Authors: Mark Tilbury
‘You’d be squealing if I shot you in the leg.’
‘Don’t make judgements about me, pervert. If you hadn’t taken it into your head to run, you’d still have two good legs to waddle on. I’m going to give you five seconds to start crawling. Then I’m going to shoot you again.’
‘You’re fucking insane. I said I didn’t want the money no more. I said we could call it quits.’
‘As I said to Melissa Lovelock: sometimes it’s too late to call it quits. Sometimes sorry doesn’t cut the mustard. Sometimes sorry is nothing more than a whiny excuse. Like when that little sod, Tommy Ridley, took out my eye with his catapult. If I’d had my way, I’d have taken out both his eyes with a corkscrew. But he was knocked off his bike and killed by a truck. How’s that for divine retribution?’
‘Sounds like he had a lucky escape.’
Connie didn’t tell him that Tommy Ridley had been hit in the leg with an air pellet just half a second before his bike had veered into the path of the oncoming lorry. ‘Yes, he did. Now do as I say and crawl towards the garage.’
Ben read Maddie’s text again and phoned his father. ‘She said she would give it about half an hour and then ask Crowley to drop her off in town. Then she was going to text me.’
‘When did she send the text?’
‘Nearly two hours ago. Something’s happened.’
‘Don’t jump to conclusions. She’s probably got side-tracked.’
‘But she would’ve texted me.’
‘Not if it wasn’t convenient.’
Ben switched on the engine to warm up the car. ‘She also said Crowley was hiding something up in a bedroom at his mother’s.’
‘Like what?’
‘She didn’t say.’
Geoff was silent for a few moments. And then: ‘Where are you?’
‘Still at the bottom of Constitution Hill.’
‘Okay. Sit tight for another half an hour. If you’ve still not heard from her, call me back.’
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’
‘She’ll be all right. Maddie’s a smart girl. She’s more than capable of dealing with Frank Crowley.’
‘And you know that for an absolute fact, do you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Got a crystal ball at home, have you?’
‘I trust my instincts, lad.’
‘I’m going to drive up there. See what’s happening.’
‘Don’t you dare.’
‘Why not?’
‘Do you want to compromise the whole operation?’
‘Bugger the operation. Maddie’s much more important. ’
Geoff sighed and blew static down the phone. ‘She would’ve called you if she was in any trouble. Your imagination’s getting the better of you. Maybe you ought to come home and wait.’
Ben couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting at home listening to his father contradict everything he said. ‘It’s all right. I’ll stay here.’
‘Things don’t always go according to plan. Half the job of a private investigator is learning to adjust. Crowley might be telling her something important. Opening up about that bedroom in his mother’s house.’
‘Or he might be holding her against her will.’
‘You’re letting your heart rule your head. Just give in another—’
Ben disconnected the call. Maddie wouldn’t break contact for over two hours. And he didn’t care whether that came from his heart or his head. It was still a fact. He took a deep breath and called her again. Straight to voicemail.
She’ll have the phone switched off.
Ben’s heart felt as if it had been cleaved in two. Maddie was in trouble. His father could say what he liked; he wasn’t the one sitting out here waiting for a call that would never come. He drove to the top of Constitution Hill and turned into the mobile home site. He pulled up next to Crowley’s home and switched off the headlights. His worst fear was immediately realised when he saw the place was in complete darkness.
He might have given her a lift into town.
Ben wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that with all his heart. But it was like trying to believe in the Tooth Fairy. He got out of the car and walked over to the mobile home. Every hair on his body stood on end. His heart skittered in his chest like a trapped bird. His shoes creaked. They sounded like rusty hinges in the still, black night. An owl hooted in a tree, as if sending out a warning signal.
He walked up the metal steps leading to the front door and peered through the glass. Nothing. Not even a night light. He could make out several silhouetted shapes in the room. The edge of a sofa. The TV. A coffee table. A magazine or a book on the table. A roll of tape on the floor. He tried the door. Locked. But it would be, wouldn’t it? The owner wasn’t home; he was busy taking another victim to his lair.
‘Are you looking for Frank?’
Ben jumped and turned around to see an elderly man standing a few yards away with a chocolate Labrador on a lead. ‘Yes. Have you seen him?’
‘He been up to no good again?’
Ben walked down the steps. ‘No. Nothing like that. I—’
‘We had the coppers round here back in the summer. About that missing girl. You a copper?’
‘Just a mate.’
The old man’s dog cocked its leg up the base of a streetlamp. ‘I didn’t know Frank had any mates.’
‘I work with him. At Sunnyside Nursing Home. Have you seen him?’
‘He was here earlier. With a young girl. I saw them out my window. I live just over the road.’
‘When?’
‘About sevenish. I don’t keep a record of the time folk do things. Not anymore. I used to when I lived in Argyle Close. We had a Neighbourhood Watch then. A proper sense of community. Not like nowadays. Every man for himself.’
‘Did you see them leave?’
‘Nope. Pretty girl, though. Not the sort you’d expect to see with Frank. Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t expect to see
any
girl with him.’
Ben described Maddie. ‘Was that her?’
‘Reckon it might have been. Then someone in motorbike gear turned up. Which was strange, because they didn’t have a motorbike.’
‘When was this?’
‘About half an hour after Frank and the girl.’
‘Was it a man or a woman?’
The old man shrugged. ‘Couldn’t tell with the crash helmet. If I had to pin a guess to a donkey, I’d say a woman.’
‘Did you see the person in the leathers leave?’
‘Nope. I spent most of the evening finishing the jigsaw puzzle Dorothy got me for Christmas. Beans on toast, for God’s sake. I’ll be seeing them bloody things in my sleep for ever and a day. Anyway, the place was in darkness when I got Buster ready for his walk.’
Ben thanked the man and walked back to the car. He didn’t have the faintest idea who the person in the leathers might be, but right now he didn’t care. Maddie was all that mattered. By the time he reached home, his thoughts were running around inside his head like an angry mob.
He unlocked the front door and walked into the lounge. ‘I’ve been to Crowley’s mobile home. She’s gone.’
Geoff looked up from his newspaper. ‘What do you mean, “gone”?’
Ben threw his arms in the air. ‘Gone. Vanished. Something bad has happened. I know it.’
‘Whoa, there! Calm down. You’re thinking with your heart again. Don’t let emotional involvement get in the way of rational thinking.’
Ben didn’t hear him. ‘Some old bloke at the mobile home site said he saw Maddie and Crowley turn up around half seven.’
‘Okay. That’s good. At least we have a positive sighting of her.’
‘He also said a mystery biker turned up not long after, decked out in leathers and a crash helmet. But no motorbike.’
‘A biker without a bike?’
‘That’s what the he said.’
‘The old boy didn’t see them leave?’
‘No. Said he was making a jigsaw puzzle for most of the evening.’
Geoff threw his newspaper on the coffee table. ‘This is like a bloody jigsaw puzzle. With too many bits missing.’
Ben gnawed his lip. ‘I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. Why would anyone wear all that gear if they didn’t have a bike?’
‘To stop being recognised?’
‘That’s what I thought. This gets worse by the minute.’
‘Maybe the guy in leathers owns the mystery bungalow,’ Geoff ventured. ‘They might have all gone out there for some reason.’
Ben grabbed his father’s words like a lifeline. ‘Do you reckon?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
Ben dropped the lifeline. ‘What if they’ve taken Maddie there to kill her?’
‘Don’t be daft. You letting your heart rule your—’
‘Will you stop saying that. I love her. What am I supposed to do, shrug my shoulders and let fate take its course?’
‘No. But you have to stop imagining the worst. For what it’s worth, things have a habit of turning out for the best most of the time.’
‘I feel so bloody helpless.’
‘I know you do. So do I, sitting here in this bloody wheelchair day after day. Not being able to get involved.’
Ben thought his father managed to get involved quite enough. ‘So what are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know, son. Sit tight and look at it with a fresh pair of eyes in the morning.’
‘Shouldn’t we report Maddie missing?’
‘Not just yet. We need to take stock. For what it’s worth, I reckon she’ll call in before long with a perfectly reasonable explanation.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
‘Then we’ll go to the police.’
‘I can’t lie awake all night wondering what’s happened to her. I need to do something.’
‘Then say a prayer.’
‘Since when have you been religious?’
‘I’m not. But we all have to call on God sometimes. Even the non-believers.’
Connie closed the garage door. She looked at the pathetic excuse for a man sitting on the floor. ‘You sicken me.’
‘Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?’
‘I would if it was up to me. Believe me.’
‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Shut up. Move over there and sit in front of the bench. Then put your hands behind your back.’
Crowley slithered into position, leaving a trail of blood on the garage floor. ‘I’m going to bleed to death at this rate.’
‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’
He might be right, Sweetcakes. We don’t want him running out of juice just yet, do we? You’d better bandage that wound once you’ve secured him to the bench.
Connie opened a drawer beneath the bench and took out a set of cuffs. ‘Right, I want you to sit still while I put these on. If you move, I’ll put a hole in your other leg.’
Crowley didn’t resist. Instead, he chose to waste his breath by begging for painkillers.
She cuffed his left wrist to the iron leg of the bench. ‘You don’t need painkillers. You just need to atone.’
‘For what?’
‘Do you really need it spelling out to you?’
‘I’ve suffered enough for my mistakes.’
‘Thanks to the Wolf, you haven’t suffered half as much as you should’ve. Believe me.’
‘Who the fuck is the Wolf?’
Connie put a finger to her lips. She walked through a side door and into the kitchen. She switched on the light. Home at last.
‘Hey? Where are you going?’
Connie sighed. ‘Be quiet.’
‘My leg.’
Connie slammed the door and walked over to the sink. She swallowed three paracetamol tablets with a glass of water and then leaned back against the drainer. It had been a long day. A draining day. But at least the Three Little Piggies were all at home now.
You need to dress that wound in Crowley’s leg. If he pegs it now, the coppers won’t have a prime suspect when they start sniffing around the Heath girl and the whore.
Connie ignored the Wolf. Crowley could wait awhile. At least until her head had settled down a bit. She walked out the front door and retrieved the bag of films, the crash helmet and the whore’s handbag from the car. She stood by the boot and listened for a while. At least the whore quiet. Unlike that cowardly lump of jelly mewling in the garage. Crowley could learn a lot from a whore like the whore. If Connie had her way, she’d have them handcuffed together, and be damned with it. The Wolf was right to be cautious, but they could hardly cook up any nasty surprises if they were both immobilised.
She walked back into the bungalow and went through to the front room. She tossed the whore’s handbag in the fire grate. It could burn when she lit the fire on Christmas Day. The one day of the year that she brought Da home. Roasted chestnuts and toasted marshmallows. Pulled crackers and cooked a turkey with all the trimmings. Made a real fuss of him before taking him back to his prison cell at Sunnyside.
But that was all about to change. He wouldn’t be sitting in that nursing home for much longer. He was coming back to her. Back where he belonged. And then she would sell Fourwinds and return to the Northeast. Da could see out his final days in familiar surroundings.
She put the bag of films on the floor near the TV. She then poured herself a large brandy from a decanter sitting on a walnut sideboard and took it over to her leather armchair. She sat down and swallowed the brandy in three large gulps.
Within a few minutes, the throbbing in her head had subsided to a dull ache. She put the empty glass on a small side table and took off her leather boots. All in all, it had been a good day. Crowley was incarcerated in the garage, she had custody of the films, and the whore was in the boot.
You can’t just leave her in there all night.
Connie didn’t see why not.
What if she hears the postman or the milkman in the morning and bangs on the boot lid? You need to get her down in the basement.
Connie didn’t want to. She was dog-tired. Wolf-tired, even.
Don’t get sloppy, Sweetcakes.
Connie groaned. Couldn’t she just tie the whore up and put her in the garage with Crowley for the night?
You must keep them apart.
‘I’m knackered. I need to watch the films, yet. And take a bath.’
So pace yourself. Phone in sick tomorrow and have a lie-in. Recharge your batteries.
‘I need to see Da tomorrow. He hasn’t been well since that idiot investigator upset him.’
There’ll be plenty of time for Da. He’s not going anywhere.
‘He needs me.’
Don’t you think I know that? But you aren’t going to be much use to him locked away in Holloway Prison with a bunch of butch lesbians for company, are you?
Connie wished the Wolf would go away and leave her alone. He might be making perfect sense, but she was too exhausted to care.
Let the bath and the films be your reward.
‘How in damnation can trawling through Crowley’s filthy films be any sort of reward?’
Okay. Point taken. But you only need to check out the one marked ‘Golden Egg’ for now. Don’t make a mountain out of an anthill.
‘For your information, it’s a molehill. Anyway, I want to see if there’s any of Da in there.’
And if there are?
‘If there’s so much as one minute in that stockpile of filth, I’ll make Crowley beg me to kill him. I’ll take out his eyes. I’ll cut out his tongue. I’ll—’
Stop fantasising, Sweetcakes. Why don’t you go the whole hog and bury him alive?
Connie considered this for a while. The idea seemed appealing. ‘But you said I need to make his death look like a suicide. I can see how he might dig his own grave, but how the hell’s he meant to have filled it in?’
And how exactly is he meant to gouge out his own eyes and cut out his own tongue?
Connie closed her eyes. She didn’t need this right now. Her head was thumping again. If this turned into a migraine, she wouldn’t be in any fit state to do anything.
I understand the need for revenge, Constance. I understand it better than most. Unfinished business can eat away at the mind like a plague of parasites. But sometimes you’ve got to realise that you can’t have it all.
‘I want what is mine.’
And you will get it. But you have to show restraint. Remember what this is really all about.
‘Crowley made my life a living hell for weeks.’
Trust me, he’s going to pay.
‘Shit!’
What is it?
‘I still need to put the Christmas decorations up for when Da comes home.’
He’ll be really proud of you, Sweetcakes. His heart will be fit to burst.
Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘That’s all I want. To make him proud.’
So get the whore down in the basement. Gag Crowley and bandage his leg. Then have a nice long soak in the bath.
Connie nodded. Aye, that’s what she would do. She thanked the Wolf. He was her Bridge Over Troubled Water. Her Lone Voice in the wilderness. Her Scales of Justice. And she loved him with all her heart.