Chapter 44
It is so nice to be home.
Steve is enjoying a late lunch at The Brass Monkey with Tony, John and Dr Jyoti.
He needs a bit of normality to take the edge off all the murders, and to think about the latest Vern Blackwood bombshell.
The four friends are finishing off their pudding, rhubarb crumble with custard.
You have to leave it a while for the microwaved rhubarb to cool down, and by that time the custard is cold, but it’s pretty good apart from that.
It seems that Vern and Eriksson have known each other for a very long time. Were good friends. Vern also knows, presumably, that Eriksson is really Connor Brooks. And yet they have had to find all of this out themselves. Vern has not volunteered a word of it.
It also seems that Connor Brooks would have owed Vern one hell of a favour. Which explains why Vern is still alive. But also explains why he had been so disturbed by the note.
In further developments, Tommy Griffin is dead.
Carlos Moss had found this out and broken the news to Rosie.
Steve is telling the lunchtime gang all about it.
While he tells them, the TV show Countdown is showing on the big screen behind the bar, and they are competing to find the longest words as they talk.
‘With a high-calibre rifle,’ says Steve. ‘“Artful”, for six letters.’
‘Just like that,’ says Tony, shaking his head. ‘One minute you’re there, the next minute you’re not. Well, you are there, but you’re dead. “Fart”, for four.’
Of the Vegas Six only two now remain. A man they have to assume now is Connor Brooks, whereabouts unknown, and Vern Blackwood, currently enjoying an infrared sauna in the spa wing of Rosie’s castle.
‘Could happen to any of us,’ says John. ‘At any time. “Fault”, for five, but I knew “artful” before Steve said it, so I’m going to say “artful”.’
‘It couldn’t happen to any of us,’ says Jyoti. ‘You think someone is going to shoot you with a high-calibre rifle? “Filatures” for nine letters.’
‘Very good, Doctor,’ says Steve. ‘Really good Countdown.’
He’s unsure as to whether Tommy Griffin’s death complicates things or simplifies things.
If Connor Brooks has been in Palm Springs, then it definitely simplifies things.
‘You never know,’ says John. ‘That’s all I’m saying. I made a few enemies in the journalism game.’
‘You’ve spent the last five years collating the local bowls results for the Lymington Herald,’ says Jyoti. ‘Who’s going to pay to have you killed?’
‘I had to do the court cases round-up one week when the regular guy had gout,’ says John. ‘I’m going to stay away from any windows.’
‘You’re sitting directly in front of a window,’ says Steve.
John turns his bar stool about twenty degrees away from the window.
‘That should foil them,’ says Jyoti.
Their attention wanders from Countdown, because it’s a numbers round, and none of them are very good at the numbers.
‘Professional job?’ Tony asks Steve.
‘Unless an amateur can shoot you from four hundred yards away,’ says Steve.
Tony starts drinking his leftover custard from the bowl. ‘My friend Jakob Eriksson again?’
‘Who’s Jakob Eriksson?’ Jyoti asks.
‘No one,’ says Tony.
Tony hasn’t told the others about Jakob Eriksson. He explained his recent injuries by telling them the engine casing of a Fiat Punto had fallen on him.
‘An elusive no one,’ says Steve. And certainly not called Jakob Eriksson. The TV is now showing an advert for a walk-in bath. The woman in the advert looks absolutely thrilled to be using it, like she’s been waiting her whole life for this.
‘But you reckon?’ Tony asks, turning away from the others.
‘I don’t want you to worry about that. How’s your head?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ says Tony. ‘If anything, Felicity says it’s better than it was.’
Steve smiles. Tony hasn’t complained for a single second about what happened to him, even though it’s Steve’s responsibility. Felicity either. They’ve both been as good as gold.
‘Anyone ever fancied a walk-in bath?’ John asks. ‘It feels like they’d take a while to fill up. I think when the time comes I just won’t wash any more. We could make a pact, the four of us?’
‘I’m going to keep washing,’ says Jyoti.
‘They say you don’t notice after a couple of days,’ says John. ‘Your body starts to clean itself.’
‘Who says that?’ Steve asks. ‘Out of interest?’
‘It was on YouTube,’ says John. ‘A bloke in America.’
‘Do you ever think you spend too much time on YouTube?’ Steve asks.
‘Why would he say it if it wasn’t true?’ reasons John. ‘Did you see the corpse?’
‘No, we were back on the plane by then,’ says Steve.
With Griffin dead, Vern Blackwood is the last man standing.
And the note on Esteban’s body had scared Vern enough to call them in, so perhaps he and Connor Brooks are no longer friends.
Does that mean Brooks will be heading their way next?
They have been trying to find him, but perhaps he will now come to them?
‘Bad luck,’ says Jyoti.
‘I was okay with not seeing it,’ says Steve. ‘We’d been eating steak with the guy the night before.’
‘How was it?’ John asks.
‘I didn’t see it, John,’ says Steve. ‘Keep up.’
‘The steak,’ says John. ‘How was it?’
There is now an advert with a woman who looks like she’s won the lottery, but in reality has just come back from a friend’s funeral and been pleasantly surprised by the cost. It takes quite a personality to ask about the cost of a funeral while actually at the funeral, but it really does seem to have made her happy.
‘It was good,’ says Steve. ‘Very tender.’
‘What animal is steak from?’ Tony asks.
Jyoti looks at him. ‘What animal is steak from?’
Tony nods. ‘They never say, do they? They just say steak.’
‘It’s from cows, Tony,’ says Steve.
‘Like beef,’ nods Tony.
‘Yep,’ says Jyoti. ‘Like beef.’
‘Learn something new every day,’ says Tony.
‘It feels like that’s something you should already know,’ says John. ‘And I don’t mean any offence by that, we all have blind spots. I didn’t know the CIA put a chip in your head if you go to sleep in prison till I saw it on YouTube.’
‘Chicken is chicken,’ says Tony. ‘That’s an easy one. Lamb is lamb. Pork is pig, I know that because of Porky Pig. Bacon, that’s another one I don’t know.’
‘If you had to guess?’ Steve asks.
‘Deer?’ guesses Tony.
‘Correct first time,’ says Steve.
This is exactly what Steve needs. Amy needs to run to wind down. She needs sweat and adrenaline, burning muscles and busting lungs. Steve just needs rhubarb crumble and three fellow idiots.
Steve is inclined to disagree that Tony has got smarter since Connor Brooks’s goon attacked him in Lymington though.
That’s an avenue they haven’t looked into. How did Connor Brooks know who Tony was? And know where he was? Easy enough to find out if you spend any time in Axley, but how did Connor Brooks know about Axley?
‘I’ve got to go to Rosie’s,’ says Steve.
Tony raises a questioning eyebrow.
‘B3056,’ says Steve. ‘Through Lyndhurst, A337, M27, A31, come off at Sturminster Marshall.’
Tony nods his approval. ‘A31’s got traffic calming round Blandford Forum, but shouldn’t cause you any problems.’
Steve bids his friends farewell and walks out into the village. He will leave soon, but Rosie can wait her turn, he has somebody else to talk to first.
Steve walks down past the pond, around a pony who, quite rightly, refuses to move, and sits on his bench. He rubs the plaque in memory of Debbie.
‘Tony didn’t know where steak comes from,’ he tells her.
‘And now he thinks that bacon comes from deer. I’m going to head down to see Rosie in a mo.
B30– actually, you don’t need to know that.
She’s got Vern Blackwood staying. He’s the only one still alive of the gang from Vegas, but he’ll be safe there, she’s got two moats … ’
An old man in a Liverpool FC tracksuit wheels a bicycle past Steve. He nods at the plaque and smiles at Steve.
‘Say hi to Debbie for me,’ says the man and continues his slow, happy way along the path.
‘Larry says hi,’ says Steve. ‘He’s out of prison on licence. Any more graffiti and he’ll be straight back in though. Trouble was furious when I came back from Málaga. I keep telling him, you solve the murders, then, mate, but nothing doing. What’s new with you?’
Steve listens for a while and is aware he’s crying while he does.
What he’d like to do most of all is go home, have a glass of whisky, curl up on the bed with Trouble and never wake up. That’s the dream.
He could never tell anyone that of course. No one would understand, and no one would forgive him. Debbie understands it, but she would also never forgive it. And that’s why Steve wakes up day after day. Living is impossible, dying is frowned upon, and those are his only two options.
Steve looks at his watch. Better head over to see Rosie, she needs him there by four.
He’ll ring Amy on the way. He needs to talk to Felicity Woollaston too.
He tried her earlier and she’s not in the office.
He can’t blame her, what is there to go in for on most days?
Strange though, she’s always there. Where might she be?
There’s something else he wants to say to Debbie, but he can’t think of the words.
‘There’s …’ Steve begins. ‘You might not know it, but Portsmouth has a burgeoning tech sector. Lots of business going on there.’
That should do for now, shouldn’t it? No need to spell it out.
‘Until tomorrow, Debs,’ says Steve and walks back towards the High Street.
Is it just for Debbie that he wakes up every day?
It’s for Amy too, he guesses. She’d be furious if he died.
Adam would be too, no one wants to be an orphan, but Amy would be worse.
Actually, as would Rosie. If there was ever anyone who held life dear, it’s Rosie.
Perhaps he’s staying alive for her too? They couldn’t really run We Solve Murders without him, could they?
If any one of them died, the thing would fall apart.
People need him for now, and perhaps that’s enough? Life itself isn’t enough to hold you captive, but love is.
Steve’s phone pings with a message. Georgie Glazier.
Where are you taking me to dinner?
Now’s really not the time, Georgie.
Though, if you want Steve’s honest opinion, there will never be a right time.
Steve thinks about Rosie in her castle with Vern and Lee. Is she quite safe? They really are betting the house on Vern Blackwood being the victim in all of this.
Perhaps they have got a little too friendly with him? That will have to stop. From now on it might be better for them all to keep Vern Blackwood at arm’s length.