‘Shall we begin?’ he said.
Mary nodded.
‘How much do you know about Amy Hide?’
‘Enough. The photograph was enough.’
‘Well we know a little. We know the sort of things she did, the sort of people she was with. One night she went too far. Something happened. We’re not sure what. You know what murder is, don’t you?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Usually we find a body and have to look for a murderer. With Amy Hide we find a murderer and have to look for a body. We don’t find it. We’ve got a confession, a guy in a cell saying what he did and why. But we haven’t got a body. Where is Amy Hide? Then you come along. Show me your teeth.’
Mary made a rictus of her mouth. It felt like someone else doing it for her.
‘Mm, pretty teeth. No help though. It seems that Amy never had any trouble that way—anyhow we can’t find any records. Ditto with the doc. So it’s a hell of a fix.’
‘Is it a crime to be murdered?’ Mary asked.
‘What?’ Mary thought that nothing could startle Prince; but this startled him. ‘Why did you say that?’
‘I just wanted to know. Is it a crime? Can you be punished for it?’
‘Well it’s a strange way to break the law. You see, the thing … ‘ He hesitated and wiped his forehead with his palm. ‘No. You needn’t know that yet. That’ll come later.’
‘What will?’
‘You’ll see.’ He was calmer again now, and amusement reappeared in the line of his lips.
Mary said, ‘What do you get if you break the law?’
‘Time,’ he said.
‘What do you get if you murder someone?’
‘Life.’
‘What’s life like?’
‘Murder.’
‘Is it?’
‘Hell,’ he said and laughed. ‘Don’t ever try it. Hey, Mary.’
‘What?’
‘Are you good or are you bad?’
‘… I’m good. I am.’
‘… Are you?’
She made her eyes contest him with all their light. She said,’ Have you ever done a terrible thing in a dream, and then woken up still believing it was true?’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘I feel like that all the time. All the time.’ ‘Poor Mary,’ he said, ‘poor ghost. Come on. I’m afraid there’s one more thing you must see tonight.’
They drove in silence. Prince was no longer disposed to talk and made some show of intentness at the controls. Mary watched the way they came with care. The river again, writhing and orderless in the lunar night, the plumed snout of a still-rumbling factory, warehouses that marched past slowly on either side and seemed to glance back over their shoulders at the car, a stretch of black grass in which an elliptical pond glinted and winked. Then the streetlights snuffed out, and she could see only the smoky beams thrust forward by the black car.
They got out and walked. Mary felt the massed volume of nearby water. Was this another river, or had the river that she and Sharon crossed subtly curled round to head them off again? There was a smell of vegetable dampness and a feeling of liquid in the air. Water dripped and trickled musically. She noticed that dark faces with white eyes watched like masks from misty doorways. Feeble, threadbare dogs—more like recently promoted rats—stared up from a split bagful of rubbish they were eating and barked weakly. The dogs looked bashful about their sudden elevation within the chain of being—as if they wished they hadn’t excelled quite so brilliantly in the rodent kingdom and could quietly go back to being rats again. One limped up to sniff at Mary’s feet, then tiptoed off again.
‘The dog doesn’t wag its tail,’ said Mary nervously.
‘Probably scared it’ll drop off,’ said Prince.
A heavy bird flapped overhead, and they could hear the hum its wings made against the damp air. Mary thought of the photograph she had once seen of an American eagle, its oriental trousers, the old eyes and their faith in the power of the ripping beak. Mary hurried on. They turned into an alley, and immediately Prince ducked through a low door, beckoning her to follow. She went in after him. The darkness and its dust made a connection with something in her head or throat, a tickle in the veins that feed the nose, the movement of a familiar but disused vent in the track of her blood. Ringed by candles, his face seemingly eyeless in their light, an old black man sat at a table by the inner door. He saw Prince and got to his feet with a sigh. Gingerly he slipped the bolt, stepping back to let Prince in. Prince could go anywhere. Everywhere had to let Prince in. Mournful, embarrassed music timed their ascent on the mis-angled staircase. Through a hole in its floor they came up into the arching shadows of the long room.
This is a slower world, thought Mary, where cause and effect never need to come around. Here people try to live on fever and magic; they can’t, but they try. She looked about, then stared at the black floorboards, letting Prince guide her by the arm. There were twenty or thirty people there, perhaps many more. In a far corner film flashed. The talk was low and drowsy with all the fever in the air.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Prince, leading her towards the music and the floppy, clumping dancers, miming chaos against the dusty lights. ‘It’s a quiet night tonight. Nothing live.’ They sat down on bendy chairs round a small square table. An old man sidled up and banged a bottle and two glasses down in front of them. ‘Christ, I hate this place,’ he said, leaning forward and starting to drink quickly.
Mary watched the dancers. There were only two couples on the floor. An eerily tall black man shuffled slumped over a little ruined blonde. His eyes were quite dead. The girl seemed to be supporting all his weight, hauling him as if in eternal punishment round the littered floor.
‘You know what they do here, Mary? Do you?’ ‘No,’ said Mary exhaustedly. ‘What do they do here.’ ‘All the usual things, all the trite things. You’d think people with these needs would pay other people to have them on their behalf, and just sit back and watch. Really this is the last place of boredom. When the world has bored you flat, you come to this place and have it bore you here. Remember?’
Mary watched the dancers. The second couple was different: it still harboured energy. They swayed together with the remains of method, the man forming elaborate patterns on the girl’s back with his tensed claws, trailing them up the knobbled curve of her spine and down past the underhang of her breasts. As they worked round the floor the girl stood facing Mary, treading air for several slow beats. She smiled. One of her eyes was puffed and purple; her hollow mouth fell open slackly with silent laughter. In her face was all the relief of having no further to fall. The man jerked her head up to his and they kissed. The girl’s good eye still held Mary—see? See? it seemed to say. I’m lost at last, lost.
‘Amy used to get down here pretty often, I think,’ said Prince.
‘Did she?’ said Mary.
‘That’s right, that’s right. Amy used to like it best when they had live action here.’ His voice moved closer. ‘Don’t you remember? Are you finding this boring? But vice is—it is. What’s your special interest, Mary? Voodoo, video, violence, vagrants, vandals, vampires? What’s your interest, Mary, what’s your special interest?
Mary turned away. She couldn’t deal with the agitation of his tone. It wasn’t anger but perhaps the eagerness of woken despair.
‘Then they find people who already know what a few teeth are worth. And after they’ve been roughed up and batted about and peed on, then you get to go up on stage and kick them about a bit yourself. The kickbags get paid—oh good, good. It’s fine, fine. Don’t you remember? Don’t you?’
Mary said nothing. The dancers were still kissing, with redoubled violence, as if eating each other’s tongues. The man was urging her to the corner where the room was darkest. Wait—there was a door there, a low door almost consumed by shadow. Still kissing, still dancing, still urging, he steered her to the door. Suddenly the girl’s head snapped back; she had seen the door and seen it open. Yes, this was further, this was a lot further, this was more, this was a whole new ledge on the way down. But she laughed and stretched her shoulders as if they were wings for flight. They were through and on the other side. The door swung shut behind them.
Mary turned to Prince. She could tell that he had been staring at her for a long time.
‘What’s behind that door?’ said Mary, as they drove back.