“So he’s coming here at two o’clock?”
“That’s what he said, Mr.. Meehan.” “And the van? You took it to the wrecker’s yard like I told you?”
“Saw it go into the crusher myself, just like you said.” Varley waited for his sentence, face damp with sweat. Meehan smiled suddenly and patted him on the cheek. “You did well, Charlie. Not your fault things went wrong. Leave it to me. I’ll handle it.”
Relief seemed to ooze out of Varley like dirty water. He said weakly, “Thanks, Mr.. Meehan. I did my best. Honest I did. You know me.”
“You have something to eat,” Meehan said. “Then get back to the car wash. If I need you, I’ll send for you.”
Varley went out. The door closed. Billy giggled as he fondled the whippet’s ears. “I told you he was trouble. We could have handled it ourselves only you wouldn’t listen.”
Meehan grabbed him by the long white hair, the boy cried out in pain, dropping the dog. “Do you want me to get nasty, Billy?” he said softly. Is that what you want?” “I didn’t mean any harm, Jack,” the boy whined. Meehan shoved him away. “Then be a good boy. Tell Bonari I want him, then take one of the cars and go and get Fat Albert.”
Billy’s tongue flicked nervously between his lips. “Albert?” he whispered. “For God’s sake, Jack, you know I can’t stand being anywhere near that big creep. He frightens me to death.” “That’s good,” Meehan said. Til remember that next time you step out of line. We’ll call Albert in to take you in hand.” He laughed harshly. “Would you like that?”
Billy’s eyes were wide with fear. “No, please, Jack,” he whispered. “Not Albert.” ”
“Be a good lad, then.” Meehan patted his face and opened the door. “On your way.”
Billy went out and Meehan turned to Donner with a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him, Frank. I don’t really.”
“He’s young, Mr.. Meehan.” “All he can think about is birds,” Meehan said. “Dirty little tarts in mini skirts showing all they’ve got.” He shivered in genuine disgust. “I even found him having it off with the cleaning woman one afternoon. Fifty-five if she was a day -and on my bed.”
Donner kept a diplomatic silence and Meehan opened an inner door and led the way through into the Chapel of Rest. The atmosphere was cool and fresh thanks to air-conditioning, and scented with flowers. Taped organ music provided a suitably devotional background.
There were half-a-dozen cubicles on either side. Meehan took off his hat and stepped into the first one. There were flowers everywhere and an oak coffin stood on a draped trolley.
“Who’s this?”
“That young girl. The student who went through the wind-screen of the sports car/ Donner told him,
“Oh yes,” Meehan said. “I did her myself.”
He lifted the face cloth. The girl was perhaps eighteen or nineteen, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, the face so skillfully made up that she might only have been sleeping.
“You did a good job there, Mr.. Meehan,” Donner said.
Meehan nodded complacently. I’ve got to agree with you there, Frank. You know something. There was no flesh left on her left cheek when she came to me. That girl’s face was mincemeat, I’m telling you.”
“You’re an artist, Mr.. Meehan,” Donner said, genuine admiration in his voice. “A real artist. It’s the only word for it.”
It’s nice of you to say so, Frank. I really appreciate that.” Meehan switched off the light and led the way out. “I always try to do my best, of course, but a case like that – a young girl. Well, you got to think of the parents.”
“Too true, Mr.. Meehan.”
They moved out of the chapel area into the front hall, the original Georgian features still beautifully preserved, blue and white Wedgwood plaques on the walls. There was a glass door leading to the reception office on the right. As they approached, they could hear voices and someone appeared to be crying.
The door opened and a very old woman appeared, sobbing heavily. She wore a headscarf and a shabby woolen overcoat bursting at the seams. She had a carrier bag over one arm and clutched a worn leather purse in her left hand. Her face was swollen with weeping.