Alex Barclay - Time of Death

Billy handed her a box.

‘Hello,’ said Ren. ‘What’s this? Can I open it?’

‘No.’

Ren smiled and opened it. It was a wooden circle, the size of a dinner plate, with circular grooves carved into it that all led to a central point shaped like a flower with six petals. She frowned. ‘It’s a labyrinth.’

‘Yes,’ said Billy. He took a packet of sand out of his pocket and began filling all the grooves with it. ‘It’s from Chartres. In France. It’s a replica of a labyrinth that’s on the floor of the cathedral there.’

‘So it has no hedges, at least,’ said Ren.

‘No. What you do is you walk all the way around it and then you come up the middle-’

‘Like Trivial Pursuit…’

‘Yeah, Ren. Sure. And when you come to the central area, you go into each of those six little petal things and you pray about something that you are grateful for.’

Ren smiled. ‘That’s beautiful.’

‘Here,’ said Billy. He took her finger and guided it around the curves through the sand. ‘It’s like a Zen garden.’

‘A Zen labyrinth. I never thought I’d see the day…’

‘So there you go,’ said Billy. ‘Everything has another angle, is my point. One man’s scary maze is another man’s labyrinthine path to gratitude and peace.’

Ren kissed him on the cheek. ‘I wish I was more like you. You have such a beautiful way of looking at life. And you have used the word labyrinthine in a regular conversation.’

Billy laughed. ‘Would you expect anything less from a former crim slash meth addict?’

Ren squeezed his hand. ‘I would expect nothing less from a courageous, reformed crim slash meth addict. As if I would have lowered myself to be with you otherwise.’

Billy laughed loud. ‘I did the lowering. FBI agent? Jesus.’

Ren hugged him. ‘You always make me feel good.’

‘You scum of the earth.’

‘You drugged-up cartelperson.’

‘That’s not a word.’

‘It’s a lifestyle.’

‘Shut up.’

‘You shut up.’

‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Billy.

‘Sounds like a plan.’

Billy drove down Taylor Street. Ren was in the front seat regretting the choice of radio station. Tom Waites was on the radio, hoping that that he wouldn’t fall in love again. Since the opening of the song, the silence in the car had almost drowned it out.

‘Isn’t it amazing how one song can render so many people…deeply uncomfortable?’ said Billy.

‘It’s like eating a banana; you never know where to look,’ said Ren. ‘I think this song actually makes people feel they are in love with whoever’s with them.’

Silence.

‘Not that I’m saying that… what am I not saying?’

‘It is a beautiful song,’ said Billy.

‘Just don’t let the next one be “Let’s Get It On”.’

‘It’s “Let’s Get It Owwwn”.’

They pulled up at traffic lights. Billy laid his hand on hers. For a moment, Ren held it. Then she turned to look at him.

‘Edith,’ she said.

‘Is gone,’ said Billy.

‘What?’ said Ren. ‘But…’

‘There was no point,’ said Billy. ‘It…wasn’t fair.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t move your mouth,’ he said. ‘Don’t kiss me back.’ He put his hand on her leg, leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers. He held it there as he slid his hand up higher. Then he pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

Whoa.

The lights went green and Billy pulled away from her, hitting the accelerator hard. Ren reached across the seat to him.

‘Oh,’ said Billy. He took a deep breath. He turned to her. ‘I missed that.’

‘Me too,’ said Ren.

‘Do you want to come back-’

Ren smiled.

‘Remember the mirrors?’ said Billy. ‘In the hotel? Wait until you see the one at my place.’

They parked outside Billy’s house, but stayed in the car. They kissed, he pulled her towards him, unhooked her bra with one hand and opened her shirt buttons with the other.

‘You are good,’ said Ren.

‘Fluke.’ He looked into her eyes as his head went lower. Ren lay back against the passenger door.

Where did he learn this shit? ‘OK…stop, stop,’ she said, sitting up.

Billy’s face fell.

‘No, seriously,’ said Ren. ‘If you don’t stop…I…’

‘You what?’

‘Just, I don’t know…I’m…maybe we shouldn’t…’

‘Ren, shut up,’ said Billy.

‘But-’

‘What is wrong with you tonight? Shut up!’

‘I’m nervous.’

He stopped and held her cheek. ‘You have nothing to be nervous about.’

‘You’re right,’ said Ren. ‘Let’s go.’

They made it into the dark hallway of the house. Billy pushed her up against the wall and leaned hard against her. Then he pushed her higher until her legs were wrapped around his waist. He carried her into the living room and laid her down on the floor. He knelt between her legs and pulled her toward him.

‘Your floor is wet,’ said Ren.

‘What?’

‘Your floor is wet.’ She reached a hand up to her head. ‘My hair is all…weird.’ She pulled her hand away. She was breathing properly for the first time since they started kissing. Oh, no. Something is wrong.

Billy reached over and turned on the lamp. They both looked at Ren’s hand. It was covered in blood. Billy looked past her. His eyes shot wide.

‘What?’ said Ren. ‘What’s the-’

‘Don’t,’ said Billy, reaching out to turn off the light. ‘Do not…’He tried to pin her legs down with his other arm.

Ren was gripping his hand, distracting him with the blood that covered it, prising his fingers away. She moved to flip her body over. But then she stopped.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ she said.

Beyond Billy, reflected in the giant mirror he had promised her, she could see the blown-apart body of Peter Everett…and his blood, soaking into her hair and dripping down her bare shoulder.

Ren sat on Billy’s bed, looking tiny, dressed in his sweatpants and hoodie. She had taken a shower and tied her wet hair in a knot in the back. Her face was gray.

Billy crouched in front of her, holding her hands. ‘Well, have you made a decision, yet?’

‘Peter Everett is lying dead in a house rented by Billy Waites, a man who has been linked to many crimes, and who is linked to Special Agent Ren Bryce…who is linked to Dr Helen Wheeler. Who is dead. Who is linked to Peter Everett who is dead. Who is linked to Ren Bryce. Who, let’s face it, is dead.’

She laid back on the bed. ‘I feel like I’m in one of those movies where someone runs through all the back gardens and takes all the washing lines with them.’

Billy got up and sat on the bed beside her. ‘So…are you going to call work?’

‘Yeah, I’ll call in sick.’

He smiled.

‘I am being attacked,’ said Ren. ‘And I have no idea why. What do we do about this — do we walk away from this crime scene, shut the doors and hope none of the neighbors get the smell? And when they do, then what? I can’t ever have been here. I have no reason to be here. You and I have zero working relationship.’

‘Here’s some good news,’ said Billy. ‘This house is not registered in my name. No one can connect me to here. Not right away, anyhow.’

Ren glanced around the room. ‘But…your stuff.’

‘My stuff is that,’ said Billy, pointing to a half-open sports bag in the corner. ‘Remember?’

‘You live like someone on the run.’

‘At least I can admit it.’

‘Whoa,’ said Ren. ‘Where did that come from?’ She stood up and walked over to the window.

‘Where broken-hearted Billy lives.’