Authors: Ryan Casey
Tags: #british detective series, #dark fun urban satire, #england murder mystery, #Crime thriller, #Serial Killers, #private investigator, #suspense mystery
And I watched as Danielle’s coffin descended into the ground.
It was about that point, surrounded by crying, whimpering people that a smile worked its way up my face.
I knew it was wrong. Made my cheeks bloody rush, too. But I had a memory. A memory of Danielle joking once about her funeral—saying that she wanted to be buried with her iPod playing, as well as a charger and an electrical supply. Something to keep the worms entertained, she’d said.
I never had given her that iPod. She’d be bloody furious with me.
I looked up at the crowd. Looked at them, all dressed in black, hoping my checkered black and grey shirt wasn’t too casual. I took in a shaky deep breath. Watched the leaves tumble on the branches of trees as the wind brushed against them, and let a warmth inside me grow.
A warmth that I usually only got when I was in my pants with nachos and PS4.
Danielle had made me happy. She’d been a little spark of light in my life. She’d made me realise I could love. I could be loved. I could commit.
And although Danielle was over now, I knew commitment wasn’t.
I knew I could, one day, move on.
I gulped down the lump in my throat and looked back across the crowd, over to the road and the pub opposite the church, cashing in on grievers drowning their sorrows.
By the gates, I saw Martha and Lenny.
Lenny was, for some reason, wearing a black top hat with the rest of his black gear, including black shorts. He looked frigging Amish. He nodded at me. Nodded in that “Poor bastard” way.
But hey. Nice of him to come.
I nodded back.
And then I looked at Martha.
She was dressed all in black too. Black trousers, a black blazer, even a black shirt underneath. I looked into her eyes and I saw guilt, still. Guilt, for what had happened to Danielle. Guilt, for phoning the police when I was captive in James Scotts’ weird little lair.
Guilt for ending Danielle’s life, in her eyes.
I smiled at her. Nodded my head.
She lifted a tissue to her eye. Wiped away some of her drifting mascara. Smiled back.
I couldn’t blame Martha. Martha was only trying to help. She was trying to save me and Danielle. And God knows what might’ve happened if she hadn’t called the police at all. Would James Scotts—Hose—really have spared Danielle’s life?
“Thanks for coming, Blake.”
The voice came from my left. Female voice. I turned and saw Patricia, Danielle’s mum, standing opposite. Naturally, tears filled her eyes, but she looked genuinely happy to see me. Beside her, there was an old woman with dark curly hair and a round face. She half-smiled at me too, like I was some kind of disabled animal.
“I… Yeah,” I said. My cheeks heated up. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to a grieving mother at her daughter’s funeral. “Sorry, for… for Danielle. I—”
“She always said you were a grumpy sod,” Patricia said. “Said you’d never willingly stand up and give a speech, anything like that. Prefers the shadows, she said. I guess she was right.”
I scratched the back of my neck. Smiled awkwardly, although I wasn’t sure that was the right move. “Right.”
Patricia reached into her handbag as the crowd started to move away from the grave and back towards the church.
“She… she left something with me. One of her first dates with you. I think… I think she’d have wanted you to keep it.”
I tensed up inside. Wondered what the hell it might be, as Patricia fumbled away in her handbag. Used Johnny was the first thing that came to mind, but that was a horrible assumption. Sorry, God. Cleanse me of my dirty, terrible thoughts.
Fortunately, Patricia didn’t pull out a used Johnny from her handbag.
But it made me churn up inside way more.
It was an origami swan. An origami swan made out of a Groovy Smoothie drinks carton. I’d made it for her one of the first times we’d met. She wanted to know what I was good at, and I didn’t have a frigging clue what I was good at so I just made a load of origami. Weirdly, she kind of liked it.
Patricia placed it in my hands. Patted her palm on my closed fingers.
“You’re a good man, Blake. Keep this close to you. Keep her close to you. And when you’re ready to… to let go, then you know what to do.”
Patricia smiled at me. I thought her face was blurring like in some weird dream, and then I realised my eyes were filling up.
I nodded. “I know what to do,” I said.
“Well,” Patricia said. She looked over my shoulder at the crowd of people moving on to the pub opposite. “Looks like everyone’s ready to get drunk now. You coming along for a…?”
I shook my head. “Nah, I… I’ve some things to do. But thanks. I’ll, er. I’ll see you around.”
We held eyes for a few seconds. “Yes,” Patricia said. “See… see you around.”
She walked past me, and it was just me and Danielle’s grave.
I knew for a fact that I would never be seeing Patricia again, around or anything.
I felt my heart pounding, the wind getting heavier. The churchyard was almost completely silent now. And opposite me was Danielle’s grave, still open, no one beside her.
I walked over to it. Walked over, my legs like jelly. I felt alone. Well, not completely. I felt like Danielle was here with me, as I rubbed the origami swan in my hand. I felt like she was with me, as I crouched beside the grave, looked down at the dark wood.
I rubbed my tongue across my lips. Tasted the plaque that I’d have to definitely cover up with some kind of menthol treat later. I stared at the wooden coffin. Stared at the golden emblem on top.
“Here with you, Dani. Always here with you.”
And then I held my hand over the grave. Held the origami swan over it, ready to let go, ready to let my commitment drift away down an imaginary lake.
Then I thought about my responsibilities. My qualities. I was a good bounty hunter. A bloody good private investigator. And I was a ruddy good person—that’s what Danielle had made me realise.
She’d made me realise I could commit.
She’d made me realise that commitment, fighting to the bitter end for what was right, was the only way to go.
I let the origami swan loosen between my fingers. Felt it blowing, fluttering, in the wind.
And then I brought it back from the edge of the grave.
“God bless you, if he’s even bloody up there,” I said.
I stood up. Took a deep breath of the pongy country air. Enjoyed my final moments with Danielle.
I could commit. I could be a good bounty hunter. A good PI. A good person.
Danielle had made me realise that.
I loved her for that.
I took one final look at Danielle’s coffin. Wiped a tear from my face.
And then I walked away, into the sunlight, into the rest of my life.
The origami swan fluttered between my fingers.
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About the Author
Ryan Casey is an author of suspense thrillers. He incorporates elements of horror, science fiction, mystery and satire in various works. He has written seven novels, a long-running serial, and several novellas and short stories. Across all genres, Casey is renowned for his dark, page-turning suspense, his unforgettable characters, and his knockout twists. His work includes the best selling Dead Days horror serial, the Brian McDone mysteries, Sinkers, The Hunger, Killing Freedom, What We Saw, The Watching, She Remembers, Something in the Cellar and Silhouette.
Casey lives in the United Kingdom. He has a BA degree in English with Creative Writing from the University of Birmingham, and has been writing stories for as long as he can remember. In his spare time, he enjoys American serial television, is a slave to Pitchfork’s Best New Music section, and wastes far too much of his life playing Football Manager games.
For more information, visit ryancaseybooks.com
About this Book
Things are good for Blake Dent, part-time bounty hunter and smoothie stall owner. His business has sky-rocketed. His personal life is in order. And most importantly, he has a posh new apartment stacked with expensive gadgets and technology. Life couldn’t be better.
But things take a drastic turn when the police receive several horrifying snuff tapes from a sick serial killer called “Hose”. And when Blake chooses not to aid the police, swearing to protect those he cares about, his worst nightmares are realised.
Now, Blake is thrown into a dramatic race against time to save everything he cares about. But “Hose” is clever. Intelligent. And Blake must play by his deranged rules if he ever stands a chance of leading a normal life…
Cucumber Coolie contains more of the same witty humour and biting satire as Bubblegum Smoothie, and the thrilling mystery is darker and bloodier than ever before. This is the second book in the Blake Dent Mystery series from Ryan Casey, author of the Brian McDone books, and the most suspense-packed yet.
Copyright
Cucumber Coolie (Blake Dent, #2)
by Ryan Casey
Published October 2014 by Higher Bank Books
Edited by: Brian Cross
Cover by: Cormar Covers
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your preferred retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Ryan Casey
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