Authors: Alex Barclay
Shaun Lucchesi was stretched out in front of the television with a bottle of beer in his hand and a packet of tortilla chips in his lap.
‘For crying out loud,’ said Joe. ‘It’s seven o’clock on a Monday night, Shaun. Do you really think having a beer is a good idea?’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Shaun, still looking at the screen. He raised the bottle to his lips.
Joe watched him until he decided he couldn’t take any more.
‘This is all wrong,’ he said, walking over and grabbing the beer out of his hand.
Shaun sat up. ‘What the hell?’
‘I’ve had enough,’ Joe shouted. ‘Your attitude sucks.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
‘Stop it,’ said Joe. ‘Just shut the fuck up.’
Shaun’s mouth dropped open.
Joe sat down, rubbing his forehead. ‘I apologize,’ he said. He glanced over at Shaun. He looked lost. But his whole family had changed in a year. And he hadn’t spent any of that time dealing with it.
Joe spoke quietly. ‘Look, Shaun. I’m sorry. I’m worried about you. So’s your mom.’
Shaun sighed. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not,’ said Joe. ‘And I know you know that deep down.’
Shaun shrugged. Joe was looking at the same bored indifference he showed his father at eighteen. He couldn’t work out if it made it easier or pissed him off more.
‘There really is a difference between drinking now and when I was eighteen,’ said Joe.
‘Yes,’ said Shaun. ‘You probably wore bell-bottoms while you were doing it.’
‘Maybe,’ said Joe. ‘But seriously, it was different. We didn’t drink that much, that young.’
‘It’s not like I’ve a major problem.’
‘Famous last words,’ said Joe. Shaun shrugged.
‘Shaun, listen. You’re drinking, heavily, four nights a week. It won’t end well. Why are you drinking so much?’
‘I’m not. No-one else is getting crap from their parents about it.’
‘Maybe no-one else cares this much about their kids.’
Shaun rolled his eyes.
‘Come on,’ said Joe. ‘I’m talking to you about this calmly. There’s no argument going on here. But let me tell you, there will be.’
Shaun stared at the floor.
‘If you’re drinking to forget … things,’ said Joe. ‘That’s when me and your mom get worried. We know what you’ve been through more than anyone. Your friends don’t. You’re just one part of a big group. No-one there is thinking about each individual person and whether or not it’s a good idea for them to get wasted every night. They don’t care.’
‘Yes, they do,’ said Shaun.
‘No they don’t. Has anyone had one conversation with you about what happened in Ireland?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ said Shaun. ‘They know stuff, but not from talking to me.’
‘And they still think it’s a good idea for you to get wasted every night.’
‘It’s not down to them,’ said Shaun. ‘I’m my own person. I make my own decisions.’
‘Well, you’re making some very bad ones. And we’re not gonna stand by and take it. So here’s the deal: you get Saturday nights to go out. Friday, you can catch a movie with Tara or whoever, but no drinking. Every other night of the week, you’re home here. By 10.30.’
‘No way,’ said Shaun. ‘No way, Dad. No way.’
‘Way,’ said Joe. ‘Way. I’m getting to you before your mom does. She’s coming in here in a minute,
but I don’t want her to have to worry about anything, so I’m talking to you now, OK? You’ll see more why we need your cooperation on this, why neither of us need to have to worry our son is going to end up in rehab.’
‘That’s so dumb,’ said Shaun.
Anna walked into the room. ‘Hi.’ She walked over to the sofa and sat beside Shaun. He frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she said. ‘We just have something we’d like to tell you.’
He waited.
‘We’re going to have a baby,’ she said.
‘Who?’ said Shaun. He looked at them. ‘You?’ His eyes shot wide, rapidly searching both their faces. ‘What?’ He calmed slowly. ‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘You’re not kidding.’
‘Just the reaction we were hoping for,’ said Joe.
‘Thanks,’ said Anna.
‘I’m sorry, Mom,’ he said, leaning across to half-hug her. ‘Congratulations.’ He gave Joe a small smile.
‘Your mother and I … we’re very happy,’ said Joe.
‘It’s very early to tell you,’ said Anna, ‘but your father thought, just, well, I don’t need a lot of stress. I hope you can help me out with that.’
Shaun stared at Joe, but looked back at Anna kindly. ‘Sure, Mom. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m happy for you guys. I mean, it’s weird, but—’
Joe flashed a glance at him.
‘Come on, it’s weird,’ said Shaun. ‘But I guess it could be cool being a big brother.’ He shrugged.
Joe’s mobile rang. ‘I have to take this,’ he said, walking over to the window. ‘Yeah?’
‘Joe, it’s Tom Blazkow. Two things: lab results came back on that second piece of clothing from Trahorne laboratory – we got a match with Ethan Lowry’s blood. And … we got another body.’
Dean Valtry lived and died in a soulless TriBeCa loft on Duane Street. Alive, he suited the glossy, arctic white space, its angular furniture and carefully placed art. Dead, his blasted forehead and stiffened corpse turned it into a self-conscious installation. He lay fully dressed in a navy pin stripe suit, blue shirt with white collar and cuffs, gold tie and gold cufflinks, slumped against a long low-backed sofa. His mouth hung open.
Danny and Joe looked down.
‘Death don’t do percentages,’ said Danny.
‘Shot in the head while he was sitting on his sofa,’ said Joe.
Dr Hyland looked up and nodded.
‘Probably too engrossed watching himself on TV to notice the killer come in,’ said Danny.
‘Hey,’ said Bobby, walking over.
‘First precinct isn’t as safe as it used to be,’ said Joe.
‘No shit,’ said Bobby.
‘What happened here?’ said Joe.
‘Looking like a twenty-two again, but obviously his face hasn’t had the crap bashed out of it.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Anyone talk to the neighbors?’ ‘A lot of the apartments are vacant,’ said Bobby. ‘Wealthy owners who come to the city couple of times a year, actors, investors, whatever. The two people who were home heard nothing. The apartments are sound-proofed and are so goddamn big, they might as well be in different buildings.’
‘Let’s take a walk around,’ said Joe.
‘At least it’s not hard to see everything,’ said Danny. ‘Pass around some cheese and wine and we could all be at a gallery opening.’
‘Yes,’ said Hyland, ‘and Valtry here is the work of some edgy new up-and-comer with an eye for the macabre.’
Joe nodded. ‘Back in a while.’
He walked with Danny through the open plan apartment, moving around the crime scene techs.
‘So,’ said Joe. ‘The day we find a definite link between Trahorne Refining and Valtry’s lab, Valtry winds up dead.’
‘Yup,’ said Danny. ‘You think he was part of the whole—’
‘I think he
knew
who was. And I think they paid him a visit tonight.’
‘It had to have been someone who worked in the lab,’ said Danny.
‘Maybe we need to look further – at suppliers, whoever had to come in and out of the building, whoever could have had access to those paper drums or packages going in and out.’
‘But we spoke to everyone from the cleaning staff up,’ said Danny.
‘Well, we missed someone.’
The tour of the apartment didn’t take long – a vast, clean space, all of it as tidy as the lab, as perfectly kept as Valtry’s office.
‘He was not lying about his attention to detail,’ said Joe. ‘Look – alphabetized CDs, books – who does that?’
‘You do, you retard.’
‘Not this much, I don’t.’
Danny looked at him like he had lost his mind. ‘Joe. You’re the neatest freak I know.’ He looked around the room. ‘Makes our job easier,’ said Danny. ‘No searching around for anything. I’d say every piece of paper in every file in those cabinets is in the right place.’
Joe used a glove to slide open one of the drawers. The tabs were colour-coded, their titles neatly printed. Danny shrugged. ‘There are not enough hours in the day for this kind of shit.’
‘Yeah, well, if you organize shit in the first place, you have more hours in the day, because you don’t spend them trying to find things.’
‘Jesus, get a life,’ said Danny.
Joe walked over to the kitchen counter and
picked up the phone. He scrolled through the numbers, writing down everything from the call log. He did the same with Valtry’s cell phone.
‘Last number dialled was at 6.30 p. m.,’ said Joe.
‘Probably when he got home from work,’ said Danny.
They walked into the bedroom, which had a white brick half-wall separating it from the living space. The bed was huge, custom-made, four-poster draped in white muslin.
‘He lived here alone?’ said Danny.
‘Yup,’ said Joe.
The area was untouched, a peaceful space, far removed from the scene at the other end of the apartment.
‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘There’s something missing in this apartment.’
‘Heart,’ said Danny.
‘Yeah, apart from that.’
‘Furniture.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Equipment. Machines, all that shit we saw at his lab.’
‘But he works at his lab, doesn’t he?’
‘When he was showing us around, did you think the guy was really at home with it? Or comfortable in that environment? When he was watching himself on his television screen, I looked at his calendar and almost every evening he had a social engagement. And he’s not doing
technician work in the day time. He’s not doing it at night. Maybe he’s doing it at the weekend, but now we know he isn’t. There’s nothing here.’
‘Yeah, but he’s the big boss. He doesn’t want to be fooling around with ovens and little scalpels and shit. He says to us, “what I do is fine art” means, “what my minions do is fine art”.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Remember the Asian girl who said we should ask Valtry to show us around? I think it’s because she had her doubts about something.’
They moved into the hallway.
‘So he just takes credit for his workers’ talent,’ said Danny. ‘That’s what bosses do. When we get the psycho who did this, you think it’s going to be us up there on the podium?’
‘Sure,’ said Joe, ‘but Valtry was doing more than that. He was producing physical work that made his lab rats think he was great.’
‘Yeah and …?’
‘And I don’t think it was him who was producing it,’ said Joe.
They walked back to Bobby.
‘Where’s the doorman?’ said Joe.
‘Shook-up downstairs,’ said Bobby. ‘Guy by the name of Cliff.’
Joe turned to Danny. ‘Let’s go talk to him.’
They took the elevator down to the first floor. Cliff sat, pale and sweating on an orange and grey
sofa in front of them. ‘I didn’t see anyone come in,’ he said. He held his right hand over his left arm. ‘I’m sorry. I got heart problems.’
‘It’s OK,’ said Joe. ‘Take it easy. You need a glass of water?’
‘No thanks. I’m good.’
‘You were here all evening,’ said Joe.
‘Yes,’ said Cliff. ‘I’m always here when I’m supposed to be here.’
‘That’s good. And no-one came to see Mr Valtry?’
‘No-one came through the front door.’
‘OK.’
‘But we have a back entrance here. We got a lot of personalities living here, entertainment industry, models, business people and they like their privacy.’
‘There’s no security detail back there?’ said Joe.
‘No and that’s the way they like it.’
‘So if I had a visitor, I can tell them where that door is and they walk right in.’
‘Well, they would need your private code, each apartment has one, but sure, they can come in, we’re not gonna know. A car could pull right up to that back door and anyone who’s been given the code can come in.’
‘Do you have a code?’
‘I have
a
code. Residents set and reset their own codes. Your neighbor won’t know your code unless you want him to, but there’s no reason you would need to give him that. If something
bad happens, whoever’s code was entered can be traced back to them. But that hasn’t happened yet … until now … and unfortunately the guy whose code was used isn’t around to tell us about it.’
‘But Valtry had to have known who he was letting in.’
‘Yeah, obviously not well enough. Valtry was one of the good guys, would have trusted anyone. We’re all really sorry this happened.’
‘So are we, Cliff.’
‘So what’s up?’ said Danny as they walked to the car.
‘What do you mean what’s up?’ said Joe.
‘You’re acting weird.’
‘What’s up,’ said Joe, ‘is that my wife is pregnant.’
Danny stopped. ‘Jesus. Well, congratulations. That’s … great news. Is it?’
Joe sighed. ‘If I was a better person, yeah, maybe.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I guess it’s good news. Least we made Shaun think it was.’
‘Chicks dig guys with babies.’
Joe laughed, then quickly put a hand to his jaw. ‘Shit.’
‘I’ll take the kid to the park for you,’ said Danny. ‘I got no problem with that. I’ll tell him quietly,
but loud enough for the hot chicks – Mommy is with the angels.’
Joe laughed again, despite his jaw. ‘You’re a sick fuck.’
Bobby Nicotero walked into the office at Manhattan North and went straight for Joe’s desk.
‘Can I have a word please, Joe?’
‘Sure,’ said Joe. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Maybe out in the hallway,’ said Bobby.
‘You can talk to me here.’
Bobby jabbed a finger towards him, his eyes blazing. ‘The hallway,’ he said, turning around and walking out.
Joe got up slowly and followed him.
‘Would you like to tell me,’ shouted Bobby, ‘what the hell is going on between you and my father?’
‘What?’ said Joe, closing the door behind him.
‘I know you’re up to something. He’s doing something for you, I know he is. And—’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ said Joe.
‘He’s acting all secretive …’ He trailed off. ‘I guess I was wrong about him cheating on my mom—’
‘Of course you were wrong,’ said Joe. ‘I could have told you that.’
‘Oh, sure you could, all-fucking-seeing-all-knowing-Joe-Lu-fucking-cchesi.’
‘Are you ever going to fucking grow up?’
‘Shut the fuck up.’
Joe let out a breath. ‘Bobby, like it or not, I care a lot about Old Nic. Your father’s bored, he misses the job—’
‘I could care less about my father,’ said Bobby. ‘I’m looking out for my ma. She’s worried sick about him. She’s just glad she got him to retirement in one piece. She doesn’t want him involved in your bullshit.’
‘Whatever is between me and your father is between me and your father,’ said Joe.
‘Yeah, just the two of you,’ said Bobby. ‘Nice and tight. But he’s got a wife, all right?’
‘Jesus Christ, listen to yourself, you fucking freak. I’m helping your father with his book, OK? That’s it. Cover blown. Big deal.’
‘You’re full of shit, Lucchesi.’
‘That’s what I’m doing, Bobby. Ask your father.’
‘I’m not asking him shit.’
‘No shit.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘You said it yourself – you could care less about your father. He wants to do something with his time. I help—’
‘What do you know about what my father wants? Nothing—’
‘Bullshit, I’ve known him for years, we—’
‘Look,’ said Bobby, ‘we’re stuck working together on this case, that’s fine with me. I can walk right back into that office and everything will be on the level. But stay the fuck away from my family.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ said Joe. ‘Get the fuck out of my face.’ He walked back into the office.
Rufo was standing at his desk holding an untouched Starbucks Grande Banana Coconut Frappuccino with whipped cream. Joe looked from the drink to his boss, but said nothing.
‘Everything all right?’ said Rufo.
‘Yeah,’ said Joe, fixing his jacket, sitting down at his desk.
‘So the plan is …’ said Rufo.
‘Well, we traced the last number called from Dean Valtry’s house to a Marjorie Ruehling, lives in the Bronx. Danny and I’ll go check it out this morning, then we got Valtry’s autopsy in the afternoon.’
‘Five hundred and fifty calories in this baby,’ said Rufo sadly.
Danny walked over and took the drink out of
his hand. ‘Want me to put this out of your misery? Or your eye line, even?’
Rufo nodded sadly.
‘A moment on the lips …’ said Danny. He sucked up a mouthful. ‘Like drinking a vacation.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Come on. Boss, we’ll see you later.’
‘Wave bye-bye to Daddy,’ said Danny to the cup. Rufo had already turned away.
Marjorie Ruehling lived off Southern Boulevard in the Bronx in the only apartment block on the street that wasn’t newly renovated, for sale or about to be torn down. Joe rang the bell for 6E. An elderly voice crackled through the intercom.
‘Yes?’
‘Marjorie Ruehling?’ said Joe.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Who is this?’
‘My name is Detective Joe Lucchesi with my partner, Detective Danny Markey from the NYPD. We’d just like to come in and talk to you about something.’
‘What?’
Joe shook his head at Danny. ‘Are you acquainted with a Mr Dean Valtry?’
‘I’m going to come down now,’ she said. ‘And you can show me your nice badges.’
‘OK, ma’am.’
Five minutes later, a skinny woman in her sixties
with a huge caramel-coloured bouffant and a peach velour tracksuit opened the door and studied the two badges. She opened the door wider and led Joe and Danny into a small, square, grey lobby lined with mailboxes, most of them overflowing.
‘That man you mentioned – Valtry,’ she said. ‘He called here last night.’
‘So you know him?’
‘Not really. He was a friend of my daughter, Sonja, from way back. You’ll need to talk to her. She’ll know more. He was calling to speak with her.’
‘Did you pass on the message to her?’
‘There was no point,’ said Mrs Ruehling. ‘I knew she was out with her husband. And Valtry didn’t want to leave a number.’
‘Could we get a cell phone and address for Sonja?’
‘Better than that. You can come in for coffee. She’s on her way over.’
Marjorie Ruehling’s apartment was a bland colour chart of creams, beiges and browns flowing between carpets and sofas and cushions.
‘How did Mr Valtry seem to you on the phone last night?’ said Joe.
Mrs Ruehling shrugged. ‘Like I said, I don’t know the man, but … I guess he seemed … he was talking quickly. That was the main thing I noticed. The phone call was over quickly after he told me to get her to call.’
‘Was he speaking clearly?’ said Joe.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He seemed impatient, that’s all.’
‘OK,’ said Joe.
They all stopped when they heard keys in the front door.
‘Oma?’ Sonja called from the hallway.
‘German for grandmother,’ said Marjorie. ‘We’re in the living room,’ she shouted to her daughter.
Sonja Ruehling walked in. ‘Hello … what’s going on?’
Her mother smiled. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘These are detectives. No big deal. Just about last night.’ Sonja frowned.
‘Someone called your mother’s home looking for you last night,’ said Joe. ‘Dean Valtry?’
‘Dean Valtry?’ She turned to her mother. ‘What did he want?’
‘He didn’t say,’ said Mrs Ruehling. ‘Just you were to call him.’
‘Did he leave a number?’ said Sonja.
‘No,’ said Mrs Ruehling. ‘It’s all very funny. Why don’t
you
ask him?’ she said to Joe.
‘How do you know him?’ said Joe to Sonja.
‘We … look, why don’t we go into the kitchen?’ said Sonja. ‘Oma, you don’t mind, do you? There’s no point in you getting into all this.’
‘As long as you fill me in later, I’m fine right here.’ She took an apple from the table beside her and started peeling it with a knife.
Joe, Danny and Sonja moved into the kitchen.
‘OK,’ said Sonja. ‘This is all strange. I know Dean Valtry because I dated his friend. But years ago, when I was twenty-one, twenty-two.’
‘I’m sorry to have to inform you that Mr Valtry was the victim of a homicide last night,’ said Joe.
‘Oh my God.’
‘Yes. And he tried calling your mother’s house several times yesterday. He was looking for you. She didn’t want to give out your number. We just want to know why he would be calling you.’
‘I have no idea.’ She lowered her voice again. ‘We weren’t even particularly close. I mean, to be honest, we didn’t really get on, God rest him.’
‘Tell us some more about how you met,’ said Joe.
‘I worked at Feelers, this bar in the East Village. One of the guys I worked with, his name was Alan Moder and we got together and Dean Valtry was his friend. That’s how I knew him.’
‘When was the last time you saw Dean?’
‘Years ago. What has he been doing?’
‘He was boss of one of the top dental laboratories in New York.’
Sonja leaned back in her seat and smiled.
‘You look surprised,’ said Joe.
‘I am. He was ambitious, so from that point of view, I get it. But from what I gathered, he wasn’t that good.’
‘Where did you get that idea?’
‘Alan. They were in college together. It was
funny, Alan dropped out and he was the one with the talent.’
‘But Valtry opened the lab.’
‘Yes, but Alan did a lot of what got Dean’s company noticed. Alan worked for Dean.’
‘Does Alan have his own lab?’
‘I have no idea where Alan Moder is or what he does.’
‘It ended badly,’ said Danny.
‘Very. Let’s put it this way – last time I saw Alan Moder, he was screaming obscenities at me in front of my work colleagues in a beautiful French bistro on 29th Street, seven years after I dumped him in the most shitty way possible, so he would never come near me again.’ Her laugh was bitter.
‘Yikes,’ said Danny.
‘I should be over it, I mean, I am over it, obviously,’ she said, ‘but you know when you just think – what a shit. I was twenty-two years old, madly in love. I thought he was too until I caught him with a woman over twice his age, some fat, wealthy woman who even I knew he didn’t give a damn about. So that’s my Alan Moder story. I’m going into way too much detail. It’s just I’ve never got it off my chest. I’m married now. Alan showed up that time in the restaurant, trying to get me back after that witch he went off with died. So there you have it.’
‘Back to Valtry,’ said Danny. ‘Can you think of
any reason he would have wanted to get in contact with you?’
She shrugged. ‘No. The three of us hung out together all the time, but it was more that he was Alan’s, like, only friend and so I was lumbered with him. He was – we just weren’t close. I’m still shocked he’s dead.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s so weird he tried to call me. That’s going to bug me. Let me know when you find out.’
‘Sure,’ said Joe. ‘What was Valtry like?’
‘He was fine,’ said Sonja. ‘Boring, if anything. Bookish, but dumb. Terrible combination,’ she laughed. ‘The type who tries to seem more intelligent, better than everyone at everything …’
‘Was he ever violent?’
‘Dean?’ She laughed. ‘No. Why do you ask?’
‘Just covering as much ground as we can, now that we have you here,’ said Danny.
‘Seeing that Alan Moder is the only link you can think of to Valtry,’ said Joe, ‘do you know how we could get a hold of him if we needed to?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he still worked for Dean.’
‘No,’ said Danny. ‘We’ve been through employee records. He’s not there.’
‘I don’t know then. Let me think. He was from Maplewood, New Jersey, but I’d say he’s never been back there. He had a major falling out with his family. It was all very dysfunctional. But you
could try them. His father’s name was Tony.’ She shrugged.
‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘Thanks a lot for your help.’
Shaun Lucchesi walked into the kitchen past his mother and grabbed a carton of juice from the fridge. He drank from it, then put it back in.
‘You will be pleased to hear it’s over between me and Tara.’
‘What?’ said Anna. ‘Why would I be pleased to hear that?’
Shaun stared at her. ‘Are you for real?’
‘What? I … she was cute,’ said Anna.
‘Sure,’ said Shaun. ‘You now think cute is, like, emaciated.’
‘She had a pretty face.’
‘Under all that makeup.’
Anna turned to him. He smiled and shrugged.
‘Want to hear something funny?’ he said.
She nodded.
‘I bought her a special edition of
Romeo and
Juliet
because she told me how much she loved it and when I gave it to her she said, “Oh my God. It was the
movie
I liked. Leonardo di Caprio is so hot.”’
Anna laughed. ‘Oh la la.’
‘I know.’
Bobby Nicotero sat at his desk in the twentieth precinct. He worked well there. His shift had
finished three hours earlier, but he didn’t want to go home. He read through copied pages of statements, making notes, highlighting, cross-checking. Nothing new was showing up. He sat back in his chair and started thinking about his two boys. He had a day off the next day – his first for weeks. They were going to the Sea, Air and Space Museum. He smiled. Then he turned back to his notes, drawn to a section of text, highlighted roughly in blue. Something finally clicked into place. He just needed to check one more thing.
Anna was lying on the sofa watching television and flicking through an oversized book of fabric samples. Joe arrived home and went straight upstairs to the bedroom. She followed him up.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hi.’
‘How are you?’
‘Fine. How are you?’
‘Fine.’
He pulled off his suit jacket, then his shirt and tie.
‘Shaun broke up with Tara,’ said Anna.
‘Really?’
Anna nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Yeah, I never ended up with the girls my ma didn’t like.’
‘You didn’t like her either.’
‘That’s not the point. It’s all about Mom. I think
maybe it’s like a dog whistle. You send out some repel signal that’s only picked up by girls who look like tramps. Which is exactly what teenage boys are looking for.’
Anna slapped Joe’s shoulder.
‘What?’ he said, smiling. ‘It’s OK. I’m past that phase.’
‘We could have another boy and have to go through it all over again. Or worse – a girl to keep control of.’
Joe said nothing.
‘What?’ said Anna. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ said Joe.
‘There is something. We have barely had a conversation this week—’
‘I’m pretty busy, Anna.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, yanking his belt from his trousers, ‘if I sometimes can’t connect your level of busy with mine, OK?’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Life’s not fair. Who says life’s fair? The shit I see … I could care less if stripy wallpaper is making a fucking comeback. Can you see how that might not matter to me?’
Anna stared at him. ‘No-one can ever win with you, can they? You arrogant—’
‘Whoa, I’m not
arrogant
,’ said Joe. ‘I’m just not living up in the clouds …’
‘Up in the clouds?’ she shouted.
It spurred him on.
‘Yeah, making up these fake little worlds where everything is perfect and everyone is happy and the sun is shining and all the people are sitting on the sofas or dancing around their fucking kitchens and bedrooms in their cute underwear with their perfect bodies, with big smiles on their faces and—’