Joe Sixsmith: Killing The Lawyers Part 32

"The girl done well," said a voice in his ear.

He turned to see Doug Endor standing alongside him.

"She's the greatest thing since ..." Joe's imagination failed him. He went on, "You must be sorry you won't be handling her in the future, Mr. Endor."

Endor said, "Not really. Got my reputation to think of, haven't I?"

This cryptic comment came out like a sneer. It was cutting-the-c.r.a.p time, Joe decided. Casually he said, Thing puzzles me, the card on her pillow, how'd you manage that?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," said Endor. "But if I had wanted to leave a card in her bedroom, I might have gone up to the John while I was visiting, slipped into her room, stood on her bed, and stuck the card to the ceiling with just enough tack to hold it there a few hours but not forever. Bright-coloured card would never be noticed in the c.r.a.p she'd got up there already. Of course, I'd need to be really lucky for it to flutter down right on her pillow, but fortune favours the brave, they say."

Joe recalled the mark he'd noticed on the postcard. He'd thought there might have been a stamp there. Idiot! Endo Venera would have been on to that like Whitey on to a pork scratching.

He said, "Brave? Making her think her family might be involved was brave?"

"Nothing personal. Just a way of keeping the cops out. Like recommending some local shoestring gumshoe might have been a good way of stopping her hiring some high-powered, hi-tech firm who could have been really dangerous, if I'd done something, which of course I haven't."

Below Zak had run to where her family were sitting and was joined with them in one huge communal hug.

"Oh, you did it all right, Doug," said Joe. "Only thing that's hard to figure is, how come you're so laid back about falling flat on your face."

"Joe, who needs aggro? Life's nothing unless you take time off to sniff the flowers. Just look at that girl. Isn't that real happiness? And can't I feel proud I had some part in creating it?"

Below, Zak, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses, was doing a lap of honour, pausing from time to time to blow kisses and throw blooms to the adoring crowd. Tears were streaming down her face, but she was one of those rare creatures whose beauty not even weeping could destroy.

They didn't want her to go ever, but after three such laps, Abe took her arm and spoke into her ear and with one last wave she turned and ran down the tunnel.

"Better get down there and say well done," said Endor. "After all, for the next few days I'm still her agent."

Joe followed him down the stairs. They flashed their pa.s.ses at the security guard and went into the corridor which led to the changing rooms. There was quite a press of people down here too and ahead they could see Zak and Abe outside the medical-examination room, talking animatedly to a group of three men and a woman. After a while Zak shrugged her shoulders, patted Abe on the shoulder and went into the med. room with the woman.

Abe looked round, saw Joe and came towards him.

"What's going on?" asked Joe.

"AAA's drug-testing team," said Abe, avoiding looking at Endor.

"Shoot. Were you expecting them?"

They do random tests. And naturally they're at all the big medal meetings, so the winners can expect to get a going-over. But I didn't think they'd come along to something like this, inaugural meeting, nothing at stake but a town's reputation."

"She did break the world record, perhaps that's it," suggested Joe.

"No. I think there's more to it. From what one of them let slip, they had some kind of tip-off. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Endor? Trying for one last smear before you go?"

He thrust his face close to the agent's, no longer attempting to conceal his dislike.

"Now why the h.e.l.l should I do that, Abe?" enquired Endor. "Zak's clear, ain't she? You must know that, you're her coach. And if she's clear, what would be the point? Of course, if there's something to hide ..."

Joe moved in quickly as Abe bunched his fists.

"Better get back there, Abe," he said quietly. "I'll look after Mr. Endor."

With one last hating glance, the coach moved away.

Joe turned to Endor.

"I really don't like what I'm thinking," he said.

"And what's that, Joe?"

"You couldn't be so low, could you? Oh shoot, now I see you close up, I believe you could!"

"Could what, Joe? You lot are all the same, you seem to talk English, only a lot of the time us poor natives can't understand a sodding word you're saying."

"I'm talking about fixing for Zak to take in some kind of banned drug, then tipping off the inspection team so she'll test positive. If that happens she'll be disqualified and anyone betting on her not winning will cash in. But there's more than that, isn't there? I bet you were almost pleased to have to fall back on Plan B. This way not only do you get your money, you get your revenge. She'll be finished forever, won't she? And probably Abe with her. That's why you've given me your tickets to the mayor's reception, isn't it? You reckon it's going to be the biggest wake this town has ever seen. Endor, you're so low, you make dung beetles walk proud!"

The agent shook his head in a bewilderment belied by the pleasure in his eyes.

There you go again, Joe. Talking in tongues. If it turns out that Yank has been feeding poor little Zak funny pills to make her run faster, then there'll be n.o.body more sorry than me. In fact, I may be so sorry that I'll have to sell my story to the papers to let the world know I don't think it's all her fault. Joe, you don't look so well."

Joe had staggered slightly and was leaning up against the wall.

Think I've been overdoing it," he said. "Not much sleep last night, got a bang on my head, all this excitement."

"Shall I get a St. John's man to look at you?" enquired Endor solicitously.

"No," said Joe. "Just need a pick-me-up. Wonder if this stuff will do all that Zak says it does."

He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a bottle of Bloo-Joo.

Endor stood very still, his eyes fixed on the bright blue liquid.

"Yes," said Joe. "I thought, Zak says she always has a swig before a race, last thing she takes. Maybe it's not just any bottle which does her so much good, it's that particular bottle. So I did a naughty thing. I helped myself from her bag. What do you think, Mr. Endor. Something special in that bottle, maybe?"

Endor's hand snaked out and twisted the bottle out of Joe's grip.

"Hey, man, what are you doing? Shoot, some poor sod's going to have to mop up that mess."

The agent had unscrewed the top from the bottle and was pouring its contents on to the floor.

"Sixsmith, you're dead meat, you'd better believe it. I don't know if you're more or less stupid than you look, but I do know you're dead meat."

Joe's eyes opened wide as if at some stupendous revelation.

"Shoot! You're not telling me you really did spike Zak's Bloo-Joo so that when she was tested she'd respond positive and get disqualified and banned for life? In that case I'm so very, very glad."

"What?" Endor's fury turned to puzzlement. "You're glad? What have you got to be glad about?"

"Glad that I handed the bottle I really took from Zak's bag over to the police for fingerprinting and a.n.a.lysis," said Joe. There's Superintendent Woodbine and his friends now. I think they'd like a word with you. Hey, man, where do you think you're going?"

Endor foolishly made a run for it but, as the corridor led directly out into the tunnel, all that happened was that the crowd was hugely entertained by the last track event of the afternoon which consisted of several men in uniform pursuing a man in a mohair suit. It was no contest. Mohair was out of breath after twenty yards and the first of his pursuers brought him cras.h.i.+ng to the ground right across the finis.h.i.+ng line.

"Should have drunk up his Bloo-Joo," said Joe Sixsmith.

Twenty-Nine.

As forecast, everybody who was anybody was at the mayor's reception in the Pleasure Dome.

Joe was there with Beryl, who was impressed despite herself by his possession not only of the invitations which got them admitted but a couple of spare ones that got Merv and Molly admitted too. He didn't mention their source but tried to give the impression a man with his connections had an endless supply.

He'd been a little surprised to see Molly.

"Glad you could make it," he said. "Thought you might have to stay at home and baby-sit. Both your babies. How's Dorrie taking it?"

It being the realization that her child's father was a crook and a killer.

"Steady," said Molly. "She's cut up, naturally. But she's a sensible girl. Like her old mammy, it took her a lot of time and tribulation to tell a prince from a p.r.i.c.k, but she'd just about got there already. It was pride as much as anything made her head round to Naysmith's. Didn't like to think he might actually choose his wife before her. Now it's dawned on her that he wasn't just making up his mind which of them he should dump, but which of them he should kill, she's starting to realize she came off lucky. It'll take time, of course. The flat'll have to go, so she's moving back in with me. I don't mind. Gives Merv and me an excuse for some long nights baby-sitting in front of the fire. Neither of us getting any younger."

"Speak for yourself, doll," said Merv. "Have you clocked that Zak? Takes twenty years off a man, that does!"

"In your dreams," said Molly. "And then you'd wake up embarra.s.sed."

Darby Pollinger was there, of course.

He approached Joe and said, "Well done, Sixsmith. I had a feeling I could rely on you. Don't stint on your bill now."

"I won't," promised Joe. "Finances looking OK, are they?"

Pollinger raised his eyebrows at this piece of cheek, then said equably, "We'll survive. I'm a little short of partners, that's all. Fortunately I have a key-man indemnity policy covering all of them, in case of sudden death or disability, so that should sweeten the pill till I get replacements."

"Would that be with Penthouse?" asked Joe.

"Indeed." They shared a tasty moment, then he went on, "By the way, I asked my chum there to take another look at your car claim. As I pointed out, can't afford to have a local celebrity as a dissatisfied customer, can he? Daresay you'll hear something shortly. Cherry, my dear, how very timely. I was just telling Mr. Sixsmith how desperate I am for top-flight a.s.sistance. How would you like to make an immoral penny temping, as 'twere, for a few weeks?"

Butcher had joined them. Joe did a deliberate double take to register his three-fold surprise: one, that she was present at this elitist, up market event; two, that she was on such friendly terms with Pollinger; three, that she didn't kick him in the crotch for his disgusting suggestion.

She said, "Cost a lot more than a penny, Darby."

The labourer is worthy of her hire," said Pollinger. "I'll ring you."

He moved away.

"Not a word, Sixsmith," warned Butcher.

"I don't know words like that," said Joe. "Listen, how's your friend?"

He'd rung Butcher and put her in the picture about the Naysmiths.

"Badly in need of help and I don't just mean legal. I blame myself a lot. I knew what a bad way she was in after the op." but then suddenly she started to pull out of it, and instead of looking for reasons, all I did was think, thank Christ for that, one less thing for me to worry about."

"Butcher, you're not a trick-cyclist," said Joe gently. "You can't be responsible for everything."

"Jeez, this is the donkey telling the cow it shouldn't c.r.a.p on the gra.s.s," said Butcher acidly.

But she was smiling affectionately and suddenly she reached up, gave him a kiss and said, "You did good, Sixsmith," before moving away.

Across the room he caught Beryl watching him. She made a comic there-you-go-again face.

Joe turned away, smiling, and b.u.mped into something solid. It was Starbright Jones.

"Hi," said Joe. "Enjoying yourself."

"Not here to enjoy myself. Some of us are still on duty."

"Sorry. Look, I was thinking, that voice of yours if you're interested, why don't I introduce you to Rev. Pot who runs our choir? He'd be knocked out, I'm sure."

"Now that's real friendly of you, Joe," said the Welshman. "Only I shan't be around long enough to learn a part, see. Zak's putting me on the payroll permanent. I'm going across the water with her, keep her safe from them heathen Indians and such."

"That's great," said Joe sincerely. "Send me a postcard."

They shook hands, which was a mistake. Joe was still nursing his crushed fingers when Jim Hardiman touched his elbow.

"Hi, Hooter," said Joe. "Oh, sorry."

"Joe, why do you apologize every time you use that old name? I don't mind. Takes me back to those good old days when we were all a lot younger and thought an ulcer was a bit of Ireland, eh? By the way, I hear it's down to you that we missed a big scandal today. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Endor, who'd have thought it? Just goes to show you can't tell a melon till you squeeze it. Good work, Joe."

Meaning I'm a melon as well as Endor? wondered Joe. And Hardiman too, maybe. Perhaps he really does believe we were all pals together at school. And perhaps he's not so wrong there as I think he is. After all, I had him high on my suspect list from the start, so just how partial was I being the way I looked at him?

"My pleasure, Hooter," he said. "See you around."

He caught Willie Woodbine entertaining a little crowd of admirers with a potted version of how he'd cracked the Poll-Pott murder case. When he clocked Joe smiling from the edge of his audience, Woodbine, like a seasoned trouper, didn't break stride but said, "Joe, glad you could make it," (like he'd issued the invite personally). "Ladies and gents, this is Joe Sixsmith, living proof of just how much us pros rely on the eyes and ears of the great big British public."

Not exactly sharing the glory, but the kind of public endors.e.m.e.nt which was worth its weight in parking tickets.

All in all, it was a pretty fair kind of party, he decided, as he accepted another gla.s.s of the bubbly wine which seemed to be on endless stream.

As he sipped it, Beryl's voice spoke in his ear like a nun's conscience.

"Joe, I'm not staying on the orange juice tonight. And I said I wouldn't be back late. Sis is good hearted but she don't like to feel overused."

"OK," said Joe. "Let's just see Zak do the opening stuff then we'll be on our way."

The time for the official part of the evening had arrived. In a shallow alcove in the art gallery's main wall, two squares of curtain hung, each with its own ta.s.selled draw cord. The mayor stood at a lectern and gave a brief antenatal account of the Pleasure Dome.

He concluded, There have been those who sneered at the undertaking from the start, those who opposed it on financial and political and even ecological grounds. We have, I think, met all their arguments with better arguments and if any doubts remained, I am sure they were washed away in that great surge of emotion every true Lutonian shared when we witnessed our own Zak Oto's magnificent achievement this afternoon."

Lots of applause, with Starbright's beady eye checking to see if anyone was being a touch languid.