Dead Pretty by Roger Granelli Page B

the open windows, to be forced back into the room by the outside breeze, forced back into the coughing lungs of the drinkers. Kelly’s world was Loserville, but Kelly was by no means the most hopeless inmate. Mark scanned the ravaged faces and lost eyes of the late afternoon drinkers and knew this world of lager breath and piss-stained trousers was just a taxi ride away from some of the richest places in the world. Mark sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He wanted more sleep.
    â€˜Mr Richards? I said you haven’t …’
    â€˜Yes, I heard you, Kelly. No, nothing like that. Just working a lot lately.’
    â€˜All the bloody country is working too hard, if you ask me. And getting nowhere. Know what some kid said to me the other day. Life is shit and then you die. Makes you think, eh?’
    Mark knew that anyone in the pub could be watching him, working for a few quid in the way Kelly did for him. Well, they could watch him get drunk, with a derelict. Kelly hadn’t stopped talking and Mark re-focused on what he was saying.
    â€˜Aye, she’s a lovely girl, all right, that Lena. A real stunner. All the boys in here say that, when they see her passing. Nothing out of order, mind, outta respect for you, like, Mr Richards.’
    Out of fear, more like, Mark thought.
    â€˜She don’t look nothing like that Tony though,’ Kelly continued. ‘He looks more like a wop to me.’
    â€˜You’ve got a good memory, Kelly. You only saw him that once, that time I brought him here.’
    â€˜Nah, I seen him the other day. He was outside your flat. Didn’t see me, like. You musta missed him. Come to see his sister, did he?’
    Mark dug his hand into Kelly’s arm, making his drink spill on both of them.
    â€˜The other day?’
    â€˜Ow, don’ do that, Mr Richards. Yeah, that day you wanted that car. In the morning. It was early for me.’
    â€˜Where was he? Exactly?’
    â€˜By them railings near your flat. Just waiting like. Someone picked him up in a motor, nice one too, one of them Lexus things. You’re hurting my arm, Mr Richards.’
    It was taking more than a few seconds to sink in. Was Tony the voice? Lena’s own brother? It could have been him, the accent was similar. No, this was crazy. Mark knew he was shaking his head, denying it to himself. Kelly had gone very quiet, not daring to pull away from his grip.
    â€˜Mr Richards, my arm.’
    Mark loosened his grip.
    â€˜You’re absolutely sure about this? You saw Tony the morning I asked you to get me that car?’
    â€˜Yeah. I was going to go up to him, say hullo, like, but he wouldn’t have remembered me, would he? Anyway, he looked like a man with a lot on his mind. He looked like you do now, Mr Richards.’
    Mark tried to think. He had to fight against lager and whisky to focus on what Kelly was saying. Drunk or half sober, Kelly was usually reliable for this type of information, especially when he didn’t know the significance of it. But Lena’s own brother? He thought back to the other night in Coventry, his instinct that the man wasn’t surprised to see him, that somehow he’d been expecting him.
    â€˜Why the fuck didn’t you tell me this earlier,’ Mark said, ‘when you got the car?’
    â€˜I only just thought of it. What’s the big deal anyway? Didn’t your missus tell you her brother was down? You have been having a row, haven’t you?’
    â€˜I’ve got to go,’ Mark said.
    He pushed Kelly away, spilling some more drink. Faces turned to look at him, and any one of them could be his enemy. Mark pushed a ten at Kelly.
    â€˜You stay here and have a few more. And keep that bloody mobile on.’
    â€˜Sure, Mr Richards, you take it easy.’
    Most of the light had faded into summer dusk by the time Mark got back to the flat. The mothers and children in the park had been replaced by older teenagers, kids from the