Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story

by Adam Nicholls

  ‘That is true,’ Mason said, before anybody else could take the heat. ‘The situation was aggressive and dangerous for us all, but we’re just glad we could get Miss Healy to safety.’

  Another reporter rose, but the arrogant one butted in with a second question. ‘And what about the other two victims, Mr Black?’

  Mason glanced along the table at Bill and Captain Cox, who were looking at him sympathetically. At these events, there was always one person who would push it too far and ruin it for everybody else. ‘It’s regrettable that–’

  ‘Ha! Regrettable?’ the young reporter shouted. ‘Two women died. One of their heads was found by a bunch of kids in a local mall. The killer escaped and nobody knows who the next victims will be. And you sit there calling it regrettable?’

  Lucy’s face began to redden, the reminder of her family’s fate seeming all too much for her. She sniffled and thrashed around while Cox tried to lay a supporting hand on her arm, then stood and ran to the exit.

  ‘No more questions,’ Cox said, shooting daggers at the journalist.

  The rest of the press began to protest in an uproar of displeasure. Camera flashes flooded the room, and some got up to leave immediately. The cocky young reporter, however, only stood with a self-satisfied grin upon his smug face.

  Mason, somehow feeling responsible for the failure of letting Anarchy go, watched the chaos unfold while he contemplated how he could make it up to Lucy. He had found the girl, even if it was a little too late, and Chris Healy had paid his bills with such gratitude. But if he had done his job correctly, then why did he feel like he had messed up so bad?

  The conference ended, and they all stood to leave. Soon, the world would know about Anarchy and just how dangerous he was. Mason considered this a fair warning and hoped that everybody would take extra care when walking home alone at night.

  27

  Mason headed back to his own apartment, hoping for a quiet place to just sit and think. Letting Anarchy go was one thing, but Evie, too?

  Please don’t leave me, sis.

  Parking underneath the broken streetlight and stumbling about in the dark, he locked the Mustang and headed up the steps. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the person sitting on his doorstep. Not until he almost tripped over her, anyway.

  ‘Hey, Dad.’

  ‘Amy?’ Mason took a step back, jumping out of his skin. ‘What are you doing here? It’s past midnight.’

  ‘Can we talk inside?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Mason let her in, stirred up a couple mugs of hot chocolate and sat at the table with his daughter. She looked so pretty, even at this hour, but the dark bags under her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. ‘So, what’s up?’

  ‘I just needed to get away from Mom.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘Ever since Joshua died, she’s been on a downward spiral.’

  Mason was surprised to be learning this. Usually, Sandra seemed so composed, so it didn’t seem right for her to be anything less than perfectly maternal. ‘She can’t be that bad.’

  ‘You have no idea.’ Amy took a sip of her chocolate, wincing at the extreme temperature. ‘It’s been a year now, and I’m cooking all her meals. I’m doing all her laundry. I’m walking myself to school and–’

  ‘Whoa, whoa.’ Mason took her hand. ‘She’s letting you go to school alone? After everything that’s happened? What is she even doing while you’re doing all this?’

  ‘That’s just it, Dad. All she does is sit around and drink. She doesn’t help me do anything. I just… I want to be the kid for once, you know?’

  Mason couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Amy was such a perfect person and deserved nothing less than perfect treatment. ‘And this boy you’ve been seeing… Marcus, is it?’

  Amy nodded, hiding her mouth behind the mug.

  ‘Is he doing anything to help?’

  ‘No. He…’

  ‘He what?’ This must be what overprotective fathers sound like, he thought but chose not to say.

  ‘He just… I don’t know. He only seems interested in me for… you know.’

  ‘Sex?’

  Amy blushed.

  ‘Well, have you… I mean…’ It was too awkward for him, but he couldn’t help asking. Not that it was any of his business, but it was like a car accident: no matter how horrific it may be, he simply had to find out more about it.

  ‘I’m a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking. Dad…’

  ‘Sorry, sorry. But good! Good for you, well done.’ Mason’s eyes went everywhere but on her. He suddenly felt a hot twinge at the back of his neck, and his fingers addressed it nervously. ‘So, look, you can come stay at Diane’s if you want. I’m there all the time and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having you around.’

  ‘What about Mom?’

  ‘I’ll talk to your mother.’ And then some. ‘Leave me your house key, go pack some clothes from the spare room and wait here. I’ll be back soon, and we’ll have a movie night. How does that sound?’

  ‘Awesome. Thanks.’ Amy got up and shuffled along the carpet into the spare room.

  Mason could not let his anger out. He had always made a point to try to hide his hostility in front of his daughter, but this was too much. Sandra could be forgiven for a lot of things, but neglecting their only child was not one of them. Furious, he snatched up the keys and headed for the door.

  28

  Anarchy took a sip of his beer as he watched the report on TV above the bar.

  “The situation was aggressive and dangerous for us all, but we’re just glad we could get Miss Healy to safety.”

  The tag struck a chord, too. He’d forgotten that Mason Black was merely a private investigator. From his sheer professionalism, he suspected a history as an authority – police captain, perhaps. But only a go-to guy for following cheating husbands? It seemed far beneath him.

  ‘Last orders,’ the barman shouted to the near-empty room.

  Anarchy took a momentary peek over his shoulder, eyeing the two women talking quietly in the corner booth. Besides them, himself and the barman, the place was totally empty. It was no wonder, really – the place was a shithole.

  ‘Except for you,’ the barman said, talking to Anarchy. ‘I think you’ve had enough.’

  What is this? Some kind of power play? He’d only had three beers, and he was by no means a lightweight. Likely, he could sink another five before his eyes began to dizzy. ‘No, I think I’ll have another.’

  ‘I don’t think you heard me.’ The barman leaned in closer. ‘You’ve had three drinks on tab and not paid for a single one of them. If you want more booze, then pay up.’

  Although this guy had a point, Anarchy refused to be spoken to like this. Who did this guy think he was? Something more than the owner of a shitty downtown bar, he supposed. Anarchy reached a hand into his jacket, gripping the pocketknife. ‘Put it on my tab,’ he said, smiling.

  Just then, the barman’s expression changed. It was as if he knew what would happen if he continued with such obnoxious behaviour. He pushed himself up from the bar and headed into the back. ‘I’m going to change a barrel. If you’re still here without money when I get back, you’ll be sorry.’ He disappeared out of sight then, unclear about how long he would be gone.

  Anarchy could feel his blood boiling. Nobody talked to him like that and got away with it. Even though he’d had the money for the beers in his pocket (and every intention of paying the man), he liked to have thought that he would be given the benefit of the doubt. Unfortunately for the barman, he was caught in one of his worse moods.

  Climbing off the stool and heading into the back room, Anarchy pulled out the knife and looked over his shoulder at the women. Witnesses, he thought as he pictured driving the blade into the barman’s throat. First I’ll deal with this moron, then I’ll make sure these girls saw nothing. After that… He shot one quick glance at the TV, where a close-up of the PI showed a dash of reg
ret. After that, I’ll try to find out a little more about Mason Black.

  29

  The second he opened the door, Mason’s senses were assaulted by stale smoke, alcohol and something acidic. Takeout tubs littered the floor, and Sandra sat at the foot of the stairs. She was unrecognisable now – a mere shadow of who she once was.

  ‘This is unacceptable,’ he said, standing over her.

  Sandra squinted up at him with only a glimmer of recognition, then took a large sip straight from the vodka bottle. She burped, hung the bottle between her legs and laid back. Her hair was a mess and her skin was ghostly pale. ‘What do you want?’

  Mason sighed and sat beside her. ‘You have a daughter, you know.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘That means you’re a mother.’

  ‘I know.’

  Letting out an exasperated breath, Mason leaned over her and prised the bottle from her hand. Reluctant at first, she struggled against it, but he overpowered her and she lost her grip easily. ‘You’re doing a terrible job,’ he said, and took a sip for himself.

  Sandra fell onto him, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m hurting.’

  ‘Everybody’s hurting, Sandra.’ Mason took another large gulp of the cheap vodka, then put the bottle down beside him. ‘But you’re not the priority here. Amy is lost. She’s hurting too. You think you lost a lot when Joshua died – think about her. She lost her mother in there somewhere.’

  Sandra said nothing – only wrapped her arms around him. ‘Help me.’

  ‘I don’t know what I can do for you.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Tell me what I can do to help.’

  ‘Make the pain end,’ she said, slowly drifting off.

  Mason sat in silence, thinking over his options. She couldn’t go on like this. Amy couldn’t go on like this. Scooping Sandra up in his arms, he carried her up the stairs, lowered her onto the bed and whispered into her ear, ‘Amy is going to stay with me for a while. I’ll help settle you into rehab, and we’ll get you through this.’

  ‘Ugh.’ Sandra rolled over, grunting. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, before soft snores rumbled out of her.

  Mason pulled the duvet over her shoulder, kissed her on the head and left the house. Now he had another responsibility – Amy, the teenager who had lost more than she ever should have. But if he could do anything to help her, that was exactly what he would do.

  30

  ‘Then where is she?’ Amy crossed her arms and gazed out of the window, the beautiful wintery San Francisco morning rolling by.

  ‘I took her to a rehab clinic before you got up this morning,’ Mason said.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah. But hey, she’s trying her best to get back on her feet. We would both appreciate your patience and support. It’s not easy for her.’

  Amy shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s just that I suffered too, and nobody seems to care. For all his faults, Joshua was growing on me. But nobody ever stopped to ask how I felt about all this. I feel like everything is falling down around me, but all eyes are on Mom.’

  Mason kept his eyes on the road, but could picture her expression. ‘You’re strong, Amy, but your mother isn’t. She needs a little extra attention because we’re not all built to be as tough as you are.’

  Amy chortled. ‘I get that from you.’

  Smiling throughout the rest of the journey, Mason eventually dropped her off at school and watched her until she went inside. He wished he could do something to ease her struggle, but knew that he was doing all he could.

  When he was just about to leave, his cell phone rang. It was Bill.

  ‘You’d better come over as soon as possible.’

  This doesn’t sound good. ‘Anarchy?’

  ‘We don’t know yet. But it’s… it’s hard to explain. Just get to Parkway Bar.’

  In the twenty minutes it took to get there, Mason found himself nervously tapping the wheel. From the way Bill had phrased it, the SFPD seemed not to have a clue what had happened. Mason could only assume that it was another murder scene.

  As usual, he was correct.

  ‘Strong stomached today?’ Bill asked, holding the front door.

  ‘Not particularly.’ Thankfully, he didn’t throw up or even feel the need to. But when Mason saw the blood streaked across the bar’s floor and a woman lying dead in the corner of the room, he felt uneasiness settle in. ‘How many dead?’

  ‘Just three… Well, not just three, but if it’s Anarchy, we can count our blessings that it wasn’t more.’ Bill waved him through to the back. ‘You’ll want to see this, too.’

  They were in the back now, where another length of tape crossed by the bottom of the stairs. Mason felt considerably anxious in the narrow corridor and stood with his back to the wall. ‘You going to let me see the body?’

  ‘No need.’

  ‘Then why bother to call me?’

  ‘Because,’ Bill applied a pair of rubber gloves and leaned in to a blood-smeared laptop, which was secured inside an alcove of the corridor, ‘prints were found on this computer, and they matched the tools we found at the factory.’

  ‘So it is Anarchy?’

  ‘We hope not.’

  ‘Why?’

  Bill turned the laptop so as Mason could see. ‘Because he Googled you.’

  Mason’s heart began to pound as he saw that the page had been left on his personal details. They were for his office and home, which thankfully meant that Diane’s address was still a secret. But now it looked like he was in this creep’s crosshairs, and that was something he had always been afraid of.

  31

  It was still unshakeable – the feeling that Diane might be in some sort of danger. Mason couldn’t bear the thought. He took his phone outside and called her.

  While it rang, his attention was drawn to the building across the street. It was a nightclub with an overuse of neon, and looked like it had been pulled out of the eighties. More noticeable, however, was the security camera.

  Reaching voicemail, Mason hung up the phone and crossed the street. Curious, he stood beneath the camera and looked in the direction it was facing. It was close – so close – and maybe there was a chance it had captured something.

  ‘Can I help you?’ said a gruff man, stepping out from the club’s door.

  Mason approached him with his PI badge held up. ‘Maybe. I wondered about these cameras. Do they work, or are they just for show?’

  ‘Nah, they work.’

  ‘Is there any chance I can take a look at last night’s footage?’

  The man sceptically assessed him. ‘What’s in it for me?’

  ‘A sense of pride for your passion to do good in this world.’

  The man couldn’t help but laugh, and he opened the door wider. ‘Come on.’

  Inside, the club was all lit up and looked bare. Mason had never seen a place like this when it wasn’t hosting a party. Something about it seemed ghostly. He was shown through the club and into the security office before being seated at a desk.

  ‘About what time?’ asked the man, who was probably the owner.

  ‘Around ten.’

  The video skipped forward, and Mason studied it with unbreakable concentration. Many people passed the bar, and not a single one of them bothered to enter. Nobody came out, either… until just past midnight.

  ‘There,’ he said, pointing at the screen.

  The man paused the video, and now Mason was looking at someone. Is this Anarchy? Must have been – if it had in fact been Anarchy who’d killed these people (which it certainly seemed like), then all evidence pointed toward this man being him. But if it was true, then why did Mason feel so utterly disappointed? It was like the image of a big, bad wolf had been building up in his mind, and now he was presented with a short guy with a receding hairline. Not only that, but he seemed to know that he was on camera, judging by the way he stared at it.

  ‘Can I t
ake a copy of this footage?’ Mason asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  I’d better hand this to Bill, he thought, getting out of the chair. If he can put out an APB, this guy’s chances of going unnoticed will be considerably slimmer. Still, the feeling in Mason’s gut told him that something wasn’t right, and that feeling had rarely failed him in the past.

  32

  It was late afternoon when Mason arrived at Diane’s. From the outside, there was no sign of any trouble, but he was paranoid enough to know that his girlfriend could well be a target.

  If she’s not safe…

  He went inside and called out her name, but he didn’t hear her voice calling back to him. ‘Diane!’ he tried again, dashing from room to room. There was a bead of sweat at his temple now, a fire rushing through him.

  ‘Mason?’ came her voice from the kitchen, finally.

  Mason followed the sound of her voice until he came into the room. Diane was seated at the table, hands resting by the keyboard of her laptop, a pair of headphones hanging around her neck. ‘I’ve been shouting your name.’

  ‘I was listening to music.’

  ‘Where’s Amy?’

  ‘In the spare bedroom, watching a movie.’

  ‘All right…’ Mason crossed the room, kissed her on the cheek and took a seat across from her. He wasn’t exactly sure how to say this, but it was necessary. ‘I think you should both leave town.’

  Diane’s eyebrows dropped with concern. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s a long story, but I worry that you might not be safe–’

  ‘No.’ Diane shook her head. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  Mason got up to stand by her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘You don’t understand. Anarchy is… he’s been looking into me. If he’s going to come after me, then you and Amy are at risk, too. Please, just…’

  Diane scraped her chair back across the tiles, stood and held a palm at each of his cheeks. ‘I’m not running away. Too often you get involved with the wrong types of people.’