Reginald Hill - Under World

Pascoe lay in pain and darkness and felt the other’s darkness and pain. But the sharing stopped a long way short of forgiving. He thought of Rosie (What time did that crèche close, for God’s sake? Surely they wouldn’t just dump her out on the street …?). And he thought of where these first desperate steps had led this pathetic murdering bastard. Even Pickford in the end could not live with himself. But Downey was determined to live his stunted life for ever, no matter who else had to die.

He’d drifted a bit, missed a little of the tape. It didn’t matter. He could fill it all in now. Super-tec, that’s what he was. Super Chief Inspector tec …

‘… I didn’t mean to harm Billy. He were my mate. I’d have done anything for Billy. I’d not have let him get in bother for me, you can be sure of that. I’d have come forward … But once the coppers decided Pickford had done it, I thought it’d be all right … they seemed so sure … so sure … sometimes I began to wonder if mebbe Pickford hadn’t really done it after all. Mebbe she were just unconscious when I left her … mebbe he came along and found her … I mean, he did it to all them other lasses, didn’t he? Bastard! Any road, I went out for a walk that day, Boxing Day, it was. I could see that brother-in-law of mine wanted me out of the house and I knew what for. He’d be at it every hour that God sends if he could. I don’t know how my sister puts up with him. I lie awake nights and I can hear them in the next room … So I went for a walk and I went up along the ridge where the old workings are, no special reason, just for a walk. Then I spotted Billy’s dog, Jacko. He were worrying away at this old overgrown pile of spoil near the old shaft. I just stood and watched for a bit, never thinking anything except that Billy’d likely be along shortly and we could have a crack. I swear I never thought … can you believe it? This was where I’d put the girlie’s body, and I’d forgotten!’

Forgotten. Who has remembered? who has … but the world will end when I … forgive … forgo … forsake … forlorn … back to the waking nightmare, the living darkness! Concentrate, concentrate. Listen to the mad bastard!

‘… I’d come this way looking, most of the others searched in the woods and down near the road where I dumped the pail, but a few of them wanted to check the covers on the old entries, so I came up here too. I’d covered the spoil up so it didn’t look touched and now I brought some stuff I had for the allotment, keeps dogs off your veg, and I sprayed it round there so that if the coppers did bring dogs in, they’d not go near. I thought that were pretty clever …’

‘Oh yes. Very clever, Mr Downey. But now …’

‘Oh aye. The stuff had washed off long since, I expect, though being so cold you’d have thought … any road, here was Jacko scratching away and suddenly it dawned on me what he were scratching after! I tried to shoo him off, but he paid no heed. Once that little bugger got a scent, he’d not leave it alone till Billy told him. I gave him a kick, a right belt, and he took a snap at my ankle. But he still went back to his scratching. I had to do something, didn’t I? I picked up this rock and I brought it down hard. I just meant to stun him, that were all. But mebbe the rock were sharp or mebbe he had a thin skull. Anyway, it just seemed to go through the bone like tissue paper. I could see he were dead right away. And when I looked round, there was Billy standing watching me. He looked like … I don’t know … I went to him to explain it were an accident … I hadn’t meant … I held out the rock to show him how sharp it was. He knocked my hand aside. He went to Jacko and knelt down by him. He was right next to where the beast had been scratching. I had to get him away from there before he noticed anything. I put my hand on his shoulder and he turned and looked up at me and I … it were an accident! He was my best friend. It were an accident …!’

So many accidents. The child, the dog, his friend … Arthur Downey, the man who lived by accident … And here am I! Just another piece of debris on the fringe of a Downey accident, laughed Pascoe unconvincingly.

‘… I broke open the covering, it were half rotten anyway, a real danger, someone like Billy walking up there by himself could easily have fallen through it, it’s a scandal the way the council … Any road, I tipped Billy down so it’d look like he fell. His head weren’t so bad to look at, but I knew that any fool could spot that Jacko hadn’t just got hurt in a fall, so I had to get rid of him … and the lass too, I couldn’t leave her so close to the shaft, not when all them buggers would be tramping round there once they found Billy. So I had to … dig … and I wrapped her in my donkey jacket and I climbed down the shaft, I just dropped the dog down, but her I carried. I’d been down here when I were a kid, we were wild young buggers in them days, me and Billy, we went everywhere together … and I knew I could get through to the roadway. I just left them a short way in-bye. I only had a lighter to show the way and bare flame’s bloody dangerous. Then I got off home, needn’t have worried about sneaking in, that dirty bugger was still at it. But I were worried about them just lying there, so soon as I could I came back up with a torch and a little shovel. They’d found Billy by then and they’d started to seal off the shaft, but I know other ways of getting down here, like you found, Mr Boyle. And I brought the lass down here and I buried her in my jacket and left the dog at the entrance, like a guard sort of …’

‘There’s no dog bones in there, Mr Downey. Just … No dog bones.’

Poor Monty. Still thinking he was getting a story he could write. Still wanting loose ends tied up. Of course there were no dog bones. Farr had removed them. The same night. This must be … when? Monday, that was it. Tuesday, Farr had come out of the pit, turning Mycroft into a ticking time-bomb en route, before getting drunk and ringing Ellie … Ellie … better to think of Monday, only two days ago, unless it was past midnight … could it be so late? It could be any time! Back to Downey, justifying himself like a word processor and feeling all the time that a malevolent fate was pushing him to an unmerited downfall …

‘… It’s Farr, the bastard! He’s not half the man his dad were … I knew he’d been snooping … all I wanted was that he’d go off again … he did before, just up and left Billy … not that I minded … he was always getting in the way, Billy couldn’t see what a useless bugger … I’ve tried to get shut of him … I’ve let him see his mam would be well taken care of … I tried to stir up trouble between him and Harold so he’d go too far and get the sack … I told Harold he’d been saying things … and I left him a note hinting that Harold were still stuffing Stella … but he’ll not go … and now he’s found Jacko … and you’ve found … why’s he not go? He doesn’t like it round here, he keeps telling everyone. So why does everyone love him?’

The voice became a scream. The climax was near. To be unloved, this was the worm which gnawed at Downey’s heart. One man he had been able to claim as friend and perhaps that friendship had really only flourished in his imagination. He had built a life and personality around being pleasant and helpful and amenable; unable to inspire love, he had given vegetables; and when he murdered his ‘friend’, he had tried to create a living memorial to the friendship by a dog-like devotion to May Farr. But no dog, this; a wolf rather, slinking and treacherous.

And now from the tape came the sounds of poor Monty Boyle’s death. Convinced at last by that final despairing cry that he was in deadly peril, he must have panicked and tried to push past Downey and follow his marks to the surface. But he was already in his grave from the moment he allowed Downey to tell his tale. There was a noise like a dog panting, a crunch like a cleaver splitting a cabbage, a bubbling groan. Then Downey’s voice, faint, uncertain, speaking the inevitable epitaph.