Louise Welsh - Death is a Welcome Guest

They had reached the gates of Tanqueray House. Magnus steered the truck into the drive, braking again as the tyres bit into the unpredictable gravel surface. He gave Will a grim smile. ‘Killing is a poor foundation for a community. You don’t want any trouble and neither do we. Jeb’s a tough enemy, even with a broken leg. Take him on and you take on me as well.’

Father Wingate whispered, ‘Your loyalty is misplaced.’

Will said, ‘You never asked what I did before the sweats.’

It was true. Magnus had not been interested enough in the man to enquire about his life. He regretted it now. Perhaps if he knew what made Will tick he could persuade him to let Jeb go.

‘What did you do?’

‘I was a maths teacher. Maths is not the most popular lesson among rough boys. A teacher must learn how to instil discipline, or let their classroom turn into a madhouse. One of the first things I learned was to separate troublemakers. That’s why I held a gun to Jeb’s head and put him in the dungeon before we left for Jacob’s funeral.’

Magnus stopped the truck short of its usual parking place. ‘You put him in the what?’

Father Wingate said, ‘Tanqueray House really is quite ancient and my ancestors were rather dreadful. They used to put their enemies down there and throw away the key.’ His voice grew anxious. ‘I don’t think we should do that.’

Will nodded. ‘We are civilised people. We want justice, not revenge. Taking a life is a grave responsibility. It was one Jacob shouldered when he saved you both and it is one that I am willing to shoulder in turn.’

Magnus shook his head in disbelief. ‘Raisha and Belle won’t agree.’

Will’s smile was modest, a director announcing a star casting. ‘Belle helped me.’

‘And Raisha?’

Will nodded. ‘She agreed.’

‘You’re mad,’ Magnus whispered. ‘All of you.’

‘My son…’ Father Wingate squeezed his shoulder.

Will said, ‘We’re alive and we intend staying alive, even if that means defending ourselves. This man is nothing to you. Go and find your family.’

Magnus closed his eyes. ‘When I find my family I want to be able to look them in the eye.’

Jeb was a long way down in the dank and the dark. He said, ‘I thought you’d be in Jockland by now.’

‘You and me both.’ Magnus had envisaged a cell more rustic than the one they had shared in Pentonville, but of the same basic design. Instead he was lying flat on his belly in a damp basement, looking through a metal grille set into the ceiling of the cellar below. It was hard to make out Jeb’s features in the gloom, but Magnus recognised the hang of his head, the slump of his shoulders. ‘I thought I’d stick around and try and save you from the gallows.’

Jeb was sitting on the ground, his good leg bent beneath him, his broken one stretched out straight. He looked up, his face a spot of white in the darkness.

‘Is that how they’re planning on doing it?’

Magnus shook his head. ‘I don’t think they have a plan yet. How did they get you down there?’

Jeb grimaced. ‘The element of surprise. Belle unlocked my door. I should have realised when I saw her. She was wearing a beret and combat trousers, like a member of the fucking Angry Brigade. I thought she’d come to let me out, but she drew a gun on me. I could have handled that, I actually laughed when I saw it. I didn’t reckon on that ugly twat being right behind her. He put Jacob’s gun against my head, ordered me into a rusty wheelchair that probably last saw service in World War One and shoved me through the house in it.’

The palms of Magnus’s hands were damp and gritty against the cold flagstones, his flesh chilled beneath his jeans and T-shirt. He shifted a little. ‘Was Raisha with them?’

‘No, she went her own sweet way as usual. The old priest was there, flapping on about how they weren’t going to hurt me. But he led the way to the dungeon sure enough.’

‘How did they get you down the stairs?’

‘A gun is a great motivator.’ Jeb rubbed the plaster encasing his broken leg. ‘I don’t suppose you have one to spare?’

‘Will searched me before he let me in here.’

‘What’s the chance of you laying your hands on one?’

‘Slim to non-existent. He’s on my back like a shadow.’

Jeb’s voice was insistent. ‘So fuck him up. Stick a knife in his guts, trip him down the stairs, poison him or suffocate him in his sleep. He’s not the man Jacob was. You could take him.’

Magnus was not sure that he would be up to the job, but it made no difference. ‘Will made a point of telling me he’s hidden the key to the dungeon. He’s the only one who knows where it is.’

The grille was too small for a grown man to pass through. Magnus put his face close to its bars, but he could not make out the interior of the cell below.

‘What’s the door like?’

‘Fucking impregnable.’ Jeb lowered his head. ‘You may as well get going. I’m finished.’

‘Not necessarily…’ Magnus could no longer see the other man in the dim light of the dungeon. It was like speaking to the dead. He said, ‘They want justice. If I can prove someone else shot Jacob, they’ll let you go.’

Jeb’s voice came soft and flat, out of the blackness. ‘Do you know how often we solved a murder when I was in the police?’ He did not bother to wait for an answer. ‘Generally when the killer confessed, or we found them standing by the body holding the murder weapon. This isn’t Murder She Wrote and you’re not Nancy Drew.’

‘Jessica Fletcher.’

‘Miss Marple, Perry Mason, fucking Columbo: you’re not any of them. If you want to get me out of here, get a weapon and take Will out when he’s got the key on him.’

There had been too much killing for Magnus to embrace another death. He said, ‘There are only four people to choose from: Will, Belle, Raisha and Father Wingate.’ In his mind Magnus rejected the notion that Raisha might be the murderer. ‘If I can work out who wanted Jacob dead, I’ll have found the killer.’

‘Just like that.’ Jeb’s laugh sounded hollow from the shadows below. ‘What if it’s a motiveless crime?’

Newspapers used to carry headlines of senseless violence. A stranger knifed in the anonymity of rush hour, a dog walker raped in a quiet beauty spot, a child abducted on its way home from school.

Magnus said, ‘Even anonymous crimes have a motive, usually power. Jacob and Will locked horns. Now Will’s in charge. Maybe I should start with him.’

‘No.’ Jeb’s voice was low as if he were worried someone might be listening, and Magnus had to strain to hear him. ‘Always begin an investigation with the victim. Give Will the slip and search Jacob’s room. Look for anything that seems out of place and see where it takes you.’

‘And if I find nothing?’

‘Raisha’s your next stop.’

Magnus shifted his body again, feeling the cellar flagstones rough and damp through his cotton T-shirt. ‘She’s not the killer.’

‘Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t, but you’re sleeping with her. She likes you and that means she’ll be more inclined to talk.’

Magnus wondered how Jeb had known about the two of them. He said, ‘I’m not you. I don’t sleep with women in order to spy on them.’

‘I’m sure your heart is pure.’ Jeb’s laugh turned into a cough. The sound echoed dimly against the stone walls of his cell. ‘But from down here your honour seems a small price for my life.’

Magnus had expected Jacob’s room to be in military order, but the bed was unmade, its sheets a tangle that spoke of sleepless nights and bad dreams. There was a Bible on the bedside table next to a half-empty glass of whisky. Magnus opened it and a photograph fell to the floor. He picked it up and saw a smiling woman sitting next to two little girls in summer dresses. Magnus had imagined Jacob’s wife Annie as a frail brunette in need of protection, but the woman in the photograph was a voluptuous blonde; sexy and capable.