Bad Music 16
This is the day
‘You used to go out with Faith Graham.’
He turned. The curtains were drawn but dawn light crept around the edges and he could just make out the lines of her face. ‘Yeah.’
‘Why’d you split?’
‘She’s mental.’ He qualified that, ‘Not like, highly strung, or wilful. Just, really, really mental.’
She rolled over, checked her phone. It was before six in the morning, she rubbed her eyes. ‘Where you been?’
‘The gym.’
‘What time did you get up?’
‘Early. I don’t sleep much.’ He sat down on the bed beside her, stroked her hair. ‘Sorry for waking you.’
‘S’alright. I’ve got to get ready for work.’
‘Why’d you ask about Faith?’
‘Just wondered. She’s gorgeous.’
‘How’d you know her?’
‘Went to school with her.’
‘Friends?’
‘No. She was one of the cool kids.’
‘But you know she’s mental.’
‘You’re not exactly sensible.’ She took his hand. Her own hand was small and warm. ‘I don’t compare to Faith.’
He leaned forward, kissed her. ‘You’re more gorgeous. And not mental. Go back to sleep; I’ll make you breakfast in an hour.’
She returned his kiss, pulled back the quilt on the other side of the bed, patted the empty space. ‘I’m not tired, and I don’t eat breakfast.’
His smile softened his eyes. He stood up, peeled off his t-shirt and jeans.
Dominic slept badly and woke before dawn from a troubling dream. Chess was standing over him licking his face. The night before, he’d jammed the front door closed with a shelving unit he dragged from the living room. It wouldn’t stop anyone but the noise would wake him. No-one else tried to break in.
He was out of bed before five and by seven he’d cleaned away most of the stains from the blood and puke that he’d missed the night before. The events that led to the blood and puke were vague to him: jumbled. When it came to violence, he was a blackout drunk.
He showered, scrambled some eggs for breakfast, and went to check on Chess who was lying in his living-room bed. The night before, the dog had been kicked or struck by one of the men who’d broken into his house, and he’d ran out through the dog-flap and hid in the back corner of the yard. Dominic had found him when he returned after dropping Zlata at the airport, hadn’t even thought of him at the time, and now he felt a painful guilt for the frightened little beast spending hours hiding in the dark. When he found him, Chess was surly and defensive and it took a few minutes for him to entice him close enough to check him out. His jaw was ok, and his teeth weren’t broken, but there was blood around his mouth and Dominic could tell he was in pain. In the end, the he’d let Chess slept beside him, and he lay mostly silent, he whimpered occasionally in his dreams, but every time Dominic woke, Chess was already awake, watching him.
He went back into the kitchen and scrambled eggs for Chess and after he’d fed him they both got into Dominic’s truck and drove to B&Q to buy a new lock for the front door, paint for the walls, and cleaning equipment to get rid of the stubburn stains. The two pistols he’d taken from the intruders the night before were stashed, hopefully never to be used, but he couldn’t predict the future, so he hadn’t tossed them.
‘You know she’s a junkie?’ Angus said. They were sitting in Jess’ living room watching Bluey. It was close to noon.
‘Gemma? Yeah.’ Wull was sitting on a recliner, wearing only boxer shorts. He was angry-skinny, not very tall, and very blonde.
‘You look like a ten year-old kid,’ Angus said.
‘You getting all pedo on me?’ Wull asked.
Angus reached down and picked up Wull’s balled socks, threw them at him. ‘I don’t trust junkies,’ he said.
‘She’s a filthy hoor in bed.’
Angus shook his head. ‘That’s two red cards right there.’
‘Who do you prefer? Bluey or Bingo?’
‘Bluey. I’d love a heeler.’
‘You’ve got Chess.’
‘I love Chess more than anyone,’ Angus admitted. ‘Which is why I don’t get a blue heeler. Anyhow, stop changing the subject. Two red cards.’
‘You’re giving her a red card just for being a dirty mare?’
Angus nodded. ‘Think about it, a junkie, and dirty.‘
Wull grinned. ‘So long as she doesn’t shoot-up in front of me.’ Then his face became comically seriously as he thought it through. Finally, he shrugged, ‘To be honest, I don’t even care if she does shoot up in front of me. Might slow her down a bit.’
Angus grinned at this, raised his hand, wriggled his fingers. ‘You’ve got these.’
‘My right hand isn’t a dirty mare.’
‘Your right hand won’t give you HIV.’
‘Says the man with the long-term, healthy lifestyle.’
‘Got to say though, Jess is lovely.’
‘She’s an Armstrong; got a mad dad, a cray uncle and a half dozen criminal cousins. You’d better behave.’
‘I will not be unkind,’ Angus said, formally. ‘I like her.’
‘You do?’
‘She’s got a job, a really nice flat, she’s clean and she’s smart.’
‘What, were you giving her a job interview?’
‘She’s lovely too.’
‘But she’s sleeping with you.
‘That is no more than a yellow card,’ Angus said.
‘And her best friend is a smackhead.’
Angus smiled, shaking his head. Their banter was just verbal shadow-boxing, it was fun, but Wull was right. ‘Think we should move on? Word might get out.’
‘Another day or two. I like it here.’ He looked around, feeling lordly. ‘Jess does keep the place nice.’
By noon most of the stains had been scrubbed away and the hallway, living room and kitchen had had the blood and puke and piss-stains erased. While the surfaces were drying off, ready to be painted or polished, he set about repairing the front door. It was smashed at the lock and he had to rout out the hole so the wood was smooth regular, then repair the gap with a new piece of wood that he glued and clamped. He rubbed his hands. They were sore with the effort.
He stepped back and looked at the door. When they first moved in, he wanted to get a new one, but Katie loved it, said it must be a century old. She’d been the one who insisted he repair the stained glass at the top, sand it and then paint it a lovely deep blue. He’d had to replace the rotten lock. And now he was replacing the replacement.
He began the job of routing the door frame and replacing the wood there too, glueing it in, sanding it smooth.
While he waited for the glue to harden, he went back in the house and began to paint the wall in the hall and in the kitchen.
A couple of hours later, he was screwing steel plates to the door frame when he heard a voice.
‘Trouble?’
Dominic turned, ‘Charlie.’ He glanced at the steel plates he was screwing to the doorframe.
‘It it something I need to know about?’ Charlie asked.
Dominic thought of the events of the night before. Charlie was his lawyer. He said, ‘Nothing worth repeating. Come on in.’
‘So the Chief Constable is not happy with having a bunch of National Crime Agency types bending the law to spy on tax-paying citizens.’ He bent down to stroke Chess, who shied away. Charlie frowned but said nothing. ‘He’s requested that the head of the investigation pop along with a face-to-face apology.’ Dominic returned from the kitchen with the coffee. Poured them both a mug. ‘Or would you prefer written a written letter of contrition?’
‘I’d like a written apology, read out by the lead detective.’
‘DI Khatter.’
‘Yes.’
‘She’s not someone to cross.’
‘I’ve already crossed her.’
Charlie said, ‘Heard from Angus?’ Then, ‘Actually, no, don’t tell me.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘Good brew. The height of civilisation boils down to three things: public parks, a working sewage system, and making good cuppa.’
Dominic looked at his pinkie as he picked up the mug. It was twitching. ‘When’s Khatter coming?’
‘When are you available?’ Charlie asked and when Dominic went to answer he added, ‘Can I suggest cleaning this place up before she arrives. If she suspects what I half-suspect, she might be back for round two.’
‘Just phoned a cleaning company; they’re coming tomorrow to give it a spring clean, top to bottom.’ Dominic sipped his coffee. Zlata had brought it with her and it was excellent. ‘I lost three days’ work and they still have my work laptop and phone.’
‘So we’re talking three days and however long it takes her to come here with your kit and the apology. And that’s not including the emotional distress and reputational damage. We could sue them sideways.’
‘I’m not litigious, Charlie. But maybe hold that over them for a while.’
‘Will do.’ Charlie looked thoughtful. ‘I heard something about Angus’ situation. Alleged situation; no evidence is forthcoming, because there is none. Yet.’
‘What have you heard?’
‘Gossip. Nothing terrible on his part. But when it hits the fan, let me know. Don’t let Angus talk to anyone but me.’
‘I won’t.’
‘How’s Matthew?’
‘Great. Really good. Yours?’
‘Jane is happy and content we now have a grandchild. I’m already taking out loans for a good school.’ He smiled, shook his head, ‘When did we get old, Dom?’
‘Every day, over a period of forty-odd years, just tiny bit at a time.’ He bent to stroke Chess’ rough fur. His hand was sore. ‘I was talking to Will Armstrong the other day.’
‘That old madman. I heard his boy was involved.’
Dominic nodded.
‘Like old times? Armstrong and Kerr Mark Two?’
‘Fuck, I hope not.’
‘Probably for the best if they don’t replay your chequered past.’ He changed the topic. ‘You still seeing that lovely Ukrainian girl?’
‘We’re making plans; nothing concrete yet. I need to get through this thing with Angus before I can get my head round life-altering decisions.’
‘Don’t let Angus’ shenanigans get in the way of your future. Dom. When Daisy decided to go to St. Martins, I thought, well, there’s thirteen years of school fees wasted, and James, who was a complete failure at school, was a worry til he got that apprenticeship. But it all worked out. And hardly any input on my part.’
‘You think Angus will work out? With your experience, I mean.’
Charlie spent a moment considering. ‘I’ve met lots of bad lads in my line of work,’ he said. ‘Setting aside the migrants and the ropers, who have their own agendas, most of our home-grown trouble-makers are anti-social, uneducated, or a bit thick. A handful are psychopaths.’ He rubbed his chin, considering, then supped the last of his coffee. ‘Angus, he’s none of those. What he is, I don’t know.’
‘Chances?’
‘Fifty/fifty.’ He put down his cup. ‘I’m sorry Dom.’
Dominic shook his head. ‘Naah. You’re right. You’ve always give me it straight. I should have done something.’
‘You couldn’t have done more than you did.’ He looked at Chess. ‘Is he alright?’
‘He will be.’
Charlie stood. ‘I have to go.’
‘Church?’
‘I really should beg forgiveness for some of the miscreants I’ve helped escape the consequences of their own actions.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’ll tell the sainted Detective Inspector to visit you, when?’
‘Tuesday morning is good.’
‘Tuesday then.’ He went to leave then said, ‘If you’re not worried about upsetting the law, do consider a lawsuit. They’ll settle. We could make a packet for not much effort.’
‘It’d help pay the grandchild’s school fees.’
‘It would certainly contribute. Oh, and marry that girl.’
‘You’re not the first person to say that, Charlie.’
‘Proves I’m right. You’ve been alone long enough. Katie would…’ he stopped. ‘Sorry, Dom. My mouth running off with itself.’
Dominic smiled. ‘That’s the gobshite lawyer in you.’
Charlie’s pink skin had gone a shade pinker. ‘It really is. Anyhow, let me know how the apology goes. Written copy, but spoken face-to-face, right?’
Dominic nodded.
‘See you later, Dom,’ Charlie said, ‘Give your grandchild and both your sons my best regards’
‘Thanks, Charlie. Same to you and yours.’
‘And marry that girl, Dominic. It won’t harm Angus and it’ll do you a lot of good. Imagine it: a whole new beginning. Make this the day you decide.’
‘Bye, Charlie,’ Dominic said.
Charlie waved a hand as he left.
Dominic raised his hand and wiggled his fingers as a goodbye. He winced; his knuckles hurt. He had a flashback to hitting someone in the face with a dumbbell bar, catching his hand on the cupboard top as he swung.
The image faded, quick as it arrived, leaving only the pain in his hand. He figured he’d cracked a bone. Wondered if it would be ok to play piano, or should he rest it for a day or two.
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