Killing Mum_Kindle (3 page)

"Please, Mum. I can do without the moralising. I don't mention
your
drinking, do I?"

Her eyes widened. "You just
did.
Anyway, there's a bit of a bloody difference between ... killing people and enjoying a drink."

"Maybe," he said. "Although I don't think Maggie sees it that way."

She wiped a drip off her glass with her forefinger. "She knew what you did when she married you?" She licked her finger, wiped it against her thumb.

"Oh, yeah.
Sometimes I think that was the reason."

"Yet she hates me drinking?"

"Never mind Maggie, Mum."

"How can I not mind? She won't let me see my own granddaughter."

"I know."

"She's never liked me."

 "I know. But just try to focus. Tell me if you can think of anyone who'd want you out of the way."

"Out of the way."
She closed her eyes. "Jesus," she said. "Why should I give a hoot about helping you? Not as if you're helping me."

"You could help yourself by not drinking."

"Listen to yourself."

"You're missing the point."

"You may think so."

"Mum, shut up."

"What did you say?"

"You heard."

She shut up.

"Somebody wants you dead," Carlos said.
"Enough to pay me a substantial sum of money to make that happen.
You can get all moral on me after we've figured out who it is.
Unless you don't care."

She stared into space, said nothing.

"Well," he said. "Do you?"

"Of course I do." She picked up her glass again. "Of course I want to know who hates me that much."

"That's what I thought."

She gulped down the rest of her drink. "So how do we find that out?"

***

Carlos took the long way home, listened to some
flamenco
for a few minutes, but it was too tortured and mournful for his mood. He stuck on one of Maggie's compilation CDs instead. Good driving music. Nice tempo but relaxing too.

And Carlos needed to relax. Seeing his mother at the best of times was a strain. Tonight, well, he'd felt the back of his eyeballs start to hurt and that was always a bad sign.

His mother's reaction had seemed genuine. What he'd told her had surprised and shocked her. Either that or he didn't know her like he thought he did. No, there was no act there. And even if he was wrong, if she had known, there was no reason for her to want to have herself killed.
Made no sense.
He'd heard of it before, of course. People who were depressed enough to want to commit suicide, but couldn't actually do it, sometimes they'd hire a hit man to do it for them.
Fools.
If you can't kill yourself, there's a good reason. Means you don't want to fucking die. But even though his mum was a functioning alcoholic, she wasn't that depressed. Fair enough, she wasn't happy about not getting to see Sofia, but Carlos doubted she believed Maggie would stay angry with her for long.

Which pointed the finger of suspicion at Maggie.
Yeah, it was crazy and he didn't want to consider it, but he had no choice. The facts were that Maggie knew who his mother was; she knew what Carlos did for a living; she had easy access to ten grand in cash; and she called him Charlie. But why would she want his mother dead? Because of what happened with Sofia?
Made no sense either.

He turned up the volume, started to sing along with the music.

The answer would come to him. It always did.

***

Maggie said, "You're sure?"

"She practically admitted it," Carlos said.
"Kept saying she was no good to anybody.
Just an old drunk who'd be better off dead."
It felt natural to lie to his wife. He wasn't sure why he'd never done it before.

"She said that?" Maggie turned off the TV. "Wow. I mean, fucking wow." She put her hand to her head, grabbed a handful of hair,
combed
it through her fingers. "I can't believe it."

"I know. It's fucked up."

"Wow." The skin around her eyes creased. "It's insane."

"That's my mother."

Maggie shook her head. "Wonder how she found out."

"No idea."

"Maybe it's a test." She bit her lip, let it go. "Maybe she doesn't really want to be ... expurgated."

Carlos looked at her, waiting for her to say more.

"Maybe she found out what you do and she just wants to see how far you'll go."

Carlos nodded slowly, remembering the word his mother had used. "See how much of a monster her son is?
Could be."

Maggie sat down, crossed one ankle over the other. "So what are you going to do?"

"What she wants."

"You mean ...?"

"
Si.
I'm going to kill the old bitch."

"Holy shit," Maggie said. "You can't do that."

"If she's had enough, I'll be putting her out of her misery. And if she's playing a game, I'm going to make sure I win."

"Even if it means killing her?"

"It's what she wants."

"She can't want that."

"Well, it's what she's paid me for. Wouldn't want to disappoint her, would I? I'm a professional, after all."

"Fuck, Charlie." Maggie rubbed the palm of her hand on her thigh. "You're serious."

"I didn't ask for this. And I didn't decide on the stakes."

"Still..."

"'Still what?
I thought you didn't like her? Didn't want her round Sofia?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'd want her ... done."

"Done?"

"You know ... expurgated."

"She won't be expurgated. Only Richie can do that."

"You know what I mean. Richie, Jordan, same thing."

Carlos nodded. "I'd rather not use Jordan either."

"I thought you and him had an understanding."

He shrugged. "This is personal. It's more than just a business transaction. Something I need to do myself."

"Shit," she said. She laughed. "Sorry. I'm just ... trying to let this sink in."

"There's more," he said, and waited for her to calm herself. "I'll need some help. Someone I can trust."

 
"Hardly spoilt for choice, then."

"No," he said. "What are you doing next week?
Tuesday night, maybe?"

"Me?" She widened her eyes as what he was asking her
sunk
in. "Charlie, I couldn't."

"You could.
Easy.
I'll do the hard part. You don't need to see that. I just need you to give me a hand afterwards."

"A hand?
What does that mean?"

"Getting rid of the body."

"I really don't think
— "

"I'll make sure it's wrapped up, all sanitised and that.
Promise.
Just keep an eye out for me while I get the body out of her flat and downstairs. Help me get it into the car.  Not ours, I'll steal one. We drive to the Forth, lose the body. After that, we'll dump the car and head home. I'll maybe need some help getting the body onto my shoulders, but I can carry it from there. Other than that, you won't need to touch it."

"Just warn you if somebody's around?"

"That's it. You'd be a lookout."

She lowered her gaze. After a bit she looked at him again and said, "You're going through with this." Not a question.

He nodded.

"Then steal a van," she said.

Jesus fucking Christ.
She was going along with it. He stayed perfectly calm."You think?"

"Easier to get the body in and out."

"Yeah," he said, nodding. He clenched his fists.
"Yeah.
You thinking
a Transit?"

"Doesn't need to be that big.
Didn't Jordan's old man have three bodies in the back of his?"

"That wasn't his van."

She shook her head, exasperated. "But there were three bodies in it, right?"

"Yeah."

"So nick one of those vans, whatever it was. It'll be plenty big enough."

His fingernails were digging into the palms of his hands. "I'll ask Jordan."

"I know a good car thief if you need one. Brother of Arlene's boyfriend."

"Your sister can certainly pick them."

"You can fucking
talk."

"He's reliable?"

"He nicks cars to order."

Carlos unclenched his fists, locked his trembling fingers together. "
Kids've
got too much money these days."

"And we should take a leaf out of their book. Burn the van afterwards."

"Get rid of any evidence? Not a bad idea." He waited, throat dry. "So we're on?"

"I don't know. I don't know, Charlie. This is a step beyond."

"For me too.
But it's going to happen, Maggie.
With or without your help.
I'd like it to be the former."

Say no, Maggie.

"Let me think about it," she said.

TWO

When Carlos arrived at his mother's flat, she was drinking coffee and Jordan was sitting opposite on the settee with the dregs of a glass of milk on the table in front of him.

"Everything okay?"
Carlos said.

"We've been having a lovely chat," his mother said.

Carlos wasn't sure for a second, then saw her lips curl slightly and decided she was being sarcastic. Jordan wasn't exactly chatty at the best of times. Not surprising given what the poor kid had gone through. Course, this whole situation was complex, what with Jordan and Richie's families having pretty much annihilated one another about eighteen months ago. Luckily, with Richie still in prison and likely to stay there for a long, long time, that wasn't a problem.