Bad Music 24
everything that lives is gone to waste
Dominic walked in through the front door an into the living room, looked around. Charley, following him in, exhaled a quiet ‘Fuck.’ Everything that had been on or in something was now strewn around the floor. The contents of shelves and drawers had simply been upended. In the kitchen, coffee, sugar, tea, dry pasta, all had been emptied onto the table, raked through and left there, much of it spilling onto the floor tiles. Cutlery, pans, mugs and plates were strewn around as each of the draws had been emptied in turn. Milk had been poured into the sink, badly, and it too was liberally splashed all over the floor tiles. He turned, found Dominic had returned to the living room, sitting on the sofa, which, along with all soft furnishings, had been thoroughly sliced open, revealing stuffing and springs. He was petting and was nuzzling Chess’ face, and Chess was licking him in return.
‘Anyone you want me to phone?’ Charley asked. Dominic shook his head, seemingly distracted, and when Dominic ignored this he spoke again. ‘I’m really sorry, Dom,’ he said.
‘What for?’
‘For all this.’ He looked around at the room. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Dom. Angus, Katie, this,’ he gestured at the mess, ‘none of it was your fault.’
‘And yet here I am,’ Dominic said.
Earlier in the day, after Angus had clambered up into the loft, to then crawl through spaces to get to the loft at the far end of the block, Dominic sat down and wrote a list. He prioritised the tasks he had to do and set about doing them. First, and most importantly, he messaged Matty to reassure him that his kid brother was ok. Whatever he heard on the news would be hearsay and, also, to possibly expect a visit from the law. He’d already called Jack, who’d agreed to pick up Angus. He went into the hall and fetched Chess’ cage from a cupboard. It hadn’t been used in years but he kept it for emergencies, and this would be an emergency. He took it into the living room and set it up in the corner, threw in a handful of chews and Chess’ favourite toy from when he was a puppy, picked him up and set him down inside. When he closed the cage door Chess looked mournful but lay down to watch while eating the chews.
Back out in the hall he opened both the front door and inner door wide. He did not want the police breaking his newly repaired locks. He took out his hearing aid and stashed it in a pocket of a jacket hanging in the cupboard. Finally, he switched off the old brick phone and, lifting a corner of a rug in the dining room, he pried up a floorboard, dropped the phone into the gap, and stamped it back down before dropping the rug back into place. He checked the time. Not quite two in the afternoon. Using his work phone, he called Charlie, his lawyer, left a message, then sat down on the armchair in the living room and waited.
The police arrived about half an hour later. Khatter wasn’t there. The detective in charge cautioned him, had him cuffed and placed him in a van. A team began to methodically search the house.
Four hours later, he emerged from the interview room at Ponteland police HQ, tired, thirsty and needing a piss. He’d been grilled hard but had stuck to a simple story: yes, he’d seen Angus, no he didn’t know where he had gone, no he didn’t know anything about his activities. Charley, who’d been with him during the interview, drove him home, where he now surveyed the mess they’d left behind.
‘This is just spite,’ Charlie said. ‘For that apology you forced out of them. They’ve really done a number on your house.’
‘We going to sue them, Charlie?’
‘Absolutely we are.’
‘Maybe let the dust settle first?’ Dominic said.
‘No. This is persecution, Dom. They have very little on Angus, you know. Unless he’s found carrying ten keys of cocaine in a rucksack, there’s little or nothing to tie him into the big charges. And fighting off multiple attackers armed with knives isn’t illegal. Not yet. I think we can survive this without too much drama.’
‘Thankyou, Charley,’ Dominic said. ‘For the support; I am grateful. You should go. Let me tidy this up.’
‘Tidy up? You’ll need a digger to shift this lot.’ He checked his phone. ‘The office messaged me. The press are focused on the flat that Angus and Wull were staying at, that’s where the drama happened. Looks like they haven’t been told about this place yet. They will be though. If anyone comes to the door, don’t answer it.’
‘K.’
Charlie saw he wasn’t going to get much more from Dominic. The questioning had been brutal and continuous; five hours solid with only one break when Dominic said that if he wasn’t given a minute to go to the toilet he was going to unzip right there and piss all over the floor. ‘I’ll be off,’ he said. ‘Keep me posted if you hear anything, and I’ll do likewise.’
‘They’ve got my phone,’ Dominic said.
‘I’ll send a messenger if I need to get in touch. Oh, and one more thing, when we were leaving, what did you say to that detective from the NCA?’
‘Minto? I asked him to get his boss to call me.’
‘The one who delivered the apology?’ Charley asked, and when Dominic nodded, he said, ‘Be careful, Dom. She’s not your friend.’
‘I know.’ He stroked the fur round Chess’ mouth, focusing his attention on his little pal. After a while he heard the door shut and then a car engine fire up. He sat there for a long while, petting Chess, mushing up his face, and gradually, the dog’s love and focused attention calmed him, centred him.
‘Time to tidy up,’ he said, looking round. He stood and went into the kitchen, unrolled a heavy green trash bag and began transferring al the loose food into the bag. When he’d filled got rid of most of it, he soaked up the spilled milk with tissues and threw that into the bag too. Then he mopped the floor until it was clean. Gradually, the kitchen was cleaned, although he was now out of coffee, tea and milk. He took the trash bag outside and threw it into the green wheelie bin.
Room by room he tidied up, throwing a lot of stuff away because it was easier than having to tidy it up and put it in order. By the time he’d finished, all the downstairs rooms were tidy and a little bit emptier, though the soft furnishing could not be fixed and would ned to be dumped.
Chess had retired to his cage, from where he watched.
Around half-ten he’d done all he could downstairs. He went into the basement and brought up a half-empty crate of beer. Back in the living room, he closed the curtains, put on an original pressing of Neu!, popped the lid of one of the bottles and sat down, closed his eyes, exhausted by the day’s events. As he fell asleep he heard Remy’s voice as if he was in the room beside him It’s Go Time and he woke to a knocking at the door. He stood, unsteadily, found the bottle still in his hand, put it down. Went to the door.
A man was standing there. A short man with a weatherbeaten face, red hair fading to gold. ‘Will,’ he said. And Will Armstrong looked at him, his expression both fierce and sad, a fighting-dog at bay, injured, wounded, but not beaten down, not yet.
He looked at Dominic for a long, long moment, eyes glistening with emotion, almost unable to speak, until finally he spoke, his voice a rasp of exhaustion and grief.
‘Do you want to tell me why your lad is still breathing,’ he said, ‘and my boy,’ and at this point his voice cracked and he fought to get it under control, ‘and my boy is lying cold on a slab?’
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