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He showed Adams the card. “I found this pushed under the lamp over there,” he said, “only the edge was showing. Did you put it there?”
“Never seen it before,” said Adams.
“It’s Nick Barber’s card.”
“So what? That doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves he was here at least once.”
“But you already know that.”
“It also has his Fordham address written on it, so anyone who saw it here would know where he was staying when he was killed. Nice meeting you, Mr. Adams. Have a safe drive home. I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon.”
Saturday, 20th September, 1969
While Chadwick was cheering on Leeds United to a 2-0 victory over Chelsea at Elland Road that Saturday afternoon, Yvo
She was surprised, and more than a little put out, when McGarrity opened the door, but she asked for Steve, and he stood aside to let her in. The place was unusually quiet. No music or conversation. Yvo
“What?”
McGarrity put a record on and sat in the armchair opposite her. He had that sort of fixed, crooked smile on his face, cynical and mocking, that always made her feel nervous and ill at ease in his presence. His pale skin was pockmarked, as if he’d scratched it when he had chicken pox as a child, the way her mother said would happen to her, and his dark hair was greasy and matted, flopping over his forehead and almost covering one dark brown eye. “Steve. He’s out. They’re all out.”
“Where are they?”
“Town Street, shopping.”
“When will they be back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe I should come back later.”
“No. Don’t go so soon. Here.” He handed her the joint.
Yvo
“Why are you being so rude? You’ll share a joint with me, but why don’t you want to stay and talk to me?” He handed her the joint again and she took another couple of drags, hoping it would set her at ease, calm her down. What was it about him that disturbed her so? The smile? The sense that behind it lay only darkness?
“What do you want to talk about?” she said, handing the joint back to him and picking up her cigarette again.
“That’s better. I don’t know. Let’s talk about that girl who got killed last week.”
Yvo
“You met her. I know you did. Wasn’t she pretty? Sad, isn’t it? But it’s an absurd and arbitrary world,” he said. “That sort of thing could happen to anyone. Anywhere. Anytime. The pretty and the plain alike. As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport. Not with a bang but a whimper. One day you’ll understand. Have you read about those people in Los Angeles? The rich people who got butchered? One of them was pregnant, you know. They cut her baby out of her womb. The newspapers are saying they were killed by people like us because they were rich piggies. Wouldn’t you like to do something like that, little Von? Kill the piggies?”
“No. I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Yvo
“His scythe cuts down the i
Yvo
“Why?”
“Because you’re making me nervous.”
“Why do I make you nervous?”
“I don’t know, but you do.”
“Is it exciting?”
“What?”
He leaned forward. She could see the decay on his front teeth, bared in that arrogant, superior smile. “Being nervous. Does it make you excited?”
“No, it makes me nervous and you excited.”
McGarrity laughed. “You’re not as stupid as you look, are you, little Von? Even when you’re stoned. And here was me thinking the only reason Steve wanted you was for your cunt. But it is a pretty little cunt, isn’t it?”
Yvo
“You don’t need to show me it,” he said. “I’ve already seen it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve watched you. With Steve.”
Yvo
He reached forward and touched her cheek with his finger just as he had done at the Grove. It felt like a slug. “Yvo
Her chest tightened. “What do you mean?”
“Steve. Do you think you’re the only pretty girl who comes around here to take her clothes off for him?”
Yvo
“Yvo
He was looking at her with that mocking smile on his face again.
“Stop it!” she said. “I won’t believe you. I want to go home.” She tried to rise again and proved a little more successful this time. She was still dizzy, though, and soon fell back.
McGarrity stood up and started pacing up and down, muttering to himself. She didn’t know if it was T. S. Eliot or the book of Revelations. She could see the bulge at the front of his jeans, and she knew he was getting more excited every second. She didn’t trust him, knew he had that knife somewhere. Unless… Christ, he had probably had his way with Linda and killed her and got rid of the knife. That was why he didn’t have it. Yvo