The Dead Beat Read Online Free PDF

name. I don’t know you.’
    Martha tilted her head towards the scratchy seats. ‘I really think it’s better if we take a seat.’
    ‘Are you sleeping with Gordon?’
    ‘What?’
    A newfound aggression in the woman’s voice. ‘Is that what this is about?’
    ‘Why would I . . . never mind. No, I’m not sleeping with anyone.’ More than she meant to say.
    Samantha’s eyes narrowed. ‘Just tell me what you know.’
    Martha looked round, hoping Billy or the police or the nurse would come and save her from this. But there was no one.
    ‘Gordon phoned the obituary desk this morning.’
    ‘To phone in sick, yes?’
    ‘No,’ Martha said. ‘He began dictating an obituary. He seemed distressed. The obituary was his own. Then he shot himself while still on the phone.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘He shot himself.’
    ‘With what?’
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘With what?’
    ‘A gun.’
    ‘Don’t be stupid, Gordon doesn’t have a gun.’
    Silence for a moment.
    ‘Why?’ Samantha said.
    ‘I’m sorry?’
    ‘Why would he do something like that?’
    Martha looked at her and felt a wave of empathy rush over her. ‘He tried to kill himself, Mrs Harris. He attempted suicide.’
    The light went out of Samantha’s eyes. A heavy realisation and understanding.
    ‘Shit,’ she said.
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Shit.’ Her legs gave way beneath her. Martha caught her arm as she slumped, but didn’t have enough strength to hold her up. Instead Samantha’s weight dragged them both down to a clumsy thump on the floor. They sat on the ground, thin blue carpet under their backsides, Samantha with tears in her eyes.
    ‘How did you find him?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘If he was on the phone, how did you find him?’
    ‘My colleague got his address from HR, we jumped in a taxi and broke the door in.’
    Samantha shook her head. ‘You broke down our front door?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘How did he have a gun?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Gordon doesn’t own a gun.’
    It was Martha’s turn to shake her head. ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘How is he?’
    ‘I don’t know that either. We came with him in the ambulance, but they took him straight through there.’ Martha nodded towards the double doors.
    It felt weird, sitting on the floor, like being back at primary school. Martha could see a piece of chewing gum stuck under the reception desk, a few dust bunnies in the corner of the room. The ceiling seemed impossibly far away.
    Samantha was sobbing, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
    ‘Maybe we should get up,’ Martha said.
    Their legs were kind of tangled together. Samantha leaned in to Martha and laid her head on her shoulder. Martha thought about snot and tears. Then thought about her dad jumping from North Bridge, the ‘most effective’ way to go. Don’t ever shoot yourself in the face, kids. She wondered if the surgeons would keep Gordon Harris alive, and what kind of existence he would have if they did, with half his face missing. What would Samantha think of that?
    ‘Mrs Harris?’
    Martha looked up. A male and a female police officer were towering over them.

9
    ‘Explain it to me again.’
    Martha explained it again.
    The police had split them up. Samantha was in one corner of the waiting room with the female cop, hunched over on a seat with a tissue pressed to her nose, the policewoman in close, communing with her. Martha had got the male cop, who was being a lot less cosy. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be married to someone and have them blow half their face all over your living-room sofa and walls. The female cop reached out and touched Samantha’s knee. Martha thought about the male cop touching her leg. He was tall and dark but not handsome, an outsized human in his anti-stab vest, clumpy boots, and with all the familiar cop paraphernalia hanging from his belt like he was Batman.
    As she told the officer again what had happened, she left out the part about recording the phone conversation.
    ‘Then what happened?’ The cop had a