl, gaming a smile, feeling his
stomach
cave-in. ‘I do now, though. Have to remember that, in the future.’

‘Future?’ Peter’s face measured out a grin-like shape – just enough to acknowledge the irony of the word. Walking back to where Karl sat, he again placed the silencer against the side of
Karl’s head.

To Karl, it felt like the apex of a drill piece. Tingles of
agonising
tension quickly began forming on his neck and shoulders, channelling pressure through his clenched jaw. The feel of the gun suddenly began electrifying his brain; neurons and dendrites started going haywire. Panic set in. He became immobile. Skin sparked. Breathing stalled. His entire world became heavy with darkness.

‘You won’t feel a thing, Karl,’ said Peter, squeezing down gently on the trigger.

Kaboom!
An explosion, a flash of dull light discharging in front of Karl’s eyes. Bizarrely, his eyes seemed to pick up the bullet’s flight, its power to make cartilage and muscle detonate into obscene nothingness. Bits of bone, flesh and brain matter sprayed his face and entered his mouth. Everything went into slow-mo retro. He began having an out-of-body experience, freefalling, like Alice in the rabbit hole.

Dizzy…so fucking dizzy
…Karl’s head felt cleaved; nostrils and mouth scorched with cordite. His consciousness felt like a
macabre
dance, struggling to find a partner to lead him.

Someone was standing a small distance away at the office door. A lone figure, mouth opening and closing, pronouncing stuttering words. It was Lipstick, arms fully outstretched and hands wrapped tightly around the pistol grip of the smoking Smith and Wesson, looking as if she had practised this moment in a mirror many times in her young and dangerous life. Her tiny finger kept pulling on the trigger.

Click! Click! Click! said the empty chambers, each time the firing pin hit home.

Then just as suddenly as it had happened, everything went quiet. Seemingly forever. A communication of some sort passed between Karl and Lipstick. Her voice seemed to detach itself from her lips, journeying around the room in a scream; a scream Karl hoped never to hear again for the rest of his life.

D
etective Harry McCormack stood at the door of Karl’s office, munching on a hotdog. Over near the far window, Detective Chambers was scanning the room silently, his eyes moving slowly but intently.

Several feet away from the two detectives, Bartlett’s lifeless body lay sprawled on the floor, legs branched awkwardly as if in a skiing accident. Face-up, his arms were spread out evenly, much as those of the crucified Christ. Beneath, blood pooled under his body like Superman’s famous cape. Partially crusted, it seemed to be shimmering in the dull, cold morning light.

‘Looks like you finally did it, Kane,’ said McCormack,
gleefully
. ‘Went and fucked yourself in all the wrong places.’

‘This was a clear case of self-defence, McCormack. Even a
thick-necked bastard like you can see that.’

McCormack walked over and stood beside Karl, flipping a page in his notebook before scribbling.

‘You claim the deceased was killed about two-thirty, Kane?’

‘Roughly about that time.’ Karl could now smell the stench of the hotdog on McCormack’s breath. It made him think of the abattoir and the sausage machine. He wanted to puke. ‘The scumbag came in here all fit for shit, looking to kill someone. That someone being me.’

‘It’s almost eight in the morning. What took you so long to contact the police?’

‘I’ve already told you. The young girl, Sharon McKeever –
Lipstick
to her friends – was in hysterics. I called an ambulance. Had her taken immediately to hospital and–’

‘Where she’s now doped up to the eyeballs, and not a soul’s permitted to talk to her on orders of the doctor. Very convenient that this Doctor…’ McCormack flipped a page of the notebook, checking names on it. ‘…Moore is an old drinking buddy of yours.’

‘Nothing convenient about it. That’s how it happened.’

‘Are you claiming McKeever fired the fatal shot?’

‘I’ve her solicitor’s contact details, if you want to talk to him. See what he has to say.’

‘I can imagine what he has to say.’ McCormack’s face began reddening slightly. ‘Why didn’t you contact us as soon as the ambulance left with McKeever, if you’d nothing to hide?’

‘By the time my own nerves settled down, a few hours had gone. Calling the Keystone Cops was the last thing on my mind.’

‘I bet it was.’

‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You showered. Why?’ asked Chambers, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

‘Didn’t like the taste of someone else’s brains in my mouth,’ said Karl, craning his neck slightly to stare directly at the young detective. ‘I wasn’t going to sit in a chair, covered in blood,
waiting
for your boyfriend to come here and take photos.’

‘Want to know how I see it?’ said McCormack.

‘Not particularly, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me, regardless.’

‘The pair of you – perhaps even the three of you, if we include your
other
girlfriend pacing about upstairs – concocted this
fictional
tale of an armed intruder about to kill you.’

‘Naomi had nothing to do with this.’ Karl tried desperately to calm his anger, knowing McCormack was trying to goad him into saying something wrong. But his brain was overheating, making his thinking cloudy.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ conceded McCormack. ‘Perhaps it was only you and your little girlfriend trying to rip-off a john – possibly one of her long-term
clients
. The unfortunate man probably resisted, so she shot him in the head with an
illegal
firearm.
Cold-blooded
, Kane. No two ways about it. All of you’ll go down for murder, if I have my way.’

‘He was ready to blow
my
head off, you fucking moron.’

‘Tell that to the judge. Pray he has a good sense of humour.’

‘That’s the intruder’s loaded gun on the ground, in case you haven’t noticed it. Even has a silencer attached. Not your everyday kind of killer, wouldn’t you say?’

‘You probably planted it on the victim,’ continued McCormack.
‘You seem to be able to conjure up illegal firearms from nowhere.’

‘What the hell do you think that is, over on the desk?’

‘That?’ said McCormack, pointing at the item. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘You know damn well it’s a piece of origami.’

‘So?’

‘Don’t try to be cute, McCormack. You don’t have the face. We both know the killer of Sarah Cohen left origami as a calling card. I’m sure when that particular piece over there is dismantled, it’ll be made from a page from the Bible, also.’

McCormack’s face tightened. ‘If what you say is true – and I’m not saying it is – then how do you account for having
information
not privy to the general public?’

From across the room, Karl could see that Chambers suddenly looked wary, as if Karl had deliberately tried to land him in the shit by divulging the information.

‘That’s irrelevant, at the moment,’ said Karl, regretting now that he had opened his mouth about the origami.

‘Perhaps you made all the little paper trophies, Kane. Perhaps you’re the one we’ve been looking for, all this time.’

‘You really should stop eating sausages, McCormack. You’d be shocked what goes into them. Destroys brain cells. Come to think of it, they probably won’t do you any harm, after all.’

‘You fooled Detective Chambers with all that Lee Marvin
nonsense
, sending him on a wild goose chase, but you sure as hell didn’t fool me,’ said McCormack, his eyes glaring into Karl’s. ‘You had something to do with Laura Fleming’s death, too, and I intend to prove it, along with a list of other names.’

‘I’m saying nothing more, McCormack. Arrest me or send for
the clean up squad to get this scumbag’s body out of my office. And I want those uniformed cops removed from my door. Today’s my busiest day.’

‘I don’t think you’ll be conducting any more business for quite some time, Kane. Your days of playing Rockford are over.’ From his pocket, McCormack produced a pair of handcuffs. ‘When I get you in the car, I’m going to delight in interrogating you – the old-fashioned way. See how smart your smart mouth really–’

Suddenly, Chambers pulled on McCormack’s arm.

‘There’ll be
no old-fashioned way
, Detective – not in my
presence
.’

McCormack shoved Chambers towards the wall, pinning him against it.

‘Don’t
ever
touch me, posterboy,’ hissed McCormack, inches from Chambers’ face. ‘Otherwise, I’ll knock your damn block off its foundations!’

Lightning fast, Chambers administered a double-sided karate chop to McCormack’s formidable neck. The bull detective
staggered
back, holding neck and throat, groaning.

Karl could see the next move coming a mile away. He doubted very much if Chambers could.

McCormack charged at Chambers, like a wounded rhino, head down.

Chambers nimbly sidestepped, permitting the wall to take the impact of McCormack’s massive head. McCormack buckled over, and dropped to the ground.

‘Don’t get up, Detective McCormack. I don’t want to take this any further,’ said Chambers.

To Karl’s amazement, McCormack began easing his body up
from the floor.

‘Oh, we’re going to take it further, pretty boy. A lot further that you can–’

‘Detectives!’ shouted a voice from the doorway. ‘Just what the
hell
is going on here?’

Both McCormack and Chambers stopped moving. To Karl, they looked to have ceased breathing, stunned into stillness.

The voice from the doorway belonged to the man Karl never imagined ever seeing in his office: Mark Wilson.

Despite the anger in Wilson’s voice, Karl had the sneaking
suspicion
that his ex brother-in-law was elated to be here. He looked as satisfied as God with creation.

‘We…we were…’ McCormack was struggling for words.

‘Detective McCormack slipped on the piece of carpet, sir,’ said Chambers, quickly interjecting. ‘I was helping him to his feet, when we–’

‘
Help
get that body covered, instead,’ commanded Wilson. ‘Show the dead some respect and dignity.’

‘Yes, sir…’ mumbled a chastened Chambers.

‘I take it Hicks has been informed, Detective McCormack?’

‘Yes, sir. He’ll be here any minute,’ said McCormack,
sidestepping
Wilson.

Wilson torpedoed his eyes directly at Karl.

Karl had never witnessed so much joy in another person’s eyes. Wilson had won the lotto and gone to policeman heaven, all in the same day.

‘I want you outside now, Kane.’

‘Am I being arrested?’

‘Just get the hell outside.’

Another local television crew was just arriving as Karl and Wilson stepped out into the freezing morning, bringing the grand total to four. Five uniformed cops were trying to disperse a small group of onlookers.

‘If you want to talk to me, Wilson, I’m not doing it here.’

‘Where?’

‘This way,’ said Karl, walking down Hill Street, towards Long Bridge House at the corner.

Wilson quickly followed.

In the lit-up doorway of Long Bridge House, Wilson addressed Karl.

‘This day was always waiting for you, Kane. I saw it a long, long time ago. Everyone did. Everyone except you, of course.’

‘Did you drag me out of my office just to give me a lecture?’

‘You’re like the proverbial dunce in the corner, never learning; never
wanting
to learn. Now a young girl is probably going to be sent to prison, all because of you.’

‘It was self defence. She saved my life. Once I give my version to the papers, Lipstick will be hailed as a hero.’

‘You sicken me, Kane. You’ve never given a damn about the people you contaminate with your shenanigans.’

‘Is that what’s really galling you? Or is it something else?
Something
more sinister?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘He knew an awful lot about me, that Mister Horseman of the fucking Apocalypse. He had to get the information from
somewhere
– or
someone
.’

Wilson’s face tightened. ‘You think that someone was
me
?’

‘You. One of your men. McCormack, perhaps? Even someone
higher than you. You’d have given anything to be looking at my corpse in there, you sanctimonious bastard.’

‘Paranoia’s taking over, Kane. It’s eating away at you, bit by bit. One day it’ll eventually destroy you.’

‘Unless you intend to arrest me, I’m going back to my office.’ Karl turned to walk away.

‘The young woman is to be charged with murder.’

Karl stopped in his tracks. ‘You’re bluffing.’

‘The three pieces of paper in my pocket aren’t bluffing. One is a warrant for Miss McKeever to be removed from the hospital and released into police custody within the hour.’

Karl’s stomach did a little kick. ‘You bastard. She’s innocent.’

‘Her innocence or
guilt
will be determined by a jury, Kane. Not by you. She’ll be in jail on remand for at least two years before the case comes to trial. Two very long years. I’ll make sure of that. Know what two years on remand will do to someone in her frail state of mind?’

‘You’re one sick dog. You can’t get me, so you’re going to take your anger out on a little girl, barely out of her teens? How
fucking
depraved is that, you cowardly bastard?’

‘Did I hear you say I can’t get you? Didn’t I tell you? Your licence as a private investigator is to be revoked, forthwith. That’s the second piece of paper in my pocket. An illegal firearm was used in your premises. That’s a mandatory suspension.’

‘You think I’m going to beg you, Wilson? Is that your great dream? Me on my knees, sucking your cock?
Fuck you
. I’ll find something else to do.’

‘Something else? At your age?’ A smirk appeared on Wilson’s face. He brought it close to Karl’s. ‘What? Drugs? Prostitution?’

‘Go fuck yourself.’ Karl pushed Wilson out of the way.

‘Aren’t you just a little bit curious as to what the third piece of paper is?’

‘Stick it up your arse.’ Karl began walking back down the street.

‘It’s for the arrest of Naomi.’

Karl stopped dead. Wilson’s words kicked him right in the balls. He turned. Faced Wilson.

‘You wouldn’t fucking dare, you bastard.’

‘Wouldn’t I? We believe she’s withholding information vital to our investigation into this killing. At the very least, she’ll be charged as an accessory after the facts.’

‘You touch her…I’ll fucking kill you.’

‘The way you killed Bulldog and Cairns?’

‘No, the way you killed Phillips.’

Wilson’s left cheek did a nervous tweak. ‘I didn’t kill anyone. That’s your paranoia acting up again, Kane. Conspiracies
everywhere
.’

‘Anthony Trollope once said: “I think the greatest rogues are they who talk most of their honesty”. He must have had you in mind.’

‘I’m tiring of all this.’ From his pocket, Wilson produced a phone. ‘I hit one button, and Naomi’s handcuffed, shamefully brought out in front of the news reporters. Her elderly parents will no doubt see it on tonight’s news, down south.’

‘No…wait…’ Karl balled his hands behind his back; thought about grabbing Wilson by the throat.

‘You better cool that hot head of yours, Kane, and listen
carefully
to what I’m about to say.’

Karl tried desperately to control his heart thumping in his ears.
He had a foul, sinking suspicion of where this was heading.

‘Okay, Wilson…I’m listening.’

‘I want the weapon Phillips stole. It’s police property.’

‘Police property?’ Karl almost laughed. ‘That’s a nice way of putting it.’

‘You can believe all you want that I somehow set up Harry. I don’t really care any longer, but I won’t have the good name of the Force dragged through the courts and media.’