THE ASTRAKHAN'S FEATHER

Part 2

Fifteen

"Daddy! Daddy!"

"Aaaaah, Jeez!"

Christ rolled on his side, smothering his face in the pillow. He smelt beer. It made him want to throw up. The night was a blank. His head thrummed like a calypso drum.

"Here, Dad, the phone."

To stop it ringing, Christ reached and took the phone, eyes screwed shut.

"Yeah."

"Christ?"

"Yeah."

"Johnny Trott here."

"Johnny...?"

"Ah, sorry, you're still asleep. I can tell."

"I was. Not now. Johnny...?"

"Johnny Trott. Ah, Johnny Milko."

Christ groaned. "Not today, Johnny. Jesus, we got enough."

"No, no, look, something real bad's happened over Tarrant Fields."

Christ passed a hand over his face, massaged his temples with forefinger and thumb. It didn't help.

"I'm not on the force any more."

"How come? Nobody told me? What happened? Anyway, who'd I tell then?"

Christ sat up and groaned as the room swam. Tudor looked at his father with a frown. Sax stood next to his elder brother, Brown Bear dangling from one hand.

"Call triple-oh."

"Aw, no, then I get those fools in Logan. They got no idea. Anyhow, this is the Mountain, should be dealt with by local cops." He sniffed down the phone. "Just my feeling, anyway."

Christ groaned and massaged his temples again. "Right, well what is it?"

"Car crash, down in the ditch, side of the road, near the creek. Big expensive motor, windscreen all smashed up. Had a peek inside – only from the road mind - there's blood everywhere."

There could well be, thought Christ with a sigh. Some young idiot driving too fast in the rain last night, drunk out his skull. The regularity of it up here was monotonous.

"See, thing is, the back window, all splattered with blood. All over. Like spray paint. Seems strange, that."

Christ sat up and frowned. He knew what that sounded like, though there could be a simple enough explanation, or maybe Johnny Milko just had it wrong.

"Look, call the Mountain station direct. I'll give you the number. There'll be someone on duty, should be able to sort it out for you. Don't, whatever you do, go any nearer the crash site."

"Don't worry Mr Christ, I watch CSI Miami."

Well now there's a relief, Christ thought sarcastically.

"Right. Give the station a call now, please."

Christ put the phone down, groaned, bent forward, rested his head down almost between his knees. He took a deep breath and slowly looked up with bloodshot eyes. His two sons remained standing in front of him.

"Boys?"

"Last night, Daddy," said Tudor quietly, "mummy came to see us."

Sixteen

Christ said carefully, "What did mummy say?"

Tudor looked at his father with sad eyes. "Said she loved us. Said she'd never let us go."