Something You Are (16 page)

I turned up at Mackie's house, unannounced, at an antagonistic time of morning. Before getting there I had tried phoning Matt's number, and Brinks's, but neither of them had answered. In a way, I almost wished they were both dead. It would save me the hassle of tracking them down every time I needed them.

After ringing the bell a few times I kept my finger on it, sending the shrill noise throughout the house until, finally, Mackie answered the door in a burgundy dressing gown.

It was amusing that he made an effort to look pleased to see me, but his knee-jerk expression of dread betrayed him before he was able to force a smile.

‘Oh… Nic, hi.'

‘Can we talk?'

‘It's six in the shitting morning.'

‘I know.'

I didn't move, and he retied the cord of his dressing gown.

‘OK,' he said, ushering me in. ‘I suppose you want a cuppa?'

‘Wouldn't say no.'

I stopped in the hallway and looked up at the tribal mask, leering at me with square teeth. It was like a caricature of an old man's face, with too much hair and too wide a smile. It reminded me a little of the statue in Clare's living room. Why would anyone have things like that in their home? Things that so obviously wished ill on everything they saw?

‘Don't wanna be rude, mate, but… I was kinda hoping to never see you again.' He laughed, nervously, as he pottered around the kitchen. ‘You know, unless it was a social occasion or something…'

‘I need a favour.'

‘Fuck, I thought so.' He sighed and put the kettle on. His eyes were still puffy with sleep. ‘Go on then, what is it?'

‘You've worked for Felix Hudson before, haven't you?'

I took my eyes off the mask when I received no reply. He was staring at me, his mouth moving as if trying to find the appropriate words. He was a truly awful liar.

‘Don't bother trying it on, I'm not actually asking you,' I said.

‘Um… Once or twice.'

‘No, quite a few times.' I put my hands in my pockets and wandered into the kitchen towards him. ‘I only just realized that was where I recognized his name from.'

‘So…' His eyes went from my pockets to the doorway, and then back to the kettle. I could almost see the images in his mind, trying to work out if he could throw the boiling water in my face before I reached him. ‘Why do you want to know about Felix?'

‘That's… none of your business,' I said, smiling. ‘I just need to speak to him.'

‘Speak to him?'

The kettle had started to growl over us.

‘Yeah.' I raised my voice. ‘Just speak to him.'

Mackie took the thing off the boil. ‘Nic, mate, you never wanna “just speak” to anybody.'

‘You make me sound so antisocial,' I said, enjoying his discomfort.

‘Oh fucking hell, why do you wanna speak to him?'

‘Business, weather, you know. Can you get ahold of him? Bet you have a number or two.'

‘Just the one,' he said, motioning as if to make the tea but deciding not to bother. ‘Nic, is there…? Is there anything else? I mean,
anything
else I can do? He'll fucking kill me. He doesn't mess around.'

‘Neither do I. Who's in your kitchen?'

He rubbed a hand over his face and made an audible noise of distress. ‘What do you want me to do? Do you want his number?'

‘Can you call him and ask him to meet you somewhere?'

‘Jesus Christ, no.'

‘Did you forget the question before that?' I asked, taking a step forwards.

‘Oh chill out! Fucking hell, OK, OK, Nic, just chill out, yeah? Where?' He backed away, retying the cord of his dressing gown again.

‘Fetching colour,' I said.

‘Where?'

‘Somewhere he hangs out already? Somewhere that won't sound too obvious.'

‘It's gonna sound obvious whatever I say, mate. I haven't even fucking seen him since the summer.'

‘Look, I don't really give a shit,' I said, shrugging. ‘Just let me know by the end of the day that you've sorted something out, right? I'll be on my mobile, and make sure it's soon.'

Mackie put his hands up, looking like a man cornered by the law who didn't have the fight to plead not guilty.

‘Oh, don't look at me like that,' I said. ‘How often have I ever asked you for anything?'

‘Only takes the once, doesn't it?'

He had given up more easily than I had predicted, and I realized I needn't have been so menacing. I thought about the body in the stilettos, carrying it in pieces out through the front door behind me. I wanted to ask if he had been all right, but indicated my head back at the tribal mask instead.

‘What is that thing?'

‘I don't actually know. Found it on a stall somewhere.' He shook his head, the colour gone from his face.

‘What does it mean?'

‘No idea. I'm not that cultural really, it just… spoke to me, I guess.'

In my mind I could see the statue with no face. It looked like something Clare would have bought, rather than Pat. The idea of it speaking to anyone made me shudder, but it wasn't hard to see her in it.

While I was in the car I remembered to take Dad's watch off and put it back in the glove compartment, for next time. I looked at the Rolex, thought of Matt, and the more I stayed with the image the more it dawned on me that he had been lying. It wasn't right, the way he had kept checking the time, the crude note from Felix, the way his grief and fear were so staged, and the way he avoided Emma's name…

Stupid bint
…

Bitch
…

I needed to find Felix. That was the only way I stood a chance of understanding exactly what Matt was lying about.

I stopped calling the number he had given me, dropped my phone on to the dashboard and parked the car outside Edie's geometric oddity of a house. This morning I'd decided I couldn't put this off any longer.

I rang the doorbell.

After a short wait Scott opened the door without the chain on. I had hoped he wouldn't be the one to answer.

Up close he looked unnervingly like his mother, but with someone else's jawline. Everything from the lips upwards was the same, even down to the direct stare, which was even more striking on a child in their early teens.

‘Hey, Scott,' I said, with a grim smile that would never have fooled Edie. ‘Is your dad in?'

‘He went out for more coffee but he's coming back. You a friend of his?'

I ran through what I knew about Edie's background. ‘Um… yeah, I'm a friend of your mum's actually. We were at NYU together for a bit.'

‘You come from New York?' His face lit up and he had the same smile. ‘Cool.'

‘Lived there for a bit. Obviously not long enough to pick up an accent.'

‘You wanna wait for him?'

I could taste copper and my pockets felt heavy. ‘Yeah, that would be great, thanks.'

As he let me inside I noticed he was wearing a T-shirt with a black and white picture on it. It was of a girl, crouched on a pavement wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, with a cigarette between her fingers. He had the effortless confidence of the upper middle-class. When I had been his age I had struggled to look adults in the eye; in some ways I still did.

The inside of the house had pieces of Edie everywhere, in the open-plan rooms, the overload of glass and the abstract ornaments made of twisted metal. Contrary to what I had expected, there were books everywhere, shelves and shelves of them.

‘You wanna drink?' he asked me as he led me into the kitchen.

‘Yeah, sure, what have you got?'

‘No coffee till Dad gets back, but we've got juice, tea… some of Mum's gay tea, with fruit and stuff?'

I leant against one of the stools at the breakfast bar. ‘Juice is cool, thanks.'

The discs were probably upstairs. The staircase ran up around the walls of the living room, one of those modern ones with no banisters. My heart started beating faster and I tried to calm it down.

‘You seen your mum a lot recently?' I asked.

‘Na, not much. She works a lot. Dad works too, but she works all the time.' He pushed a glass of orange juice across the breakfast bar. ‘I haven't seen too much of her since Dad kicked her out.'

‘Yeah, I heard… Sorry.'

He shrugged and hopped up on to one of the stools across from me. ‘Was better than them getting mad at each other all the time.'

‘What happened?'

‘She threw a toaster at him, and then they told me to go to my room.' He smiled. ‘Looking back, it was kinda funny. They find it funny now, anyway.'

There was something disturbingly well adjusted about him. Was this the head start that all rich kids had? Yeah, I could see him experimenting with drugs, smoking the odd spliff and maybe doing a few lines of coke at some parties, but I couldn't see children like Scott ever fucking up. Not fucking up how other children fucked up. It was impressive, the level of confidence that came with knowing you'd always have a financial safety net.

I liked him.

‘Your dad has quite a library for an ex-pat,' I remarked.

‘He's obsessed.' He rolled his eyes. ‘He says you might as well take your stories with you, because no one can throw memories out when you're gone.'

‘That's pretty cool,' I said.

‘It's all right, he's a sap sometimes.'

I heard the front door open and tensed.

Scott didn't bother to get up, he just shouted, ‘Dad, friend came round for you!'

I looked over my shoulder and Sidney could see me as soon as he closed the front door. He was rubbing his hands together, a plastic shopping bag hung over his wrist.

‘Who, Scottie?'

‘Some guy from New York.'

I stood up, slowly, and said, ‘Yeah, I'm here about those discs Edie said you were going to lend me.'

There was a silence.

Sidney had put the bag down by his feet. I saw the momentary fear cross his face, and his eyes scan the room behind me for his son. He was a big guy, extremely tall and built like an American footballer. The enormous khaki winter coat he was wearing made him appear even larger.

‘Scott,' he said. ‘Are you all right?'

‘Yeah, you got coffee?'

I smiled, hands in my pockets, one around the butt of an automatic. ‘Yeah, Sid, let's have some coffee.'

If Scott had noticed anything, he wasn't showing it.

Sidney looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

I shrugged, indicating my head ever so slightly at his son.

‘Yeah,' he said, his voice taut. ‘You want coffee?'

‘Would love one. Be good to catch up. You got those DVDs for me?'

‘DVDs,' he repeated, picking up the bag again.

‘The DVDs Edie said you'd have for me. Been looking for them for quite a while but you can't get them in the shops. They're quite the rarity. Some might even say the only ones of their kind?'

‘Sounds cool,' Scott said.

‘They're pretty cool.' I nodded over my shoulder in agreement, and smirked back at Sidney. ‘I'll make the coffee, shall I?'

It didn't take him long; he understood completely. Coming forwards, he stopped in the doorway. I held out my hand for the bag while keeping the other in my pocket, and put it down on the side when he gave it to me. He kept looking at Scott, but I shook my head.

‘How's Edie?' he asked.

‘Good form.'

‘I bet she is.'

‘I'll put on the coffee, shall I?'

‘No, I'll do it.'

He made to move behind the breakfast bar and I cut him off, making it appear as if I was just stretching my legs.

‘Guys,' Scott said from behind me. ‘I'll make the coffee, if you like?'

‘Thanks, Scott, that would be great,' I said, not taking my eyes off Sidney. ‘I'm just going to go with your dad to find these discs.'

He glared at me.

‘Come on,' I said, still not taking my right hand out of my pocket. ‘Lead the way.'

Sidney backed away and, with another glance at Scott,
turned back towards the living room. I walked about three or four paces behind him; he looked like the sort of person who had the strength to manhandle a gun off someone if he took them by surprise.

‘Nice, Edie,' he murmured as he walked towards the stairs. ‘Real nice.'

I lied, deciding to relieve Edie of the hassle. ‘I'm not working for her. I'm on my own.'

‘You're all scum, people like you. People like her.'

‘Mind your language, there are children in the house.'

I dropped further behind him as we climbed the stairs, mindful of the sheer drop and lack of banister. At one point he paused suddenly, letting me come a step closer, and I halted.

‘Don't even fucking think about it,' I said.

In the kitchen Scott had put the radio on.

Sidney started moving again.

‘If you weren't a coward,' he said, rigid with hatred, ‘and you fought me man to man, without your weapons, I would kill you.'

‘Well, that's why it's called the great equalizer,' I said as we reached the top and I followed him into the bedroom. ‘We can't all rely on natural selection.'

I felt as if I had gone into something of a trance, where our voices were magnified and everything else sounded as though I was listening to it from under water. It was a familiar state. For the first time in a while, I knew I was in control.

Edie's dressing table was still here, and as he opened the wardrobe I could see a lot of her clothes. She struck me as quite a difficult person to remove from a place; some trace of her would stay where she had been and that was probably how she wanted it.

Sidney crouched and took a handful of DVDs out from
under a plastic box of socks. There were numbers written across them in red marker pen.

‘If I give you these, you won't hurt my son.'