CHAPTER SEVEN
DENIS TANTER CAME INTO my home at 9.28 in the morning. I looked up at the wall clock, so I know. He hit the front door so hard that I think he would have smashed the lock right off if we’d locked it. It hammered back against the wall and then bounced off his shoulder as he bulled his way in. I’d read him right, I was pleased to see. I’d told my brother he wasn’t the type to send Michael in first, not if his blood was up. It didn’t seem to worry my brother, but I wanted Denis in first. He was the dangerous one, not his man. I’d known that from the beginning.
He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on. I could see that from the moment he caught sight of me in the kitchen. I was looking pathetic, with tear trails down my face and an expression of stunned fear. It wasn’t hard to fake when you know someone is going to die in the next few minutes and it could very well be you.
‘Where is she?’ he roared at me. He was flushed with high emotion, and for an awful moment I thought he was going to go charging upstairs to search the bedrooms for her. I shook my head and gestured vaguely across the kitchen. He scowled at me and I saw his fists rise as he stepped inside the door. Michael was a shadow in the hall behind him, but I could only watch Denis as my brother struck. God, he was fast. You’ve never seen anything like it.
It wasn’t a crunch. It sounded like a bag of flour bursting, a sort of soft thump. Staring straight at Denis, I swear I saw the end of the bar sink into his head before it came back. The anger, the light, everything that called itself Denis Tanter went out in an instant. My brother hit him again as he began to fall, and then once more. I couldn’t help remembering the way he’d kicked and kicked at the man in Camden and I knew there was at least one other body in his wake. There are moments in our lives when the lies we tell ourselves just fall away. This was one of them, for me.
My brother ignored Michael as the man stood stunned in the doorway, his mouth open in horror. Instead, my older brother looked at me and grinned. He didn’t seem to care that Michael was there. I watched in sick fascination as my brother nudged Denis with his foot. The body twitched and I thought I might lose my breakfast.
‘Dead, or a vegetable, no doubt about it,’ he said, and I swear he chuckled. I’d rarely seen him happier. Perhaps you can see now why I’ve always been frightened of him. It wasn’t so much what he did, but what he was capable of.
Michael began to move and I was pleased I couldn’t see my brother’s expression when he turned back to finish the job. There are sharks in the world and, like Bobby Penrith before him, Michael just wasn’t prepared to meet a bigger one in my kitchen, on that day. I saw him reach into his jacket for some sort of weapon. My brother didn’t trouble to stop him. He just smacked the bar against the side of Michael’s head, breaking something inside. Michael dropped almost as fast as Denis had, as the signals from his brain to his legs were interrupted.
I came to my feet in a sort of trance, feeling only pity for Michael. He was a hired man, after all, but I’d sat and watched him twist my fingers right round and I didn’t call out to save him, even if I could have.
The man Denis had hired to cause a little fear in those he dealt with had always struck me as large, not fast, but strong. It was surprising to see how my brother loomed over him as he hit him again. Fear shrinks you somehow, and courage swells you up larger than you really are. I’ve noticed that before.
I’d found my own bit of pipe in the plumber’s bag my brother had brought with him. I don’t think he heard me coming, but even if he did he didn’t expect me to smash it down on him with all the strength of years of fear and hatred. I’d seen him break a skull just a few moments before and I’m pleased to say that I did it just as neatly as he did. I killed my brother as he hit Michael for a second time, so that the two blows sounded almost together. He fell sideways, sprawling over the broken bodies. He didn’t move and I almost left it at that, but he’d seemed to think two hits were needed to be sure. I held my breath and brought the pipe down again onto his crown, with all the force I could. It was already soft and I felt it give. His eyes were open and I don’t think he could still feel anything. The first one had been pretty hard.
There was some blood dripping, but it wasn’t too bad. Most of it was on them and spattered across the kitchen. It looked just as he’d said it would, like a violent scene of a fight.
I stood looking at them for a while, I can’t say how long. My stomach betrayed me, of course, so I wasted a few minutes vomiting into the sink and wondering if I should get rid of it or leave it as a reasonable reaction to such horror. I left it, in the end. The police would come asking eventually and I knew they could be persistent. My brother was right about one thing, though. The self-defence works even better with him dead. I had an idea that I might even end up as a hero.
When my stomach had stopped going into spasm, I sat down at the kitchen table and poured a last toast to the three of them.
I raised my glass to my brother. ‘Here’s to growing up, old son. You should never have slept with her,’ I told him. ‘That was just a little too much for me. Still, it’s all forgotten now.’
I found myself chuckling, and it was an effort to stop. I wondered if he even knew I’d found out, that Carol had thrown it at me in one of our fights. He wasn’t the sort to feel guilt. I’ve no doubt that it was just a thrill for him to find a beautiful woman willing to waste an afternoon, no matter who she was married to. It was strange to see the way they acted around each other after I knew. Whatever memory they’d made had gone a bit sour, I could see that. Perhaps she’d refused a second round, or he’d refused her. It didn’t matter to me much, not any more.
It was strange to see the bodies in my own kitchen. I’d seen it in my imagination enough times, but to have actually reached the point was like time standing still and more than a little bit frightening. Reality is like that, I’ve found.
I’d worked out most of the details while I was standing in the freezing sea waiting for my brother to read the note I’d left for Carol and come and get me. I remember worrying that he might have had an accident or a flat tyre, and all my effort would have been wasted. I knew seeing me there would get him on my side. I was always his blind spot, his little brother. I don’t think he cared about another living soul. I’m not ashamed to say there were tears in my eyes for a while, looking at him. Brothers are close.
I’d hardly needed to persuade him after he found me standing in a foot of dark water, trying hard to imagine what it must be like to commit suicide. Really, it couldn’t have gone better, it really couldn’t. My debts were all paid, and I sort of hoped Bobby Penrith knew they had been.
The police would accept my story, if I left enough shocked blanks in it. It was simple enough, after all. I’d let him guide me where I wanted to go. Just two brothers fixing a pipe in a kitchen and being attacked by a violent pair of criminals. I wondered if I should explain about Carol to the police. No. I didn’t want them knowing I had any kind of motive. I thought they would believe Denis was obsessed with her without knowing he’d tried her out a few times as well. It worked very nicely.
I walked outside the front door, pulling it shut behind me. The neighbours were at work as always, so there wouldn’t be any witnesses the police could interrogate. It took a couple of thumps with my shoulder to break the lock. No doubt it would be another bruise to show the police when I told them how Denis Tanter had tortured me. Perfect.
I remembered to put my pipe in Michael’s hand while I was scattering the contents of the plumber’s bag over the kitchen floor. I found a knife in his other pocket, the one he’d been reaching for when my brother knocked him down. After a bit of thought, I let him hold it in his other hand, taking care with my own prints.
There were a lot of things to remember. There would be blood spatter on my clothes, but I thought that would be fine. I could see it would be suspicious if there wasn’t in such a small space, with three men beaten to death. I was pleased with how clearly I was thinking.
When I sat down at last, I had the phone in my hand to call them. I’d done everything I could and I thought, yes, Davey, you will get away with this. I said the words aloud, even, while they all just lay there and bled. That was one surprise. No matter what you’ve heard, the sheer volume of blood is a shock. It just doesn’t seem possible to have that much in you. It’s not true that dead men don’t bleed, either. These ones did, for a while at least. The kitchen was covered in the stuff and I still can’t believe just how sticky it is when it gets on you. Different shades of red as well.
I had thought I could handle Denis Tanter, just as I’ve dealt with a few other men over the years. When I realized I couldn’t, I thought I would let my brother handle him. It was just an idle thought at first of how nice it would be if both of the bastards killed each other. I hadn’t really thought about afterwards, though. If there had ever been a place to think about afterwards, it was that kitchen with its pool of blood and a smell I never want to get near again.
It’s not often you have an opportunity like that, you see. Yes, I could beat the court case, if it even went to court. The Crown Prosecution Service has to decide there’s a case they can win, and my plea of self-defence against those boys was going to be a beauty. I could walk away, but then there was Carol. Did I really want to walk away with her? I couldn’t help but think that if she had been in the middle of this mess when Denis and Michael arrived, perhaps she too would be lying there and I would be free. Really free, as opposed to the shadow of it I’d been enjoying for a few brief moments.
It was clearly a day for new beginnings. Instead of the police, I rang her and told her I was going to take all her sleeping pills in one go. I put the phone down in the middle of a sentence, then removed its battery. I wasn’t worried. I’d work out the details before she got home.
About the Author
Blackwater
Born in London, Conn Iggulden read English at London University and worked as a teacher for seven years before becoming a full-time writer. He lives in Hertfordshire with his wife and their children. He is the author of the number one bestselling Emperor series.
For more information about Conn Iggulden and his books, please visit his website at www.conniggulden.com
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