by R. G. Oram
The ground wasn’t as soggy as some of the grassy fields he’d played on back in boarding school. His rapid footsteps yielded no loud squelches and he was grateful his feet didn’t skid across slick mud.
To him, walking under the cover of darkness was like being in a different world. There was that level of peacefulness and free creative thinking which even a clear day couldn’t bring. You could let your thoughts roam free. Even though he could still hear the occasional siren in the distance it wasn’t a constant interference here.
As Lewelyn approached the end of the reservoir, the chilled air met and swirled around him. He gingerly descended the concrete slope which ran below the footpath and sat down near the end, with the lapping water not far from touching the tips of his shoes.
He liked to walk around here, especially in the night. It gave him time to reflect. Sometimes his reflecting surfaced doubts about some his past decisions. Should he have left home? Should he have left his brother, his mother, even his father? Leave everything to follow his dream?
When David had realised working in the family business wasn’t for him his Grandpa Reg had said:
‘It’s not about what everyone else thinks. It’s about what you want. Ask yourself what makes you happy. Then figure out how you can make that your life. Stop trying to please everybody. Don’t drift with the crowd.’
The old man had given it to him straight. Lewelyn in his teens, shocked at first, before grasping the counsel.
Gazing at the patient water in the reservoir, he found himself wondering what he should do next. Obviously, he still had DL Nonverbal and hopefully his clients still wanted to work with him after everything that’d happened. Lewelyn felt he couldn’t or perhaps, shouldn’t start back just yet. Except, there was something in the back of his mind which made him hesitate and he just couldn’t figure out what it was.
Behind him the ground resonated with advancing footsteps. Lewelyn turned to the source.
‘Evening,’ the body language expert said to the man now standing on the footpath atop him.
‘Thanks,’ the stranger replied before turning away.
Lewelyn got up, thinking the man gone, only to be surprised to find that he was still there.
‘Nice night,’ Lewelyn continued from below.
‘It is,’ was the response, spoken in soft, deep tones.
‘You live around here?’
‘No, just visiting.’
‘How are you finding Los Angeles?’
‘As expected.’
The man didn’t move from his spot, retaining an idle stance.
He said to Lewelyn, ‘Nice and quiet here. Makes you wonder if you’re the last person on earth.’
‘Can’t argue with that.’
There was a tiny clicking sound on the path where the man stood.
‘Got that right, David.’
Lewelyn’s arm in the sling tensed, striving to break free.
‘Sorry, have we met?’
‘Nope, but we do have a mutual acquaintance.’
‘Who would that be?’
There was an almost indistinct rough chuckle from above.
‘Why don’t you come up here David? So we can greet each other properly.’
Lewelyn froze. He had to make that instant decision; flight or fight. He realised he couldn’t fight effectively with just one good arm. His best option was to run, but his stubborn nature intervened and he began to ascend the incline with great care, walking slowly towards the voice.
Gradually he made out the dark silhouette of the speaker.
‘Jeez it’s dark. Why don’t I give us some light?’ the speaker said.
Lewelyn discerned movement in the darkness, stiffening his body in response to it.
‘There that’s better.’
A bright white light shone from a phone held by the man Lewelyn faced. He could see him now. If it hadn’t been for the beard Lewelyn would have mistaken him for Frank Childs, with that same Goliath build and thinly razor cut hair which was impossible to grab. A pair of grizzly sideburns insulated the man’s cheeks. He wore a dark-grey checked suit. Inside the suit’s jacket a t-shirt emblazoned with a motif in the shape of a valentine heart with Cupid’s arrow shooting through it. The dark brown eyes could have been mistaken for two eclipsed suns.
‘You got a name?’ Lewelyn enquired.
‘Sorry should have introduced myself. Name’s Newport.’
‘That’s your name?’
‘It’s the only one you’re getting.’
‘And who’s our mutual acquaintance?’
Newport gave a closed smile, with dimples in each corner.
‘You know him as Frank Childs if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Really?’
Newport gave another dimpled smile and a small shake of his head – his sideburns caressing the front of his neck.
‘Frank and me, or should say I Frank and I, are good friends.’
‘Hate to disagree with you,’ said Lewelyn. ‘But I got the impression he was hiding from you.’
The man rapidly blinked his eyes.
‘Yeah. That was a very stupid thing he did. So not cool. But I forgive him. Can’t be mad at somebody forever, right? It’s not healthy.’
Lewelyn looked around, to check they were alone.
‘Relax, buddy,’ said Newport with a continuing smile. ‘I don’t want a fight. Unless you want to of course.’ He chuckled some more.
‘I don’t trust you.’
‘Why not? I’m a nice guy.’
‘That doesn’t change anything.’
‘Fair enough. I was just trying to be friendly. Kind of sucks you don’t trust me.’
‘Not from where I’m standing,’ Lewelyn retorted.
Newport put his hand in one of his pockets. Pulling out a pocket watch. It clicked when the man opened it – Lewelyn recognised the sound from earlier. What Lewelyn couldn’t understand was why the man needed the pocket watch when the time was displayed on the phone in his hand.
He tossed Lewelyn the watch. If the phone light in Newport’s hand wasn’t illuminating he’d have almost definitely missed catching it in the surrounding darkness. Cradling it in his hand, David hadn’t expected it to be so heavy. His arm had drawn back hard as he caught it.
‘What do you think?’ the man on the other side asked.
Lewelyn inspected the device. It looked pure silver. Didn’t seem to be a scratch on it, almost like a perfect mirror. On the front there was an inscription which said: ‘Forever.’ It was smaller than the inside of his palm. Lewelyn realised the man in front of him wanted him to do more than admire its exterior form. He prised open the case – instantly wanting to close it after a glimpse of the contents.
‘Cute picture ain’t it?’ the man said. ‘And it aint’t shopped.’
The photograph tucked itself within the minor spherical shape. Never having the opportunity of meeting him face to face, only seeing him with a passing glance inside that sports centre. Revulsion replaced the toxic rage that had accumulated within Lewelyn. The photo showed Frank Childs on his knees, something Lewelyn would never have envisioned, considering the man’s monstrous physique. Clearly he wasn’t the hunter anymore, whatever fate had overtaken him.
Vulnerable and naked as the day he was born. Lewelyn pitied the face where both swollen shut eyes refused to admit light. The former fixer, Child’s wrists were bound together with barbed wire which had bitten into his tender skin. His imprisoned wrists were stained with streaks of dried blood. His torso criss-crossed with multiple lacerations, like a fishing net.
‘I thought about cutting the nose off. Teach him a lesson. Then I thought that would not have been a very good welcome home present. Hell, maybe I’ll do it later. Or maybe I’ll take an axe to his fingers. What do you think?’
Lewelyn
gently closed the watch before throwing it back uneasily to its owner with an arm that now felt like jelly.
‘So where is he?’ Lewelyn asked him.
‘Who?’
‘You know who.’
‘Sorry, can’t tell you that.’
‘He murdered an innocent woman. And two police officers.’
‘Sorry pal, no can do. He’s our responsibility. We’ll take care of him.’
Lewelyn ground his teeth together, frustrated his demands would not be met.
He frowned, ‘Who’s “we”?’
Newport drew another smile, though this twitched restlessly.
‘We are not your concern.’
The faint buzz in Lewelyn’s pocket told him that the takeout food had arrived back home. He kept his eyes up, level with Newport, hoping he hadn’t heard it.
‘That your wife?’
Damn it, Lewelyn thought.
‘Sara works hard on that farm,’ Newport stated.
If there was one feeling Lewelyn didn’t like, it was the spreading knots in his stomach. How did this guy know about him?
‘Who are you?’
Newport’s gaze changed. Now his eyes were hungry for Lewelyn. ‘Mmmhmm. You want to know do you? Want to know who we are?’
‘Yes.’
Newport gave a high pitched chuckle.
‘We’re artisans just like yourself. We work hard to put food in our mouths. We’re your freedom fighters, we free you from your misery.’
Lewelyn’s senses prickled, something was not right.
‘What are you saying?’ he asked.
‘You know, you are the first person to ask me that. Then again, I suppose we don’t usually give anyone the chance to converse,’ Newport scratched his sideburns, humming along as well. ‘You could say we’re problem solvers. We provide solutions to your problems. Let’s see… We dispose of unnecessary problems.’
‘What does that mean?’ quizzed Lewelyn.
Newport continued.
‘I thought it would be obvious by now. We’re sort of a blend between cleaners and magicians. You pay us, we make your mess disappear – permanently. We make it all sparkly and clean. And the best part is we don’t charge interest.’
Lewelyn didn’t respond.
‘You see, as much as people think the world has changed, it hasn’t. Things are just as they were before. Greed as I’m sure you know, still exists. People are greedy. They want more, they’ll always want more. And they’ll do anything to get what they want. You can’t get rid of it. Impossible! As long as there’s that hunger, that lust for more, that need to strive, to be a success, it’ll always be there. All we do is help out the greedy folk or should I say… the gutless folk.’
‘You’re killers.’
‘No we’re not. We serve killers. Big difference buddy.’
‘Don’t call me buddy.’
‘Fair enough. I don’t like being called boss myself. I prefer Sir. And don’t forget, all we’re doing is providing a service to the community.’
‘You make it sound like a business.’
‘It is. We exist to serve your needs. You don’t like somebody, you call us and…’ Newport clicked his fingers. ‘They’re gone. Your life’s better and our pockets are bigger. Everybody wins,’ he pointed two fingers at Lewelyn, bent his thumb, then flicking it up in the air, produced a silent ‘Pow’ with his mouth.
‘And who are your customers?’
The right side of Newport’s mouth opened all the way, displaying a row of yellowing cadaverous teeth.
‘The kind whose endeavours would most benefit when certain individuals disappeared. They can’t do it themselves because they want to keep their shirt and tie clean. That’s where we come in. We have a philosophy: “If nobody knows, nobody cares. And when nobody cares everybody’s happy.”
‘Ha-ha. You see there’s that illusion that money will keep you safe. If you make enough then you don’t have to worry about anything. Wrong. It all comes down to survival. What good is money when you’re cornered and there are only two options – live or die. There’ll always be that thought, that desire, that need to be superior. Deep down, we’re all going for each other’s throats. We all have that one person in our lives who we wish were gone, where if they were to say vanish, our lives would be so much easier, be it your boss, your wife, husband, girlfriend, boyfriend, brother, sister, mom, dad, even your in-laws. Trust me, you will not believe how many people come to us. I guess you could call us your fairy wish granters. Ha-ha.’
There was something about that laugh which made Lewelyn wince every time, as if it tugged at your veins. Newport carried on.
‘Everybody wanting to stay alive, wanting that perfect easy, stress-free life. Wanting their problems buried. We’re just making money. We give people something which will make their lives easier, that’s all it is. Heck, that’s what makes the world go around, right?’
Lewelyn scoffed.
‘Money. That’s all it is, right? Nothing else?’
Newport drew his shoulders to his ears and dropped them back down.
‘When has it been anything else?’
Lewelyn was disappointed, though not surprised.
Newport didn’t let him speak.
‘Yikes. You should see your face. Almost looks like you got sucker punched.’
The body language expert glanced down at the ground for a moment.
‘What about the people you’ve killed?’
‘What do you want me to say, pal? We do it because we’re good at it. It’s jus–
‘Business, right?’ Lewelyn interjected.
Newport replied, ‘Do you know what the function of a business is? To improve its owner’s wealth. It’s what makes the world go around. We remove misery from people’s lives and bring back those beautiful smiles,’ putting a finger on each corner of his cheeks, Newport forced a smile across his face. ‘We give people their happiness back.’
‘You bury people. You take their lives away from them. You’re taking everything from them.’
‘We just do what we’re paid to do. If you want to point fingers, stick that one good arm of yours out and turn a full circle. That’s who you should be blaming. We’re just giving the people what they want.’
Lewelyn was cold and it wasn’t caused by the chilled air forming from the reservoir’s deep waters. He knew there was some story behind Frank Childs’ existence, but he had not expected this. He was starting to see why the man had concealed himself in such poor accommodation at the dying sports centre – to hide from Newport. It also explained his skills in planning, committing and hiding a murder. They were all disposers. They disposed of people and made their murder look like a simple disappearance. They’re rogue undertakers.
‘Why did Frank go his own way?’
Newport shook his head sideways almost with joy as if considering his answer.
‘I’m not sure. You wouldn’t believe how surprised we were when we found out. And I couldn’t just let him go and start making his own living after everything I taught him. That’s just rude. And disrespectful. He was my investment. If I’d have let him get away with it I would’ve lost money, and believe me I do not like losing money. I get really moody. Nobody ever steals from me and likewise nobody gets in my way.’
As Newport spoke he brought his phone closer to his face to read the screen. He laughed. His throat was so stretched and taught Lewelyn could hear the sounds of air struggling desperately to exhale out.
‘You’re not going to believe this. Ha-ha. The U.K. just voted to leave the European Union. How hilarious is that? Wow, I bet that’s going to be an expensive divorce.’
‘So what happens now?’ Lewelyn asked, shifting the weight on his feet – getting ready.
‘Well, I guess we just say our goodbyes.’
‘What’s your definition of goodbye?’
Newport replied with a chuckle.
‘You always this serious, David?’
‘Call it an occupational requirement.’
‘Don’t be. I said earlier I don’t want to fight.’
‘Sorry, but I don’t make it a habit to believe everything people say.’
Newport reacted to Lewelyn’s answer by stretching a smile across his mouth.
‘You’re honest, I like that. Pretty blunt too. I’ll take an honest guy over a backstabbing one any hour and any day of the week.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why are you letting me live after telling me all that?’
‘Like I said, David, I respect you. I admire your story.’
‘My story?’ David said with scepticism.
‘Yeah your life story. Live on your own terms. Not living under your father’s soul sucking, depression induced rules.’
Lewelyn couldn’t help it. He put a foot forward, ready to charge at Newport.
Newport responded, ‘Calm down man, lighten up.’
Lewelyn found it hard to ignore the sound of his own breathing, the frequent movement and heaving of his chest. Newport was almost overpowering his talking.
‘I read about what he did. He shouldn’t have done that. Jeffrey Dixon deserved better.’
‘That’s not your business,’ Lewelyn’s clenched fists trembled.
‘Real disrespect your father showed to such a loyal, longing serving employee. Firing Jeffrey so you could have his job.’
‘Be quiet.’
‘Did you know at the time he’d been fired for that reason?’
Lewelyn fought not to let his head fall down.
‘I had a feeling you didn’t, otherwise why else would you have resigned so suddenly.’
Bastard, Lewelyn thought.
‘I suppose you decided to quit when you found out about Jeffrey’s suicide.’
Shut up, Lewelyn thought.
‘Hey I just realized something. That secretary of yours, the one who died, what was her name again? Heather? No. Helen? No that’s not right. Let me think. Oh yeah, Hannah. Man, I’m shit with names. You being all nice to her, paying for her car, the bus fares, walking her to her door. Was she your way of making amends after what happened to Dixon? Ha-ha. Wow, you really are still beating yourself up over that.