by Wes Markin
Jake took her advice, and when they sat down in a pleasant little bungalow with Noah and Emma Watson, he refused their coffee.
“We’ve got tea,” Emma said.
“That would be great, thanks,” Jake said.
“Chilled or hot?”
“Definitely hot.” Jake sank into a deep sofa which reminded him of his former home in Salisbury.
On the opposite sofa, Noah and Emma held hands as they spoke. They had a warm glow about them, and Jake hoped he too was destined for such contentment in later life.
When Jake mentioned the reason for their visit though, the couple frowned, and the warmth glow disappeared. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We’re happy to talk about it,” Noah said, clutching his wife’s hand, as if the experience they were about to relay had brought them a lot closer together. “Four generations of Watsons lived and died in that house. We won’t forget about it, and no one will stop us telling the story. We owe our family that much.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jake said.
“It started off politely enough. Evan, one of my neighbors, chased them out with a broom, but we listened to them and were hospitable. They offered a lot of money, more than the place was worth. Three times they came back, and their offer grew ridiculously. The last time, Samantha Kelly herself, the company owner, offered us the most lavish retirement you could imagine. We told them it wasn’t about us; it was about our family. This property belonged to the Watsons, and one day, our children would return to live here.” The older couple turned to look at one another.
Jake allowed them a moment by taking a mouthful of tea. It wasn’t Yorkshire tea, which he could drink by the gallon, but it wasn’t bad.
Noah looked back. “We had three rabbits in the back garden.”
Emma put her fist to her mouth.
“The day after we refused Samantha, we found some cats eating them at the back door. This was no accident. We hadn’t left the cage unlocked, and when we looked closely―”
“Excuse me. Sorry.” Emma, tearful, stood and left the room.
Noah sighed. “The cats hadn’t killed them. The wounds were too precise. Someone had sliced open their bellies.”
“I’m sorry,” Jake eyed Lillian, who’d turned pale. “Did you call the police?”
“Of course. They came to look, but, no offense, dear”—he nodded toward Lillian—“but the police were useless, and they wouldn’t believe this was deliberate.”
“You can rest assured I knew nothing of it, sir,” Lillian said. “I wouldn’t have ignored you.”
Noah nodded. “Thank you.”
Jake finished his tea and set it on the coffee table. “I’m sorry this happened to you, sir.”
“The harassment continued, son. Two days later, I opened the shed in my garden and hundreds of rats ran out, then the day after that, the bastards came back again with another offer.”
“Was Samantha Kelly there?”
“Not this time. They stayed on my doorstep, mind you. There was no way these bloodsuckers were coming into my home again. I told them to get lost, stopping short of using a broom like Evan. Eventually, they left.” Noah looked down and sighed. “That night, Emma looked out our window and saw our garden bench on fire. It was terrifying. We had to call the fire department.”
“Surely, the firemen would have known this was a deliberate act?” Jake said.
Noah shook his head. “No. They blamed it on a plug-in patio heating lantern we had beside the bench. We’d apparently made the mistake of leaving it on, and then it had malfunctioned, burnt itself out and ignited the bench. Except, here’s the thing, we’d not used that lantern in weeks! Fell on deaf ears, of course.”
Jake rubbed his stubbly cheek, shaking his head. The corruption in this area was out of control.
“So, it was us versus them,” Noah said and smiled. “And we were the underdogs, wouldn’t you say? Next day, along comes Samantha Kelly. She sat opposite me, like you are now, looked me in the eyes and told me I had no choice. That if I didn’t sell now, then next time, someone would be sitting on the other bench in the garden when they lit it. Openly admitted to it! The balls on her!”
Jake noticed Emma at the door she’d left through, looking in, clearly summoning the courage to return.
“Did you go the police again?” Jake said.
“No,” Emma said. “That’s when we said enough is enough.”
Jake watched Noah look down, ashamed. Jake assumed it’d been Emma’s decision to put this to bed. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Why are you asking us about this now?” Noah looked up, his eyes widening. “Is someone finally going to be held to account for all of this?”
“We will try.”
Noah sighed. “You can never win, son. They can never be beaten.”
Jake recalled his recent experiences in Wiltshire. Sounds familiar.
The next couple of visits to ex-residents of Soft Rain Bay were uneventful. Finally, they drove to see Evan Bell, the ex-resident who was supposedly quite handy with the broom, living in a caravan on the edge of Sharon’s Edge. Despite it being quite cold, Evan was content to sit outside his vehicle on a deckchair. He wore a woolly hat while reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig.
“How can I help you?” he asked without looking up from his book.
“Morning, sir,” Lillian said, “I’m from the Blue Falls Police Department―”
He slammed his book shut and tugged on his long white beard. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”
“We aren’t selling anything, sir,” Jake said. “This is about what happened with Samantha Kelly and your old property. We’re on your side.”
“What do you want to know? I told you people everything, and you weren’t interested then. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“If you hear us out―”
“They ran my dog over, son. Toby was ten years old, and they drove an SUV over him. Unless you tell me they’re finally off to jail, we’ve nothing to talk about. Mind you, if you’re here to talk about the physical damage we can inflict on Samantha Kelly and her henchmen, I’m all ears too.”
Jake and Lillian exchanged a look.
“We just want the truth,” Jake said.
Evan stood, pointed at them and sneered. “If you’re with the police, you’re with Gabriel Jewell. You already know the truth.”
“Yes, I work for Gabriel Jewell,” Lillian said, “but I’m not the same as him, and I’m not privy to the truth. Let’s just say we have different philosophies.”
“Different philosophies, eh?” Evan laughed. “That’s good for you, because the last time I was with that man and his philosophy, it took three of your officers to pry me off him. He underestimated how much life was left in these old bones.”
“I hear you, sir,” Jake said. “I’ve encountered that philosophy too. Apathy, they call it.”
Evan nodded. “Yes, exactly right. You tell a man someone murdered your dog, you get out of your chair.”
“You also get out of a chair if someone tells you a little girl is missing,” Jake said.
“Of course.” Evan sat back down and sighed. “You may want to ignore my bravado. You know, going for that smug jerkoff was the worst decision I ever made. They had me. They could have taken me to court and put me away for a long time.”
“Let me guess,” Jake said. “Unless you sold up?”
Evan nodded. “Toyed with the idea of not doing, fighting them to the bitter end from my jailcell, but, you know, I saw the kind of threats coming the way of the Watsons, and I have family too—a daughter and some grandchildren in Bangor. I couldn’t protect them from a jailcell. The game was up.”
“They still paid you well?”
“Yes, they gave me a ridiculous amount of money.”
Jake nodded at the caravan. “No disrespect, but why here then?”
Evan laughed. “I couldn’t stomach using their mone
y, not after what they’d done to Toby. I’ve got a small pension. It’s enough. Sometimes I go and stay with family, and they take care of me. I’m fine.”
“What did you do with the money?” Lillian said.
“I gave it all to my daughter. That house would have been her inheritance after all. They live well now, and, like I said, they take good care of me when I see them.”
“That’s good of you, sir.”
Evan laughed. “Good? Well, if I’m good, take a long look at me, son. You won’t find much more of it around the Skweda. Jewell, Kelly, MacLeoid, Stone—the great and the good, eh? My ass. In the end, you can’t beat them. God bless the capitalist machine. It rolled into our towns and turned them to shit.” He pointed down at his book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. “Poor guy in that book gave in to overthinking things, and he went mad. They gave him electroconvulsive therapy, changed his personality. Me, I’m trying something different. I’ve gone back to basics and moved myself away from those vampires.” He gestured around himself. “Here is good. Here, I don’t overthink. And it’s only when people like yourselves walk back in, no offense intended, do I remember, and I get all heated.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Not at all, young man. I hope you find that little girl, and I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more use to you.”
“On the contrary, sir, you’ve been very useful indeed.”
Sweating, Gabriel emerged from the basement. He would have peeled off his dirty vest if not for his guest. He stooped at the living room door and peeked at Kayla watching American Idol.
Drowning in one of his T-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, she looked cute as hell. However, now that she was here on a permanent basis, he would have to invest in some clothing for her. Online, of course. He wasn’t about to reveal her location by shopping in town. He was protecting her, offering her something her pig of a father could never do—safety.
He eyed the photograph of Collette on the mantlepiece and noted the similarity between her and Kayla. I won’t fail this time.
“Who’s going to win?” Gabriel asked, nodding at the television.
“I daren’t say. The one I always say is going to win, loses. Ayden always says my endorsement is the kiss of death.”
Gabriel laughed.
“What’re you doing down in the cellar?”
“Tidying. I’ve left it too long. There’s some old furniture I’m refurbishing too.”
“Can I look?”
“When I’ve finished. By the way, I just got off the phone. We’ll be taking your father into custody this evening,” Gabriel lied. “Sorry to bring that up now, but I thought you’d want to know.”
“Yes, that’s good news.”
“It’ll all be over by tomorrow.”
“And then I can go home, back to Ayden?”
“I’ll drop you off myself.”
“Who is the picture of on the mantlepiece?”
Gabriel took a deep breath. “My sister.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone … I’m afraid.”
“Where?”
“I lost her.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s okay. I learned from it. I won’t ever let it happen again―”
A knock sounded at the front door. He bolted upright, and his head caught the low doorframe. “Shit.” He rubbed his head. “Upstairs, now.”
Kayla jumped up. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know, but go to your room and stay in there. Whatever you do, don’t come out.”
She slipped past him.
Gabriel went to the bottom of the stairs, his heart thrashing in his chest.
She looked back at him from the third step and whispered, “I’m scared.”
“It’ll be fine. Don’t make any noise. After tonight, you will be safe … forever. No one will ever hurt you again.”
Kayla ran.
After he heard her door close, he turned to the front door and peeked through the keyhole. “You’ve got be fucking kidding me.” He threw a sideways glance at his Remington 700 propped against the wall underneath his jackets.
He opened the door to Jake Pettman.
Jake had asked Lillian to drive away.
She’d protested. “He’ll know I told you where he lives anyway.”
“That may be the case, but you want no part of the conversation I’m about to have.”
“Would I sound crazy if I said I did?”
“Yes.”
“It’s only a job. I can live without it.”
It could cost you more than your job. “We are dealing with dangerous people here, Lillian. I’ll call you later.”
She finally relented and drove away.
Gabriel scrutinized Jake from the front door. “How can I help you, Mr. Pettman?”
“You weren’t at your office.”
“I’m off duty.”
“Is the chief of police ever off duty?”
Gabriel’s eyes twitched. “For the second time, how can I help you?”
“I think we are better having this conversation inside.”
“What you think doesn’t matter too much to me, Mr. Pettman. I don’t particularly want you in my home. I know who you’re descended from, after all.”
“Do you want me to discuss Samantha Kelly and her company on your doorstep?”
Gabriel’s eyes twitched again.
“How about the Watsons’ burning bench? Or, Evan Bell’s dead dog?”
Gabriel stepped aside.
As Jake passed him, Gabriel hissed his ear, “You really should have listened to my warning, Mr. Pettman.” He slammed the door.
Kayla had kept the bedroom door ajar. She listened to them go into the living room, waited for the door to close then stepped onto the landing. The floorboards creaked. She stopped. Her blood ran cold, and she wished for her father.
Yes, her daddy was a very bad man. The things she’d seen at the pit several nights back had devastated her. But right now, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t crave his protection.
When it was clear they hadn’t heard her, she crept down the stairs as light-footed as possible, slipping her damp palm down the bannister.
Chief Jewell had really worried her before in the living room. It had started with that photograph of his sister. When she’d queried it, a strange look had crossed his face. “I lost her,” he’d said. “I learned from it. I won’t ever let it happen again―”
What had happened to her? Her stomach was doing somersaults. She reached the bottom of the stairs and noticed the rifle propped against the wall. It resembled the one her father and her brother carried.
Again, she wished for her father. What had she been thinking? He’d never hurt her. He adored her. In fact, if he loved Ayden even half as much as he loved her, there may have been hope for them as a family. Poor Ayden … he despised him. He was caring and sensitive, which was the problem. These traits in a son were disappointing to a man like her father.
She approached the living room door.
She couldn’t do anything about her father now anyway. He would be taken into custody tonight. Chief Jewell had said as much. She was probably just being paranoid. Chief Jewell was a policeman, after all. But her father had once said that a healthy dose of suspicion would keep you alive. She hadn’t quite understood what he’d meant until now.
She put her ear to the door to discover what the two men were discussing.
Jake maintained his distance. He’d met many people like Gabriel in his time. Individuals so weighed down by secrets tended to become unpredictable when cornered. Jake hadn’t gotten this far in his life by dropping his guard in these situations. He told Gabriel straight what he’d learned today with Lillian. He left her name out of it, but the chief would figure it out. Altruism was at a premium in that police station. There wouldn’t be many suspects.
Gabriel paced for a moment then sat on the sofa. He stared at the floo
r, clearly deep in thought.
Jake was just about to tell him what he wanted in return for his silence on the Kelly Properties shakedowns when Gabriel looked up and said, “You really are holier than fucking thou, aren’t you?”
“Let’s not drag this out―”
“Do you know what your ancestors, the Bickfords, did, Mr. Pettman?”
“Is it relevant?”
“Maybe. You told me before you’ve heard different rumors.”
Jake shrugged.
“Did you hear the one about the eldest son having an affair with one of the selectman’s teenage daughters?”
Jake nodded.
“Not true. How about the rumor that Frank Bickford aspired to be a selectman? And that some of the existing selectmen disappeared under mysterious circumstances?”
“Get to the point, Chief.”
“Not true either, but a crowd pleaser for the tourists. Do you want the real truth?”
“Not especially, but I expect it’s coming.”
Gabriel nodded. “Yes. And it’s not pleasant. I’d sit if I were you.”
“I’ll stand, thank you.”
“Very well. The Bickfords ran the Blue Falls Taps as a brothel, Mr. Pettman.”
Jake felt his stomach turn. “Not great, but common enough back then, I’m sure.”
“So, would it bother you to learn they employed women from local, more impoverished towns?”
Yes, it does, but … “As I said, it’s a long time ago, and times were different.”
“And that they took girls, some as young as ten, from these towns?”
Jake flinched.
“And they didn’t just take them, Mr. Pettman, but rather, stole them.”
Jake’s stomach turned harder this time. “You’re making it up. I’d know.”
“But how would you know about our town’s dirty little secret? Those before us worked hard to cover it up. Pedophilia is not quite as good for tourism as dodgy dealings and assassination, is it?”
Jake took a deep breath, determined not to lose it in front of this prick. “Why would you be telling me then?”
“What do I have to fear? You’ll hardly expose the truth about your own people.”