by Paul Slatter
Chendrill took a deep breath. He said, “He told you, did he?”
“No, my youngest did. It’s disgusting. The sick asshole, he didn’t have the guts to go speak to Sebastian himself, so he sent the kids instead.”
It was then that Chendrill got it and it was an angle he had not yet considered. At the end of the day, it was easier on the kids for the woman’s husband to fall on his own sword. The woman playing him to help give the man the little push he needed. After all, had Chendrill started to dig deeper about her husband initiating the assault on Mazzi Hegan and then after for having her kids attack Sebastian and kill his dog as per their father’s instructions, then the boys would be in trouble with the law themselves and could have easily been sentenced for assault as juvenile offenders—or at least have been pulled into court and coerced into testifying against their father. In Chendrill’s eyes, she’d played a good move as even if it had just come down to a day trip to the supreme court for her boys, unless the father was a pedophile or was constantly beating them and their mother, then no child should be put through testifying against their father and have to live with it forever after.
Chendrill said, “It turns out that in the bus he was driving there were two known terrorists. So, maybe the person who tipped off the authorities did the world a favor.”
In genuine shock, Suzy put her hand to her mouth. How could it get any worse? she thought and asked, “He was driving terrorists?”
Chendrill said, “It’s yet to be proven. You know what these people are like. They like to make things bigger than they are.”
Then Suzy took Chendrill by surprise and said, “Well let’s hope it is true and then we can take some of these monsters off the street and at the same time I can get on with my life.”
“Oh?” said Chendrill, as he wondered if she’d also heard about the other love of her life.
Then before he could say another word, Suzy asked, “Have you seen the news?” Without waiting for an answer, Suzy carried on, “My mother always said I had bad taste in men—it looks like I get a clean start though. It’s a good thing, I think.”
Chendrill stayed quiet for the moment. Then Suzy said, “You know he’s still here in town?”
Chendrill nodded, he suspected as much—the man was injured, after all.
Wondering if the guy was in the basement, he asked, “The Italian? How do you know? Has he called?”
Suzy nodded, then said, “You know he’s not a real Italian. He looks it and pretends to be, but he’s not, he just liked the persona I think, liked people to think he was part of the Mafia—you know, I don’t even think he’s ever been to Italy.”
Chendrill smiled and felt the heat of embarrassment drift though him. It was funny and kind of humiliating at the same time, getting hit by such a loser it seemed—even if he had been burying junkies in the lawn. He stayed quiet and watched as Suzy sat there looking at the floor. Moments later, she said, “He has SIM cards that he throws away. I know it’s him because he always sends a text with random numbers just before he calls for real. He’s been doing that, except now he’s skipping the numbers and just getting straight to it.”
“Saying what?”
“I don’t answer, it’s just random messages, so I’ve not paid too much attention, but the ones I have heard he’s begging one second and saying let’s meet the next. You know, stuff like that and drivel, sounds like he’s in pain. As I said, I don’t answer now.”
Chendrill nodded and, unconsciously rubbing his wound, said, “Did he say where?”
“If he does, I’ll tell you. But I know he’s downtown somewhere. I’ll forward them to you. I want that idiot out of my life as much as I want to divorce the other one, which now it seems will be pretty easy. All I want in my life now is to be here with my kids in this home that Sebastian bought for me, that’s all I want.”
Then she said, “I know you hold all the aces now Chuck and I know if it wasn’t for my husband and kids, Sebastian would still be here. But please don’t take my house away. I’ve been honest and this is the first real home I’ve ever had.”
Chendrill smiled., He’d made a promise to Sebastian to look after the woman and her kids and it was the last thing on his mind, but obviously the first on Suzy’s, though the woman had dealt with all the other issues first before she’d gotten to her own. He said, “You ever thought of a career in dentistry?”
*************
Chendrill got back into his car and headed back downtown. He hit its core and, seeing a rack of women’s flip flops by the doorway of a 7-Eleven, he stopped. The sliding door opened so fast with a swoosh that it made Chendrill wonder if Captain Kirk would appear. He looked at the rack, the flip flops all there in different colors some with flowers, some without. Trish liked them; it was what she wore around the house and what Dan would wear also when he couldn’t find his shoes. He spun the rack and looked further, what he needed was a pair any man would be too ashamed to wear unless they hung with Mazzi in his old days on a ‘girls’ night out.
Buying them, Chendrill then headed south again towards the private hospital where a surgeon had worked miracles on the love of Dennis the dentist’s life. He parked up outside and walked into the fancy reception and asked to be shown Alla’s room.
He knocked on the door and, as soon as he entered, he wished he’d brought flowers.
Dennis was there, as was Alla. But they weren’t talking. Dennis said, “Hey?”
Dennis stood and took Chendrill’s hand. “What happened to your shoulder?” he said.
Chendrill smiled, he looked over to Alla, “Hi Alla.”
The woman wasn’t answering. Dennis got to it. He said, “Alla’s had both her operations. The doctor said she should be up and walking soon. There’s money left over from the operation and they are recommending we stay and go through physio so as Alla can start walking again. I say yes, but Alla, bless her heart, is saying she can do that on her own and we can save the money.”
Chendrill looked at the Russian woman with the beautiful face. She was a tough bitch, there was no doubting that. He said, “What are we talking about money wise?”
“$50,0000,” said Dennis.
Chendrill understood, it was a lot of money. He also understood the fact that Dennis wasn’t worried about the money but rather about the fact his wife was likely going to head south with the $50,000 as soon as she had taught herself to walk again.
He said, “I’ll pick up the physio, Alla. You keep what’s left for a rainy day.” Then he said to Dennis, “When you’ve time could you please do me a favor and visit a car dealer and pick out something fancy then go find yourself a big apartment downtown that you’d like the pair of you to live in. Then once you’ve settled in, I’d like to talk to you about opening a business with me.”
Dennis stared at Chendrill, not taking it in at all. He said, “What are you talking about?”
Chendrill told him again, this time filling in the minor detail about the amount of money he now apparently had and watched as Dennis had sat head in hands in silence as Chendrill’s plan for a huge surgery downtown that he’d love Dennis to front once the lawyers had secured his license unfolded.
It was good being Sebastian.
Chendrill left the hospital and headed back over the bridge downtown. He’d played the messages the Italian had sent his girl over and over and backwards. The man was in a bad way, there was no doubt about it. The way he breathed, the way he lost concentration, and the way his temper would burst when he was pleading. But in the background, there was always a lot of other things going on, ambulances and cops flying by, buses passing powered by electrical cables that sparked, people calling out drunken or drugged out nonsense, cars and trucks sitting or honking at lights.
Suzy was right, the man was downtown. But it wasn’t in the core where people shopped and partied and ate expensive meals in franchise restaurants where pretty waitresses with cleavage all asked, “So how’s your night going?” for better tips as they�
��d been trained to do. The Italian was in the East Side, in a place where no one gave a shit and the man was familiar with, a place where he knew he could hide in plain sight and be close to his women. He was in an area populated with pimps, drug addicts, and prostitutes, along with the insane and the frightened who should never have been offered outside care away from the hospital. He was in a place where no one looked and society tried to sweep under the carpet.
Chendrill drove the Aston and cruised Hastings Street with all the windows open, once and then twice, and then a third time even slower. He stopped at each light and parked, taking in the sounds and ignoring the drug addicts that came over to lean on the car.
From what he could tell, the Italian was on this road and not on any of the others which ran parallel. For the others were one way and from the messages, the traffic flowed both directions. Also, there were constant occurrences of street people fighting or screaming or just plain talking.
But there were a lot of cheap hotels with rooms that covered a section of Hastings Street which ran for at least eight blocks.
He carried on driving, looking at each of the hotels, counting off each one as he did and an hour later, he had it down to just three.
The first was a bigger establishment which looked good if you were booking up via the internet, but most people who did were gone the next day. The next was above an old church and housed the homeless on a monthly basis and the third was along from the charity shop which did the same but was running a ‘no vacancy’ sign and had been for months.
Chendrill parked up and walked up the street, the people leaving him be as he did. He looked at the big poster of Clive Sonic and smiled as he remembered the first night he’d met the man at Sebastian’s. Then he stopped on the opposite side of the road and leaned against the inside of a doorway which smelled of piss. Seconds later, he was out again and that’s when he heard Daltrey’s voice say, “Yeah I did that as well.”
Chendrill turned and smiled, his old friend standing there at the side of a bus shelter staring right at him. How the hell had he not seen her. She said, “You took your time—I was wondering when you would figure it out.”
And how had she? Chendrill thought. What process of elimination had she followed to come to the same place?
He said, “I take it he’s over there then?”
He was. The Italian was up there on the second floor, waiting it out for the police to get bored.
Daltrey said, “Yeah, you see that window on the second floor with the light on, he’s in there.”
Chendrill asked, “How do you know?”
“Because the lady in the pharmacy told me there was this guy with a bad limp who keeps buying painkillers and iodine. And if I had a bad leg and I was hiding, I’d pick a place next to the pharmacy that took cash.”
“That easy?”
Daltrey shrugged. But the truth was it hadn’t been ‘that easy’. She hadn’t slept. After finding Ditcon’s car via CCTV camera recordings as it headed back downtown, she’d lost it in a multi-parking facility opposite the SeaBus terminal along with the guy who everyone thought was Italian except Suzy. She’d then checked all the hospitals and clinics for leg wounds and then every all-night pharmacy in the vicinity until she eventually found one which had sold medication to an Italian-looking middle-aged guy with a limp. That information coming to her quicker than she’d thought it would as soon as she’d started threatening to have methadone licenses pulled for any of the pharmacies she questioned if it turned out they’d neglected to mention a mass murderer had been in their shop. After that, it was a basic similar Q&A on every sleazy no questions asked hotel in the area until eventually she’d made eye contact with a guy who refused to look up. She looked back to the entranceway of the hotel that didn’t even have a name and said, “That and the friendly guy on the desk over there told me.” Then she asked Chendrill, “How did you work it out?”
To which he replied with a smile, “It was easy, I saw you.”
Daltrey said, “He’s in a lot of pain. When the traffic goes quiet for a bit you can hear him calling out.”
Then she said, “I’m waiting to see if his girl turns up. I want to see if Suzy’s as innocent as she seems.”
Chendrill said, “She’s not going to, don’t worry. I spoke with her and I can tell you this relationship has run its course.”
Daltrey looked at him.
“You did, did she know he’s here?”
Chendrill nodded then looking up to the window said, “Not exactly, but he’d been calling her and leaving messages. She turned them over, that’s how I found you.” Then he asked Daltrey. “Any news on the guy you saved, how is he doing?”
It was a good question and one that Daltrey was still trying to get her head around. The guy was fine, if you call being strung out on methadone and quicklime burns after being strangled fine. But he was alive. One thing was troubling her though was that she’d heard the man tell the paramedics his name was Bill. She said to Chendrill, “You know that saying, what goes around comes around?”
Chendrill waited for Daltrey to answer her own question and when she didn’t, he got it. He knew that Daltrey had been looking for a guy whose sister was missing and maybe last night she’d found him. Daltrey although cool on the outside was obviously still hurting bad, but at the same time trying to tough it out rather than take it easy in the way she should have been. He said, “I’m sorry I asked you to get involved. I’ll look into who this guy is, don’t worry.”
Deep down Daltrey was glad Chendrill had gotten her involved but stayed quiet—deep down, she knew meeting the man she’d saved and sitting down with him was on the agenda once she’d dealt with the guy who’d tried to spear her and leave her down his pit. So instead she just looked to the window of the room where the Italian was hiding. Chendrill joined her watching the curtains in the room move in the breeze, then said, “What do you want to do?”
And all Daltrey had to say was, “Let that fucking monster suffer.”
Chendrill looked at her; for someone as tough as Daltrey was, the comment was out of character, he said, “You know it wasn’t him up there who burnt that girl to death.”
And without taking her gaze away from the window, Daltrey replied, “Yeah, I know, but you weren’t in that pit.”
*************
Mattia the Italian loan shark woke again and this time he wasn’t sure why he had. He was hot though. The window was open and there was a strong breeze coming in, but he was still really hot—fever hot and his body hurt and his head was aching like a motherfucker. Jesus Christ, he thought. He looked at his phone, but the battery was dead. Then he looked at his stomach to see the bites that were there had gotten worse and turned into what looked like a rash that covered his whole abdomen. Then he saw his crudely bandaged covered in purple from the iodine he’d been pouring onto it. Lines of black were visible, rising below and above the point of impact where Daltrey had swung the spike into it.
Standing, he held onto the wall and hopped towards the bathroom and pulled out another four painkillers from the jar and, taking water straight from the tap, he knocked them back.
That’ll do it, he thought. What he’d have to do was head to the train station and jump on the next train out of town and hit the hospital where his friend from school worked. He’d been here now for at least five days. No one had been around and he had had that call from his brother and his uncle who used to take him fishing. His mother had also called to see if he was okay. It had been good to hear from her. And Suzy, she was coming over soon.
He hobbled back to the window and looked out and then down. The group of guys were there, looking up at him as they always did. He called down to them, “Hey, I know you, you owe me for a fucking block!”
But that’s not what he said—for the man’s words were gibberish and only coherent to himself. The conversations with his family and old friends were just dreams and nightmares from the past and the feeling that Suzy was coming over in h
er high heels was nothing more than wishful thinking—for the man was dying. His veins slowly filling his body with poison as the infection in his leg boiled his insides away and the septicemia sent bacteria and blood clots into his vital organs as he tried to walk in a daze up and down in his room and out on the street below, dragging his leg as he did. Calling out and blending in with the people who lived on the street, who had seen and heard it all before.
He began to cough, slowly at first and then hard, as he lay back on the bed as many others had in that same room shortly before they had died—some owing him money. Long and harsh rasping coughs that were soon forgotten as the heroin or crack poisoned his predecessors’ veins very much in the same way the poison was now filling his. The guy on the desk below hearing and seeing it all before and making a killing, literally, from one month in advance of rentals handed over by unwitting short-term guests who lived and died amongst the horror that was the downtown East Side.
Still staring at the window Daltrey took a deep breath, then she turned to Chendrill and said, “It’s best we go get him and have the hospital clean the man up so we can ask him who the other poor souls I was treading on in that pit were.”
Then as they were about to cross the road and head up into the seedy hotel where the owner hoped his patrons would die at the start of the month so as he could re-rent the room, the Italian came out into the street. The man shirtless and limping badly, dressed only in his trousers and shoes with no socks. His head shaved, his body and face sweaty, his torso covered in bite marks from the bed bugs which fed off him while he slept.
Chendrill said, “Oh my God.”
Looking back to him, Daltrey said, “Yeah, like I said, he’s been in and out all day. He gets to the end of the block and can’t get any further because of the pain. Then I think he forgets why he’s left the room because he gets confused and starts shouting at people.”