I turned and walked back towards him. His eyes acquired a greedy glow as he watched me reach into my pocket and remove the bottle. As I handed it over, he attacked it like a hungry squirrel trying to prise open a particularly stubborn nut, and then he slammed it to his lips. After a moment, he lowered it again. The sullen gaze had returned to his face.
“This is your idea of a joke, I suppose,” he growled, holding up the bottle. In the fading light I could just make out that it was empty. My drinking session with Bully Malone had been far more thorough than I’d realised.
“That’s too bad, Alby,” I said. “But if you’ll remember, I didn’t actually promise you anything. I placed a label in a note. That was all.”
“You’re a rat, Clarenden,” he snarled. “You’re a filthy rodent.”
I chose not to throw a retort back, partly because I wasn’t sure I could argue with his assessment of my character, but mainly because my instinct told me a more practical course of action would be to duck. I ducked. Almost instantaneously, the empty bottle sailed past the spot where my head had been and shattered on the ground behind me.
Taking this as a clear sign that my business with Alby had reached an endpoint, I didn’t stick around. I was finally onto something, but there was still so much to uncover. I had to know who had taken over the garbage collection from the Devil, and there was only one person I could think of to ask. One person who I suspected had the answers to all of my questions inside his head. The only problem was he also had the answers to every other question inside his head as well.
* * *
As I rapped on the doors of God’s palace, I couldn’t help noticing that even the previously pure white of the palace walls now looked stained and dirty.
Gabriel opened the doors and ushered me in. He greeted me with words that were both highly unexpected and also profoundly worrying.
“I’m so glad you’ve come back, Mr Clarenden.”
“That would probably make you the first,” I said. “I figure it’s not for any good reason.”
“Indeed. I’m afraid the Master is not in a good way.”
“Has something happened to Him?”
“You’d better see for yourself.”
He led me to the door of God’s chamber and knocked loudly.
“Mr Clarenden to see you, Master.”
“Show him in, Gabriel, show him in.” God’s voice sounded surprisingly jovial through the chamber door.
I pushed open the door and passed through. God’s chamber was alarmingly different. The couch was gone and in its place there was an enormous throne, carved out of mahogany and gilded with precious stones. Sitting proudly atop the throne, God himself no longer wore a simple white robe. He was instead arrayed in a massive red cloak, trimmed at the edges with white fur and seams of gold thread, while on His head sat a crown of gold that sparkled with diamonds and other jewels.
The only thing about the room that was resolutely unchanged was the television on the far wall. On the gleaming screen, a salesman was screaming about the amazing benefits of his particular brand of hypnotherapy, while a parade of supposedly satisfied customers gave his message an air of profound banality.
God turned to me and held out His arms. He was beaming.
“Mr Clarenden, do take a seat.”
“I can only see one chair, and you seem to be occupying it comfortably.”
“So I am,” God chuckled. “I keep forgetting. I’ve just discovered the most wonderful thing.”
“And what would that be?”
“Television home shopping networks. Thanks to them, I’ve got my new throne, and a completely new wardrobe, and take a look at this.”
He lifted the crown and shook His head, sending His white hair flapping and waving.
“I’ve found a shampoo that gives my hair a new bounce and life it’s never had before!”
I stood, unable to form words, as God continued discussing the details of His purchases, including His new exercise machine, His new fat-free deep fryer, and His new set of steak knives. There was only one conclusion to be gained from any of this. The pressure had finally gotten to Him. God had gone completely mad.
When I’d heard all I could take, I walked over to the television, placed my finger on the power switch, and pressed it. Immediately, all salespeople vanished. For a moment, merciful silence filled the room, broken only by God’s anguished cry.
“What did you do that for? That man might have changed my life.”
“Seems to me you’ve had your life changed enough for one day.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s time we had a talk. Take a look outside. Drag your eyes away from that idiotic screen, just for a moment. You’ll see that things aren’t going too well here in Heaven. If we don’t get to the bottom of this mystery, your precious kingdom will be nothing more than a festering, stinking pile of garbage.”
God’s face went redder than a bloody Mary stirred with a raw steak. “You dare to talk to me like that, here in my palace?”
“I dare that and a whole lot more. It’s time for you to level with me. I need you to tell me everything you know, and I need you to tell me right now.”
“You really think it will be that easy? You really think I can just snap my fingers and give you all the answers you need?”
“I didn’t say that. I have no illusions about this being easy. But you can start by putting an end to this stalling. When we first met, you mentioned that Phil helped you out with certain things, but you wouldn’t tell me what those things were. ‘Odds and ends’ were the precise words you used. Since then, I’ve managed to discover that one of the things Phil did was sign contracts with the Devil regarding the maintenance of the infrastructure here in Heaven—which I do believe includes garbage collection. So tell me, God, was that an odd or an end?”
“I admit that Phil did sign that contract,” God muttered, His eyes making a close inspection of His brand new stress-absorbent running shoes. “I was extremely busy and I didn’t have the time.”
“I’ll bet you were busy. What was it? Midgets with Oedipal complexes on a talk show? Or was that the day when Blake discovered Tiffany was having an affair with Nash on your favourite soap opera?”
“So maybe I needed a little additional relaxation that day.”
“And I suppose you also needed additional relaxation on the days when Phil restructured the administrative procedures at the Pearly Gates. Or the day when he decided to allow a journalist named Alby Stark to remain in Heaven after an unfortunate breakdown of those procedures.”
“So that is what this is all about,” God grumbled. “Every time something goes wrong, I’m the one who has to set it right. Well, sometimes I can’t be there to fix things. Sometimes I have to leave it to others. What do you expect? Do you think I can be everywhere at once?”
“Actually, I thought you could.”
God started to open His mouth, but then He stopped. He slumped down in His great throne and suddenly He looked very tired and very old. Eventually He spoke, the voice of a tired, old man.
“You’re right, I can be everywhere at once, but I don’t often choose to be. Most of the time, I’m quite happy to sit in my little chamber and watch TV. You were right, Mr Clarenden. I’m really not that busy at all.”
“But if you’re spending all your time watching television, who’s looking after Heaven?”
“I would have thought that was obvious. Phil is the one who’s been looking after Heaven. That’s why I need him back so urgently.”
There was a tinkling sound inside my head: the sort that a very small coin makes when it hits the ground.
“Why couldn’t you have told me this earlier?” I said. “Why pretend that Phil is your little helper, when he’s really the guy who’s running the show?”
“Why pretend? I’m God. This is my kingdom. Do you really think I want everyone to know that I’m no longer in charge?” God sighed. “I’m sorry for misleading you. I hope my foolish pride hasn’t compromised your investigation.”