Kiss Her Goodbye (27 page)

She'd made her Bloody Mary last well. She poured the last of the tomato juice into her glass and took a tiny sip.

The door opened. Her glass bumped against her teeth. A biker marched in and joined a group of his hairy, leathered-up mates. Almost immediately the door swung open again and three, no four, scantily clad little bimbos strutted in on dangerously high heels. Where was he? She looked at her watch again.

When she looked up, the bimbos had tottered all the way to the bar without injuring themselves and Cooper was strolling towards her on legs like tree stumps. His expression gave away nothing. He'd dressed for the occasion, though. White collarless shirt under a navy suit jacket. Charcoal suit trousers. His shoes looked polished. A good omen. He was taking this meeting seriously.

She switched into working mode. A pout, followed by a quick flick of the tongue over her lips. "You're late."

"Don't fuck me off again. Where's Joe?"

She sighed. "Not here yet. He's been held up."

He grunted. "Maybe I should go."

"Stay," she said. "He'll turn up. Have a drink with me. I'm not completely unattractive, am I?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"A girl likes to think she's capable of catching a man's attention," she said. "Know what I mean?" She held out her nearly empty glass. "Fill me up." She parted her lips and let her tongue slide between them.

Cooper nodded. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" She looked at his crotch. At his eyes. "Bloody Mary. With lots of Worcester Sauce. And ice. Ask for ice."

He barged his way to the bar.

So far so good. Everything was going according to plan. Joe had even predicted that Cooper would be late. Back at the lawyer's flat, they'd tried to talk. Having sent Ronald to the chip shop, Adam Wright spoiled their privacy by making his dramatic arrival. And by the time they'd finished with him, Ronald was back with the food. By then, she really was hungry. She ate hers and most of Joe's.

After they'd eaten, Joe said to Ronald, "You mind if I use your bedroom?"

"You tired? Don't know how you can sleep at a time like this?"

"Did I mention sleep?" Joe looked at Tina. "Coming?"

"Oh," Ronald said. "I get it. Maybe I should change the sheets."

"Don't bother." Joe was still looking at her.

"You'll just need to change them again," she said.

Ronald shrugged. "You have half an hour, Joe. Then I'll need to take Tina away." He winked. He was referring to her wire fitting with Monkman. The lawyer turned to Wright and said, "Run it by me again. You didn't realize the stone was that big?"

In the bedroom Tina and Joe had worked out the plan that was now in operation.

She looked up as Cooper returned with the drinks. He sat opposite her. "What's all this?"

"What's what?"

"Giving me the come-on."

"I — I—"

"I told you I'd give you ten grand." He pointed his finger at her. "Then I didn't. And just to make sure you really like me, I nutted you and bust your nose. Now you're trying to tell me you find me a turn-on?"

She ran two fingers over the rim of her glass. "That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you." But she could tell from his expression that he wasn't to be won over that easily. "You find it hard to believe a woman can fancy a man who gets a bit rough sometimes?"

"I know one or two."

"Make that three."

He took a gulp of his beer. "I can't wait all night for Joe. I'm a busy man."

If he looks like he might be about to leave, talk about the kid. That was Joe's advice. "Joe mentioned you had a little boy. Gary?" She pushed her pack of cigarettes towards him.

Cooper relaxed and lit a fag. He sank into his seat. He picked up his drink and smiled. "Cute little bastard." His smile broadened. "Like his dad." He leaned towards her. "You do fancy me, don't you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "His mother dotes on him, you know. She doesn't like me as much. But I don't mind. The wee man's like a kind of glue."

She had no idea what he was talking about. It must have shown.

"He holds us together. Think about it. Why else would a man of my maturity and sophistication be having a relationship with a young tart like Sally?"

Tina wondered if Monkman was hearing any of this. Cooper was expecting a reply. She said, "Love?"

"Well, I never thought I'd hear a whore say that."

"I'm full of surprises. For a whore."

"You believe in love?"

"What about Gary? Don't you love him?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"I don't want to talk about it. It's different, okay?"

She raised a hand. The guy was a nutter. If he was a client, she'd make her escape now. Before it was too late. "You seen Joe since he came out of prison?"

"Once. He wasn't in a particularly good mood."

"Why do you think he killed his wife, Cooper?"

Cooper stubbed out his half-smoked fag in the ashtray. He clasped his hands and steepled his thumbs. "Claims he didn't."

"Wasn't he with you that night?"

"If that's what he says."

"I'm asking." She shrugged. "It looks bad for him."

"Why all the questions?" He paused. "Let me ask you one, eh? Why aren't you mad at me?"

"You want to know?" She offered Cooper another cigarette. He shook his head. "I'll tell you." She tapped one out for herself. "The work I do, it makes it hard for me to find men sexually attractive. I rarely get turned on."

"Doing it all night, it becomes a bit tedious." He nodded. "I can see that."

Sometimes she was just plain frigging sore, but she didn't tell him that. Probably wouldn't sound too seductive. It had been a long time since she'd had a boyfriend. The last one, Dennis, was great. Didn't want sex. Happy to give her a back rub, which is what she really wanted when she got home from work. Things were going great until he decided he was gay.

"Occasionally I meet someone I find appealing." She lowered her eyes and stared into her drink. "It's usually someone who's in control of his life. Someone who knows what he wants and is prepared to do what's necessary to get it."

"You like that?"

"Someone who doesn't care what other people think."

"I don't give a fuck what any bastard thinks."

"I noticed."

"Including you."

"Which is part of your attraction."

He stared at her, not moving a muscle. His eyes remained wide open. She could tell he wasn't really looking at her. His eyes were out of focus. She had the impression that she could get up and walk out the door and he'd carry on staring into the space she'd just vacated. She was tempted to put her theory into practice. Instead, she said, keeping her voice low, "You want to fuck me, don't you?"

His expression didn't change. "What makes you think that?"

"Joe told me you liked whores."

"Some. He might be right."

"So what's wrong with me? My nose?" She grinned. "Hey, if you don't like it, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Yeah. Maybe I could do a better job next time."

Sweat made her armpits prickle. She finished her drink. "You believe in God?"

His chin jutted forward. The muscles in his neck tightened. "Can't say that I do."

"When was the last time you went to church?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"You'll see. Wait for me. I'm going to the ladies."

She went to the toilet and splashed her face with cold water. Someone had been wearing patchouli. The place stank of it. She locked herself in a cubicle and removed the black box. She untaped the wires. Then she lifted the lid off the cistern and dropped it all inside. She unlocked the door and stood in front of the wall-length mirror to touch up her make-up. When she returned to the bar, Cooper was finishing a conversation on his mobile. He hung up straight away and tucked the phone in his pocket. His chair scraped the floor as he got to his feet.

Tina slipped her arm through his. "Tonight's your big night."

"What you got planned?"

"I'm going to show you God." She steered him away from the street where Monkman was parked.

"Where you going?" he said. "I've got my car."

"But you only live around the corner."

"So?"

She tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice. "Where is it?"

"You know, I knew straight away you fancied me," he said and continued walking in the direction they were headed. "Fucking knew it." With each step, Monkman got further away and Joe got a little bit closer.

FORTY-ONE

Joe couldn't stand being in the room with them any longer. Adam wasn't helping. He was shaking like a man with pronounced Parkinson's. Good.

Joe opened the door of the ante-room and stepped into the dark interior of the tiny church. He closed the door behind him. His finger hovered over the light switch. Bare floorboards shone in the dull orange glow of a pair of streetlights. A long line of pews, four rows deep, had been shoved against the wall on his left. A disorderly pile of exercise mats formed a vague shape near the back wall. To his right, a couple of steps led to a plinth. On the plinth was a lectern. Behind the lectern, vanishing into the shadows, was a single choir stall. The other had been ripped out, dismantled, flung into a heap and forgotten about. He made out part of a leg poking through some broken panels.

He left the lights off. Switching them on wasn't worth the risk.

The streetlights' glow reminded him of late night journeys. Returning from visits with Cooper's clients, most of whom lived in housing schemes on the edge of the city. Cruising down Niddrie Mains Road at two in the morning listening to the Blue Nile. Hardly any traffic. Joe behind the wheel. Cooper laughing. Cooper saying, "See his face?" and Joe replying, "Before or after?"

My, oh my. How times had changed. Here he was in this little old wreck of a church waiting for his former best mate to turn up so he could…could what? Kill him?

Joe shivered. It was chilly in here. He guessed that once upon a time, the church's tall windows had probably boasted stained glass. Now, the glass was plain and streaked with birdshit and most of the panes were pocked with holes. He wondered how much noise leaked outside into the graveyard.

The church was Tina's idea. These days, she'd told him, it was only used for recreational purposes. She rented it one night a week for her self-defense classes. Another night, a rock band used it for practice sessions. A caretaker came round on a Saturday afternoon and gave the floor a cursory sweep. Tonight the church was empty. And Tina had a key. That was as much as she'd told him.

She hadn't told him it stank. Rotten wood. A stronger trace of mildew. A vague sweaty smell that reminded him of school gyms.

In the shadows Joe saw things move. He stepped into the light, looked at his watch and walked over to the door. He entered a tiny, dark wood-panelled foyer and picked up the baseball bat that leaned against the wall.

If Tina was on schedule, she should be here soon.

Come on
. The nearer he got to realizing this whole thing, the more nervous he was becoming. It wasn't like him to get nervous. He set down Cooper's bat and flexed his fingers. Shook the tension out of his shoulders. He started pacing. The foyer was cramped. He went back into the church and crossed from one side of the room to the other. He picked up an upturned pew. Turned it the right way round. He sat down, facing the door to the entrance hall.

Five minutes passed. It seemed a hell of a lot longer. He got up again and went to check on the others.

The little room was drenched in the bright light from a single bulb. Adam looked up at him. Sally gave him a scared look. At least she'd stopped crying now. Joe hadn't wanted to put the gag on her, but he didn't have any choice. After Adam brought her here, Joe had sat her down and told her his suspicions about Cooper. Somehow, he'd fooled himself into thinking she'd understand, that she'd take his side. When he'd finished speaking, she asked to leave. He said she had to stay. She started screaming and wouldn't stop no matter how much he begged her. He tried threatening her. That didn't work. With Adam's help, he tore one of Gary's blankets into strips. Adam pinned her arms to her sides while Joe removed one of her socks. He rolled the sock into a ball and stuffed it into her mouth, then secured it with one of the strips torn from the blanket. He used the remaining strips to tie her to her chair.

Joe strolled over to the cot. Gary was still asleep. He tucked the remaining blanket under the little man's arms and said to Sally, "I wish I didn't have to do any of this."

Twenty minutes later he was standing by the church's main entrance listening for the sound of approaching footsteps.

For the first time in ages he felt a twinge where Monkman had kicked him. He touched his side, hoping the bruising wouldn't interfere too much with his swing. He tried a one-handed air shot. It was okay. He tried with both hands. A little discomfort, but nothing he couldn't live with.
Come on.