He forced the bag into my hands. ‘I’ll never touch it.’
‘Think about it. You take it or Nadja does.’
A dog barked outside, Col vacillated.
I said, ‘Take the money, Col. Dump it in the collection plate the next time you’re at church.’
Slowly, he slid the bag off the bar. His hands trembled as he tucked it underneath the till.
‘This is all very unsettling, Gus.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘If I’d known… Well, I’d have found a way to intervene, sooner.’
‘Sooner?’
Col touched his brow, looked like he’d just remembered something burning in the oven. ‘Christ, listen to me! Here’s you chasing all over the place on my behalf and — will you have a drink?’
I nodded. Col poured out a Guinness, and a chaser.
‘We’re a bit quieter tonight, I think,’ he said.
‘How so?’
‘ Big Brother… it’s eviction night.’
‘Holy shit, even your punters watch that garbage?’
‘Oh yes, it’s like an obsession with them.’
‘Where’s the attraction of recording every cough and fart of a bunch of nobodies?’
‘I agree. I think it’s like watching lab rats myself.’
‘We’re all of us guinea pigs in the laboratory of God.’
‘Is that a quote?’
‘Tennessee Williams.’
‘I like it. Do believe he’s right you know.’
I drained my whisky, Col picked up the glass, raised it to the optic behind the bar. As he went, I took out the key I’d found at Billy’s apartment.
I turned it over on the bar towel, trying to guess where it might fit. The key looked older in this light, I noticed some ornate markings on the hilt. It looked Victorian.
‘Where did you find that?’ Col said, as he placed the whisky before me. His voice seemed to suggest he wasn’t unfamiliar with the key.
‘This?’
‘Yeah. It’s my old cellar key, isn’t it?’ He turned quickly from me, went back to the till. A felt board with brass hooks held all the keys for the bar. ‘Oh, hang on… it’s here.’
He brought over his key, placed it next to Billy’s. ‘My, they’re almost identical, aren’t they?’
‘I found this key at Billy’s place. It was tucked away in a shoe, out of sight.’
Col took the key, raised it to the light. ‘Do you think he got hold of a spare or something?’
‘I don’t know. I wondered what it was for, to tell you the truth.’
Col put the two keys together on the bar towel. ‘Well, that’s the queerest thing.’
‘For the cellar you say?’
‘No. No. We’ve a proper cellar down there,’ Col pointed to the floor. ‘This is for the old cellar up the back there, it’s more like a coal house.’
‘What’s in it?’
‘In it? Nothing, nothing at all. Last time it was used, to my knowledge, was in the war, you know, as a kind of shelter.’
I stood up, took the first sip of my Guinness. ‘Have you got a flashlight?’
‘Sure. You going to check it out?’
‘Och, I think I should. So you coming?’
‘No, you go, I’ve got the bar to mind… was near impossible to get staff tonight.’
I huffed. ‘ Big Brother?’
‘You wouldn’t believe it, would you?’
I shook my head, took the flashlight from him.
Outside the cold bit like a bastard. I tested the bulb. It looked to be dimming but would do the job.
The key slotted into the lock without effort. As I pushed the door open a waft of dampness caught in my throat. ‘Christ Almighty!’ I closed my mouth and descended the stairs.
As I reached the floor, I checked for a light switch. None. The walls had been painted white at some stage and caught the light I shone on them, throwing off more into the room. The smell of damp rose like poison gas. I brought my T-shirt up over my mouth and nose.
I moved about, the place seemed to be empty. No shortage of cobwebs, streams of moisture on the walls and general grit and dust blowing about the floor. But nothing worth hiding a key in your shoe for.
‘Come on, Billy Boy. What’s your big secret?’
The flashlight started to fade. The bulb dimmed to a faint orange glow. I slapped the butt in my hand. It went out.
‘Fucking brilliant.’
I searched for my matches, struck a clutch of five or six. The fizzing flame heated my hand, threw shadows on the wall. I lit another batch, raising them aloft. For a good few seconds I’d a fully lit view of the room. It was empty. Not a thing there.
I returned to the stairs, at the top pushed open the door and gasped for breath.
‘Jesus… that was rough.’
Felt good to taste fresh air once more. So good, I sparked up a Marlboro. First of a new pack. Red top, proper fatal.
A few drags in I clasped the tab in my teeth, turned to lock up. A damp old donkey jacket hung on the back of the door. I’d always wondered how they got the name, I saw now it was because they smelled like them.
I pushed the door, and the hook holding the jacket snapped, dropped it on the ground.
‘Oh, shit.’
I picked it up, about to throw it down the stairs, when something fell out of the side pocket.
‘Hello…’
I bent down to see what it was.
‘Billy, you sly old bastard.’
A disk.
I took it back to the pub. Col sat in front of the bar, watching television.
‘You’re actually watching Big Brother?’
‘Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.’
I picked up my Guinness, drained half of it in one go. ‘You disappoint me, I had you down as a man of some taste and discernment.’
‘Bollocks! Did you have any luck?’
I held up the disk.
‘What’s that?’
‘CD or DVD.’
‘And what do you think it’s for?’
‘I don’t know. Will we have a look?’
Col stood up, leaned over my shoulder to stare at the disk. ‘What are you doing?’ I said.
‘Having a look!’
‘You’re having me on.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I meant, on a player. I’m presuming you don’t have one, then.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A CD or a DVD player?’
‘Oh no, no. I’ve a video recorder, but I never use it. The wife used to hire the old films. Howard Keel’s her favourite.’
I was mystified. Drained the rest of my pint. As I did so the phone rang, Col went round the bar to answer it.
‘One minute. It’s for you,’ he said.
‘Me?’ I wondered who would call me at the Wall when I had my mobile. Took the mobi out my pocket, it was still switched off.
‘Will you take it? It’s your sister.’
She had no news I wanted to hear. I got to my feet.
‘Tell her I’ve left.’
‘I can’t do that. I’ve already told her you’re here.’
I buttoned my jacket, pocketed the disk. ‘Not any more.’
57
Hod had the Clash cranked up full when I arrived. ‘Tommy Gun’ blaring out, felt surprised the neighbours hadn’t complained.
‘You’ll get your door rapped,’ I said.
Hod flared out his chest, took a strongman stance. ‘Who’d mess?’
Took his point.
The place looked spotless as usual. Even the kitchen shone like a show home, every surface gleamed. The shine as the uplighters hit the stainless-steel kettle and toaster set almost hurt my eyes.
‘Do you know what this joint needs?’ I asked him.
‘What’s that?’
‘A man about the house.’
Hod took the opportunity to dip into mince mode. He had it down pat, sorta Dale Winton doing Freddie Starr… Whoa, there’s an image.
‘Oooh you are awful,’ said Hod, slapping me on the arm, ‘but I like you!’
We cracked a couple of Stellas and went through to the lounge. Joe Strummer wailed, ‘Someone got murdered, somebody’s dead for ever…’ I got up and turned down the CD.
‘So, the wanderer returns,’ said Hod.
I raised my bottle. ‘Here I am.’
‘ Slainte. What’s the story?’
I filled him in on my brush with the law and everything I’d unearthed about Billy’s demise.