Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) (10 page)

Evan got to Faulkner's trailer just
before seven. Faulkner wasn't ready so he had to wait around while he pulled on
a pair of expensive-looking cowboy boots.

'I take it we're going to some
shitkicker bar after all,' Evan said.

'Shitkicker my ass. These are
alligator Luccheses, number five toe with a walking heel. Best boots you can
buy.'

'According to Roy Rogers.'

'Why don't you do something useful
and put that in the trash,' Faulkner said, tossing an empty beer bottle to him.
Evan took it through to the kitchen and dropped it in the trash can. One wall
of the kitchen was covered with more photographs, most of them of Faulkner's
wife. A lot of them were duplicates of the ones in the living room - the two of
them together on vacation and the ones of her with her parents.

'That's her with her folks,'
Faulkner said joining him. 'I thought it seemed appropriate putting those up in
here - a woman's place being in the kitchen and all.' He seemed to have
completely forgotten that he'd told Evan the exact same thing the previous day.

They went to a noisy cocktail bar
called Minge or Minx or something like that. It wasn't Evan's kind of place and
he was surprised Faulkner chose it. They sat up at the bar and he ordered an
over-priced beer and Faulkner started with a Margarita. The place was heaving and
the music was way too loud, but Faulkner seemed to be enjoying it. Further down
the bar a young woman in a pretty, clitoris-pink dress was having a very public
argument with her boyfriend. The guy said something and laughed. The girl stood
up and slapped his face hard before storming out. Evan was sure he heard the
slap above the music. It made his eyes water just listening to it.

'Ouch,' Faulkner said. 'You know, I
was in here last week and this guy walks up to a table of girls and sits down
next to them and says, "The word of the day is legs; any of you girls like
to come back to my place and spread the word"'.

Evan grinned. 'Did it work?'

'Depends on whether he set out to
get a drink knocked into his lap.'

'Presumably you get lucky some of
the time?'

Faulkner dug him in the ribs with
his elbow. 'I've got better lines than that.' He was staring intently at a
woman standing at the end of the bar. She had the largest bust Evan had ever
seen and most of it was on display.

'Good God, unhooking her bra must be
like opening a cupboard full of footballs,' Faulkner said.

'I think someone might step on your
tongue if you're not careful.'

'Sorry,' Faulkner said without
looking away from the woman, 'you were saying?'

'I went out to see Carl Hendricks
today,' Evan said. 'You called him and told him I was coming,'

Faulkner finally stopped
rubbernecking and turned to face him. 'Is that a problem?'

'No. I'd just like to know why you
did it. You didn't call Ray Clements.'

'True, but I knew the minute you'd
finished with Linda Clayton, she'd give him a call. I thought it was only fair
to give Jason the same advance warning.'

'Who?' Evan said leaning towards him
and straining to hear.

'Carl Hendricks. Isn't that who
we're talking about?'

'You said Jason.'

'No, I said Carl. You must have
misheard. The music's way too loud in here. I don’t know why you chose it.' He
turned to see if he could get another eyeful of the woman further down the bar,
but she’d gone.
But it’s pretty obvious why you chose it
, Evan thought.

'Whatever.’ he said. Despite the
noise, he knew he hadn't misheard. ‘You called him up so he could get his story
ready.'

He caught Faulkner staring steadily
at him in the mirror behind the counter. The dim – sorry, mood – lighting made
it difficult to read his eyes. Was that all part of the plan? Picking this
place so that Evan couldn’t see or hear him properly.

'He doesn’t need to. His story
hasn't changed in ten years as you probably found out.'

Faulkner finished his drink and
ordered another. Evan hoped he got something useful out of him because it was
going to cost him an arm and a leg.

'Let me take a stab at what you
found out from Clements and Hendricks,' Faulkner said. 'Clements hates
Hendricks and Hendricks hates him back. How’d I do?'

'You could have told me that earlier
and saved me two journeys.'

'You wouldn't have believed me.
You're dead set on re-inventing the wheel; who am I to stand in your way?'

'Why do they hate each other?'

'The original reason - who knows,
but I don't think it's got anything to do with the case. Just one of those
things.'

'Hendricks said the school wanted to
get rid of Clements before all this happened. That he was a pedophile - sorry,
a pederast.'

'That's just Hendricks trying to
cause trouble. Nothing new there. Besides, how would the school bus driver know
what the school was planning anyhow?'

'True, but why would he want to
cause trouble for Clements. He already helped lose him his job.'

'Because Clements helped him lose
his.'

'He said he quit.'

'He would, wouldn't he. Clements
didn't take all this lying down. He kicked up a shitstorm and started spreading
rumors about Hendricks to discredit his story. It all got very acrimonious. The
school got sick of it all and kicked them both out.'

'Why didn't you investigate
Hendricks?'

'We talked to him along with
everyone else.'

'But you didn't give him the
treatment Clements got.'

'There was no reason to. He didn't
give the kid rides home in his car and keep it secret. Besides, Clements was
badmouthing him, but all he was really saying was he had his head up his ass.
Nobody was accusing him of anything, apart from being a totally useless piece
of shit.'

'Still...'

Faulkner swivelled on his stool to
face Evan and studied him with hard, gray-blue eyes. With his steel gray hair
and well preserved physique, Evan reckoned he did pretty well with the women in
here. He was a bit too old for the cougars but he probably did okay.

'How old are you son?’

‘Thirty-two. Why?’

‘Because when all this happened, I
already had more years on the force than you’ve graced this planet with your
existence. And my gut told me he wasn’t a threat.’

‘Your gut could’ve been wrong.’

Faulkner nodded in agreement. ‘Maybe
it could, at that. And when you’re old enough to wear long pants, maybe we’ll
have that discussion. Luckily you're old enough to buy a drink.’ He pushed his
empty glass towards Evan.

Evan wasn't happy with Faulkner's
answer but he knew he'd have to leave it for the time being. If he pushed
Faulkner too hard, especially after a few drinks, he'd either get angry or clam
up.

After he'd ordered the next round,
he decided to change the subject to a less confrontational topic before
bringing up Schneider.

'How comes Hendricks can afford such
a big place?'

Faulkner stiffened almost
imperceptibly but Evan caught it.
What the hell was that about?

'No idea. Maybe he won the lottery.'

'Has he always lived there?'

'I don't think so. I think he moved
into town a couple of years before all this happened.'

Evan wanted to push it further but
he was getting the feeling all Faulkner's answers were going to be negative. He
suddenly remembered what Clements had said about Faulkner hiding something;
could this be what he meant?

'There's something else I wanted to
ask about.'

Faulkner opened his eyes wide in
mock amazement. 'No kidding?'

'Do you remember anything about a
woman called Barbara Schneider? She went missing around the same time?'

'Not particularly. Should I?'

'There were rumors going round that
Robbie Clayton ran off with another woman. Some of them even say that they
killed the boy because he found them out.'

Faulkner was paying more attention
now. Evan carried on. 'You thought Clayton took off; this woman disappeared at
the same time. According to her husband she was playing around with other men.
It all fits.'

'Most things do if you force them
hard enough. You talked to the husband?'

'Yeah. He says he talked to someone
at the time called Fukner. Was there anyone by that name in the department?'

'Don't be a smart ass. I don't
remember him.'

Evan laughed. 'You wouldn't forget
him. He's as nutty as a fruit cake.' He made a circling motion with his finger
at the side of his head. 'There's a good chance he made it all up.'

'Even so, I can't believe we didn't
look into it.'

'Apparently the rumors didn't start
until later so it wouldn't have been so obvious.' Evan was surprised to find he
was making excuses for Faulkner.

'Rumors or not, we should have put
it together.'
Especially since it fitted with your preferred explanation.

'I think Ed Guillory might be
looking into it now.'

'Guillory's okay.'

Evan thought he was going to say
more but he'd drifted off into the past. He seemed genuinely shocked that he
might have missed something important.

'You know, I kind of lost focus at
the end,' he said suddenly. He looked down and started twisting his wedding
ring. Evan realized he’d not noticed that he still wore it. Maybe he didn’t
come here to pick up women after all. 'The wife was so ill. She wasn't
sleeping, I wasn't sleeping, and it was affecting me at work. It was one of the
reasons I retired. I could have carried on if I'd wanted to. You might not
believe it, but they didn't want me to go.' He gave Evan a wry smile.

Evan didn't say anything. It was
quite an admission; he didn't really know what to say. Suddenly Faulkner didn't
seem quite the hardass that Linda Clayton and Ray Clements made him out to be.
In fact it looked like he was about to get all maudlin.

'Don't worry about giving me a ride
home,' Faulkner said. 'I'm going to have a few more then I'll get a taxi home.
You run along now.' He patted Evan patronisingly on the arm. Despite that, for
the first time that evening Evan was glad the place was so noisy and busy. If
they'd been in a nice, comfortable bar with some good music instead of the shit
they were playing here, he'd have been tempted to leave the car and get drunk
with Faulkner. He thought that would have been a very bad idea indeed. But he
was wrong; he'd have been much better off staying.

Evan didn't see the guy standing at
the end of the bar as he walked out, and he didn't see him following him.
Faulkner's mind was a million miles away so he wasn't aware of anything going
on at the bar. Besides, the guy didn’t have tits so Faulkner wouldn’t have paid
any attention anyway. Outside it was quiet and dark with a gentle breeze. He
was almost at his car when he heard footsteps coming up behind him fast. He
turned, but too late to do anything to stop the baseball bat that was jabbed
hard into his gut. He grunted loudly as the wind went out of him and he doubled
over, gasping for air.

The guy dropped the bat and placed
his palms lightly, almost gently, on Evan's head to steady it, then brought his
knee sharply up into Evan's face. A blinding flash of pain erupted behind his
eyes as Evan felt his nose break. The guy pushed him onto his face on the floor
and dropped heavily on one knee onto Evan’s back. The little air left in his
lungs was squeezed out of him. He felt like a used tube of toothpaste. The guy
picked the bat up again, hooked it under Evan's chin and pulled back hard,
crushing Evan's windpipe. He couldn't breathe; he tried to struggle but the guy
was too heavy and it was taking all his concentration trying to get some air
into his screaming lungs.

The guy used the bat to pull Evan's
head even further back. He leant down and put his mouth right above Evan's ear.
Evan could feel his hot breath on his cheek and smell his aftershave. Then, without
warning, he bit down onto Evan's ear and tore a vicious chunk out of it. Evan screamed
and writhed on the ground as the guy spat a small piece of his ear onto the
asphalt.

'That's what my ear feels like with
the amount of grief I've been getting because of you,' the guy snarled. 'I
almost wish someone would bite mine off.’ He laughed and jerked the bat again
and Evan knew he was close to passing out. Blood ran down the side of his face,
down his neck and soaked into his shirt. His lungs burned and the pressure on
his windpipe was choking him. ‘You've got something I want.'

Then the guy dropped the bat, fished
in his pocket and brought out some heavy-duty cable ties. He pulled Evan's arms
roughly behind him and knelt on them until Evan felt his shoulders start to
slip in their sockets. He looped one of the ties round Evan's wrists and pulled
it tight. He looped another two over the first one and yanked them until Evan
felt the hard plastic cut into his flesh. Then he stood up, rolled Evan onto
his side with his foot and kicked him hard in the balls.

There was a searing stab of pain,
his stomach muscles contracted violently and he jack-knifed on the ground. He
couldn't get any air. He was going to pass out soon. His insides felt like they
were being twisted and crushed and he wanted to vomit and crap himself at the
same time.

'You ought to learn how to look
after yourself,' the guy said, laughing and picking the bat up again. 'Get
yourself in better shape.'

Evan forced his body to straighten
out and rolled onto his back. He heaved huge mouthfuls of beautiful air deep
into his body and looked up into Hugh McIntyre's gloating face. McIntyre was
breathing heavily from his exertions. The last time Evan had seen him looking
like that he was disappearing into the distance in his rear-view mirror. 'You
blindsided me,' he wheezed.

McIntyre let out a sardonic laugh.
'Really? It wouldn't have made any difference, you pussy.' He prodded Evan with
his boot. 'Get up shithead; we're going for a ride.'

Evan didn't think he'd ever be able
to stand up straight again. He rolled onto his front and managed to lever
himself onto his knees. The effort made everything hurt. He couldn't
concentrate on anything apart from the dull ache spreading out from his groin. He
let his head drop and tried to pull himself together. Blood dripped from his
ear onto the ground.

‘Hey, lazybones’ McIntyre called in
a sing-song voice, and swung the bat languidly at his head. Evan looked up and raised
his arm quickly to protect himself. It caught him right on the tip of the
elbow, sending a hot pain shooting up and down his arm.

Evan struggled to get up but McIntyre
pushed him over again with his foot. 'I said, get up. Didn't you hear me?
Something wrong with your ears?' He laughed. He was enjoying himself.

'Hey, what the hell's going on over
there?' Evan recognized Faulkner's voice shouting across the parking lot.
McIntyre glanced round and saw Faulkner starting out across the parking lot
towards them. He aimed another vicious kick; Evan managed to twist into it and
take it on the outside of his thigh instead of his balls.

'This isn't over, Buckley,' McIntyre
said. He turned and ran off across the parking lot, disappearing into the
bushes on the far side.

Evan lay there in a sea of pain as
his ear, nose, stomach and balls all competed for his attention, while Faulkner
jogged across to him. Faulkner squatted down and got his pocket knife out and
sliced through the cable ties. Evan sat up gingerly and crossed his arms,
massaging some life into them.

'What was that all about?' Faulkner
said and rested a hand on Evan’s shoulder.

'That was the guy who's screwing my
late client's wife.’ He was seized by a fit of coughing. It made everything
hurt twice as bad. ‘He wasn't too happy about me sticking my telephoto lens up
his girlfriend's tired old twat, as you like to put it.'

'Can't say I blame the guy in
principle.’

'Thanks a lot.'

‘Maybe he got carried away a little bit.'

Faulkner studied him for a moment
before asking, 'Are you sure that's all there is to it? Seems a bit extreme.'

‘Stanton told me he’s got a very
short fuse.’ He brought his knees up and hugged them to try to ease the
dreadful ache coming from his groin. He rested his head on his arms and closed
his eyes and tried to go to a quiet place beyond the reach of the pain.

'He says I've got something he
wants, but the only things I've got are the pictures.'

'Whatever. We can't worry about that
now; we've got to get you to the hospital. Your nose is broken.' He took hold
of Evan's chin and turned his head to look at his ear. 'Looks like just a
scratch on your ear. You’ll probably have to buy a new shirt though.’

‘It doesn’t feel like a scratch.’

‘Don’t be such a baby. I'd suggest
another drink while we wait for the ambulance but I don't think they'd let you
back inside looking like that. People would think the bouncers had done it.'

'I can drive.'

'No you can't. Two small beers might
be okay, but two beers plus shock isn't.'

Evan knew he was right and let him
call the ambulance on his cell phone. 'Lucky for me you came out.'

'I changed me mind about having any
more to drink. Suddenly I just didn't fancy it any more – probably talking
about Brenda. The noise was starting to get to me as well. I don’t know why you
suggested the place. I came out to see if you were still here to give me a ride.'

'The benefits of self control are
manifold.'

'I can have him picked up if you
like.'

Evan shook his head. 'What's the
point? There are no witnesses; you didn't see his face and you're loaded
anyway.'

Faulkner rode with him in the
ambulance. At the hospital his nose was cleaned up and realigned and they taped
up his ear. Despite what Faulkner had said, it was more than a scratch as he’d
known. The doctor said quite a large bite had been taken out of it.

‘You could probably match the
biter’s teeth to the shape of this bite,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry, if I get the chance
I’ll knock them out and bring them in,’ Evan replied.

Once they’d dealt with the visible
injuries, he asked the nurse whether she had any soothing lotion that she could
massage into his aching balls. She declined politely with a tired, heard-it-all-before
smile, although Evan could see she was tempted. At least she didn’t report him
for sexual harassment.

 Faulkner asked him where he was
going to spend the night. 'Does this guy know where you live?'

'I'm not sure. He knows where my
office is, so probably yes.'

'You think he'll come back to finish
what he started?'

'Those were his parting words. He's
certainly wired enough.'

Evan told him about McIntyre chasing
his car down the road. Faulkner laughed. 'Sounds like he's got some anger
management issues.'

'That's what Stanton said. But I'll
be ready for him if he comes back.'

Faulkner wasn’t impressed by the
show of bravado. 'Not if you're comatose from all the painkillers you're going
to need tonight. You can stay at my place if you like.'

Evan considered the offer. 'You
know, when I see cowboy boots like that I start thinking
Brokeback Mountain
,
and I don't usually go back to a guy's place on a first date.'

Faulkner punched him on the
shoulder. Evan winced.

'Sorry. Forgot about that.'

'You're right about the painkillers.
Do I get the bed?'

Despite the painkillers Evan didn't
sleep well that night. The couch was uncomfortable and he could hear Faulkner
snoring like a warthog with bad sinuses through the thin wall. His nose hurt
like hell and he kept rolling onto his half-eaten ear.

He also had too many things running
through his mind. He was going to have to do something about the situation with
McIntyre. Apparently he wasn't going to let it drop - whatever it was. The more
he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it must be something to
do with the photos he'd taken - there just wasn't anything else it could be.
Perhaps there was something in them more damaging than just being caught in bed
with your partner's wife. He'd take a better look at them as soon as he could,
even though he had no idea what he might be looking for.

About five in the morning he gave up
on trying to sleep. He got up and went and sat in the kitchen. He made himself
a coffee and sat looking at the photographs on the wall. His gaze kept coming
back to the one of Faulkner's wife and her folks. He got up and went to take a
closer look at it. There was something about it that he couldn't put his finger
on. It was taken a long time ago - forty years at least - and he didn't
recognize any of them. She had been a beautiful young woman in her youth that
was for sure.The old folks must have been dead for years and now Faulkner's
wife was dead too. But there was something that niggled him. He knew it was
going to bug the hell out of him until he could work it out, even though he had
more important things to think about.

After Faulkner had made them eggs
and bacon for breakfast he dropped Evan off at the bar so he could pick up his
car. He was relieved to see that McIntyre hadn't come back to vent his spleen
by trashing his car. There was no doubt he knew which one it was because he
must have been following him around for days. He was slightly dismayed to think
that he hadn't noticed. Some private eye he was.