all bad, and you’d think well, fuck it, there’s a bit of me left yet and you’re not having it.’
‘You?’
‘It. Death. God. Darth Vader. Whoever. Doesn’t matter. If there’s a chance, you grab it. The price on the box doesn’t matter. Sixty grand? A hundred? A million? It’s just money, son. It doesn’t count. You don’t even think about it. It’s what’s inside the box that’s going to float your boat.’
‘And this woman? Maddox? She was with you the whole time?’
‘Yeah. Never left me, not once. Tell you the truth, she was a headcase. She had this mad plan to take us both off to Africa. You ever heard of Arthur Rimbaud? ’
‘No.’
‘Me neither. Not before I met her. But Rimbaud turned out to be a poet and she loved everything about him. He ended up in Ethiopia and we were going too but it all got too difficult in the end so we went to Phoenix instead.’
‘For the op?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How was it?’
‘Beautiful. The week before it happened I was shitting myself. If I didn’t die on the table I thought I’d end up a basket case. Wheelchair. Towel to dribble in. Potty underneath. Crap television. The works. And you know what? I had cheeseburger and chips the night before, they gave me a couple of big fat pills to sleep on, and then it was six o’clock in the morning and the whole pantomime kicks off. Injection I never even felt, faces going all blurry, then it’s four hours later and there isn’t a bit of me that hasn’t got a tube hanging out. Maddox loved it. Nearly died laughing.’
‘She stayed with you afterwards?’
‘For a bit, yeah, until I was on my feet.’
‘And then?’
‘She fucked off down to South America. I got a card just before Christmas. Load of Indians weaving carpets. Ecuador? Christ knows … ’
Winter broke off and shrugged. He missed Maddox more than he cared to admit but this wasn’t the place to say so.
Tarrant was draining his pint. Winter reached for his empty glass.
‘Same again, son?’ He got to his feet and picked his way towards the bar, glad of the chance to get away for a moment or two. Not counting Maddox, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his guard down like this. Tarrant was cannier than Winter had realised. If times got tough at the mortuary, the boy might consider a year or two with CID, guesting in the interview suite.
Back at the table, Tarrant wanted to pick up the threads again, talk about what life felt like when you’d been so close to losing it, but Winter wasn’t interested. Life, he said briskly, was a big fat peach. What mattered now was making the most of it, something he fully intended to do. Had he changed at all? Of course he had. Were his priorities different? You bet. Was he about to take this conversation any further? No fucking way.
‘There’s a bloke called Givens.’ He beckoned Tarrant closer. ‘Something tells me you might know him.’
‘Alan Givens?’ Tarrant looked surprised. ‘At work, you mean?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sure I know him. He hasn’t been around a bit lately but … yeah … ’
‘What’s he like?’
‘He’s all right.’ Tarrant was frowning. ‘Why?’
‘He seems to have disappeared.’
‘ Disappeared? How?’
‘I’ve no idea. And neither do your bosses.’ Winter took a swallow of Stella, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘How well do you know him?’
‘So-so. He’s a bit of a loner, really. Drives one of the delivery vans. Bimbles round the city with trays full of samples. Picks them up from QA, from our place, sometimes from GP surgeries, delivers them to the analysis labs. He used to drop by the mortuary when we had anything for him but, like I say, we haven’t seen him for a while. Tell you the truth, I assumed he’d got another job.’
‘Elsewhere, you mean? Outside the hospital?’
‘Dunno.’ Tarrant shrugged.
‘Local, is he?’
‘No. I can’t place the accent but it’s definitely from the north somewhere. I’m not
‘You?’
‘It. Death. God. Darth Vader. Whoever. Doesn’t matter. If there’s a chance, you grab it. The price on the box doesn’t matter. Sixty grand? A hundred? A million? It’s just money, son. It doesn’t count. You don’t even think about it. It’s what’s inside the box that’s going to float your boat.’
‘And this woman? Maddox? She was with you the whole time?’
‘Yeah. Never left me, not once. Tell you the truth, she was a headcase. She had this mad plan to take us both off to Africa. You ever heard of Arthur Rimbaud? ’
‘No.’
‘Me neither. Not before I met her. But Rimbaud turned out to be a poet and she loved everything about him. He ended up in Ethiopia and we were going too but it all got too difficult in the end so we went to Phoenix instead.’
‘For the op?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How was it?’
‘Beautiful. The week before it happened I was shitting myself. If I didn’t die on the table I thought I’d end up a basket case. Wheelchair. Towel to dribble in. Potty underneath. Crap television. The works. And you know what? I had cheeseburger and chips the night before, they gave me a couple of big fat pills to sleep on, and then it was six o’clock in the morning and the whole pantomime kicks off. Injection I never even felt, faces going all blurry, then it’s four hours later and there isn’t a bit of me that hasn’t got a tube hanging out. Maddox loved it. Nearly died laughing.’
‘She stayed with you afterwards?’
‘For a bit, yeah, until I was on my feet.’
‘And then?’
‘She fucked off down to South America. I got a card just before Christmas. Load of Indians weaving carpets. Ecuador? Christ knows … ’
Winter broke off and shrugged. He missed Maddox more than he cared to admit but this wasn’t the place to say so.
Tarrant was draining his pint. Winter reached for his empty glass.
‘Same again, son?’ He got to his feet and picked his way towards the bar, glad of the chance to get away for a moment or two. Not counting Maddox, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d let his guard down like this. Tarrant was cannier than Winter had realised. If times got tough at the mortuary, the boy might consider a year or two with CID, guesting in the interview suite.
Back at the table, Tarrant wanted to pick up the threads again, talk about what life felt like when you’d been so close to losing it, but Winter wasn’t interested. Life, he said briskly, was a big fat peach. What mattered now was making the most of it, something he fully intended to do. Had he changed at all? Of course he had. Were his priorities different? You bet. Was he about to take this conversation any further? No fucking way.
‘There’s a bloke called Givens.’ He beckoned Tarrant closer. ‘Something tells me you might know him.’
‘Alan Givens?’ Tarrant looked surprised. ‘At work, you mean?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sure I know him. He hasn’t been around a bit lately but … yeah … ’
‘What’s he like?’
‘He’s all right.’ Tarrant was frowning. ‘Why?’
‘He seems to have disappeared.’
‘ Disappeared? How?’
‘I’ve no idea. And neither do your bosses.’ Winter took a swallow of Stella, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘How well do you know him?’
‘So-so. He’s a bit of a loner, really. Drives one of the delivery vans. Bimbles round the city with trays full of samples. Picks them up from QA, from our place, sometimes from GP surgeries, delivers them to the analysis labs. He used to drop by the mortuary when we had anything for him but, like I say, we haven’t seen him for a while. Tell you the truth, I assumed he’d got another job.’
‘Elsewhere, you mean? Outside the hospital?’
‘Dunno.’ Tarrant shrugged.
‘Local, is he?’
‘No. I can’t place the accent but it’s definitely from the north somewhere. I’m not
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