Our House(113)
Merle considers. ‘Maybe, but the whole place is going to be sealed off, so now’s your only chance to take your passports and financial stuff. Like we said, we might need to explain why your prints are inside some of the boxes.’
Fi nods. ‘Do you think there’ll be sirens?’
‘Yes, I think an ambulance will come first. They won’t just take our word for it that he’s dead. We’re amateurs. They’ll want to see if he can be revived. Then they’ll bring in the forensics people.’
‘You definitely got rid of the phones?’
Merle nods. ‘I threw them as far into the lake as I could. No one saw, I’m sure of it. If it turns out someone saw us parked in the car park, we pulled in because I felt sick, okay? It’s happened a lot lately.’
What with her being pregnant – being pregnant and yet still choosing to do what she is doing. There is atonement and then there is this.
With the distant scream of a siren, they sidestep once more through the gully between the boxes to wait on the balcony. The street below is slick with rain, reflecting in lurid flashes the colours of the passing car lights. The smell is unexpectedly fresh and renewing, as if the nearby park is on the cusp of spring, the worst over.
The first vehicle, an ambulance, runs the red light at the junction and approaches Baby Deco in the near lane, while the oncoming traffic gives way and waits.
‘Last chance to change your mind,’ Merle says.
Fi knows no answer is required. It is an illusion that she can change her mind now; they both know there is only one narrative ahead. And it’s a good one. The bottom line is that as long as no link is made between the Toby Fi has been dating and the Mike sprawled lifeless in her flat, she has a fair chance of getting away with it. Freedom, if not for Bram, then for her and their sons.
As the paramedics exit their vehicle, Fi and Merle return inside. Merle positions herself in front of the intercom before the buzzer goes, a conductor taking charge of her stage.
‘Ready?’ she says, her fingers poised to press.
‘Ready,’ Fi says.
The buzzer goes.
56
4 March 2017
Lyon
The pills are already assembled in the kitchenette when he writes the last line. Enough to kill a horse, in his non-professional judgement. Less grisly to stumble upon than a hanging.
He was convinced it would be easier for you if he wasn’t here to bring more shame on you.
He has left no message, nor taken any precautions to spare the sensibilities of the poor cleaner, his most likely discoverer, whose next shift is in two days’ time. Far too late to pump him empty and save him.
The last words are written. A story about his speed-awareness course: not how he would have predicted he would sign off when he started this account, but it’s as illuminating a tale as any. It’s in his voice; it gives the reader the measure of him.
Plus the bank details, of course. No doubt there will be delays, but he trusts the police and the lawyers to determine that the money is rightfully Fi’s and to allow her due access to it.
He titles the file ‘For the attention of Detective Sergeant Joanne McGowan, Metropolitan Police’, copies it to a memory stick, and turns off the laptop. Of course, he could safely use the WiFi now, no police officer on earth would get here quickly enough to stop him, but after six weeks offline he has no appetite for reconnection with the world. Besides, he feels like getting some air, taking a last stroll.
As he walks to the internet café, he thinks how funny it would be if he found the place closed down, forcing him to search for another, bringing him back into contact with humanity, happenstance, a last chance at life.
It is open.
Exactly as planned, he is less than five minutes at the computer terminal. He noted and memorized the email address before he left London, but for good measure he copies in a general address for the Serious Collisions Investigation Unit at Catford. As he waits for the document to upload, he reminds himself that he needs to make a decision about which music to play while he loses consciousness. It should be a requiem, by rights, or opera, perhaps, but he has none in his collection.
Maybe Pink Floyd.
No doubt it’s disingenuous, but he really does think of this document as his last gift to Fi. Not only does it divulge the means by which she can claim the proceeds from the house, but it also exposes Mike: his criminal acts, his coercion of Bram and deceit of Fi. Especially his deceit of Fi. Because the police need to know that she became entangled with this evil man only because he targeted her – she has done nothing wrong herself, not a step, not a breath.
Once the police know that Mike is Toby and Toby is Mike, they only need ask Fi how and where to find him and then she and the boys will be safe.
At last, seeing that the file has successfully attached, he presses ‘Send’.