“So he had to come back. And he used his own coffin to carry the heroin. Smart,” said Joe, with genuine admiration. “But what went wrong?”
Mandy laughed.
“Apart from you cancelling his ticket, you mean?” she said. “Silly bugger got himself involved in a real accident here before he could arrange for a bit of quiet meditation by the dear deceased’s coffin and remove the shit. He realized last night he was in no state to come and collect for himself, so he rang me at the club. I nearly had an accident too when I heard his voice, I tell you.”
“Why’d he ring you?” asked Joe.
She smiled and gave him her saucy wink.
“Like I said, we were quite close once,” she said.
“You didn’t think of telling Arnie he was alive?”
“Why would I think of that? He’d just want to sort out Dave, and Dave’s not such a gent he wouldn’t let Arnie know what we’d been up to before he went under. No, keep stumm seemed best. I went to see him. Couldn’t do anything last night, I was meeting Arnie later. So we fixed for him to cancel this morning, then he discharged himself from hospital this evening and I brought him along here. Don’t think he trusted me by myself. He was sitting in my car, must have seen you coming in after me and thought he’d better hobble to the rescue, poor bastard.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re going to miss him.”
“A bit. But I’ve mourned for him once, haven’t I? And that’s enough for any man. Question now is, what are we going to do, Joe?”
“No question,” said Joe. “I’m going to go out of here and ring the police.”
“No,” she said, hefting the crutch. “Don’t think so. Anyone rings the police, it’s me.”
“Sorry?”
“Mobile in the car. I go out there, say I think something terrible’s happening. Got this call from David asking me to pick him up at the hospital. Didn’t know what to make of it. He asked me to drive him round here, saying he’d explain everything. And we arrived to find the door already open. He went in. I heard a scuffle and rushed in to find you here, the coffin open, and David dead upon the floor. Think about it, Joe. Man just out of hospital against advice, in plaster and on crutches, gets cancelled by fully fit, highly qualified P.I. What kind of questions would that make the police ask, eh?”
Joe guessed that the main kind of question it would make the local force ask was, what the shoot did she mean by “highly qualified”?
But qualified or not, he knew a deal when he was being offered one.
“What’s the alternative?” he asked.
“Well, the way I see it, Joe, is, we’ve got a coffin with contents all legally certified as the body of David Tallas, deceased. And we’ve got the body of David Tallas, deceased.”
It took his breath away, which he didn’t mind as it gave a respite from dead goat.
“And the stuff in the coffin?”
“Plenty of room for both of them,” said Mandy.
“I didn’t mean the goat.”
“Oh, the shit. Straight split? Or I’ll take the lot, sell it, and then split the divvy with you?”
Joe considered for a moment.
There was a lot to be said for not getting mixed up with the police, some of whom would be glad of a chance to think the worst of him. Also, once it got public, however it panned out, he was going to end up as the man who’d made Arnie Levine unhappy, which he didn’t mind doing so long as Arnie took his unhappiness to jail. But there was no offence he’d committed here.
He said, “You may be on to something, Mandy. Hang about.”
He turned to the canvas tool bag on the workbench. She’d come well equipped. He took out an old-fashioned auger, drew a deep breath, and leaning over the coffin, began punching holes in the lining.
She watched approvingly for a while, then approval turned to puzzlement as he ran his tiny torch beam along the shelves which lined the wall till he saw what he wanted.
And puzzlement turned to horror as he unscrewed the top off a carboy of formalin and began to pour it into the coffin.
“What the hell...!”
“Nice mix,” he said. “Mainline this and you’ll get a high that will last forever!”
For a second he thought she was going to come at him and possibly hope that the coffin would take two. Then she shook her head and began to laugh.
“Okay,” she said. “Do I take it this means I’ve got half a deal?”
“Why not?” he said. “I don’t approve of wife beating.”
“Arnie got wind of any of this, beating would be the easy option,” she said grimly. “You want to take his feet? Okay. Lift!”
Five minutes later they were on their way out. As Joe locked the door he asked. “How’d you get in anyway?”
She raised the canvas bag in which she was carrying her tools and lantern.
“Skeletons,” she said. “Fitting, huh?”
“Don’t get stopped,” warned Joe. “Going equipped’s a crime.”
“Hope not, Joe,” she laughed. “I always go equipped. Like a lift?”
“No thanks. I’m parked round the corner,” he lied.
“Okay. Take care, Joe. And if you ever do decide you’d like a tryout at my club, you’ve got my number.”
He watched the car lights vanish out of the yard, then took a deep breath of the lovely cold odourless night air. It felt good to be out here alone, with Mandy Levine moving away from him at a rate of knots and a strong locked door between himself and that coffin with all its grisly freight...
And the thought put him in mind of Mr. Tooley’s ashes, resting quiet in their urn, back inside on the workbench top where he’d left it.
“Oh shoot!” said Joe Sixsmith.
Next morning he stood with old Miss Tooley in front of Starting Gate 3 at the Luton Dog Track.
Joe tested the wind with a damp finger and said, “I think we’d be better the other side.”
“I take your point,” said Miss Tooley. “Dearly though I loved Daniel, I don’t fancy taking him home in my eye. Give us the urn, Joe.”
He handed it over.
She said, “Thanks, Joe. And thanks for everything. You’ve all been so kind to me. I’ll miss you all like my own legs. But it’s no distance at all now I’ve found you. Tell Mirabelle I’ll be back to see her as soon as I can manage.”
“She’ll look forward to that,” said Joe.
“I know she will. Soul of hospitality, your aunt. I didn’t think I would take to her so much at first, but it shows how wrong you can be about people, doesn’t it, Joe?”
“It certainly does,” said Joe. He was thinking of Mandy Levine. Okay, he wouldn’t have liked to have given her the choice of himself dead and David Tallas alive. But he could admire a realist, someone who could look at how things stood and accept whatever the fates threw up with a smile. She’d taken his trick with the formalin pretty well considering he’d ruined what must have been close on a million quids’ worth of dope, street value. Yes, a feisty lady, as they said. Perhaps he would take up her offer of a spot at her club... after all, it had been made before any of that business last night...
Miss Tooley had unscrewed the top of the urn and was peering inside.
“Ah, that’s good,” she said. “You hear such tales of people finding eggshells and clinker, but I see that Daniel’s burnt down to a fine white ash, just as I’d have expected. You can see the pure living just by looking at what he’s become.”
She held out the urn so Joe could share the experience.
He looked at the fine white powder it contained with the rapt expression of a man seeing eternity.