Beast of Burden (32 page)

Tiernan looks out of the windscreen for a second. “You want to know what I heard?”

I don't say anything. Can't say anything.

“I heard that you were at the scene of the crime before the coppers found the body. Which means you know where my boy was. I also heard that he was beaten to fuck, but he was beaten to fuck
there
. Not wherever he was killed. Which means you put a beating on my boy after he was dead. And I'm wondering why.”

He looks at me again in the mirror.

“You want to tell us? Nah, don't suppose you can, can you? Even if you could, I get the feeling you'd come up with some fuckin' excuse.” He rubs his face. “You're a tough cunt, Innes, I'll give you that. But you're trying to protect someone and it's not going to fuckin' work, I'll tell you that an' all.”

Tiernan turns round in his seat, makes sure I'm looking at him. When he grabs my face, the pain is unbearable. “I'll find out who killed my son, Innes. I'll find out who did it, because I'll pay the fuckin' police to give me a name. Your fuckin' bent bastard mate Donkin should do the trick — he'll give it up. Whoever you're protecting with this bullshit won't be protected anymore. You're not in a position to warn anyone, and I'll make sure that even if the cunt's arrested, he won't last a week. You understand, mate? You got off easy.”

He lets me go. I drop back to the floor, concentrate on my breathing.

“Because for all of this,” he says, “I still like you. I just don't fuckin' trust you anymore.”

Streetlights flash through the van. I look at the roof, breathe slow and jagged out through my mouth.

And that's when I realise I'm going to die.

DONKIN

Gray put the phone back down.

“Well?”

“He's not answering.”

I knew he wouldn't. Somewhere out there, Innes knew I was coming for him and he was laying low, wouldn't even take a call from his boyfriend. My head started banging again.

“Try him again,” I said.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Don't fuckin' start.” I pointed at him. “You try him again, and you keep trying him. He'll answer some time. And when he does, you tell him to come in. To me. Don't matter how long it takes, because I'm not going anywhere until I get some fuckin' face time with your boy.”

I went for my baccy, pulled out the tin and the poof's face started to blotch red.

“No,” he said.

“You what?”

Nodded at the tin. “No smoking in here.”

“You're the boss, Mr Gray.” I backed out the office, grinning. “But you make sure you keep trying that fuckin' line. I want him here.”

I turned, pushed out of the club. PC John was up out of the car and watching the door. Up the road I could see headlights, too far away to see if they were coming anywhere near us. I leaned against the wall, pinched some baccy, dropped it into a Rizla.

“What's happening?” said PC John.

“He's calling our man,” I said, and licked the ciggie shut. “You might as well stay out of sight. I don't want him doing a runner because he's seen a uniform.”

The lights swung round at the top of the street. Closer now. Something big, like a van or something, slowing to a stop. As I lit the ciggie, I tried to see beyond the glare.

“Detective,” said the constable.

“Thought I told you to get back in the fuckin' car.” I moved off the wall, headed back towards the Granada. Then I heard a van door shutter open, caught a glimpse of people in the van.

Then I saw the bundle. About the length of a roll of carpet, but wider and wrapped in what looked like tarpaulin.

“Oh shit,” said PC John. He broke away from the Granada just as the van door slammed closed and the vehicle pulled away. “You might want to call an ambulance.”

I walked towards the constable, took it slow. Couldn't run and smoke at the same time. He was bent over the bundle, his face white in the darkness. He turned to me as I approached — didn't take much detective work to realise this was a bloke wrapped in plastic. I stopped and stared at the disappearing brake lights. Couldn't see the plate.

“You get the registration?” I said.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Didn't have time. It's
dark
.”

“The fuck kind of copper are you, Constable?”

It didn't matter, because when PC John pulled the plastic from the bloke's face, I forgot all about the van, concentrated instead on phoning for an ambulance toot fuckin' sweet. Then I ditched the ciggie and got down on my knees.

“You hear us?” I said, nice and loud. “You conscious, son?”

Innes opened his eyes, shifted in the plastic. Christ, and I thought I'd took a fucking kicking. Whoever did this had done it for more than business reasons.

“Aye, best you don't do that, eh? Got help coming for you now.”

But he kept moving, the one eye that wasn't blood-red staring wide at us. I heard the plastic crinkle and buckle as he tried to pull himself out of it.

“Wait a second,” said PC John.

It wasn't that he wanted out of the plastic. Innes was trying to get away from us.

Fuck's sake, you had to admire the persistence of the bloke.

“Better move back. He's going to kill himself if he keeps that up. he's fucked and panicking.”

The constable got to his feet. I rubbed my face, looked down at the mess in front of us, then back at the poof's club. Wondered how long it would take an ambulance to get here, then realised unless it turned up sharpish, there wouldn't be much point.

“Stay here,” I said. “If you see the poof, make sure you keep him away from Innes.”

“
This
is him?” said PC John, a bit too loud for my fucking tastes. “This is your suspect?”

“Yeah, aye, and keep it fuckin' down, will you?”

“You can't—

“Listen to us, alright? The poof in there sees his boy like this, he's liable to think I had something to do with it.”

“That's daft, he's covered in plastic.”

“Going to be difficult to explain that to the poof when he's gone mental on us. So better you shield the lad from the bloke's sight until we get the ambulance here, get a few more bodies in case he loses it.” I started to walk away, then stopped. “You know any first aid, now's your fuckin' chance, by the way. Don't be shy.”

Then onwards to the Lads' Club. I pinched the top of my nose, which sent my brand new headache into the middle of my brain for a second. When I let go, the pain rushed back to the bridge. I really needed another ciggie, but I didn't bother.

As I got to the doors, he was already coming across the gym. “What's going on?”

“You managed to get a hold of Innes yet?”

He shook his head.

I waved him back to the office. “Then what're you doing off the phone? Keep trying.”

More headlights, this time sweeping across the gym floor as a car pulled up outside. I didn't turn around, reckoned it was probably the ambulance and they'd take care of Innes just as long as I kept the poof indoors. I got close to him, put a hand on his arm and said, in my best soft and calming copper voice, “I need you to keep trying his line, Paul.”

Then there was the sound of closing car doors and someone shouted my name. I heard the club doors open.

“Can I see you outside for a moment?”

Turned to see Kennedy in the doorway to the club. I rubbed my nose, looked over his shoulder and saw Adams questioning the constable.

“Everything's fine.”

“Are you alright, Mr Gray?” said Kennedy.

“Fine.”

“What're you lot doing here?” I said.

Kennedy and Gray swapped glances. Then I realised that as soon as I was out of the fucking building, that was the poof dropping a twenty on us.

“Hang on a second,” I said. “He was supposed to be calling his boy in.”

“You do that outside?” said Kennedy.

I shook my head.

“What?” said Gray.

“Nowt.” I moved towards Kennedy, took his arm. “You wanted to see us, let's get it over with.”

Kennedy pulled his arm out of my grip. “At least tell me you called for an ambulance, Iain.”

“Ambulance?” said Gray. “The fuck d'you need an ambulance for?”

“Nothing,” I said. “It's nothing, honest.”

But it was too late. Gray was already storming for the door, and he looked like he was ready to deck anyone that got in his way. I didn't try to stop him. It was these arseholes' problem now. As soon as he clattered out through the doors, I heard Adams and PC John trying to calm him down, keep him back.

“I did call for an ambulance,” I said.

“When?” said Kennedy.

“Just now.”

“Did you say it was police?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm not strictly fuckin' police, am I?”

“Could've got your constable to do it.”

“Doesn't matter.” I pointed at Innes. “He's my collar.”

“What fuckin' collar?”

I moved out of the club, Kennedy following. “That bundle of shite over there, he's the boy killed Mo Tiernan.”

“No, he isn't,” said Kennedy.

Adams and PC John were still trying to bar the way to Innes. Gray was having none of it; he looked like he wanted to put both the coppers to the ground.

“Mr Gray,” I shouted. “You want to calm it down there?”

He turned to us, his face red and twisted. “Fuck yourself, Donkey.”

“That's it,” I said. “Constable, you want to restrain Mr Gray, you be my guest. Let's get this over with.”

Then there was a shout that stopped everyone in their tracks. Came from Innes, this animal roar. Adams shook back from his crouched position by the bloke. Gray made a move towards Innes, and PC John got in his way, just like I told him. I saw the flash of the cuffs in his hand.

“Iain, you want to get over here,” said Adams, and there was a sickness in his voice that got me interested. He turned and said to Kennedy, “He wants to talk to Donkin.”

Kennedy followed us as I approached Innes. I glanced at Gray, and the fight was seeping out of him. Looked like he was crying. I wasn't surprised — Innes had taken a turn for the worse. He was gasping for air, spluttering wet sounds out at us. When he saw us, his one good eye showed recognition. There was that fucked half-smile of his under the mess of a swollen, broken cheek, more like a fucking
quarter
-smile now. He said something I didn't catch.

I leaned in. Kennedy was right next to us. Didn't want to miss a thing, did he?

Innes said, “It was me.”

“What was?” I said.

“Mo … Tiernan.”

He coughed, and I thought that was it. But Innes had more balls than I reckoned him for. He swallowed and closed his eye, repeated until he'd built up enough energy for what he had to say.

“I killed Mo Tiernan.”

Then he fell quiet. Still breathing, but they were rough sounds.

I looked around at the coppers struck dumb, and the poof with the heel of one hand pressed against his eye, silently sobbing. Behind us, I could hear the ambulance come pulling up to the Lads' Club.

“I told you,” I said, walking away. “I told you he fuckin' did it.”

DONKIN

I watched them load Innes into the back of the ambulance on one of them folding trolleys. Gray insisted that he rode in the back; Adams went along to make sure everything was by the book.

I wasn't going anywhere. Didn't need to. Innes had already admitted everything to everyone here, I didn't need to track him all the way to the hospital for a follow-up. In fact, I didn't see the need for any follow-ups. The cunt did it. Pat on the back for Detective Sergeant Me, and I'll have my job back, thanks very much.

“Iain.”

I looked up and saw Kennedy coming towards us. For someone who was all set to beat the shite out of us not so long ago, he looked all kinds of knackered now. And the way I saw it, he
was
all kinds of knackered. The constable followed him at a short distance, looking at the ground as he walked like he was scared of stepping in dogshit.

I blew smoke at the pair of them and smiled. “Y'alright?”

“You proud of yourself, are you?” he said.

“Nah.” I sniffed. It fucking wrecked. “Well, yeah. A bit.”

“That was your collar, was it? That's the one you were fighting for all this time?”

“I was right.” I pointed at Kennedy with my ciggie. “And you were all set to let the case go.”

He nodded to himself, watching the ambulance go. Then he rubbed at the edge of his mouth and said, “That's what you were doing here, then. You were still running the case, despite what we'd told you, what Adams told you about. That, you know, being suspended and all, you weren't actually
legally
allowed to do any of this.”

“Can't keep a good man down,” I said. “And I might not be allowed to arrest anyone, but I'm allowed to be curious. And I was just waiting on Innes—

“Yeah, I understand that. But I've got to know, Iain, why did you bother?”

“Don't get you.”

Kennedy folded his arms and looked at us. “You knew what the likely verdict was going to be, and you know how difficult it's going to be to prosecute this now your chief fucking suspect is at death's door. So where's the perk for you in this?”

I took a big long drag on my ciggie, blew the smoke out through my teeth as I smiled. My chest got tight; part of us reckoned I was about to have one of those heart attacks you don't shake off. But then the feeling passed.

“The perk is seeing you know you're fuckin' wrong,” I said.

He nodded. “Right—

“I'm not fuckin' finished. Because you're one of those coppers, you think it's all a matter of reading textbooks and greasing the right fuckin' palms, you'll be set for life in this job. But you couldn't catch a criminal if your life fuckin' well depended on it. Because you haven't got the first clue as to how their minds operate, you've never been out in it. When two plus two doesn't equal four, you're fuckin' flummoxed. Y'know? Whenever the answer isn't right there on a fuckin'
plate
for you, you can't deal with it. And the last thing you're ever going to do is get your hands dirty, because that's what you've been taught to avoid. And that's what you're all about — you're a fuckin' collection of stuff you've been told, you're not a person. You're just going through the fuckin' motions. You lot, you know the insides of your brand-new cars, you know your HD tellies and your new-build fuckin' houses, and your
X-Factor
as quality time spent with the kids on a Saturday night. You know what you're having for your tea and when your missus fancies a bit or when she wants you to leave her the fuck alone. But the one thing you do
not
know, the one thing you
should
fuckin' know but don't, is this job.”