Dead Flowers Read online

  ‘Why? Why me?’

  ‘Because.’ And that was all she said, and the word seemed to ring round the massive loft like a bell.

  ‘No more now, sister,’ said Maddie, and she reached over and touched Matty on her shoulder, which shocked her out of her trance and made her blink.

  ‘Leave it for now, darling,’ Maddie said to her. ‘You’ll tire yourself and the night is young. Nick, have a line,’ and she held out a rolled-up banknote to me. ‘There’s all the time in the world.’

  I took the note and slid across to the table and snorted one of the long, thick lines of cocaine Maddie had so carefully cut out on the mirrored top. It was pure and powerful and hit me like an express train out of control. ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘But that’s good.’

  ‘And plenty more where that came from. Aren’t you a lucky boy?’

  ‘I think I am,’ I said.

  ‘Believe me you are. Lucky we found you. You don’t even know the half of it yet, does he, Matty?’

  ‘No,’ said Matty. ‘Shall we show him?’

  ‘I think it’s time.’

  The music on the CD player had changed, lowered its tempo and got richer, but that might just have been the chemicals that were coursing through my veins by then.

  ‘Sit back and enjoy it,’ said Maddie. With one liquid move she was on her feet and she pulled her sister up next to her. ‘Help me, sweetheart,’ she said, and Matty fumbled with the fastening of her dress at the back of her neck. It slid down her body like water and pooled at her feet leaving her dressed in only a tiny pair of black underpants and a jewelled crystal that hung around her neck on a thin gold chain that caught the light and seemed to catch fire. Then, Maddie did the honours for her twin and the same thing happened; black pants and a flaming jewel, and they stood in front of me, almost naked, with the candlelight turning their bodies the colour of honey.

  21

  I watched them make love on a pile of cushions in front of me, writhing and sliding over each other like snakes. The room seemed to be moving gently like a ship at anchor, the candle flames sparkled, and I could almost see the music that floated gently from the speakers.

  When I looked at my hand holding the glass of wine, every pore and hair stood out individually and through my skin I imagined I could make out the bones beneath the flesh. I’d been on psychedelic jags before in my life and I knew that whatever had been in the pill Maddie had given me was powerful stuff, but the worst thing to do, the stuff that bad trips were made of, was to fight it, so I just let it roll over me like the tide.

  I kept watching as the girls, naked now except for the crystal pendants they both wore, seemed to my hallucinating brain to become one body, one being, giving each other pleasure. I wanted to join in, but when I tried, Maddie – or was it Matty – shook her head and said ‘Wait,’ and I could read the letters of the word as it slid off her tongue and broke on the floor like glass.

  After what seemed like hours, when they were finished with each other, they came to me, and pulled me to my feet and took me further into the apartment to a bedroom that was lit by candles too, where a massive bed waited for us.

  They undressed me and laid me down, and did things to me that I’d only imagined before, and I lost myself in their musky bodies, and they in mine.

  I woke up with the sun crashing through the uncurtained windows and the candles gutted in their holders, the three of us entwined under the brightly coloured bed cover.

  I lifted my head and I thought it was going to drop off. ‘Shit,’ I said, and tried to focus my eyes on my watch which was still on my wrist. It read eleven five. ‘Shit,’ I said again, as I remembered my noon appointment with the glazier.

  I pushed the girls’ limbs off mine, climbed off the bed, found my underwear and jeans, pulled them on and headed for the bathroom, trying to keep my face from sliding off my skull. I used someone’s toothbrush and stuck my head under the cold tap until a semblance of reality returned. I towelled myself off, had a piss, then flattened my hair with my fingers and went back to the bedroom where I finished getting dressed.

  I think it was Maddie who woke up first, but I was still somewhat confused. She stretched herself, wiped sleep from her eyes and said, ‘Where are you going, lover?’

  ‘I’ve got to fix a window,’ I said, and it sounded stupid even as I said it.

  ‘Forget that. Come back to bed.’ She shook her sister whose eyes popped open, and said, ‘Nick’s going.’

  Matty sat up, showing a lot of enticing body to me as she did so, and wailed. ‘Nooo …’

  ‘I hate to do this,’ I said. ‘But I’ve got an appointment at noon and I’m going to be late.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you rather spend the day with us?’ said Matty.

  ‘Of course. But I’ve got a job to do.’

  Matty’s face fell. ‘You’re still going to carry on?’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘Will you come back later?’

  ‘If I can. But I’ve got to talk to my friend’s wife about the funeral arrangements and everything. I might have to spend some time there.’

  ‘Of course you have,’ said Matty.

  I climbed on to the bed and gathered the two naked women in my arms. God, but it was hard to think about leaving. ‘Listen, I have to go. I’ve got to find a cab.’

  ‘Take one of the jeeps,’ said Maddie. ‘The keys are in the other room.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course, the red keyring’s for the red jeep, the blue one for the blue. There’s a remote in each to open the gates. Just press the button on the right to open them, on the left to close them behind you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘And thanks for a great night.’

  ‘It was our pleasure,’ they chorused as one, and both laughed.

  I kissed them and made to go, but Matty grabbed me and took the crystal from around her neck and held it out to me. ‘Wear this,’ she said. ‘For good luck.’

  ‘What about you?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I’ve got Maddie.’ I took the proffered gift and slipped it over my head, and just for a second it seemed to burn my skin, but only for a second, and then it lay round my neck, cool and hard. They both kissed me again, and I left them to go back to sleep or whatever they got up to in that vast bed.

  22

  I found the two sets of car keys on top of a shelf in the main room of the apartment and helped myself to the blue set, then let myself out and took the elevator down. I opened up the blue jeep and slid on to the driver’s seat. Inside the motor was a bit of a slum, but I had no time for finer things, and just hit the ignition. At least the engine sounded healthy, if something like a sewing machine, and there was half a tank of gas. Just like Maddie had said, there was a black plastic remote control on top of the dash with two buttons side by side. I touched the one on the right and the huge gates swung open. I put the little car into gear and pulled away. Once outside I dipped the clutch, held the car on the foot brake and closed the gates behind me before heading off. It was a bit like driving a mechanized roller skate, but I soon got used to it and sped across west London towards the river and home.

  I got back to my office at twelve-fifteen and the glazier was just leaving. ‘I thought you’d forgotten,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ I replied. ‘Something came up.’

  ‘I can believe that,’ he said back. ‘You look a right mess.’

  ‘Cheers. You got the glass?’

  ‘On the wagon.’

  ‘Well, get weaving. I haven’t got all day.’

  And then as I was fumbling with the door lock my phone started ringing inside. ‘Shit,’ I said, and pushing the door open I grabbed the instrument.

  ‘Sharman,’ I said.

  ‘It’s Ray Miller. Have you got anything for me?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I said, sliding into my seat behind the desk as the glazier started taking the wood off the window. ‘But I’m working on it.’

  ‘When do you
think you will?’

  ‘It’s hard to tell, Mr Miller,’ I replied. ‘These things take time.’

  ‘What have you been doing?’

  ‘Asking around, scoping out the territory. Being warned off, I think.’

  ‘Warned off? Who by?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. But as soon as people start to warn you off, you know you’re on the right track.’

  ‘So what’s next?’

  ‘More of the same. If I keep on asking questions, eventually I’ll start to get the right answers.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘OK. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘You do that, Mr Miller.’

  ‘Call me Ray.’

  ‘OK, Ray. I’ll be in touch as soon as something breaks.’ And I put down the phone.

  ‘Problems?’ asked the glazier. He was turning into a regular pain in the arse.

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ I replied as the phone rang again.

  ‘Popular,’ said the glazier, as I lifted up the receiver. ‘I see you work Sundays too.’

  I ignored his remark. ‘Sharman,’ I said into the phone.

  ‘You’ve been making yourself busy, Mr Sharman.’ It was a voice I didn’t recognize, croaky and deep, and just for a moment the crystal around my neck seemed to burn again.

  ‘That’s how I earn a crust,’ I said.

  ‘You got the flowers?’

  I looked into the wastepaper basket where the bunch of dead flowers still lay.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said.

  ‘Take that as a warning then. Leave it alone.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘That would be telling,’ and whoever it was put down the phone.

  I tried 1471 but the call had been masked.

  ‘What do you do then?’ asked the glazier, hammer in hand.

  ‘Make myself unpopular. I’m not keeping you, am I?’

  ‘No,’ he said, and went back to work.

  I phoned Charlie’s home number. Ginny answered. ‘How are you?’ I asked.

  ‘Just about as well as can be expected.’

  ‘Lousy. Right?’

  ‘You know, Nick, if anybody does.’

  Sure I knew. I’d been there. ‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘Have you made any arrangements for the funeral?’

  ‘Yes. It’s on Wednesday at West Norwood.’

  ‘That quick?’

  ‘I talked to the undertaker - sorry. They call themselves funeral directors these days, don’t they - yesterday evening. He came round. I got a very nice coffin. Sorry. They call them caskets these days, don’t they? The coroner agreed to release the body. There’s going to be an inquest, but they don’t need it. Charlie was pissed. Three times over the limit. Why did he do it, Nick?’

  I could feel her pain over the phone. ‘I don’t know, Ginny,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to come round?’

  ‘No. We’ll be fine.’

  ‘What time on Wednesday?’

  ‘Two o’clock. We’re not having a vicar, I couldn’t bear it. Someone who’d never known Charlie spouting about what a great bloke he was—’

  ‘He was,’ I interrupted.

  ‘I know he was, but something went wrong. Will you say something, Nick? He always thought of you as his best friend.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ I replied, but the words cut me like a knife and I could feel myself sweating under my arms. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?’

  ‘No. You’re fine, Nick. We’ll see you at the chapel on Wednesday.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ I said, and we made our farewells and hung up. I felt physically sick at the way I’d let Charlie - good old dependable Charlie - down.

  The glazier was still fiddling around with the wood. ‘You going to be much longer?’ I asked.

  ‘About another hour.’

  ‘I’m going for a drink then,’ I said. ‘If the phone rings, let it.’

  23

  But of course he didn’t. As I was sitting in the boozer opposite having a cigarette and a medicinal lager, trying to clear my head of last night’s excesses, and wondering who the hell was trying to warn me off, he came in. ‘Phone call for you,’ he said when he got to my table.

  ‘I thought I told you to let it ring.’

  ‘It wouldn’t stop. Getting on my bloody nerves it was.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘How do I know? Some bloke.’

  I left my drink and followed him out of the pub, across the road and into my office where the receiver was lying on top of my desk. ‘Hello,’ I said when I picked it up.

  ‘You took your time,’ said another voice I didn’t recognize. This one was high and nasal.

  ‘I was out.’

  ‘You Sharman.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘You looking for Chris Grant.’ Again a statement.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know where he is.’

  ‘How do you know I’m looking?’

  ‘You left a paper trail up and down the Old Kent Road. I picked it up.’

  ‘So where is he?’

  ‘I ain’t calling you for my health. How much?’

  ‘How much what?’

  ‘Don’t fuck me about, Sharman. My time’s valuable. How much will you pay for the information?’

  ‘How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’

  ‘When I give you the place he’s at and you find him you’ll know.’

  ‘Then I’ll pay you when I find him.’

  ‘Piss off! I want cash out front.’

  ‘All right. You tell me. How much?’

  ‘A monkey.’

  ‘Five hundred quid! Are you going to come with me?’

  ‘Piss off,’ he said again. ‘He’s a mad fucker. You give me the dough and I vanish.’

  ‘And I’m left with my thumb up my arse, five hundred quid poorer, at some old grannie’s house who’s never heard of him.’

  ‘That’s a chance you’ve got to take.’

  He was right. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘What’s the deal?’

  ‘We make a meet, you bring the dough, I tell you where he is and we part friends, never to see each other again.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘There’s a boozer off East Street. The Wise and Foolish Virgins. Know it?’

  ‘No. But I dare say I can find it.’

  ‘Be there at seven. Bring the money.’

  ‘How will I find you?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find you.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘No names, Mr Sharman. Let’s keep this anonymous. Seven o’clock,’ and he hung up in my ear.

  24

  I put down the phone my end and went back to the pub. My drink was where I’d left it and I sat down and lit another cigarette. It tasted like cat fur. Interesting day. One of the most interesting for a while. First of all I get threatened and then I get the information I’m looking for. Coincidence or what?

  I counted my money. Just over three hundred quid, so I took a walk down to the bank and got another deuce out of the hole in the wall. By this time it was almost one-thirty and my glazier friend was just finishing up as I got back to the office. ‘How much?’ I said. He told me and I winced. Still, the landlord would eventually pick up the tab, or at least I hoped he would.

  ‘Take a cheque?’ I asked.

  ‘Cash or credit card only,’ he said, so I dug out my Access and he whizzed it through a machine he had in the cab. All mod cons.

  ‘See you again,’ he said, when I’d signed the slip.

  ‘I hope not,’ I replied, and he smirked, got in his motor and drove off. But at least he’d made a decent job of the glass.

  I called Judith then and told her what had happened to Charlie. She cried over the phone. They’d been close. He’d known her since the day she’d been born.

  ‘Shall I come down for the funeral?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘You sta
y where you are. You’ve got school.’

  ‘I could miss a few days.’

  I thought about the threatening phone call. ‘No, Judith. I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

  ‘OK, Dad, whatever you say. I’ll send flowers.’

  Jesus, I thought, flowers. Dead flowers. Could there be any connection?

  Surely not. ‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘The funeral’s at West Norwood. One o’clock, Wednesday.’

  ‘I’ll be thinking of you. Send my love to Auntie Ginny and the girls.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And tell Carol we’ll go out when I’m down next.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

  ‘Me too, darling.’

  ‘Why does it always happen to us?’

  ‘I don’t know. I guess we were born under a bad sign.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ and she hung up.

  I put the phone down and went home and had another think.

  After an hour or so I decided I’d make the appointment with my mysterious caller and see what occurred.

  At six-thirty I went back out to the jeep and pointed it north.

  East Street market, or East Lane as it’s known locally, was packing up when I arrived in Walworth. Another lot of suckers who worked Sundays. I steered the motor between the stalls and found a parking space and locked it up. There was a bunch of pubs dotted around for the market workers and I grabbed one geezer who was pushing a barrow and asked, ‘Do you know the Wise and Foolish Virgins?’

  ‘Blimey, it’s been a while since I’ve met any bird what’s a virgin round here.’

  Cockernee humour. Don’t you just love it? ‘It’s a pub,’ I said.

  He grinned. ‘Yeah, I know it. Third road down on the left, say hello to Margie,’ he said.

  ‘Cheers pal.’

  I followed the directions and found a small, flat-fronted boozer with flowers in hanging baskets outside, and a BEWARE OF THE DOG sign on the door. Below it was another sign that read: NO PUBLIC PHONE. NO PUBLIC TOILETS. Cockernee hospitality. I just love that too.

  I arrived just after a nearby clock had struck seven times.

  It was a neat little place inside, all polished brass and shiny mirrors, with three bar staff on. I went to the bar and ordered a pint from the blonde who was nearly as brassy as the ornamentation. Margie, I guessed. She served me and I scoped the bar. It was fairly busy with a lot of what I took to be market traders spending the day’s profits. There was just one bar, a dart board, some tables and stools and a CD jukebox playing Eric Clapton at an acceptable volume. Nobody seemed to be taking any notice of me.