Sold to the Devil

by Blair Denholm

  Fucking lying arsehole! He kicked the second box as if scoring a goal from outside the 50 metre arc. ‘Aarrgghh!’ He hopped around until the pain subsided.

  He ripped open the cardboard flaps.

  ‘What the fuck! Towels!’ Too soft to hurt his toe. Maybe arsehole was hiding something underneath them. He grabbed the towels, flung them over his shoulder. ‘You little beauty!’ A black metal safe.

  So, Ed had been telling the truth. Just missed that tiny detail, didn’t you arsehole. Well, I’ll forgive you that one. But not what you did to me. Never. May you rot in hell.

  The safe had an electronic keypad. Guessing the code would be a fluke. Have to force it open somehow. Probably tools in the garage, try and do it here. But the clock’s ticking. The safe would have to come with him.

  He grabbed the top of the safe and heaved. Bugger, too heavy. What the hell was in there besides money? Bricks? The safe was solid steel and weighed a ton. Impossible to pull it out it from above.

  He dug his heels in and yanked the top of the box. If he could topple it over, maybe he could extricate the safe. Front edge acting as a pivot, he raised the rear of the box a centimetre. Shit, too heavy. He had to let go. He’d need Jordie’s help. The boy might be thick as ice cream, but he was strong. Carted full oyster baskets like they were empty.

  Quick check on the mobile. 5:53pm. The anticipated five minutes long ago elapsed. He glanced up at the window. Light was fading. He speed dialled.

  ‘Yeah?’ A timid whisper.

  ‘Get over here, quick.’

  ‘What about being a lookout?’

  ‘It’s not important now.’

  ‘What’s goin’ on? Have you got the money?’

  ‘Yes. And no. Stop asking fucken questions.’

  ‘Okay. On me way.’

  They managed to flip the box on its side. The safe toppled onto the carpet with a soft thud. Jordie knelt and ripped away cardboard.

  ‘I reckon Shifty could bust this sucker open, no problem.’

  ‘Awesome.’ With one of the freshly unpacked towels, Gary mopped perspiration from his brow. ‘Only how do we get it to him? It’s gonna be too awkward to carry down the stairs.’

  ‘Is there a tool shed or somefin’ like that on the property?’

  ‘Maybe in the garage. Or out the back. Dunno.’

  ‘Okay. Wait here. ’

  Gary gave a weak half-nod. Despite having laid down the law to Jordie half an hour ago, it was obvious the little bloke was more practical in some areas. Like salvaging a bloody heavy safe.

  Mentally knackered, Gary sat cross-legged on the floor, elbows on knees. He concentrated his thoughts, tried to conjure Devlin. With the creature’s help he could surely nut out a solution to this conundrum. But the hairy creature wouldn’t come, even when Gary uttered his name aloud in an improvised incantation. Devlin must prefer the outdoors.

  Thump…thump…thump. The noise grew louder until it stopped, replaced by a soft, repetitive wheel squeak. ‘Hey, hop up.’ Jordie manoeuvred a hand trolley over the threshold. ‘I found just the thing.’

  By the time they bumped the safe down the stairs to the front door, it was already dark. Wheeling the booty to the car might look suss. Driving the car back and loading up in the privacy of Ed’s driveway made more sense.

  Stars twinkled over the River Derwent. The moon cast a silvery pathway over the river’s surface, visible from every house on the street. A gentle breeze blowing from the south-east dried the sweat off Gary’s back as he loped down the hill to fetch the Focus. The safe and its mystery contents must weigh around 65-70 kilograms. He prayed the money was inside. There was no guarantee until they cracked it open.

  ‘C’mon, heave.’ Jordie encouraged. ‘One big shove and it’s in. One…two…three.’ They hefted the safe into the boot, pulled fingers out of the way of its crushing weight at the last second. The rear suspension sagged a couple of centimetres. Gary closed the boot.

  ‘Want me to call Shifty?’ asked Jordie.

  Gary lit two smokes, handed one over. ‘Yes, mate. Tell him we’re on our way to his place. If he can open the safe and the money’s inside, I’ll give youse each a grand.’

  ‘Wow. Even though I piked out on killing Ed? You’ll still give me that much?’

  ‘Yep.’ Gary smiled magnanimously. Perhaps he’d been too harsh on the blighter. At the end of the day, they’d recovered the safe, in no small measure thanks to his mate’s cool head and ingenuity. ‘You mightn’t have shot Ed dead like you were s’posed to. But it was a big ask, I’ll admit. Here, catch.’ He tossed the car keys to Jordie. ‘You can drive.’

  The beaming smile aimed at Gary nearly melted his heart. It was probably too generous, but he might even give Jordie an extra $500.

  Chapter 33

  It wasn’t like Ed to blank so many text messages. Selena was used to his usual comeback “stop annoying me”. Or a curt “busy atm. Brb”. The man hated to be hassled, preferred to be the hassler.

  On the flip side, if she was late or he needed her for some reason, woe betide Selina if she didn’t reply immediately. It was pure hypocrisy on his part. Ed called her a nagging cow. But that was unfair. She loved him more than the big oaf deserved, needed to know he was okay. Wanted him to be happy. But where was he?

  Ed was helpless in so many ways, needed looking after. Like the old folks at the hospital. Nurturing must have been in Selina’s DNA. Why else would she have become a gerontology nurse, wiping old codgers’ dirty bums day in, day out? Not for fun or the pay, that’s for sure. She could have done anything else; she was smart, hard-working. The lure of nursing proved too strong, though, and here she was. Tending poor Velma Riordan, 87 and cancer ridden. It would be a blessing for all concerned when the old dear carked it. Which wouldn’t be long now.

  ‘Come on, Velma. Let’s turn you over, get you cleaned up and ready for bye-byes.’

  ‘Wha…? Who the hell are you? Leave me alone!’ the woman croaked.

  ‘There, there dear.’ Selina stroked Velma’s sparse hair. ‘It’s just me, the night nurse.’

  The old woman nodded and rolled onto her side. ‘Well, then, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!’

  When she was finished, Selina pulled up the bedsheet and tucked Velma in. The patient smiled with a vacant expression and slowly closed twitching eyelids. A line of drool slipped from the corner of her mouth and landed on the pillow. Selina wiped away the mess with a tissue. She reflected how the skills required for treating slobbering seniors like Velma came in handy for dealing with Ed’s behaviour. That included pandering to his weird sexual proclivities. But she’d gotten used to that. More than used to it, if she was going to be totally honest with herself. Getting it on with a hero policeman, that was kind of cool.

  She patted Velma’s liver-spotted wrist. ‘Okay, sleep tight. Someone will be back to check on you later.’ Selina glanced at her watch. Shift would be over in ten minutes and then a treasured weekend off. Finally, the chance to get much-needed sleep. Then to catch up with Ed in the morning. Give him the third degree. Where the hell had he been the last 48 hours, though? She prayed he’d answer a call before then.

  The sun shone weakly through the clouds and she was glad she’d brought a jumper and scarf. Selina sat at an outdoor table in front of one of Salamanca’s overpriced, trendy joints that dish up all-day breakfast and all-day booze with all-day efficiency. She inspected her phone again. Nothing from Ed.

  Throngs of tourists trawled up and down the strip. Fat Americans off a cruise ship waddled past like penguins, pointed and gawked at everything. Cameras the size of bricks hung around their thick necks. No sign of Ed among the crowd. Maybe Fern will know where he is. She made the call.

  ‘Hey, it’s me. Have you heard from Ed? Hang on…’ Selina stood and peered about like a meerkat. Is that him at the fruit and veggie stall? No, someone else. ‘I’m supposed to meet him, but he’s not here.’

  ‘Don’t stress,’ Fern answered with a yawn.
‘You worry too much.’

  ‘I can’t help it. Something’s not right. He hasn’t posted on Facebook for a week.’

  ‘Maybe he’s wised up. Got off the social media bandwagon like we all should.’

  ‘Not a chance with that poser.’ A nervous laugh. ‘Anyway, this morning we were supposed to meet for a coffee at Salamanca. Like every Saturday. Plus it’s the first day of spring. We should be drinking coffee together to see off the horrible cold winter.’

  ‘He’ll be there. Be patient.’

  ‘He’s over an hour late.’

  ‘Ed’s never on time. Only cares about himself.’

  ‘It’s not just him being late. He hasn’t answered my texts or calls for two days. I’ve left voicemail messages, too. I’m worried.’

  ‘His phone battery’s dead,’ Fern offered, half statement, half question.

  ‘He’d never use dead battery as an excuse. Always got his iPhone charged up. Never know when that perfect Instagram photo op’s going to appear, right? Something’s seriously wrong.’

  ‘Have you been to the house?’

  Selina slurped a mouthful of cappuccino. Licked foam from her top lip. ‘Nu-uh. I’ve been pulling double shifts at the hospital. Lots of older people coming in with pneumonia and flu after the bad weather. There’s not enough staff to cope. Got my first decent sleep for ages last night. Now I’ve got the whole weekend off. I was hoping so much to see him.’

  Selina could hear Fern’s jagged breathing. ‘Hang on, let me drop these shopping bags.’ The sound of objects striking a bench top. ‘How about you and I drive over to his place. Make sure he hasn’t overdosed on steroids or fallen in love with his own reflection and turned to stone.’

  ‘Can you pick me up?’ Selina’s ancient Ford Escort had started to splutter and stall. The oil light was permanently aglow and she didn’t want to drive it. Fern would no doubt tell her to get Ed to pay for a tune-up or buy her a new car, since he could easily afford it. It was a conversation Selina didn’t need right now. ‘Been bussing and taxiing lately ‘cos of the long shifts.’

  ‘OK. Be there soon.’

  Fern’s car turned heads on the street. It sounded like a sick lawnmower and bore a strong resemblance to a wombat on a skateboard. Some of her friends reckoned the clunker should be consigned to the scrapheap. Selina was an exception – she loved the quirkiness of Fern’s pistachio-green 1963 Renault Dauphine. It was also easy to spot in a crowd of other vehicles.

  ‘I tried ringing Ed a couple more times while I was waiting for you. Still no answer. I’ve got a real bad feeling about this.’

  Fern encouraged the car to accept a lower gear as she turned left at the top of Gladstone Street into Sandy Bay Road. ‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions, hey? He’s probably hibernating.’ She placed a reassuring palm on Selina’s thigh and squeezed gently. On another occasion the same gesture might make Selina hot and flustered.

  The first thing Selina noticed as they approached the front door was the welcome mat. Askew. ‘That’s odd,’ she said. ‘Ed’s meticulous about things like that. No way that anal retentive would break the rules of Feng shui.’

  ‘Think positive,’ said Fern. ‘Probably some delivery guy did it and Ed hasn’t had the chance to straighten it up yet.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Selina nodded. ‘But what’s over there?’ She pointed at the orange trolley lying on its side halfway down the driveway. ‘Ed would never leave it abandoned like that.’

  ‘Still proves nothing. Let’s keep looking.’

  Selina pressed her clicker to open the garage door. ‘His car’s gone. Jesus, someone’s stolen it or he’s had an accident.’

  ‘Don’t panic, sister. There could be perfectly good reasons for all of this. Maybe he’s spent a couple of nights in Launceston on business. I’m telling you, nothing bad has happened.’

  ‘No.’ Selina shook her head. ‘This is getting more and more suss. C’mon. Let’s check inside.’

  Inside the house, and despite Ferns words of hope, in the pit of her gut Selina sensed trouble – a disruption to the house’s balance, a faint smell, a change in the magnetic field. She couldn’t be precise but sensed things were fucked up. ‘Ed! Where are you?’ She made a megaphone with her hands. Eeeddd!’

  Fern joined in, and their voices rang like bells in the cavernous dwelling. Silence. They ran up the stairs and headed straight for Ed’s bedroom. The door was wide open. They almost bowled each other over as they burst into the room.

  ‘Jesus Christ. The safe’s gone.’

  Fern stared at Selina. ‘What bloody safe?’ She bent down, picked up a stray piece of cardboard. ‘And what’s with the torn-up box?’

  ‘The safe with the money in it.’

  ‘Fuck knows. Maybe Ed was desperate for money. Ran out of roids and raided the piggy bank,’ Fern suggested. ‘In too much of a hurry to clean up.’

  ‘Nu-uh! Ed’s a neat freak. No. Somebody’s been here and taken the safe.’

  ‘I guess it kinda looks that way.’

  ‘And they’ve probably done something to Ed. Oh my God, this is terrible. We have to go to the cops. File a missing person’s report.’

  Fern’s laugh would put a kookaburra to shame. ‘I love you Selina, you know that. You’re an awesome chick with the world at your feet. And I know you love Ed. But girlfriend, it’s time to cut the cord. The man’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone.’

  Selina dropped to her knees and clasped her hands to her temples. She shook her head from side to side, groaned and began to sob. Tears splashed random patterns on the rippled cardboard. ‘You’re right.’ She turned narrowed eyes to Fern. ‘I guess I do love him. But I am going to the police, no matter what you say.’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t say don’t contact the police.’ Fern crouched, wrapped arms around Selina’s shaking shoulders. ‘I said you should end it with Ed.’

  ‘I never trusted that Dylan, you know. He has to be the one behind this.’ It was like she hadn’t heard Fern’s words. ‘Flaky drunk. He’s hurt my Ed, I know it. Abducted him and done God knows what.’

  ‘That weedy little prick.’ Fern shrugged. ‘Ed’s too big and strong for Dylan to do any damage.’

  Selina stared at Fern. A mauve vein near her temple throbbed. ‘Not on his own. Probably had a mate. Besides, how would Dylan know to look for the safe in a cardboard box full of towels at the back of a wardrobe? Ed said it was a trick he’d heard about. Like stashing money in a fake baked beans tin. Nuh-uh. Ed’s told him all right, and he’d only do that if he was scared.’

  ‘Not necessarily. Maybe they came to some agreement. Perhaps Ed said, you know mate, the money’s yours, sorry for taking it, it’s in my bedroom in a box, go fetch it.’

  ‘No way! If that was the case, why didn’t Dylan use the combination to get into the safe? Why take the whole bloody thing?’

  ‘Yeah, you might be right.’

  Selina stood and made her way to a window overlooking the back garden, wiped a thick layer of dust from the sill. ‘Neat freak, huh?’ She showed Fern a smudgy finger. ‘See? He can’t look after his house, how can he look after himself?’

  ‘Come on.’ Fern snaked an arm around her friend’s waist. ‘How about a coffee. A nice strong one. Let’s call Ed’s friends and associates before we contact the cops. His mum, too. There’ll be a perfectly innocent explanation for everything. But first, we have to get rid of these bits of cardboard.’ Fern gathered up a few pieces of the torn box. ‘Search the house for evidence that Dylan’s been here. Then get rid of it. Vacuum, scrub floors, wash showers and toilets.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Selina shook her head. ‘If it was Dylan, we need evidence he was here, don’t we? To help the police investigate him as a suspect.’

  ‘No way. Don’t forget we took that money. Stole it, to be precise. So we need to agree on a watertight version of events. How we met Dylan and his girlfriend, how we only went out the one time to see a band. Never saw them again. Okay?’
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br />   Selina’s eyes flickered. ‘Sure thing. But what about when he came here after the night at the casino? When we–’

  ‘He was never here.’

  ‘So how do we set the cops onto Dylan, then?’

  ‘We don’t. They’re smart enough to do their job. They’ll find Ed. Safe and sound. And if something bad’s happened and Dylan did it, they’ll arrest him.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Positive. We tell them Ed’s missing. End of story. Otherwise, we’re facing a world of shit. Pinching that money could land both of us in jail. Do you want that?’

  ‘No,’ Selina mumbled, bottom lip quivering. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Um. Something else before we go to the police.’

  Fern sighed. ‘What now?’

  ‘You know Ed and I, ah, meet people off the Internet.’

  ‘Of course I know. That’s how we hooked up.’

  ‘Really? I thought it was at some pub or other.’

  ‘Ed’s had you bed hopping with so many people, you don’t even know where you met them. Including me!’

  ‘Anyway.’ Selina sat on the edge of the bed. ‘We met a cop. A married one, at that. Had some fun with him a couple of times. High-ranking detective. You probably heard of him. Ended a siege at Chigwell. It was in the papers and on TV and everything.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, woman. Yes, I remember him.’ Fern paced the floor, tugged her dreadies. ‘A famous cop, and married, won’t want people to know he’s rooting people he met online. No way he’ll point the finger at you for Ed’s disappearance.’

  ‘Right. So what do we do?’

  ‘We report Ed’s missing, but make no mention of your association with, what’s his name?’