by Edie Baylis
Guilt burnt behind Joe’s eyeballs. He should have done more to get what those blokes wanted. He hadn’t realised... hadn’t thought that they... that they’d do something like this.
As well as having drug induced dry mouth, the weed was also not helping Joe’s mental state. He studiously avoided meeting the eyes of anyone in the hospital waiting room, sure they were all staring at him. He could feel it. He could feel their eyes boring holes into his brain. They knew. They all knew what he’d done. Or rather, what he hadn’t done.
Joe forced his eyes to focus on Dave sitting next to him in an identical plastic chairs and refused to let his mind speculate why hospital chairs were attached to the floor. Who would want to nick uncomfortable plastic chairs?
Dave’s head was in his hands, his face a dismal shade of grey; he was shaking and although his sobs had died down, there was an occasional hiccup as he fought to control himself.
Joe swallowed uncomfortably. He didn’t feel too clever either. In fact, he felt distinctly green around the gills and it would be a long time before he got the image of Alan’s battered and broken body crumpled on the doorstep out of his mind. That’s if he ever did, which at this precise moment, felt unlikely.
Panic gained momentum once more. He had to do what those guys wanted. But how? This was all Teagan’s fault. If she’d called him back in the first place, he could have sorted it and this wouldn’t have happened.
Snatching his phone from his pocket, he frantically stabbed out another text message:
Please call me. It’s an emergency. Not joking. I need to speak to you. PLEASE.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Dave snapped.
‘Messaging Teagan,’ Joe replied. She’d better answer this one. If she didn’t answer this one, then he’d...
‘And you’re doing that while our mate’s life is hanging in the fucking balance?’ Dave cried, aghast. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’
‘I’m trying to get her to answer my messages,’ Joe hissed through gritted teeth. ‘I need to get around there and do what they want.’
‘You must be joking? This is something for the police to deal with now. They’ll want to speak to us soon. The doctor said th...’
‘Keep your fucking voice down,’ Joe mumbled, aware several heads had turned in their direction. He wasn’t being paranoid - they were all looking at them. ‘We can’t involve the police! You heard what those blokes said and I think th...’
‘No, Joe. After what’s happened, I’m telling the police everything that went on. Those men should be held accountable.’
‘Don’t you see?’ Joe gripped Dave’s arm. ‘If you go to the police, then what happened to Alan will be the tip of the iceberg! It will be me or you or both of us next time. And I suspect we won’t end up in hospital like Alan - that was merely a warning. Hospitals don’t tend to corpses, which is what we’ll be!’
Dave visibly paled, his skin turning even more grey, but this time tinged with a hue of sickly green.
‘Yes, that’s right. We’ll be fucking dead if we open our gobs,’ Joe insisted, nausea rising. He was right on that one, no doubt.
For the moment, the only one he didn’t have to worry about opening his trap and signing all of their death warrants, was Alan. And that was only because the poor bastard was in a coma.
KEN MANNING PRESSED HIS KEY FOB, setting the central locking on his Audi. He glanced back at the shiny black car gleaming in the moonlight and smiled to himself as he walked up the drive.
It had gone well tonight. Helen had seemed pleased to hear the news that he’d got a massive chunk knocked off the price for that apartment. In reality, that wasn’t how it happened at all - all he’d done was blag the developer to drop the price by ten grand, but it had been him who’d taken the main knock.
Ken was commanding a huge commission from the sale of the apartments, so he’d cut his commission to a measly 5k, rather than 30. Ok, so he was personally losing out on 25k, but Helen was getting the apartment at a massive reduction of 35k in total, which was a big drop. And he’d do anything to make her life easier.
From what she’d said about all this business with her husband, mother and brother, she was having a really hard time and he’d do whatever he could to ease that for her. With any luck she’d realise after this and after he’d set up the seamless sale of her mother’s home – again with a distinct financial benefit to her pocket, that she’d be better off with him than with her husband.
Ken shrugged as he walked up the three steps to his front door, fumbling with his keys. It looked like Helen’s marriage had just about run its course, but he had to admit he’d been surprised to see the state of James Shepherd tonight.
From what she’d said, the control freak gave her grief left, right and centre – determining what she could do with their finances, despite her being the one who’d undoubtedly brought in the lion’s share of the money during their marriage, if not all of it. He wasn’t even sure what the man did for a job – if anything, but by the looks of it, he was on the sick. James Shepherd looked far from stable – but not in an aggressive way – in a nervous wreck way - like he’d got the weight of the world on his shoulders – certainly not what he’d imagined the man to look or behave like.
Ken frowned as he shoved his key in the lock. Appearances could be deceptive and if Helen said he was unsupportive and made her life a misery, then it was true. She wasn’t the type to make things up, that’s why he was more than happy to take a knock financially to help her out.
He glanced up at his nice four-bedroomed house. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to help out a friend. Plus, he thought with a slight smile, there was the added incentive that helping Helen should also convince her to look at him in a way other than someone from college. And perhaps make her realise the handful of one night stands they’d had back in the day meant a lot more to him than she’d realised.
That was pretty much all he was missing from his near-on perfect life – a good woman. And Helen was that woman.
Opening the door, Ken flicked on the light, but had little time to react before a hand was clamped over his mouth and he was forcibly dragged backwards down the hallway.
‘I’VE NEVER HEARD OF HER!’ Ken spluttered after the grip of the massive gnarled hand eased from around his throat.
He scrabbled around on the floor, the elbows of his charcoal grey pin-striped suit coated with dust as he pulled himself up to a sitting position against the radiator. His eyes darted to the window, dismayed to see the curtains closed scuppering the remote chance that a neighbour might see what was happening in his rear-facing sitting room. Number 34 might just have been able to see in if they happened to be in their bedroom, but not with the curtains closed. Who’d closed the curtains because it wasn’t him?
Panic hammered in Ken’s chest along with his heart.
‘Don’t wind us up, squire,’ Keith rasped, squatting on his haunches. ‘You can’t expect us to believe that bullshit, being as we watched you – yes, you having a cosy chat with Mrs Shepherd at your poncey function earlier.’ He smiled. ‘Shame you were too busy eyeing her up to notice us, wasn’t it?’
Ken coughed hard, the salmon canapes he’d eaten earlier threatening to come back up on him. Had these two really been there? He swallowed hard. They must have been if they knew he’d been taking to Helen.
‘What is it with you and her then, eh?’ Keith grinned. ‘You her bit on the side? Giving her a break from that wet lettuce of a husband of hers?’ Bet she can’t wait to wrap her legs around your neck after being boned by that piece of piss. Bet she’s a real goer between the sheets.’
Ken’s cheeks flushed crimson with a combination of indignation and embarrassment. In his own mind, what the man said wasn’t too far from the truth. ‘Don’t talk about Helen like that.’
His mind raced. Were these men here because of James Shepherd? Did James suspect something was going on between them? If he’d organised this, then the man was nowhere
near as fragile as he looked. No wonder he’d been so jumpy. ‘Look, Helen’s a colleague and an old friend.’
Keith pulled Ken up with one hand, the lapel of his suit straining as it took his weight. ‘I don’t give a fuck if you’re screwing her. We’re here for information, nothing else.’
‘I-Information?’ Ken stuttered. ‘What kind of information?’
Nero, who had been leaning against the wall casually watching the proceedings, stepped forward. ‘Helen Shepherd, her mother or someone else in her family is in possession of something that doesn’t belong to them.’ He moved closer. ‘It's worth a lot of money and the owners want it back.’
‘W-Want it back?’ Ken cried. What on earth were these men talking about? What could Helen Shepherd possibly have to do with people such as this? She didn’t have vast amounts of hidden money otherwise she wouldn’t be in such a financial mess to need favours on the apartment and the house. It was preposterous.
‘They fucking stole it, mate,’ Keith growled. ‘That’s what they did, so they need to give it back before one of them gets hurt.’ He grinned, exposing his gold tooth. ‘And being as you’re so pally with your friend, Helen, we thought you’d like to ensure that nothing – shall we say, unfortunate befalls her or her dear mother.’
Anger he wasn’t aware he possessed washed over Ken and he shook Keith’s hand from the front of his suit. ‘Helen and her family are nice people!’ he cried. ‘They wouldn’t steal anything. How dare you break into my house and threaten that if I don’t d...’
‘You what?’ Grabbing Ken by the shoulders, Keith slammed him hard into the radiator. ‘Not wise to be so unhelpful.’
Winded, Ken dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.
Nero could feel his own rage building and gave Keith the signal to hold fire. First of all, they’d been jerked around by that moron stoner and had to give that mate of his a bit of a kicking. Now this besuited muppet was getting holier than thou?
He nudged Ken with his foot. ‘You’re going to get us access to Helen’s house, Ken. That way we can retrieve what is ours. That’s all we want you to do.’ Being as the stoner was dragging his feet, this tosser could get on with it.
Trying to get his breath back, Ken moved to a sitting position. Shaking from fear, he wondered whether it was feasible for Helen or any of her family to have done something such as this? Something to warrant the ire of these... these people.
No, it wasn’t possible. Helen didn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. But wait! What about her brother? She said he had a gambling problem. Was he responsible for this? ‘Is it Robert you’re after?’ Ken rasped, his lungs the size of peanuts. ‘Does he owe you money?’
Keith glanced at Nero, whose frown appeared even deeper across his forehead.
Mistaking the silence for a positive, Ken continued. He didn’t like the position Robert had put Helen in, so regardless of her oath not to go against him, he wouldn’t stand by and have the man bring trouble to Helen and her mother’s door. Robert had done enough damage as it was, so whatever he’d done he’d have to take it on the chin, not drag everyone into his problems.
‘Robert owes everyone money! Helen told me only recently about her brother’s gambling problem. It’s his problem, so leave Helen and mother out of it!’ Ken’s voice sounded braver than he felt, but he would not stand by whilst these brutes had the audacity to threaten the woman he loved. Yes, loved. He loved Helen and always had.
He had no idea how he would broach this awkward situation with her, but he’d have to. He’d have to warn her that these lunatics were sniffing around. She’d be mortified to find out that these thugs had broken into his house and had the cheek to threaten him, but he wasn’t bothered about that. The only important thing was that Helen and her mother came to no harm because of that idiot, Robert.
Keith pulled out his cigarettes and slowly lit one. Squatting back down, he blew the smoke into Ken’s face. ‘Well, thanks for that,’ he chortled. ‘Except we don’t give a damn who Robert is or what he’s done. If he owes people brass, then I agree with you – it’s his problem, but that’s not why we’re here.’
Putting his hand back round Ken’s throat, he pulled him off the floor. ‘Now,’ he spat, ‘your friend’s mother is harbouring stolen goods and you, via the lovely Helen will make sure we get them back before Helen isn’t quite as attractive as she is at the moment. Keith’s smile widened. ‘That would be an awful thing to happen because you’re not thinking straight, wouldn’t it?’
Rage flooded through Ken at the slightest thought of anyone touching a hair on Helen’s head. ‘She would know nothing about this and neither would her mother. I’ve had enough. Get out of my house! I have CCTV and I’ll go to the police. You’ve broken in, threatened me and for what? Helen’s mother has dementia, you stupid fool! She’d never dream of do...’
Keith’s fist slammed into Ken’s face with the use of the words ‘stupid’ and ‘fool’. No one spoke to him like that. ‘Going to the police, are you?’ He watched Ken clutch at his smashed nose, blood spewing down his shirt and over his suit, forming a puddle on the polished wooden floor.
Nero calmly watched Keith lose his rag. They would get nowhere with this pompous prick. As for the CCTV, they’d already fixed that, there was no record of anything, but he didn’t doubt that this man was indeed foolish enough to go to the police. He sighed. It really wasn’t their day today.
This time when Keith wrapped both hands around Ken Manning’s neck and applied pressure, Nero didn’t bother calling him off. It had to be done and at least for once it wouldn’t be too messy.
‘ATTACKED?’ TEAGAN CRIED. ‘What do you mean?’
Teagan had been glad to finally get up to her room and get ready for bed. Robert’s visit had put Dulcie in not one of her better moods and she had the sneaking suspicion there would be another walkabout tonight. It was already after midnight, so if that happened the chances of getting more than a couple of hours sleep were slim and she was already exhausted.
Checking her phone as usual before she got into bed, Teagan was dismayed to see a text message notification. Seeing it was off Joe again, she’d very nearly ignored it, but curiosity got the better of her and she’d looked. Now she very much wished she hadn’t.
Joe’s text begging her to ring and that it was an emergency hadn’t resounded at first. Putting her phone back, she’d got into bed, but after five minutes of lying in the dark, thinking, she’d wondered if there really was an emergency. How would she feel if something had happened and she’d ignored it.
Against her better judgement, Teagan found herself getting back out of bed and before she could stop herself, dialled Joe’s number. But she was still none the wiser. He was blabbing and nothing he said made sense.
‘Joe?’ she repeated. ‘Can you hear me? I said, what do you mean, attacked?’ Her heart raced. Was Joe hurt? Or was it a cheap attempt to get her to ring?
‘I can hear you, I can hear you,’ Joe babbled. ‘It’s Alan... Oh Christ, I don’t know what to do... I...’
‘Alan? Alan your housemate?’ Another fight in the pub over a woman, no doubt? Probably something to do with Joe.
‘I-I’m at the hospital with him... Dave too,’ Joe said. ‘Dave’s ok - it’s just Alan. Oh shit... I...’
‘What’s gone on?’ Teagan asked, her heart hardening. Had Joe taken some funny kind of drugs? She’d never liked his penchant for dabbling with that sort of stuff at the best of times and if he’d lost his mind because of the crap he took, then it was his own fault.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Joe muttered. ‘Shit!’
Teagan frowned. ‘Joe, you’re not making sense. Look, I’m really tired. I’m sure Alan will be fine. Don’t worry and...’
‘You don’t understand!’ Joe wailed. ‘Alan’s in a coma. They beat him so badly, they think he’s got brain damage. Fucking brain damage, Teagan! He... he may not survive and...’
‘Brain damage?’ Teagan went cold. If this was
a windup, then she’d never speak to Joe ever again. But if it wasn’t, what kind of beating must Alan have had?
‘It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,’ Joe repeated. ‘I’ve got to see you. I...’
‘How did this happen? Where were y...’
‘I daren’t say much over the phone. I... Look, please... I’m in the shit. I need to see you. I’ve got to talk to you ab...’
‘No,’ Teagan said firmly. ‘I’m sorry about Alan, I really am, but seeing each other won’t change anything with wh...’
‘You don’t get it,’ Joe screeched. ‘Please, Teagan. I’m begging you. It will make more sense when I explain. This is because... because of you... It’s beca...’
‘Because of me?’ Teagan cried. ‘Don’t you dare blame me because you went out and Alan got into a fight! You ditched me, Joe – not the other way around. It was your decision to sleep with other girls behind my back and...’
Hearing Joe openly sobbing, Teagan stopped. What was going on?
‘Christ, Teag,’ Joe sniffed, ‘I can’t explain over the phone, that’s why I need to see you. But please, you’ve got to believe me on this one. I’m fucking dead if I don’t sort this out. I need your help. Please meet me. I won’t hassle you, I just need to speak to you.’
Teagan remained silent. Torn. Worry rattled through her.
‘Teagan, please...’ Joe begged. ‘Please meet me. As soon as possible?’
Teagan hesitated. It went against everything she’d decided on where Joe was concerned. On top of that, she’d arranged to go for a coffee with Darren Harding tomorrow.
‘Teagan?’ Joe paused. ‘I need...’
‘It’s my half day tomorrow, but I’ve already arranged something,’ Teagan said, begrudgingly. She wasn’t cancelling Darren. He was the first positive thing to happen in ages and she wasn’t giving that up only for Joe to rip her confidence to shreds again and remind her what a doormat she’d been.