Ari glanced around that familiar table at six strained faces, and had no doubt that he looked every bit as strained. He suspected everybody wanted to talk about Alfonso, to discuss whether or not he really could be a murderer. But nobody seemed to want to broach the subject which was surely at the forefront of all their minds.
It was Ari who had called them together. Fuelled by false white courage, he’d more or less summoned them. He was unsure now if he’d been right to do so. At the very least he should have listened to Bob and chosen a different venue. But now they were here, Ari felt it incumbent on him to lead the way, to help them talk to each other again, to at least attempt to get things back to how they had been before. Not that it ever could be the way it had been before. But, perhaps, Ari thought, he and his friends could attempt a new beginning.
‘I–I just wondered how everybody was?’ Ari enquired eventually, starkly aware of what a lame remark that was.
Greg jumped straight in. ‘Personally I’m bloody marvellous,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t suppose the boys miss their dogs at all, we don’t ’ave to worry about Marlena any more, and Michelle’s new nose’ll probably turn out to be better than the old one.’
Ari looked down at the table. The other four men sat open-mouthed, staring at Greg. Karen placed a hand lightly on her husband’s arm.
‘Sorry,’ said Greg.
There was another silence. Then one of the waiters, not chatty like they usually were at Johnny’s but clearly embarrassed and every bit as stilted and awkward in his behaviour as the seven friends sitting round the table, arrived to take their order.
Food was duly chosen, albeit with little enthusiasm, and more drink ordered.
Then Billy spoke.
‘Actually, Tiny and I do have a bit of good news,’ he said.
Oh yes, remembered Ari. Billy had mentioned that on the phone. Ari glanced at Billy questioningly. Hopefully almost.
‘About the dogs...’ began Billy.
‘Oh yeah, been stuck back together and resurrected, have they?’ asked George.
Tiny winced.
‘For fuck’s sake, don’t you start, George,’ said Karen. ‘I thought we were here to talk, to listen to each other, to help each other understand...’ Her voice faltered and she broke off, fighting back the tears.
‘I think we might be here a long time for that,’ muttered Bob.
‘Tell us then,’ said Ari, still looking hopefully at Billy.
‘Well, you know we arranged a post-mortem examination on our Daisy and on George’s Chumpy, after the police said there was no point. Turns out they were wrong. From our point of view, anyway. We finally got the results. Our vet’s been away...’
Billy glanced at George. ‘Sorry, George, we were going to call you. Then we thought, well, we’d be seeing you tonight, better to tell you in person, and everybody else too.’
‘OK, go on then,’ said George sulkily.
‘The post-mortem showed that the dogs were killed by a lethal injection, an overdose of barbiturate — the same way vets put animals down. They were only mutilated after they were dead. Chances are Daisy and Chump died peacefully in their sleep. So we know now they didn’t suffer. Isn’t that great?’
‘I think “great” may be a bit of an exaggeration, but it is a relief to know they didn’t suffer, or not the way it seemed they had anyway,’ said George.
‘Yes, it must be,’ said Karen. ‘I know how I’d feel if it was our Westies.’
Bob looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t understand it though. Why would anyone evil enough to do all the other stuff that’s happened show mercy to a couple of dogs?’
‘And a funny kind of mercy at that,’ said Tiny. ‘Poor little devils are still dead.’
‘Yes,’ Bob continued. ‘But someone went to the trouble of killing them painlessly and then making it look as if they’d been tortured to death. Why? To frighten the rest of us? To make George, Tiny and Billy suffer even more?’
‘Who knows?’ said Tiny. ‘Anyway, I suppose we have to accept now that it wasn’t a someone. It was Alfonso.’
‘He never did like dogs,’ said Karen. ‘I’ve heard him grumble about dogs pooing all over the streets and their owners not clearing up after them.’
‘Long way from that to dismembering ’em,’ said Greg.
Tiny winced again.
There was yet another silence. Alfonso’s arrest was the subject they had all wanted to discuss but couldn’t bring themselves to. It remained difficult for any of them to find the right words.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ said Karen eventually.
‘Me neither,’ responded Billy. ‘But I spoke to Michelle yesterday, and she said the word at the nick is that he’s definitely guilty. The evidence against him is overwhelming.’
‘But what does she think?’ said Greg. ‘I mean, she was mugged. Punched in the face at close quarters. Has she told anyone whether she saw her attacker’s face? Did she think it could have been the Fonz? At the time, I mean. Did you ask her that, Billy?’
Billy’s attention was momentarily diverted. Johnny had abruptly stopped playing the piano, midway through a melody. The silence in the restaurant, interrupted only by one or two half-strangled gasps, was deafening.
Billy glanced across the room.
‘Why don’t you ask her yourself?’ he said. ‘She’s here.’
Michelle was indeed making her way across the room. Johnny had stood up and taken a step towards her, his face full of concern. She ignored him. Her stride was uncertain and she even bumped into a chair as she approached the Sunday Club table.
But it was the sight of her face that had caused the other diners to gasp. The whole of it was swollen and discoloured. Her nose was twice its usual size, multicoloured and twisted. It wasn’t so much broken as smashed. Although the friends knew that to be the case, none of them had seen her since the attack. The severity of the damage therefore came as a tremendous shock.
Ari recovered first. He jumped to his feet, reached out to Michelle with both arms and hugged her.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ he said. ‘We’re just so glad to see you, darling, aren’t we, guys?’
Everyone around the table murmured agreement and words of greeting.
‘I changed my mind,’ said Michelle, sitting down heavily on the chair Ari pulled out for her. ‘I suddenly wanted you all to see what the bastard did to me. To see the state I’m in.’
Karen, the only other woman at the table, understood at once.
‘It’s awful, darling, horrid, but you will get better,’ she said.
‘Not without major plastic surgery,’ countered Michelle.
‘I’m sure there are surgeons out there who’ll make you as good as new,’ Karen persisted. ‘Even prettier than you were before, you’ll see.’
‘Don’t fucking patronize me, Karen,’ Michelle snapped.
‘I wasn’t, darling, honestly...’
‘We all feel for you, honey,’ said Bob. ‘And we’re so glad you’ve come.’
‘Yep, I thought you’d enjoy a freak show,’ said Michelle.
Karen placed her hand over Michelle’s. ‘You know that’s not how we see it,’ she said. ‘We feel for you — we’re your friends.’
‘I thought Alfonso was my friend,’ said Michelle. ‘And he did this to me.’
With her free hand she gestured towards her ruined face. Above the shattered nose her eyes were narrow bloodshot slits in mounds of discoloured flesh. One seemed to be permanently watering from a corner.
Are you sure it was Alfonso?’ Greg seized the opportunity to ask the question he’d voiced earlier. ‘Did you think it was him at the time?’
‘That’s not the point, and of course I’m bloody sure,’ said Michelle. ‘He’s been charged with assaulting me, hasn’t he? And murdering Marlena. I’m a copper, remember, I know exactly how good a case has to be before someone gets charged with murder. The police and the prosecution service don’t get that wrong — well, hardly ever, whatever the bloody public think.’