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

by Adam Nicholls

  A nervous wreck but trying to hide it, Evie grabbed her purse, looked around the apartment for things she may have forgotten, then finally left. But she had only made it two steps before bumping into somebody’s chest.

  ‘Miss Black,’ the man said.

  Evie started when she recognised Troy Bukowski. He was in a sharp blue suit and ready for work, his laptop bag slung over one shoulder. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I wanted to apologise for how I treated you. I figured I could make amends by taking you out for dinner.’ He placed his large hand on her shoulder, confident yet condescending. ‘How does that sound?’

  It struck her as strange that he had found out where she lived. Had he gone through the personnel files to get that information? Evie shrugged off his hand and tried to pass him.

  But Troy stepped in her way.

  ‘Move,’ she said.

  ‘Come on, it’s just dinner.’

  Evie could smell his aftershave, and it wasn’t flattering. Or was that because he had already repulsed her in a number of ways? ‘Get out of my way. I have work to do.’ This time she shoved past him, hearing him let out a little oof.

  ‘Not too bright, are you?’

  The suspicion of his question made her stop at the top of the stairs. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s like this: I can make life at Vision very difficult for you, or I can make it very easy. Go out to dinner with me and it can be the latter.’

  Evie could feel her blood boiling and had to keep from heading back to slap the guy. Was this harassment or blackmail? Or both? Either way, she pondered whether one simple lunch might make the guy back off. In spite of every instinct, she made her decision. ‘One dinner, and don’t you ever threaten me again.’

  Troy held up his hands mockingly. ‘Yes ma’am.’

  With that, Evie turned and made her way down the stairs. She could feel him standing there, watching her walk away. Her body shivered and goosebumps raised up on her bare arms as she finally understood that she was frightened of him.

  9

  Evie hopped off the bus at the police station and was greeted by a charming black man. He introduced himself as Detective Little and led her to the building like a gentleman. But there was something familiar in the way he carried himself.

  He reminded her of Mason.

  She could see it now – her brother’s perfect posture, his broad shoulders and the way he held his head up high. He even had that positive expression, where he could come across as friendly without ever having to smile.

  Detective Little got the door for her and led her to his own desk. ‘I’m going to need to take a number of things from you. Just while you’re in there with him.’ He pulled out a plastic blue tray from under his desk. ‘Keys, hairpins, pens–’

  ‘Pens?’ Evie shook her head rapidly. ‘I need my pen. This is an interview.’

  ‘Record it on your cell phone. I just need all sharp objects, for obvious reasons.’

  Evie sighed and took a moment to disarm herself, dumping every sharp item she could think of into her purse. She put the purse into the tray – there was no way she would leave her stuff lying around. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘If it’s off the record, you can ask me anything, Miss Black.’

  ‘Do you… I mean, personally, do you think he’s guilty?’

  Little slumped back in his reclining desk chair. ‘Don’t you?’

  Evie shrugged. ‘I’m here to find out the truth.’

  ‘Then it doesn’t matter what I say, does it?’ The detective was grinning, presumably at the exchange between them. Or maybe this was a strange new style of flirting. Evie had been out of the game so long that she didn’t know what flirting looked like anymore.

  ‘I was just curious.’

  ‘If you were at the crime scene when I was, you wouldn’t be asking that question.’ Little put the tray on the floor and got out of his chair. ‘Come on.’

  Evie followed him down a maze of corridors, noticing that her hands were beginning to shake. This wasn’t like her. Over the years, she had met with tens of criminals – some more sadistic than others – and had always seemed to overcome her nerves. She tried telling herself that it was because her job was riding on this, but it was likely due to the man’s freedom being at stake… or a killer being set loose.

  Detective Little stopped at a door, his hand on the knob. ‘Now, if he does get violent, move straight to the back of the room and let me handle it. Do you understand?’

  ‘Wait – are you coming in with me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’ Evie felt like a child who couldn’t get her way, but she needed it perfect for her to investigate. ‘If you’re there, he’ll feel threatened. He’s more likely to open up if I’m alone.’

  ‘It’s the rules, Miss Black. There’s nothing I can–’

  ‘What? Nothing you can do? Shall I mention that in my report, too?’

  Little’s eyes widened, and he stared at her with obvious distrust. ‘You play a hard game, don’t you? Fine.’ He opened the door and gestured her in. ‘But if he attacks you, don’t come crying to me.’

  Perhaps it was because of her past – having a particularly adventurous private eye for a brother had put her in harm’s way more than once – but the word attack struck her a little harder than it should have.

  With only the empty chairs visible from where she was standing, Evie took a deep breath, a hard swallow, then went inside to meet Calvin Durant for the first time.

  10

  The first time she laid eyes on Mr Durant, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. It was something in his eyes – something that screamed: I’m just as confused as you are! But, Evie thought, nothing was ever as it seemed. Not in her line of work.

  Refusing to take her eyes off him for so much as a second, she took a seat opposite him. ‘Mr Durant, I’m Evie Black. I’m sure you’ve been told that I’m here to interview you for Vision Magazine. It’s your right to know that this conversation will be recorded. Is that okay?’

  It took some time, but Calvin finally raised his bloodshot eyes from his fidgeting hands and looked right at her. ‘Sure. Thank you for coming, Miss Black.’

  Oddly handsome, tears aside. ‘Please, call me Evie.’

  Calvin nodded silently, still sulking. He didn’t look like a killer (whatever that looked like). His hands were trembling and he kept sniffling. These were the traits of a victim.

  ‘I’m going to hit you with a brutally honest fact,’ Evie said, confident enough that this was the way to gain his trust. ‘I’m here because I overheard a conversation about you. Do you know what was said?’

  Calvin looked back down at his lap. ‘That I killed my wife and daughter?’

  ‘Yes. But also that they didn’t think you did it.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  Evie studied his features – strong jaw, blonde, sweat-matted hair, and bright blue eyes. In other circumstances he might have been a looker. Right now, however, he looked like a shame-ridden schoolboy. ‘Okay. Let’s just say that I believe you – and honestly, I have no opinion on the matter just yet – how do you explain your prints on the murder weapon?’

  ‘It… I don’t know. It might have been my hammer.’

  ‘It might have been your hammer?’ This she said delicately, careful not to sound accusing. She didn’t want to lose his trust so soon.

  ‘Everything happened so fast, I didn’t get a good look at it.’

  ‘But it was in your house, right?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, when I woke up.’

  ‘But not before?’

  Calvin shrugged. ‘I’m sorry but I don’t have the answers.’

  ‘Questions, then?’ Evie set her phone down, seizing the opportunity to wring her taut fingers. They clicked as she pulled on each one. ‘Is there something you want to ask? Maybe you have a question for the readers?’

  ‘Actually…’ Calvin pulled a strange face, like he had b
een put on the spot to make a life-changing decision. It looked almost theatrical. ‘Would you mind if I told you everything I know? I would feel a lot better if I got that out in the open.’

  Evie pushed the phone closer toward him, ensuring that it would pick up his voice loud and clear. ‘By all means, Mr Durant. Pretend I’m your shrink and just… vent.’

  Looking at the cell phone and then locking eyes with Evie, Calvin Durant sat up straight. He brushed the tears from his cheeks using his sleeve, cleared his throat, then told his story.

  11

  ‘Everything was okay between me and my wife. Things were even better with my daughter. See, we were one of those families. You know, the kind you see in the movies. We did everything together, and it still wasn’t enough. We were what families always should be.

  ‘The only problem was, we were looking for somewhere new to live. A different city, maybe. When Sadie – my wife – was at work, she was having some problems with a colleague. His name was John Matthews. Could there be a more biblical name? You couldn’t trust him, though. The guy was a scumbag. He sent flowers to my wife, followed her home sometimes. He was all different kinds of creepy.’

  Evie cut in apologetically, a comforting hand held out frigidly. ‘Are you saying this man had something to do with your family’s murder?’

  ‘No… Maybe. I don’t know. Please, can I finish?’

  ‘Of course.’ Evie sat back, resigned.

  ‘So, Sadie left her job and was looking for work. We both were, as my hours were being cut down at the yard. It took a while, but she finally found some work at a day-care. Everything seemed to settle nicely then. The stalking seemed to simmer down. We were happy again – unmolested, more or less – and could focus some more on Emma.’

  ‘Emma’s your daughter?’

  ‘Yes.’ Calvin nodded slowly. ‘Anyway, then there was the car accident.’

  ‘I read about that. You were driving alone at night, didn’t see the other driver.’

  Calvin nodded, leaned toward her. ‘Can I tell you something?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I suffer blackouts. The doctors call it syncope, and they don’t doubt it was caused by the crash. You can check with them if you like – that’s more than the police have bothered to do. See, they’re insistent that I’m guilty.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Evie moved the cell phone between them. ‘You told the police about your blackouts, and they did nothing? They didn’t even check up on it?’

  ‘If they did, they didn’t tell me. Then again, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?’ Calvin cleared his throat with a fist covering his mouth. ‘John Matthews soon appeared out of the blue. This time he actually had the nerve to come to our home. Know what happened next?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I went lights-out. Next thing I know, I’m waking up with my family… murdered, and the hammer is in my hand.’ Calvin Durant actually did his best to hide his fresh tears. ‘I know how stupid it sounds. It even sounds convenient, I guess. But you have to believe me, Miss Black, everything I just told you is the truth. I love my family. You have to help me prove that I didn’t kill them. Please.’

  Evie dropped her head into her hands, taking in the information as best she could. If this guy was telling the truth, she could not only secure herself a job, but also vindicate a potentially innocent man. If she turned out to be wrong, however, it would be the end of her journalistic career.

  12

  Supposing that she was willing to believe him, Evie took the chance. With details of John Matthews saved to her phone, she thanked Calvin Durant and Detective Little for their time and headed straight over to the Matthews residence.

  It could have been dangerous – Evie knew that, and she could picture her brother being disappointed in her. “That was stupid and reckless,” he would have said, even though stupid and reckless had saved his life more than once. Anyway, she was like him in a way – crazily stubborn and always doing what she felt she had to.

  When she finally reached the apartment block, she ascended the outdoor stairs and crossed the balcony to his door. 221B was plated on the front in dirtied brass, and Evie thought of Sherlock Holmes’s address while she knocked.

  There was no answer at first. When Evie heard the latch come undone, she prepared herself to make a pleasant introduction. But then she noticed that the sounds hadn’t come from the door she’d knocked on, but the one next door.

  A woman came outside, her arm wrapped around a white plastic laundry basket. She had a bathrobe on and curlers in her hair. Considering her attire, she was probably just heading downstairs to the laundromat.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Evie said, stopping the neighbour at a moment’s notice.

  The woman turned, looking Evie up and down. ‘Never seen you ‘ere before. You new?’

  ‘New?’

  ‘You know,’ she jerked a thumb in the direction of John’s door, ‘one of his.’

  ‘If you mean a girlfriend, no.’ Evie walked closer, pushing her glasses further up her nose. ‘I’m a journalist, hoping to catch a word with him about some charity work he’s done for the homeless.’ She spared him the shame of the truth without fully understanding why.

  The woman gawked at her suspiciously. One eye looked ready to pop out of its socket it was staring so hard. ‘Well he ain’t hardly ever in. Since he quit his job to take care of his sick mother, he only ever comes home to sleep. Spends all his time at the care home.’

  Some monster he is, looking after his sick mom. ‘That’s sweet. Do you happen to know where that is – the home?’

  ‘Sunny… Sunny something.’

  ‘Sunnymead Center?’ Evie had passed it many times on her way to work.

  The woman snapped her fingers and her eyes lit up. ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Great. Thanks for your help.’ She left while the woman was saying something else, but Evie found herself a little unnerved by her. She had looked exactly how she’d pictured the witch in the Hansel and Gretel story – unsettling, and not somebody she wanted to be around.

  Evie supposed that Calvin Durant was somebody she hadn’t really wanted to be around either, but that had turned out to be quite the surprise. Now here she was, on the hunt for a man who may have something to do with a family’s murder.

  I must be crazy, she thought as she padded back down the steps. Totally insane.

  13

  Since tapping the care home into Google and realising that visiting hours weren’t until the next day, Evie had endured a long night of only coffee and research. Her diet extended to little more than that these days. What more could she afford?

  Ten o’clock soon rolled by, and she found herself outside the home. It was a humble establishment, with old-fashioned wallpaper and uncomfortable wooden seats (in the waiting area, at least). When the receptionist finally appeared, even she had a welcoming demeanour.

  ‘How can I help you?’ she asked, clicking on the end of her pen.

  Evie dropped her voice to a whisper, as if she were in a doctor’s waiting room. ‘I’m here to see Mrs Matthews,’ she said, hoping that there was only one Mrs Matthews in the building. ‘I’m her niece.’

  The receptionist’s eyebrows rose up in surprise. ‘Oh, you’re Mary?’

  ‘Yes.’ Evie took a chance with this lie.

  ‘We’ve heard so much about you. John tells us you’re the sweetest little cousin one could ask for.’ She stood and moved excitedly to a nearby door. ‘I’m sure Mrs Matthews will be delighted to see you. If you need anything, just stroll on back here and let me know.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The woman left her in a large, quiet room of elderly people. It smelled nice in here – lavender with traces of… vanilla? Whatever it was, it was easy on the senses. Evie walked around, looking at the faces of the women. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for exactly, until she came to the back wall where a paralysed woman sat unmoving. At her side, a middle-aged man was kneeling,
trying to encourage a spoonful of something into her mouth.

  This has to be it, Evie thought. ‘Mr Matthews?’

  The man stood up, showing off his height. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m Evie Black. Could I talk to you alone for a moment?’

  There was concern in his expression as he set down the bowl and whispered something into his mom’s ear. ‘Right this way,’ he told Evie, and led her into a fenced-off area outside. The sun was shining out here, and the only noise was that of the New York street traffic.

  ‘I’m going to be quite forward with you, Mr Matthews.’

  ‘John,’ he insisted, but folded his arms in defence.

  ‘John…’ Evie took a moment to let that sit. ‘Do you know Sadie Durant?’

  When his forehead creased up and his mouth hung open a little, John stepped back and leaned against the wall. ‘You a cop?’

  Why? Got something to hide? ‘Journalist. Calvin Durant told me some things about you, and I’d rather not print them without checking out the facts first. I hope that’s okay?’

  ‘It’s welcomed.’ John rubbed his eyes with both palms and exhaled loudly. ‘Yeah, I knew Sadie Durant.’

  ‘Did you know that she died recently?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Read it in the paper.’

  Evie steadied herself. She hated what was coming, but she simply had to do it. She only hoped that it wouldn’t sound too accusing. ‘Calvin Durant… said there were some problems between you and Sadie. That you had a bit of a crush on her?’

  ‘If that’s what you want to call it.’

  ‘What would you call it?’

  ‘Me? I’d call it what it was: an affair.’

  For a moment, Evie thought she had misheard. ‘An affair?’

  ‘Calvin didn’t tell you?’ John moved away from the wall and strolled slowly around the small space. There was a bistro table at his side, but he only used it to lay a hand on, keeping his back turned away from Evie. And then he shook his head. ‘No. I suppose he didn’t know.’