by D. R. Mather
THE INN
Donald Mather
THE INN
A WALLACE PUBLISHING BOOK
First published in 2017 by Wallace Publishing, United Kingdom.
www.wallacepublishing.co.uk
Copyright © 2017 Don Mather.
The right of Don Mather to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All Rights Reserved.
This book is sold under condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Typesetting courtesy of KGHH Publishing, United Kingdom
www.kensingtongorepublishing.com
Cover art by Graeme Parker
www.kensingtongorepublishing.com
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty- Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
A special note goes to Barbara Clark and Gabriel Krajacic Jagarcec for their input, as well as having to read through the first drafts.
I'm sure it was hard to get through, but they both did it diligently and with respect and understanding.
I applaud you and I thank you.
Chapter One
Benny wasn’t just a bad man, he was an evil man. He was short in stature, barely breaking the five foot mark, and his build was thin but muscular. He had multiple scars on him, from his cheeks to his fingers, and although Benny may have only been equipped with two ears, he made the most out of them, wearing five earrings on one ear and four on the other.
The boys sure looked up to him. Before Benny, they did small-time crimes. Benny brought it all to a much higher level which made everything a lot more profitable for the whole gang. The money was pouring in now. There was big money, drug money, as well as quite a few very successful robberies and the start of a very nice protection racket.
Benny’s big problem with society was that he didn’t kill to get what he wanted; he killed because he loved it. He loved to watch people die at his hand. He could never understand why everyone else had to get so pissy about that.
‘If you’re good at something, you should do it, right?’ That’s what he was taught!
A case in point, the man who sat in the back corner of the abandoned warehouse; his feet, legs and chest were duct taped to a chair. His mouth and eyes were taped as well. His head hung down to his chest. He didn’t stir. He could smell the damp stale air of the building and could almost visualize the place. It smelled of old oil and machinery. He could almost picture the aged, blacked stone walls. He knew where he was; the warehouses at the old mills. He also knew he wasn’t in a place where help would find its way to him. He was learning to deal with the truth that faced him. He was never going to see light again. How could he prepare to meet his end? He didn’t know, he only knew that he must. Time was endless in his mind and hopeless dread filled his every thought. He knew he was in the hands of a psychopath.
“Hey, where’s Mike,” Benny asked. “He should have made it back by now!”
The boys were afraid to answer; you didn’t want to piss Benny off. As Benny started to move in their direction, the door to the warehouse opened with a loud ear-piercing screech and in walked Mike. In his hand, a briefcase; fine brown leather with gold clasps and hinges. Mike walked directly over to Benny and handed it to him, grateful to be rid of it.
“Everything go well?” Benny asked.
“Yeah, it went just like you planned, no cops or nothing. Nice and icy; as you would say Benny.”
Benny took the case over to a table and put it down. The man in the corner stirred as the case clicked open. He knew that sound; he should, because it was his briefcase. His wife gave it to him for his birthday three years ago. He used it every day and the locks made a distinctive sound when opened. The left side was a lower pitched click than the right side.
His wife! She did it! He thought to himself. She’s trying to save my life.
The man didn’t think he could love her any more than he did right now. He grasped onto a tiny shred of hope, feeding his mind that he may just have a chance. It was a fool’s hope.
Benny opened the case and inside was money, along with a handwritten note:
“Please, oh please, I’m begging you; this was all I could get! I know you asked for one million, but I could only get six hundred thousand. I tried everything I could and borrowed from everyone I knew, but I just couldn’t get any more. Dear God, please let this be enough. I did my part and kept the police out of it. He’s my husband and I love him. Please spare his life and let him go!”
Benny stood at the case for a minute or more, just holding the note. A smile came to his face; an evil smile. He gently, almost lovingly closed the case. As he walked over to his captive, the boys followed, but made sure they kept their distance. You didn’t get close to Benny. He approached the man, leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Something the boys didn’t hear.
“She fucked up, man.”
Benny’s captive whimpered and there was a sudden boom which echoed through the entire warehouse. The man slumped forward; half of the side of his head was now on the wall and floor. Benny stepped back and the boys now saw the .44 he had in his hand.
“Iced motherfucker, iced,” said Benny.
He stared at the body and smiled a deep, satisfying smile. His eyes fed on the carnage he had created and he felt a thrill course through himself. The smile widened and spread from ear to ear.
“Mike, take the boys and get rid of this piece of shit down at the river. When you’re finished, I want you to go to that bitch’s house and rip her fucking guts out.”
The boys had just started the task of removing the duct tape, trying to avoid the mess, when the warehouse door slammed shut. No one had heard it open. That door squeaked enough to wake the dead, but not one person heard it open, they only h
eard it slam shut.
“Hey; who the fuck is there?”
There weren’t a lot of lights on, just enough to hold back the dark. A man walked out of the darkness and came into view. He was wearing a large black leather trench coat. Benny figured him to be about five foot ten or so. He was big but not huge.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m here to talk to you Benny,” said the stranger.
As the stranger approached, Mike yelled out, “COP!”
Benny did what Benny knew how to do best – he shot at the stranger. Two shots.
BLAM, BLAM!
The man never faltered, never attempted to duck or dodge, he just kept slowly walking ahead.
BLAM, BLAM, BLAM!!
Still, the man continued.
“Fuck, are you blind or something?” Mike said, looking at Benny.
It was too late to answer. The stranger was now in front of Benny, and Benny was out of bullets. He grabbed Benny by the neck and said only one sentence:
“I think you’ve done enough.”
Blood began to rush from under the stranger’s hand and Benny’s neck broke with a horrible crunch. The stranger just held Benny there, dangling him in the air, then walked over to the table still dragging Benny with him. He lifted the dead man’s body up and dropped him on the table, right on top of the briefcase, all with only one hand, the one still on Benny’s neck.
“There, the rest of your ransom is paid.”
As the stranger turned and looked at the boys, he noticed they seemed frozen in place. He walked over to them and touched each man’s shoulder.
“Benny didn’t get a choice, he had to go. I want you all to leave now; go home and think about you’re lives. Fix it.”
Blindly, the boys began to walk away, not knowing how or why.
“You can leave the weapons here,” he added.
They removed all the guns and knives that they were packing, dropped them to the floor and slowly walked away towards the exit. Not a single one talked or looked up from the floor to which they hung they’re heads. They chose redemption and didn’t even know they had. They’re future was out of the stranger’s hands now. The stranger walked over to the dead man who was still taped to the chair, and picked up Benny’s gun. He paid no attention to the dead man. He turned, walked over and picked up all the other weapons, then headed to the door and out into the night. The night was still young; there were things that needed to be done. There were more souls to save and evil to vanquish.
***
Cindy worked the night shift as a waitress out at the truck stop over on route seventy, outside of Terre Haute, Indiana. She stood about five foot six and had sandy colored hair. If you looked close enough, you could see the tiny scar on her left cheek from that rock throwing incident down at the lake when she was eight years old. Her eyes were blue but with a definite green tint to them as well. She was a little on the ‘very thin’ side but the ‘good’ places, as she called them, compensated for it.
It was another Friday, late at night. Most of the local drunks hadn’t come in yet as they were still at the bars and night clubs. The majority of them didn’t have work tomorrow, so it wouldn’t be until after 2 a.m. before they showed up at the truck stop. Cindy hoped to be able to escape them just before they started swaying and staggering in. She figured Ronda had missed the last two weekend shifts, so she could deal with them this time.
The amount of truckers could vary depending on their runs. Right now, it seemed they were all off running somewhere else. The only ones at the truck stop were Cindy, her friend Emma, Billy, and the cook out in the kitchen. Billy sat swaying in a booth over in the corner, ordering everything his little mind could think of, just so it could sit in front of him, un-eaten. He was an alcoholic now, but he didn’t used to be. Like so many around this town, he had high hopes in school, only to find that life didn’t always work out that way. Now he worked in a shoe shop and was married with a kid. Cindy felt bad for his poor wife and kid and pitied them. It was so hard for Cindy to believe now that Billy and she used to date in high school. It seemed that tonight Billy had started early and was already close to passing out.
Cindy hated this town and hated her life, nothing turned out the way she always fantasized that it would. She knew one thing though, she wasn’t going to waste her life away living the way she was now; not if she could help it – no sir. She was studying a few college courses and wanted to get out of this little slice of hell. She wanted it really bad.
Emma was Cindy’s best friend, had been since kindergarten in fact. Emma came in at around five and a half feet tall, a bit bigger than Cindy in the structural part, but still nice to look at, as the truckers would say. Somewhere beneath her bright blond and red streaked hair sat a brunette, but that wasn’t something you mentioned to her. Her fingernails had the same red streaks painted on them and it was probably safe to guess that her toenails did as well.
As Cindy explained it all, it went something like this…
“Emma and I were talking at the counter about things we’d like to do, places we’d love to see but can’t come up with the bucks to ever visit. I want to be able to go into college full-time next year. I know it’s a late start, but it’s better than working here. I think I’d like to learn all that I can about running my own business. Maybe even have my own restaurant. Not like this dive, but an upscale one, in a beautiful part of a big city. Emma just wants sex. All she can get, whenever and wherever she can get it. Okay, that’s not entirely true; she wants other things as well. However, it seems sex is always tops on her list. Why she doesn’t have a kid or two yet is beyond me.
“So, I’m standing behind the counter and Emma changes the subject and starts gabbing away about this cute guy she saw at the grocery store where she works. Yeah, Emma’s dreams are off to a flying start too. She wanted to be a famous designer once. I guess you need to open your legs to the right people for that. The right people don’t live around here. As Emma’s telling me about this guy, I turn to my left and there he is.
“No one heard him come in. Only four people are in the place: Emma, Billy, me and the chef in the kitchen. I look up and he’s standing right there in front of me. I could say he’s average. Not tall, not short. Just, you know, average – maybe about five ten or so. He has what seems to be a three or four day growth on his face, and short dark brown hair which is neatly combed. But as I look at him, I see his eyes. What’s with those eyes? They are deep blue; ocean deep blue. I get a feeling. Like fear and trust, warmth and cold all at once.”
“Hi mister,” I say, “Take a seat. What can I get you?” I hear one word from him.
“Coffee.”
“One coffee coming up,” I then place a black coffee in front of him, “Would you like cream sir?”
“No thanks,” is all he says.
“He’s wearing a black leather trench coat. Who wears those anymore? And in the middle of summer? I go back to talking with Emma. She’s kind of winking and tossing her head slightly to her left, over and over. I look her in the eyes and signal to her that yes, I get it, and I’ve seen him too. I don’t know why, but Emma is constantly trying to hook me up with men. If she thinks I’m about to start living her lifestyle, the girl is nuts. Right now, I like my privacy. Men can wait.
“The man is quiet; he isn’t looking around like most people do once they sit. He keeps his eyes on his cup and just drinks. Apparently Emma can’t control herself anymore so she turns and says hi to him. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye or twitch a muscle. He just pulls the cup away from his mouth a tiny bit and without a turn, says “hello.” Who says hello? Everyone I know always says hi, even people from out of town. Emma takes this as a ‘NOT INTRESTED’ signal, so she turns back to me and off she starts into another gabbing session.
“I bend down to get a bus pan that’s mostly full of dirty dishes so I can bring them over to be washed. After I drop them off, I turn back to Emma and there’s Billy. He’s got up from the bo
oth and is staggering his way across the floor, heading to where the stranger is sitting. I forgot Billy was even here still. I think the last time I looked over in Billy’s direction, he was using a sandwich for his pillow. Billy reaches the lunch counter after several unwanted left and right movements and plops his butt on the stool next to this man.”
“Hey man, I really like this coat, you wanna sell it or something?”
“No.” The man answers simply and directly.
“With all the booze Billy has in him, I guess he decides to take a bolder look at the man’s coat. As he reaches for it, the whole night changes forever.
“I’m right there on the other side of the lunch counter, not more than five feet from both of them. I’m looking right at them, about to tell Billy to get back to his booth or go home. A flash appears so fast I can’t make out what it is, until I see the man’s right hand wrapped around Billy’s neck. Billy is outstretched with his elbows on a stool, his legs dangling to the floor. And get this, the man, he holds onto Billy with one hand, and DRINKS his coffee with the other!
“Hey mister, please don’t hurt him, he’s just drunk off his ass,” I ask.
“The man never even turns to me, I don’t know if he even hears me. Emma screeches and gets off the stool, stepping back out of the way. Billy never struggles, never even moves! After a half a minute, the man stands up and pulls Billy up by his neck! Billy is hanging a half a foot off the ground. I don’t know if the man knew this or not, but he seemed to lower Billy just enough for his feet to touch the floor. Then he pulls Billy within six inches of his face and says to him,
“Go home Billy. Your wife and baby need you to look after them.”
“Then he lets Billy’s neck go. Billy stands there and stares frozen at him. Then, just like that, Billy turns and leaves. He has a ’deer in the headlights’ stare and walks out into the night like he’s never touched a drop of booze. The weird thing at the time? I never said Billy’s name. Neither did Emma. And Billy sure never got a chance to say it. So how he knew it, I’ll never know.