Looking Good Dead

now and then for a few seconds, sometimes longer, she seemed to disappear into a world of her own. The last time he’d raised it with her she had snapped back at him that sometimes she needed space, thinking time. But she sure as hell sometimes chose odd places and times to do it.
    Eventually she unclipped her belt and climbed out of the car. He locked the Audi, then walked to the front door, put his key in, pushed it open and politely stepped aside for Kellie to go in first.
    The television was blaring. Christ, he thought, the children were asleep; didn’t Mandy have any common sense? Then he looked around, surprised that Lady hadn’t barked or come bounding out to greet them.
    Kellie put her head through the lounge doorway. ‘Hi, Mandy, we’re back! Did you have a good evening? Turn the sound down, will you, love?’
    The babysitter’s reply was drowned out by the din of the television.
    Tom walked into the lounge. Because he had been driving, he’d drunk very little and was now feeling in need of a stiff nightcap. Except it would be wise to wait until he had dropped Mandy home. It was a good couple of miles to where she lived; stupid to risk it.
    On the screen a teenage girl was standing in a rain-drenched alleyway, screaming, as a shadow bore down on her. Mandy was sprawled out on the sofa, a teenage magazine open on the carpet, along with several sweet wrappers, an empty pizza carton and a Coke can. Engrossed in the movie, without taking her eyes from the screen she hovered her left hand over the carpet, searching for the remote, but she was several inches off target.
    Just as the girl on the television screamed even louder, Tom knelt,grabbed the remote off the floor and muted the sound. ‘Everything OK, Mandy?’
    The teenager looked a little surprised by the sudden silence, yawned, then smiled. ‘Yeah, fine, Mr Bryce. The children wasn’t no trouble – good as gold both of ’em. I’m a bit worried about Lady, though.’
    ‘Why’s that?’ Kellie asked.
    Sitting up and putting on her boots, Mandy replied, ‘She doesn’t seem herself. She normally comes and sits with me, but she didn’t want to leave her basket tonight.’
    Tom and Kellie both walked anxiously into the kitchen. Lady, curled in her basket, did not even raise an eyelid. Kellie knelt down and stroked her head. ‘Lady, darling, are you OK?’
    Mandy followed them in. ‘She drank quite a lot of water a while ago.’
    ‘She’s probably got a bug,’ Tom said, glancing at half a congealed pizza lying on the work surface, along with a knife and fork, and a tub of melted Tesco caramel crunch ice cream with the lid off. He knelt and stroked the Alsatian as well. Cocking his head at the dog he asked, feeling very sleepy suddenly, ‘Have you got a bug, Lady? Feeling grots?’
    Kellie stood up. ‘Let’s see if she’s any better in the morning. If not we’ll have to call the vet.’
    Tom gloomily saw a big bill coming, but it couldn’t be helped. He loved the dog; she was a part of his family, part of his life. ‘Good plan,’ he said.
    Kellie squared up with the babysitter, then told Tom she would drive Mandy home.
    ‘It’s OK, I’ll do it,’ Tom said. ‘I deprived myself of all those fine wines – I might as well drive her.’
    ‘I didn’t drink much either,’ Kellie said. ‘I’m fine. You’ve done enough driving tonight. Have a drink and relax.’
    He didn’t take much persuading.
    Tom poured himself two fingers of Armagnac, flopped down on the sofa and flicked the remote, changing from the horror film Mandy had been watching to a golden oldie comedy show, Porridge, and watched Ronnie Barker in prison for a little while, before changing again, this time to an American football game. He heard the front door close andthe sound of the Audi starting up, and felt a good, warm sensation as the first sip of his drink slid down his throat.
    Then he stared into the glass and swirled the dark liquid around pensively. He was wondering what the difference was between Philip Angelides and himself. What qualities had made Angelides such a financial success and himself such a failure? Was it luck? Genes? Ruthlessness?
    Outside, Kellie reversed into the street, then began to drive down the hill, making small talk with Mandy. Even if she had looked more carefully in her mirror, she would never have noticed the car that pulled out to follow her.
    It was more than a hundred yards behind and had no lights on.

41
    Roy Grace, unsteady