Jackie could almost have been asleep. He was sitting, legs sprawled open, his back to the navy-blue double doors of the house, his head slumped forward on his chest.
He’s asleep, she told herself. Or drugged? She was hoping against hope that this could be true.
Max passed her where she stood frozen on the steps. And then she realized. It wasn’t oil at her feet, it was blood, and it had flowed down the steps from Jackie’s body. Unable to move, too shocked to move, she watched as Max crouched down by Jackie, lifted his head and then . . .
‘Oh, holy shit!’ said Annie, her hand flying to her mouth and bile surging into her throat. Jackie’s neck had been slashed open and his shirtfront was soaked through with blood. She could smell the coppery stench of it now; it hit her in a wave.
Max let Jackie’s head fall back down on to his chest. It was like releasing a puppet’s strings, Annie thought. There was no life left in Jackie; he was dead.
‘Stay there a minute,’ said Max, and got out his key and opened the door.
Jackie fell back across the threshold and lay there, inert. With Annie’s body blocking anyone’s view from the road, Max dragged Jackie into the hall, then motioned for Annie to come on in. She did, stepping around the dark waterfall of blood, gagging, her feet leaden, her heart pounding dully in her chest.
She closed the door behind her, flicked on the hall lights and looked down at Jackie. The brilliance of the chandeliers only served to highlight the awful pallor of his face, the deep wound across his neck, the half-open lids showing filmed-over eyes that saw nothing.
‘Shit,’ she moaned.
Max was crossing to the hall table, snatching up the telephone. She didn’t even listen to what he said, her mind was spinning out of control and all she could think was that this was down to her. All evening, she’d been afraid of something like this, and now here it was. Jackie had helped her – and he’d died for it.
Max returned to her side, took her arm. There was blood all down his shirt and on his jacket. ‘Come on, let’s go in here,’ he said, and guided her across the hall and into the study, shutting the door firmly after them, turning on the lights.
‘Chris and Tone are on their way,’ he said.
Annie nodded. This had happened before here, this procedure. A clean-up. A dead body shipped discreetly out and disposed of. Which meant no Christian burial for Jackie Tulliver, just a trip out into the depths of the English Channel or down into the concrete foundations of a new building or a motorway bridge.
‘Oh God,’ said Annie, sitting down behind the desk and sinking her head into her hands. She looked up at Max. ‘Do you think Redmond . . . ?’
‘Dunno. Would he have had the time? What about his creep of a mate, that Mitchell sort. He’d been up to something, before he came in the back door. Could be that this is his handiwork.’
‘I can’t believe this.’
‘Shit happens,’ said Max.
‘Is that all you’ve got to say? Jackie’s dead, and you say “shit happens”? That poor little bastard, he was mourning his mum and drinking to numb the pain, and all your lot, all you rotten fuckers, you turned your backs on him because you thought he was a loose cannon and not to be trusted.’
Max gave her a long look. ‘He wasn’t to be trusted. He turned into a drunk. You can’t ever trust drunks.’
‘I think he would have got himself back on track, with some help.’
‘Well, that ain’t going to happen now.’
‘Christ, you’re a bastard.’
‘Just stating the obvious.’ Max came over, leaned on the desk, stared down at her. ‘For what it’s worth, Jackie Tulliver was a good friend to me back in the day. I’m sorry he’s dead, and sorry it was this way and not peacefully in his own home. But shit does happen, and we’re going to deal with it.’
There was a heavy knock at the front door then; Max straightened and went to answer it.
‘You can stay in here,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘You don’t have to see this.’
‘No.’ Annie shoved herself upright on shaky legs. ‘I got him into this. So whatever there is to see, I’ll see it. OK?’
‘OK,’ said Max, and opened the door into the hall, where Jackie lay dead.
Annie braced herself, and followed.