Dead Flowers Read online

  A bad moon rising. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse.

  But I just shrugged and pushed open the door of the pub.

  Jesus, but that was a night to remember.

  By nine o’clock every drinker was jam-packed to the doors, with the spillage standing around outside drinking and smoking and doing deals. There were girls younger than Judith, wearing hardly anything and already pissed and stoned, hanging on to the arms of tattooed Herberts with murder in their eyes. The soundtrack was Rave, Jungle, Techno, Trance or disco tracks from the seventies and eighties mixed with the roar of turbo-charged car engines, the screech of tyres and the ever-present scream from police sirens as car- and van-loads of Old Bill charged up and down the drag to break up the fights that kept erupting like volcanoes. Then there was the smell. Burnt onions and old grease from the kebab shops, spliff, fish and chips, cheap perfume and after-shave and the acrid odour of engine fumes.

  Urban stink.

  By ten I’d given up on trying to speak to any bar staff. They were too busy pulling pints and mixing cocktails behind bars awash with beer dregs. Instead I just pushed my way through the crowd on the off chance I might spot Sharon amidst the hundreds of other tarty-looking blondes enjoying their leisure. But looking for the proverbial needle in the proverbial haystack would’ve been easier. Not that there weren’t plenty of needles to be found. They were lying around in toilets and crushed underfoot in the gutters off the main drag. Little silver implements of pleasure that with one scratch could kill the unwary with their residue of HIV and hepatitis.

  Occasionally I showed Sharon’s picture and screamed above the amplified music that I was looking for her, and I left another trail of my cards most of which got thrown on the ground and trampled under a parade of stiletto heels and Ben Sherman loafers.

  But I’ve always been of the opinion that if you chuck enough shit up against the wall some of it will stick.

  It was late-night opening that Friday and the pubs were licensed till three, but by midnight I’d had enough and I went into a cab office and got a ride home. When I got indoors I could still smell the detritus of the night on me, but I was too tired and drunk from the booze I’d had to buy as entry to the twenty or so pubs I’d visited to worry, so I just undressed, fell on the bed and was asleep before my head actually hit the pillow.

  I didn’t dream at all that night.

  13

  I was rudely awakened by a phone call at seven am. At first I thought it might be Charlie or the mysterious girl. But it was neither. It was Teddy, one of the controllers from the cab office two doors down from mine. ‘Nick,’ he said, ‘someone’s bricked your window.’

  ‘What?’ I said through the remains of my sleep.

  ‘Your office window,’ he said patiently. ‘Someone’s put a brick through it.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ was all I could think of to say.

  ‘You coming down?’

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ I replied, and put down the phone, got up, pulled on yesterday’s smelly clothes and hit the pavement.

  When I got to my office I saw that Teddy had been right. Where yesterday there’d been a plate-glass window covering the front of the shop premises I call my office, today there was a gaping hole and a floor covered in shards of glass. ‘Shit,’ I said again.

  Before I opened up I went down to thank Teddy for calling. ‘Sorry to be the bearer,’ he said.

  ‘Did you see anything?’ I asked.

  ‘Heard. But all the boys were out, and by the time I got out the door there was no one in sight. Kids, I expect.’

  ‘’Spect so,’ I said. ‘When was it?’

  ‘Just now. I phoned straight away.’

  ‘Cheers, man.’

  ‘Anything missing?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t had a look yet. But what’s to steal? Last year’s phone book?’

  ‘I got the number of an emergency glazier,’ said Teddy. Twenty-four-hour geezer. You insured?’

  ‘The landlord is.’

  ‘You better call the cops.’

  ‘What are they going to do?’

  ‘You’ll need to report it to claim.’

  ‘Shit,’ I said for the third time. ‘I’ll be hanging around all day.’

  He shrugged, I collected the number of the glazier and went and let myself in to my office, although I could just as easily have walked through the hole the brick had left.

  I sat down behind my desk and reached for the phone to call Old Bill when I saw something lying at my feet.

  It was a bunch of flowers done up in brightly coloured paper.

  A bunch of dead flowers.

  14

  I sat with the phone in my hand and looked at the bunch of dead spring flowers in their gaudy wrapping; they seemed to look straight back at me. I had this really weird feeling, as I remembered what the girl in the bar had said to me on the phone the previous day, and I gently put the receiver back on its hook.

  I gingerly picked up the flowers as if there might be a stick of dynamite attached, but all that happened was one or two brown petals fell to the floor. I looked for a note but there was nothing. What did I expect? Best wishes from a friend?

  I sat holding the flowers for several minutes, then literally shook off the weird feeling and tossed the bundle into the garbage. Someone’s idea of a joke. But not a very funny one. I had to locate the mysterious girl and find out if it was hers.

  I lifted the phone again and called the local nick. The operator told me that someone would be round, but I knew I shouldn’t hold my breath. Then I phoned the glazier and the receptionist there told me the same, so I settled down to wait.

  First of all I checked to see what had gone missing, but like I’d told Teddy, there was nothing to steal, and it didn’t look as if anything but the window had been disturbed. Then I found a dustpan and brush in the back room and set about clearing the glass, picking up the larger pieces and dumping them in a black garbage sack and sweeping the smaller pieces into the pan. I didn’t really think I was interfering with evidence, and it was something to do. I put the brick that had done the damage on my desk.

  Just as I was finishing the job I was amazed to find a uniformed constable on the doorstep. ‘You were quick,’ I said.

  ‘I got the call when I was dealing with a domestic round the corner,’ he said. ‘Thought I’d pop in.’

  ‘Nice of you to bother,’ I said under my breath.

  I explained who I was and what had happened and he made a few notes, but I could see he wasn’t very interested and I couldn’t blame him.

  ‘Anything missing?’ he asked.

  I shook my head.

  ‘This what did it?’ He picked up the brick.

  I nodded again.

  ‘No forensic there,’ he said. ‘The surface is too old and rough.’ As if I expected a SOC team to come charging round to take fingerprints.

  ‘I thought that,’ I said. ‘Listen, I only reported it for the insurance. For my landlord, you know.’

  The copper nodded and gave me an incident number and his number and said, ‘I’ll be honest. Nothing’s going to happen with this. If someone had seen something … A description maybe … Probably just kids.’

  I told him what Teddy had told me. ‘I’ll have a word with him,’ he said. ‘But to be honest Mr …’ he checked his book, ‘… Sharman. I’d put it down to experience.’

  ‘I already have,’ I replied, and he left just as the glazier’s van pulled up.

  I didn’t tell him about the flowers. What was the point?

  The glazier, a young bloke in smart blue overalls, hopped out of his truck and came in to say hello before measuring up and putting a big sheet of hardboard over the window frame. ‘Back tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Twelve o’clock suit you?’

  ‘You work Sundays?’ I said.

  ‘We work every day, boss,’ he replied. ‘Make hay while the sun shines. Know what I mean?’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ I said.

  �
��You pay me and claim back off your insurance, OK?’

  I told him it was.

  ‘Lot of this about,’ he said. ‘Kids, you know.’

  I told him I did.

  ‘OK, Mr Sharman, I’ll see you tomorrow,’ and he wished me a cheerful goodbye before hopping back into his van and driving off.

  I always like to see a bloke happy in his work.

  15

  I went home and tried to watch TV, but my thoughts kept going back to the skull and the coffin, and the dead flowers that had been left at my office, and the girl who’d approached me in the bar to warn me about those very things. I felt paranoid and vulnerable. I knew it must have something to do with Ray Miller’s missing wife. But what? I thought about calling him, but as I had nothing to report I didn’t bother. I didn’t think it was him who’d busted my window.

  I tried Charlie again but got the same result as the day before.

  About two the phone rang. It was Judith. ‘I told you I’d ring,’ she said.

  ‘Glad you did.’

  ‘I thought you might be out looking for your missing person.’

  ‘Just taking a break.’

  ‘I bet. Haven’t you found her yet?’

  ‘Not quite.’

  ‘But you’re close.’

  ‘Someone thinks I am, I think.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Suddenly she was concerned. ‘Are you in trouble again, Dad?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t lie. I always know when you’re lying.’ Another trait she’d picked up from her mother. Laura had always known when I was lying too.

  ‘Just some local disturbance.’

  ‘Dad. Don’t do this to me.’

  I remembered her holding the smoking pistol after she’d shot the geezer who was about to shoot me the previous Christmas, and I cursed myself for giving her more grief. ‘I’m sorry, honey,’ I said. ‘It’s nothing really. A broken window. Kids.’

  ‘It sounds like more than that to me.’

  ‘I swear. It’s nothing.’

  ‘Oh Dad, why don’t you stop all this nonsense and get a decent job?’

  ‘I can’t hold down a decent job,’ I said wearily, probably for the thousandth time. ‘And besides I’m too old to get back into the job market.’

  She was silent for a moment that stretched like a piece of chewing-gum.

  ‘You’re all I’ve got left,’ she said eventually. At least she didn’t add ‘For what you’re worth’. Although I could hear the unspoken words. ‘Don’t you go too.’ And she hung up without saying goodbye.

  I put the phone down gently, poured myself a drink and thought about what she’d said, and realized the futility of trying to be someone you aren’t and never can be.

  16

  A few minutes after I hung up the phone rang again. ‘Hello,’ I said.

  ‘Nick.’ It was a woman’s voice I thought I recognized, but it seemed strange.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘It’s Ginny,’ and she sobbed a terrible sob down the line and I knew something was wrong. Badly wrong.

  ‘Ginny. What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s Charlie. He’s dead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Oh my God. What happened?’

  ‘A car crash. Last night.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘On the A3. On the way to Guildford.’

  My head was spinning from the news. Not Charlie. Not old, dependable Charlie who I’d lied to yesterday about being busy when he’d obviously needed me. ‘Why was he going to Guildford?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know. He’d been going out alone a lot lately. Business.’

  ‘Are you at home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll be round in ten minutes.’

  I went out to the car and drove round to Charlie and Ginny’s house. It wasn’t far. Judith used to stay there when she came down to London. Charlie and Ginny had three girls themselves. One of Judith’s age.

  I stopped outside the house behind a marked police car and walked up the path. Carol, the sixteen-year-old, answered the door. She was crying and came straight into my arms. ‘I’m so sorry, baby,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, Uncle Nick,’ she sobbed. She’d always called me that. ‘Why did it have to happen to Dad?’

  ‘I don’t know, sweetheart. I can’t believe it either. Where’s your mum?’

  ‘In the front room with two policemen.’

  I knocked on the door and entered as Carol went to the kitchen from where I could hear more crying. Ginny was sitting in an armchair. A uniformed constable was sitting on a straight-backed chair by the table taking notes and a uniformed sergeant was perched on the edge of one of the sofa cushions.

  Ginny got up when I came in. Her face was white and stained with tears. I went straight to her and held her tightly.

  The sergeant coughed. ‘Sorry,’ said Ginny, stepping back from me. ‘This is Nick Sharman. An old friend of Charlie’s. And the family,’ she added.

  The sergeant stood and shook hands. He was about forty and going grey at the temples. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Sharman,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. My name is Boreham.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Sergeant Boreham,’ I said back. ‘Me too. What happened?’

  ‘To be honest we’re not entirely sure, sir. There were no other vehicles involved. Mr Martin’s car left the road and he sustained severe head injuries. We’re not even sure what time it happened. The car wasn’t found until first light. Unfortunately there was nothing anyone could do.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘When did you last see Mr Martin, sir?’

  ‘A couple of months ago. But I spoke to him on the phone yesterday. He wanted to see me but I had a business appointment. Then I found I could get out of it and I tried all his numbers but couldn’t get through. I tried again earlier today, but there was no answer anywhere.’

  ‘Mrs Martin was at the station with us,’ he said. ‘And the children were with a neighbour.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, but my mind was elsewhere. What had Charlie wanted? As if I couldn’t guess. And how had my refusing to see him helped him towards that fatal car crash on a lonely road near Guildford?

  ‘Well, Mrs Martin,’ said the sergeant, picking up his cap from the arm of the sofa, ‘I think that will be all for now. We’ll want to see you again, of course. But we’ll be off and leave you with your friends and family. And once more may I say how sorry I am to be the bearer of such bad news.’

  I saw the coppers out and followed them down the path and buttonholed the sergeant. ‘So what do you think really happened?’ I asked.

  ‘Has he been having any kind of problems lately?’

  ‘We’ve all got problems.’

  ‘I know that. But anything you know about specifically. Business, personal?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ I lied. As much for my own sake as for Charlie’s.

  ‘You say he spoke to you yesterday. Did he give any indications?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Coincidence then?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ And of course I didn’t. But I had my own ideas. Charlie wants to see me. I snub Charlie. Charlie kills himself. Elementary, my dear Sharman.

  ‘I’ll be frank with you, Mr Sharman,’ he said. ‘It looks to me like he drove off the road on purpose. He had no seat belt on and there was an empty whisky bottle on the passenger side.’

  ‘Suicide,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not the coroner. But I’ve been at this a lot of years, and I’ve seen some.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said and watched as they got into the police car and drove off. We’ve all been at this a lot of years and seen some.

  I went back into the house and Ginny had joined the three girls in the kitchen. There was a lot of crying and hugging and the kitchen roll was decimated. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said to them.
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br />   ‘There’s not a lot to say, Nick,’ said Ginny.

  I took her outside and back into the living room. ‘Where’s his body?’ I asked.

  ‘Guildford mortuary. They’re doing a post mortem.’

  ‘You might have to prepare yourself that he was drunk,’ I told her.

  ‘So what’s new?’

  ‘Like that, was it?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Everyone’s sorry, Nick, but that won’t pay the mortgage.’

  ‘When do you think the funeral will be?’

  ‘As soon as possible.’

  ‘If you need anything …’

  She took my hand. ‘I know, Nick. You’ve been a good friend.’

  But not as good as I should have been. ‘I owe him some money—’

  She laughed. ‘Didn’t you always? That used to make him laugh. You and your bill.’

  ‘I’ll pay it up to date.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. Charlie left a lot of insurance. I’ll put the garage on the market.’

  ‘You shouldn’t think about that now.’

  ‘Someone has to. There’s the girls. Carol taking her GCSEs.’

  ‘Judith too.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Critical of her father.’

  ‘That goes with the territory. Is she still up in Scotland?’

  ‘For now.’

  ‘Best place for her. Away from London.’

  ‘I hope she comes back someday.’

  ‘That’s what I’ll do.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Move away from London. Get a place out of town as soon as Carol’s taken her exams.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’

  She lapsed into silence and so did I. After a bit I said, ‘Listen, I’ve got to go. But keep in close touch. If anything needs doing I’ll do it.’

  ‘I know you will, Nick.’

  I kissed her on the cheek. ‘Say goodbye to the girls for me,’ I said.

  ‘I will’

  ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  She nodded.

  I drove home wondering how much I had to do with Charlie’s death.

  17

  I got in and poured myself a large one over ice. I didn’t know what to think about what had happened to Charlie. Didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Eventually evening came and I was starting to climb the walls, so I went out for a drink, but just as I reached the bottom of the street a bus came by heading for the West End and on an impulse I got on. It dropped me in the Aldwych and I walked through to Soho. I wanted to try to see the mysterious girl again and find out what she’d been talking about, and although I knew it was an almost impossible task, my feet led me through Covent Garden and into the wicked square mile of legend.