numbers, too, would be found on both Wilder’s and Reed’s cell phones, and Perry Reed’s prints would be found on the weapon, having been lifted from a coffee mug in his office and transferred to the gun before it was planted, a fact that was obviously unknown to the police and, indeed, to Perry Reed.
One of the detectives was later heard to comment that Perry Reed was officially in more trouble than any other single human being he’d ever encountered in the course of his entire career, closely followed by Alex Wilder, with Henry Gibbon a distant third. The arrests were credited to an anonymous tip-off, and everyone seemed pretty satisfied with a good night’s work, with the possible exception of Perry Reed who was pleading innocence and demanding to know who had burned down his auto lot and titty bar, but since Perry Reed was now facing the likelihood of a lifetime in prison, nobody cared very much what he thought.
‘Very unfortunate for Perry,’ I said to Angel later that night, as he and Louis sat in a booth at the back of the Great Lost Bear, the same booth in which I had spoken to Marielle and Ernie the night before. Both men were drinking Mack Point IPA from the Belfast Brewing Company, and making Dave Evans feel uneasy for reasons that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Angel and Louis were from New York, although that wasn’t why they made Dave nervous; neither was it their homosexuality, Dave welcoming anybody to the Bear who didn’t spill beer, insult the staff, or try to steal the bar’s bear head mascot.
But Louis killed people, and Angel sometimes helped him, and, if they didn’t openly advertise this particular service, then the air of potential lethality that hung around them both was usually enough to convince the more sensible of citizens to keep their distance. I sometimes wondered how like them I was becoming: they had set up Reed and his associates, but I had formulated the plan. A moral philosopher might have said that I was becoming like those whom I fought, but he would have been wrong. I was my own unique form of monster.
‘It was almost like the man wanted to go to jail,’ said Louis, as he mused upon the fate of Perry Reed.
‘He did seem to be trying very hard,’ I agreed. ‘I wonder where all of those drugs came from?’
‘We borrowed them from some bikers,’ said Angel.
‘“Borrowed”?’
‘Well, it was more of a permanent loan.’
‘Drugs, and a gun, and child pornography,’ I said. ‘Some people might call that overkill.’
‘Other people might call it making sure,’ said Louis.
‘Well, that’s what I paid for.’
‘Remind me how much we’re getting again?’ asked Angel.
‘You want another beer?’
‘Yeah, I want another beer.’
‘Then you can consider it a one hundred percent bonus,’ I said. ‘I don’t quibble. It’s not my style.’
I called for another round. When it arrived, I drank their good health and passed them a bulging brown envelope. Beatrice Lozano’s husband had delivered it to my door earlier that afternoon. He didn’t speak, didn’t say thank you, didn’t give any sign that what had occurred in Harden might be linked in any way to what had happened to his wife. He just handed me the envelope and walked away.
‘I know you don’t need the money, but it’s nice to be appreciated,’ I said.
‘Better to have it and not need it.’ Angel slipped the money into his pocket.
‘Aimee Price say anything to you?’
‘About what happened to Reed? Nope.’
‘Smart woman. Eventually she’ll cut you loose, you know that?’
‘Possibly. Possibly not.’
‘No possibly about it. She strikes me as one of those strange lawyers who seem concerned about the law.’
‘Not as concerned as you might think when it suits her needs.’
‘Maybe she’s not so strange after all.’
‘Maybe not. You want to hear something really strange?’
‘From you? If you think it’s strange we should call the National Enquirer, get them to sit in.’
I took a sip of my beer. ‘It’s about an airplane . . .’
And as we spoke, Andrea Foster lay dying. There was blood in her mouth, blood on her hands, blood in her hair. Only some of it was her own.
She lay still, reliving the events of the last days and hours of her life. She hovered above herself and her husband, saw them ascending the incline, making their way toward whatever it was that the stranger had been pointing at. She watched them pause, heard Chris’s exclamation of surprise, then