Текст книги "A Fate Worse Than Death"

Автор книги: Jonathan Gould

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

* * *

Over breakfast, Jessie had given me directions to her secret passage between Heaven and Hell. That afternoon, I followed those directions and found an old grate low down in a wall between two houses. It was from behind this grate that Jessie had stared, observing the good people of Heaven before eventually emerging to join them in their games.

I waited by the grate for several hours, trying to convince myself to take the first step. Every so often, I would make a haphazard approach, shaping as if I was actually going to set off, but something always made me stop and hang back. Maybe it was the bright sun getting in my eyes, temporarily blinding me. Maybe it was a slight twist of my ankle as I leant down to inspect the grate. Or maybe it was the sight of a couple of passersby in the street, conveniently alerting me to the fact that it wouldn’t be wise to be spotted fleeing Heaven via this illicit passage.

After a while, I decided to return to the office. It seemed prudent to wait until dark to attempt the journey. That way, I was sure to be able to leave Heaven unnoticed. And besides, after my nerve-wracking encounter with God, I could do with a couple of hours’ rest. If Hell really was as bad as Jessie claimed, I wanted to be in an alert state of mind when I got there.

From the moment I entered the office, I had a feeling I wasn’t alone. I crept into the kitchen and turned on the light, but there was nobody there. The only observable company were the glasses from last night, still standing by the sink.

As I approached the bedroom door, I noticed it was slightly ajar. I eased it open and slid through. My arm stretched. My fingers reached out, probing. I felt the cold touch of plastic, and with a flick of my fingers, the room was bathed in light. Then I saw my guest.

A couple of legs were draped over the end of the bed—a couple of long, sleek legs that did not exist in isolation, but were merely the lower regions of a body that contained more perilous curves than a winding mountain road.

“I thought you’d never get back,” said Sally.

“Long day at the office, honey.” I took off my hat and put it on the table by the bed. She immediately grabbed it and placed it on her head. I grabbed it back and returned it to the table. She giggled.

“I hope you’re finished with your little game,” she said, “because I’ve got a few ideas for some games of my own.”

“Then I suppose I’d better go and find a board and some dice.”

“Those aren’t the kinds of games I’ve got in mind.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. I’m not much good when it comes to card games.”

Sally fluttered her eyelids. “Oh please don’t be like that. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m prepared to make it all up to you.” She stood and walked over to me. She put her hands on my shoulders, and with a touch like silk she gently slid my coat off.

“Isn’t that better?” she breathed into my ear.

“Much better,” I agreed. “So where have you hidden your boys?”

“What do you mean?” she murmured.

“Your two policemen. Are they hiding in the cupboard? Or are they skulking in the shadows outside?”

“I came here alone. I just wanted to see you.”

“Sure you did. You just couldn’t wait for me to get my hands on you. And then what? Just one scream, and suddenly your boys are jumping on me and dragging me downtown for a rap that’s going to be a lot harder for me to squirm out of this time.”

She slapped me across the face. “Of all the nerve. No one has ever spoken to me like that. I’ve a good mind to—”

I never did find out what her mind was good for, because at that moment there was a knock on the office door. I pushed Sally onto the bed, hurried back to the office, and opened the door. Jessie stood there. She started to open her mouth, but before any words could come out, a voice rang out from the room beyond.

“Who is it, sweetheart?” Sally promenaded into the office, took one look at Jessie, and then, before I could stop her, wrapped herself around me and violently attached her lips to mine.

I brushed Sally aside, and just for a second my eyes met Jessie’s. Then Jessie was gone. I started after her, then stopped. I walked back into the office where Sally was now sitting in my chair, her legs resting on top of the desk.

“I’ve got to give you credit,” she laughed. “You’re a faster mover than I thought. Though I hardly would have expected that little sap to be the type to fall for you.”

“Get out,” I snarled. It wasn’t my most sophisticated riposte, but it seemed to neatly sum up everything I wanted to say. Not that it made much difference to her.

“Don’t think you can order me around. You’re a pathetic excuse for a detective. You couldn’t even solve a crossword puzzle.”

I didn’t try to order her around. Instead, I grabbed her by the waist and heaved her over my shoulder. Then I carried her out of the office and into the street. All the while, she screamed and struggled and pummeled her fists into my back.

“Put me down, you beast. Put me down.”

I acceded to her demand, allowing her to fall inelegantly to the ground. Immediately, she began to hurl a stream of abuse in my direction.

“You’re germ, Clarenden. You’re weed and a parasite. Filth like you doesn’t belong here. You’re a stain on the purity of Heaven.”

I walked away. Sally didn’t know it, but her wish was about to be granted. It was time for me to leave Heaven, at least for a while. I was now on the road to Hell.

Chapter 10

I HAD BARELY TRAVELLED a block from my office before my suspicions regarding the reason for Sally’s visit were confirmed. Two voices were approaching from behind me. Voices I had grown to know and love during my brief stay in Heaven.

Fortunately, giving Lizard Neck and Frying Pan the slip turned out to be as simple as taking broccoli from an eight-year-old. I made a quick left turn down a side street, doubled back and made a right turn down a second street, and ducked behind a large willow tree. Then I watched as the two of them went bumbling past, pulling on each other’s arms and insisting I had gone the other way.

When the sound of their squabbling had finally receded into the distance, I emerged from my hiding spot and continued my journey. It was still early in the evening, so there were a few people out in the street. As they strolled past, I couldn’t help noticing the beatific looks they bequeathed upon me, and the expressions of utter peace and contentment on their faces. At last, I began to understand what it was Jessie saw in this place. These people had lived their lives; they’d experienced their moments of happiness and pleasure, but they’d also had to work hard and suffer. Now, all of that was over, and they could enjoy a well-earned rest. Heaven catered everything they needed. Their time for worries was over.

At that moment, I realised why I could never fit into Heaven. I had no time to rest. I had a job to do, a case to solve. Unlike everybody else here, I still had plenty of worries.

As I approached that old grate in the wall, a chill ran down my spine. What would I find when I actually arrived in Hell? Could it possibly be as frightful as Jessie claimed? I tried to allay the sudden sense of dread by turning my mind to other things, such as the mess of mangled motives I had alliteratively constructed in my head.

Over the last couple of days, my wanderings through Heaven had revealed no shortage of possible suspects. It seemed that everybody I’d met had some sort of gripe with God’s supposedly mild-mannered son. Sure, some of them were less plausible than others. I had difficulty believing Peter could be the culprit. Even though Phil was responsible for turning him from God’s divine gatekeeper into an overstressed middle manager, he didn’t seem the type to act on his grudges. And besides, when would he have found the time?

Another suspect I was prepared to discount was Alby Stark. He might have professed a profound dislike for Phil, but then again he seemed to hate everyone else in Heaven just as much. In all my conversations with him, he’d never indicated an interest in anything beyond sitting around in a bar, getting sozzled on soda.

There was just the one name that blazed brightly above all others. Someone obsessed with keeping undesirables out of Heaven. Someone furious with Phil for allowing Alby to stay. Sally’s taunts, threats, and sinister midnight liaisons only served to confirm her position at number one on my hit parade of suspects. Everything about her behaviour matched exactly with the sort of person I was looking for. And everything everyone else said about her, from Peter’s complaints to Jessie’s warnings, put the finishing touches onto my suspicions.

Thinking about my companion from the previous night, I suddenly realised my personal feelings were well and truly interfering with my professional judgment. What of Jessie, a risen angel with a fear of falling? I had no valid reason for removing her from my suspect list. What better motive could there be than the dread of a possible return to Hell? I knew she was terrified of Sally, but could Phil also have represented a very real risk to her? If she could dispose of Phil while at the same time putting the blame onto Sally, she could remove both threats in one fair and blushing swoop.

I stopped and shook my head. It was all just supposition. I had no evidence for any of this. There had to be some missing link—something that connected Phil’s disappearance to the subsequent removal of Raphael. And I had a feeling those bags of rubbish in Raphael’s house had something to do with it.

I turned on my heel and began walking back in the direction I had come. I needed to speak to somebody with a talent for sniffing out garbage, and I had a pretty good idea where I would be able to find him.

* * *

The Loaf and the Fishes was empty and the barman was just finishing wiping the bar when I strolled in and took a seat.

“My usual please,” I said to the barman.

He didn’t hand me a lemonade. Instead, he regarded me from over the cloth. “I’m sorry. We’re about to close.”

“Already? Is it early closing tonight?”

“This is the same time we close every night,” he said, hanging the cloth behind the bar. “Now if you’d be so kind, I’d like to lock up.”

“Regulations really are tough here.” I placed my finger down and traced out a circle on the freshly wiped bar surface.

The barman’s face didn’t change as he retrieved the cloth and wiped away the circle. “I’m afraid you’re wrong. We have no regulations in regard to closing times.”

“So why close so early?” This time, I traced a triangle.

“Do you see anybody left to serve?” he said as the triangle disappeared under his cloth.

“Okay, I get the idea,” I said, tiring of my geometrical exercises. “I need to speak to Alby. I’ve got a message for him.”

The barman couldn’t help chuckling. “Do you really think he wants to speak to you?”

He had a point. The last time I’d been here, Alby had responded to my gift of soda water by suggesting I insert my head into a particular part of my lower body, using words that had probably never been heard in Heaven before.

“I have a feeling he may be better disposed the next time we meet,” I said. “Can I have some paper and a pen?”

He handed them to me and I quickly scribbled a note. Then I turned away from the bar. Careful to avoid the barman’s scrutiny, I took the bottle of bourbon from my pocket. I removed the label from the bottle, folded it into my note, and turned back to the bar.

“I can’t stress how important it is that this gets to him,” I said as I handed the note to the barman.

“I will see that it gets delivered.” He placed the note on a shelf above the bar. “But now I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

“And a very good night to you, as well.”

I stood up and left the bar. As I walked back towards my original destination, I noticed that The Loaf and the Fishes was not the only establishment closing up. Everywhere I looked, doors were being locked, lights were turning off, and the ranks of people in the streets were thinning. Heaven was shutting down for the night.

I quickened my pace. I couldn’t wait to get out of Heaven. I was utterly sick of the bland food in the uninteresting restaurants that closed before you were hungry anyway. Sick of the smiles and the general air of contentment that every resident wore like a treacle-coated cloak. Sick of the endless streets with the overly manicured trees and the absurd lack of litter of any kind. I could have gone on listing things I was sick of, but before I knew it, I had arrived. There before me was the grate in the wall, a welcome point of escape from the dreariness of Heaven. The fact that it was also the point of entry to somewhere that might turn out to be far worse was no longer a concern. From this moment onward, I was on my way down.

The grate wasn’t difficult to lever off. It was something of a squeeze to get into the hole in the wall, but eventually I managed to drag myself through. I reached back through the opening and picked up the grate, taking one last look at Heaven before I returned it into position. Then, barely a second after I’d wedged it into place, I pushed it out again to take another look.

The final item in my anti-Heaven diatribe had been incorrect. The street outside was not clear of litter. It wasn’t filthy, but it wasn’t spotlessly clean either. Even in the dim light, I could make out a number of small pieces of paper and plastic flapping in the wind. One flew past and became stuck in the grate. I pulled it off and tossed it away. Then I slammed the grate firmly into place. A few extra pieces of rubbish weren’t going to make me dislike Heaven any less. It was time to go.

I turned away from the grate to be faced by total darkness. I pulled out my lighter, and with the aid of its dim flame, I managed to make out what looked like either a very small storeroom or a very large closet. Just beside my feet, in the middle of the floor, a large hole gaped. I crouched down and peered into its depths, but the feeble beam from the lighter faded out well before it reached whatever was at the bottom. I moved the light around the top of the pit and a spark of metal caught my eye. Then I lowered the flame slightly until I detected another glint of metal, and another one below that. Here was the ladder Jessie had described to me. It was nothing more than a series of brass rungs wedged into the sides of the hole, descending in a helical pattern into the blackness.

They say two negatives cancel each other out, but as I stared down into that hole, my fear of heights wasn’t doing anything to cancel out my fear of darkness. Eventually, I took a deep breath and lowered myself in, reaching out with my feet until I found the first rung of the ladder. Then, slowly and carefully, I began to climb down.

For what seemed like hours, I continued my journey. The darkness enveloped me, like a giant bat enclosing me within its wings. With every step, I gripped the rungs above while my foot searched for the next rung below, not daring to breathe until it was firmly planted. My mind turned off to everything except the rhythm of my movements—right foot down, left hand down, left foot down, right hand down. My face was freezing. My hands had less feeling than a bank manager. Still, I continued. Right foot down, left hand down, left foot down, right hand down.

Finally, after I couldn’t tell how long, my hands had no more strength to grip the rungs. My fingers slowly unclasped and, too exhausted to even scream, I plummeted away from the wall and into the blackness.

I didn’t fall for long. Almost immediately, I landed on something soft. As it turned out, I had practically reached the bottom before I’d let go. I lay for about five minutes, recovering my strength and enjoying the marvellous fact that the ground at the bottom of the hole happened to be spongy and bouncy. Then I remembered Jessie telling me that she’d placed a mattress here to break her fall in case of such an accident. She said she’d never had to use it herself. I’m sure she’d be glad to know that it worked.

I stood up, shivering slightly. I’d dressed light, figuring I’d be dealing with extreme heat down here. I wasn’t expecting it to be more than a bit on the chilly side. I looked around. In the darkness, I could see little. But with the aid of a thin shaft of light coming through a crack in the far wall, I could just make out that I was in some sort of abandoned warehouse. As I walked towards that sliver of light, I became aware of a noise coming from somewhere beyond the room—an indistinct, dull humming. I couldn’t tell what was making the sound, but it seemed strangely familiar.

I reached the crack in the wall and discovered that it marked the outline of a door. I pushed the door open easily enough, walked through, and immediately it hit me.

It was the hum I’d heard in the room, only magnified five hundred times. At this volume, I was able to make out exactly what it was. It was people shouting and music blasting. It was engines roaring and car horns blaring. It was all the sounds I had grown to know and love, but which I’d almost forgotten about during my time in Heaven. If I hadn’t already been sure, it was the final confirmation that I’d made it into Hell.

I surveyed my surroundings. I was standing at the end of a short, narrow alley. It was nighttime, but although there were no stars visible, the sky glowed with a pinkish hue. The buildings on either side of the alley were derelict. The door through which I had come was almost hidden behind the grunge that decorated the walls all around. Unless you were looking for it, you’d have had no idea it was there.

I walked to the end of the alley, bypassing several large mounds of rubbish. And then I got my first glimpse of the true spectacle that was Hell.

What a spectacle it was. If Heaven had been closing down for the night when I left, Hell was just starting up. The street in front of me was jammed with people, all moving at a speed that suggested a bomb threat had just been broadcast. Neon flared from the buildings all around, while the strains of loud music came floating out from open doors. On the roadway beyond, cars hurtled past. All in all, it was one of the most magnificent sights I had ever seen.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to stand and savour these delights to the senses. I had work to do. I needed to speak to the man in charge, and I knew exactly who that was going to be. Only problem was, I had no idea where to find him.

I emerged from the alley and regarded the passing parade. I felt like I was standing on the bank of a flooding stream, and that if I took one more step forward I would be swept away. I singled out one of the faces on the edge of the stream and waved my arms to try and get his attention.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find the Devil?”

For a moment, the man looked like he was going to stop. For barely a second, his eyes met mine. Then he was rushing past and on his way.

Obviously he was in too much of a hurry to stop. I chose another face, this time a good-looking blonde in a too-tight skirt, and I spoke much louder.

“Can you tell me where I can find the Devil?”

Again, I received the same response. I’d swear that she heard me. I saw the slight pause in her movement before she too hurried away.

The third time I tried, I was practically screaming, but it still didn’t seem to make any difference to the sharply-dressed young man who was racing past.

I decided to try a different strategy. Instead of trying to attract somebody’s attention, I placed myself directly in their path. This time, they wouldn’t have a choice except to stop.

I was wrong. The heavyset gentleman only seemed to recognise my existence after he had careered into me and we’d both been sent flying to the ground. He stood up first and dusted himself off. Then he grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to my feet.

“What’s the idea, punk?”

“No idea,” I replied quickly. “I just wanted to ask you a question.”

“Well I’ve got an answer for you. Stay out of my way.” And he threw me to the ground again.

With a tear welling in my eye, I watched him hurry away. At last, I felt like I was home again.

I discovered that as a result of this bruising encounter, I’d been propelled through the crowd to the edge of the road. Right beside my face, cars were zooming past with drivers whose feet seemed to be permanently welded to the gas pedal. I couldn’t help noticing that a large proportion of these were taxis. If the residents of Hell were so reluctant to tell me how to get to the Devil, I could always catch a cab there instead.

I stood up and flagged down the first taxi I saw. Straightaway, it veered towards me. But as it stopped and I opened the door, someone else ran from behind and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door in my face as the taxi raced off. I tried flagging down another one, but again I was too slow climbing in. After the third time, I gave up. If these people wanted taxis so much, they could have them. I would find the Devil, even if I had to walk all night.

So I walked around Hell. Down the streets buzzing with energy and life. Through the melees and quarrels and street brawls that seemed to rage on every second corner. Past the restaurants offering the hautest of haute cuisine and the clubs that pulsated with the sounds of live music, tempting me to abandon my search for the undoubted pleasures within. Yet I stood firm, and after I’d walked for an hour or so, I reached my destination.

A huge castle towered before me. It looked like a diabolical mirror image of God’s palace back in Heaven, with soaring towers topped by thin spires. But where God’s palace glistened and gleamed, this castle . . . unglistened and ungleamed. It was so black that light seemed to disappear into it, as if it were being consumed. I knew as I looked at it that this had to be the home of the Devil. Even the welcome mat reeked of evil.

I examined the massive door to the castle. On the right side there was a small black button, carved in the shape of a hideous face. I pressed the button. A deep bell reverberated through the walls above me. And then the door slowly swung open.

I walked through the forbidding gateway and found myself in a large hall. To call it a little bit gothic would have been like saying the Taj Mahal was a little bit shiny and marbly. Arched vaults soared above my head and grotesque faces peered out from every surface, their faces leering in the shimmering candlelight. The only thing missing was the spooky organ music.

At the far end of the hall, at the foot of a broad staircase, a figure stood. Slowly, the figure turned towards me, revealing a face so gruesome it made the gargoyles all around look like catwalk models. The skin was an angry shade of red. The eyes were pinpricks that glowered beneath thick, dark brows, and the mouth was thin and cruel. A pair of sharp horns extended from the top of the head, while under the chin, a small, pointed goatee jutted out. I guessed immediately who the bearer of this ghastly visage must be. Surely I had come face-to-face with the Prince of Darkness himself.

I looked at him. He looked at me. Never before had I experienced a gaze of such pure malevolence. Never before had I faced such utter and unadulterated wickedness. For a moment, my instinct was to turn tail and flee from this castle of terror. But before I had a chance, a door opened at the side of the hall and another figure emerged.

He was a tall man in a dark suit. I recognised him immediately as the one I’d seen in Sally’s mansion.

“Mr Jimmy Clarenden,” he said. “How splendid to see you. I’ve been expecting you.”