I assumed that Melanie’s distraught state would conceal the fact that the information came as no surprise.
‘You know who killed him? Meece. The demon driver. That’s right. It’s not him you should mourn for. He took out as real a man as I’ve met. Just for the money. Only the wages weren’t enough, were they? He’s got to give himself a regular bonus. He thinks he’s too important now. He’s got a hold on us. A special case. He was a special case, all right. So I put him in one. Wooden.’
The only sound for a time was Melanie crying. The shock of what Matt Mason had told her must have been severe. He wasn’t finished.
‘So now you know.’
A matronly woman appeared at the French windows, drinking a cup of tea and watching the children.
‘You’re lucky to be alive. Ever say anything about this and you won’t be.’
The conjunction of the homeliness of what we were seeing and the savagery of what we were hearing was hard to bear. I heard Eddie Foley gasp faintly and I realised that the woman was Millie, his wife. It was as if she were standing unaware in the crossfire of contradictions that were his life.
‘Who would believe you, anyway? Hophead. Get out.’
There were sounds of movement, of breathing. The stillness in the car was total. We saw Melanie appear at the end of the driveway. She was walking blind. The machine went dead. I looked round at Edek. He made a wiping gesture with his hand. He had decided her tears were private. I was glad she had remembered to turn left out of the driveway. Bob Lilley would be waiting for her round the corner. She went out of sight. The children were still playing in the garden.
‘Nice man,’ Edek said.
‘I think it’s a good idea for Melanie to leave the country,’ Brian said. ‘Mason might get nervous about what he’s said.’
‘He won’t have time to,’ I said.
I turned round to look at Eddie Foley. He was pale.
‘A woman as brave as that deserves to be protected,’ I said. ‘Some woman, eh?’
Eddie Foley stared at me. He nodded infinitesimally. I took it as thunderous applause.
‘What, we going in for him now?’ Brian said.
‘No,’ I said. ‘We keep to the arrangement. We go to the Getaway.’
Brian drove. Once we were well into the city again, Eddie touched me lightly on the shoulder.
‘Pull in anywhere here, Brian,’ I said. ‘We’ll let Eddie off.’
I got out of the car with Eddie and we walked a few yards away. We stopped. I waited.
‘So what is it you want from me?’ Eddie said.
‘You know what I want, Eddie. Matt Mason’s just put himself in the nick. You heard him do it. There’s nothing you can do for him. But you saw Millie. She was enjoying the view. Though her view is a bit restricted. You don’t want to open her eyes too wide, do you? You can maybe still convince her you were a dupe.’
‘What price?’
‘Somebody else has to go inside with Matt Mason. We know Meece Rooney killed Dan Scoular. Who killed Meece Rooney?’
‘There were two of them,’ he said.
He looked along the street. He was taking his farewell of what he had been.
‘Tommy Brogan and Chuck Walker.’
Both were known. He looked into my face. I nodded. He turned away. He became just a part of the busy street.
36
Bob Lilley was standing outside the Getaway when we arrived. The three of us came out of the car. Edek had his recording equipment in a leather shoulder-bag.
‘Melanie’s inside,’ Bob said. ‘So it was good?’
‘She was good,’ I said. ‘The rest just followed.’
‘So?’ Bob said.
‘So,’ I said. ‘Brian knows the score. You and him can go and get the clearance. And we will proceed in a very direct direction. Tommy Brogan. Chuck Walker. Matt Mason last. You’ve got to build the cage before you catch the tiger. Okay, Brian?’
‘We’ll get back-up, Jack,’ Brian said.
‘Sure. But you and Bob should make the pinches. It’s your case. You do it yourselves. I just want to be there.’
‘We’ve really got them?’ Bob said.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘It does look slightly promising.’
Edek and I came into the Getaway. The place was quite busy, mainly with young people. It was good to be reminded that other things were happening besides my preoccupations. While we were looking round, a voice spoke behind me.
‘What are you doing here at this time? It’s hardly your scene.’
It was Ricky, mine altruistic host.
‘They let me out the Eventide Home for the day,’ I said.
‘Marty’s over in the corner.’
‘You do us a favour, Ricky?’ I said. I gave him a tenner. ‘You get somebody behind the bar to bring us a pint of Eighty, a whisky and water, a gin and tonic and whatever Marty’s drinking? And one for yourself.’
‘You want table service now?’
‘Just this once, Ricky. And a drink for whoever brings them over?’
‘I’ll put it to the committee.’
Marty was brooding over a whisky that was dark enough to be a Jack Daniels. None of the young people had claimed the seats at his table, perhaps because the battered authority of his presence discouraged them. With his rough face and the eccentric pony-tail, he looked like somebody who had come to his own terms with experience and might act unpredictably out of them. We sat down with him.
‘How’s Melanie?’ I said.
‘Not so good,’ Marty said. ‘She’s in the toilet. Doin’ repair work. She had a bad time?’
‘Threats were made. But they won’t be carried out.’
‘Ah hope not.’
‘Melanie’s going one place, Marty,’ I said. ‘Matt Mason’s going another. Never the twain shall meet.’
‘Ah don’t know. Malice can wait a while. An’ it’s got long arms. You’re goin’ to have to use the tape.’
‘Maybe not. We’ll see.’
A young man arrived with the drinks. While we were sorting them out, Melanie came out of the toilet. She was dressed in her jeans and jacket again. She was carrying a couple of plastic bags which she offered to Edek. The small plastic bag contained Edek’s microphone and transmitter, which he put in his leather shoulder-bag. I took the larger plastic bag and looked inside. It contained the dress and the coat.
‘Why not keep these?’ I said.
‘What?’
‘You looked good in them. You like them?’
‘Yes. They felt good to wear.’
‘Then keep them. They might remind you of the day you did something really brave. Said, to hell with being a victim.’
Edek looked at me.
‘I’ll pay,’ I said.
‘Not out of police funds,’ Melanie said.
‘Out of the pocket, Melanie,’ I said. ‘It’s not a bribe. It’s a gift. Personal. All right?’
She smiled and nodded. Taking the bag back, she put it on the floor beside her chair. There came a brief, good time like a furlough from the front. Melanie was just about due to go for her flight and the excitement of where she was going softened the bleakness of where she had been. In spite of herself, she became animated. It was good to see. Marty’s worries for her seemed to relax. She said she was glad to have confronted Matt Mason and to know the truth of the recent past. It might make the future less haunted. When Marty gently chivvied her about catching the flight, I saw, as she glanced round the room, a glimpsed fragment of the girl she must have been — interested in everything, nervous as a thoroughbred mare. We all stood up with her. We said our goodbyes. She embraced me.
‘You’re some Melanie McHarg,’ I said. ‘You did it all. The rest of us have just been on the sidelines. Good luck.’
‘The odds are against me, aren’t they?’
‘The odds are against us all. So what?’
Then she said a nice thing to me. It was about time somebody did.