Page 80 of Witness 8

‘Why would you kill him?’

‘There are a number of reasons. First, he took out one of my targets before I could pay them a visit. He is a competitor, but in my line of work competition is, shall we say, cutthroat? Let’s call it a Darwinian approach to the economics of murder. With fewer professionals operating, prices will go up. There is also the challenge to consider. Most of my targets don’t know I exist until they feel my blade at their throat. Angel knows my work. I’ll enjoy the test.’

I got up, slowly, confidently, so Mr. Christmas would not see it as a challenge.

‘Give New York’s Finest a message from me, will you?’

‘Certainly,’ he said.

‘Tell them to back off. Before it’s too late.’

‘I’m afraid they won’t respond well to that message. Angel and I are not the only ones chasing the contract on your head. The 88s are looking for you too.’

‘The neo-Nazis?’

‘The very same.’

‘Any other good news for me?’

‘Yes, I think matters are coming to a head. All of this will be over quite soon. One way or another.’

34

Ruby

Since Althea’s betrayal, Alison had relied on Ruby more and more. She’d even given her a key to the house. When Ruby arrived at the Jacksons’ on the first morning of the trial, and let herself in, Alison was in the kitchen wearing her dark business suit. She was getting used to seeing her without make-up. Not that she usually wore much, just foundation and some light touches here and there. Since her mother’s death, there was no point. Alison cried every day. It wasn’t just loss – it was a dark wound deep inside her that would never fully heal. And today was the start of the process that would see her husband sent to prison for the rest of his life. It was, in a manner, another form of grief.

‘Let Tomas lie in bed for as long as he wants,’ said Alison. ‘None of us are getting much sleep. There’s leftovers in the . . .’

A great burst of emotion erupted from Alison’s chest. She almost convulsed with worry, her stomach and chest heaving out great sobs. Ruby pressed her lips together, moved closer and gently rubbed Alison’s back, like one would a child.

‘It’s going to be okay. I know it. John is a good man. He didn’t do this terrible thing. People will see that,’ said Ruby.

‘I just . . .’ Alison tried to voice her thought, as if doing so would bring her some ease. ‘I made a family lasagna last night. John loves my lasagna. I keep cooking him his favorite meals. I can’t help it. It’s so stupid. He’s too sick with worry to eat, but Ikeep thinking he better enjoy this food now because if it all goes wrong he’ll never get to eat with us again . . .’

It’s the simple things that sometimes hurt people in times of great trouble. Smells, food, souvenirs on the fridge, keepsakes, an old coffee mug, the sound of a key in the front door, even a chair with its cushion worn thin and still bearing the impression of that person – little everyday landmines that the mind latches on to – bringing all the pent-up existential emotion crashing into the real world. For Ruby, it was the sound of ice cubes tumbling into a glass, the smell of bourbon. The worst of all was the buzzing.

The interminable hum of the blowfly’s wings.

‘I’ll look after Tomas, my little sweetie munchkin. Maybe play a game with him. Try to take his mind off things,’ said Ruby. ‘He’s a tough cookie.’

John came into the kitchen, pale, drawn, as if he’d not seen the sun or a decent meal in weeks. Which was probably true. The half-inch gap between his shirt collar and his neck told the same story. It was as if his life had stopped. Ruby knew he was hanging on to a thin rope – blind hope and faith in his lawyers.

Ruby would be there, in the courtroom, one day very soon, to watch the last thread of hope snap in John’s eyes.

‘Good luck today,’ said Ruby. The couple gathered themselves and left. No sooner had the door closed than the buzzing sounded. Louder and louder.

Ruuubeeeeeee.

Look at me.

She moved to the hallway and stared at the red priest. His face had changed. His eyes had turned black and fearsome, his lips drawn back to reveal sharp, pointed teeth and a long black tongue that slithered from his mouth.

Kill the boy.

‘No, I can do it another way.’

Your way is not working.