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

by Adam Nicholls

  ‘I’m still not pleading guilty,’ Calvin said stubbornly, folding his arms.

  ‘Then it’s your ass.’

  And just like that, Calvin Durant was alone again, without a friend in the world.

  25

  A whole day had slowly passed, and Evie found herself at war with her own mind. Officially unemployed, she wondered if it was even worth continuing with the case. Everything pointed at Calvin Durant being guilty, even if she wanted to believe that he wasn’t.

  Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone this evening. Desperate to avoid the ear-bashing that came with venting to her brother, Evie was sprawled out on her dusty pre-owned couch (she’d found it abandoned on the street a couple of weeks ago, just when she couldn’t afford furniture) with the phone held in front of her face.

  ‘Sounds like a bad deal,’ Amy – her niece – said through the Facetime app. She was all of fifteen years old, which wasn’t really old enough to understand the world, but it was better for Evie to pour her heart out to her than nobody at all.

  ‘No kidding.’ Evie was exhausted of talking after having explained her entire situation. ‘Anyway, I know you have your own things going on. Thank you for listening.’

  ‘Hold up,’ Amy said, looking confused. ‘You leaving?’

  ‘Just didn’t want to make you miserable.’

  ‘But you called for advice, right?’

  Taking advice from a teenager wasn’t really Evie’s thing, but she respected her enough to at least hear her out. Sometimes, kids had such a straight-forward way of looking at things that it made grown-ups slap themselves for not having seen it earlier. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Then here it is.’ Amy cleared her throat. ‘Continue with what you were doing. If you can’t sell the story to Vision then take it somewhere else. Even if that falls through, it may turn out that you’d have saved a man’s life.’

  Evie considered this. I guess it would be better not to leave things unfinished. I moved to New York for a fresh start, after all. ‘Let me ask you something.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Based on what I’ve told you, do you think Durant is innocent?’

  ‘Based on what you’ve told me?’ Amy slouched back, blowing out air. ‘I wouldn’t rule it out, but I wouldn’t take my advice. I haven’t even met the guy. But you obviously think there’s a chance he’s telling the truth. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this situation, right?’

  Evie snickered. ‘Right. Thanks, Amy. How did you get so smart?’

  Amy smiled and shrugged. ‘I get it from my dad, I think.’

  ‘Me too,’ Evie agreed. ‘Say hi to him for me.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Evie ended the call, sat up and looked at the disorganised piles of paperwork on the floor. It would take some work, she thought, but if she looked hard enough, she might just find the motivation she needed to continue with the case. The girl has a point, she thought, and finally got up off the couch.

  26

  It was nearly midnight the next night, and Evie hadn’t left the apartment. Save for the occasional ten-minute snooze here or there, she hadn’t slept either. Her attention had been drawn to what was once a bare wall. Now, it was what she liked to call her “info-map.”

  It was with a fierce sense of pride that she stood back and admired her handiwork. Even with her eyes in the scrunched-up, sleep-deprived state they were in, she was able to make sense of it. There were red threads (for the more important pieces of information), blue threads (linking photograph to photograph when they were related somehow), and Post-it notes everywhere in between. Others had called this obsessive, but it was the perfect way for Evie to document it, and she wasn’t about to let blind insults change her ways.

  ‘So,’ she said aloud, but only to herself, ‘what do all of these people have in common?’ She put a finger on the photo of Calvin Durant and followed the threads to each person she’d spent time interviewing. It landed on John Matthews (a simple Post-it, as she’d been unable to find a picture of him). For some reason, she kept coming back to him.

  But then it struck her. Evie took a step back, studying the entirety of the wall to confirm her suspicion, and suddenly it became clear: every single person on the wall knew Calvin Durant, and they each had a problem with him.

  Everyone except his mother.

  ‘Liars, each and every one of them.’ Evie bit her thumbnail, staring at the threads until they all became one big, colourful blur. She had to imagine that they were all lying. No matter how hard it seemed, she had to blank out the statements she’d taken from everyone else and focus only on Judy Durant. She was, after all, the one woman with no reason to lie.

  I’ll have to talk with her again, Evie thought as she groped for her jacket on the hook. Screw the late hour – I’m sure she’ll understand.

  Heading down the stairs of the apartment block at all too dangerous a speed, Evie recalled her previous moments with Judy. She’d been kind, helpful, and probably would be again. There must have been something she’d known about but not thought to say. Evie was certain of it, and she’d be damned if she didn’t find out something.

  As she opened the door at the foot of the stairs, which led out onto the dark Manhattan street, she felt a bizarre sensation. It lasted for all of a second – a clear intuition that she wasn’t alone. And then, before she could make sense of that feeling, she walked right into somebody.

  The man, whose chest she’d stormed right into, gripped her firmly on the shoulders. Evie looked up. Recognising him immediately, her heart pumped so fast that the gap between beats was undetectable.

  ‘Hey, Evie,’ Troy said, his hair a clumped mess, his eyes mere shadows in the night. He tightened his grip, keeping her in place. ‘I was hoping you’d be here.’

  27

  On that same night, only minutes before it rolled into Tuesday, Calvin knelt at the bed in his cell. For the first time in his thirty-seven years of life, he was praying.

  ‘Dear Lord,’ he began, not quite knowing how these things were supposed to be done. ‘Please allow fate to take its course in the fairest way it can. I don’t know for sure if I have sinned, but I beg your forgiveness if I have.’ He paused then, staring at the crumpled bed sheet and thinking for a moment that he might have remembered something. As it turned out, he was wrong. ‘If someone else is responsible for this horrible, horrible thing, please bring it to light.’

  It went on and on like that, with the most common word being please. Calvin knew that if ever there was a time for begging, this was it. Tomorrow he was facing a trial for first-degree murder, and Evie Black was yet to get in touch.

  Maybe I deserve this, he told himself as he dusted off his knees and spread out across the uncomfortable bed. If I really am a killer, I deserve life in prison. I deserve a horrible bed with springs poking through, much like this one. And then another thought – a more disturbing one, but no less real than the others: Maybe I deserve to die.

  They wouldn’t give him the death sentence – he wasn’t worth the trouble – but a life sentence was worrying enough. And if it turned out that he was found guilty? Well then, Calvin would have to accept that as the truth and learn to live with it… or die with it.

  Suicide was common in prison, and Calvin was quite happy to become a part of that statistic. If it meant that there was a Heaven, and if he could get in, then he could reunite with his family. Even if just for a moment, just to say goodbye. Surely God would allow that to even the most vile of men?

  For the rest of that night, Calvin didn’t get a moment of sleep. All he could think about – over and over – was that now was the perfect time to start believing in God.

  28

  Troy kept her still, not letting her move. No matter how hard she struggled against him, he was too strong. Worse yet, they were completely alone out here, where nobody would hear her screams, where nobody could–

  ‘Evie, stop. Calm down,’ Troy commanded. ‘Stop moving!’

  Finally, she sto
pped, panting hard and too terrified to even look at him.

  ‘I’m not here to hurt you,’ he said, this time in a calmer tone of voice. ‘I’m going to let go of you now, okay? Just… hear me out.’ His hands came off her shoulders, leaving cool patches where his sweaty palms had been.

  Evie took a slow step back, shaking, and looked up at him. As if it hadn’t been surprising enough to see him released from the police station so soon, now there was something else to shock her: Troy Bukowski had a tear glistening in his eye.

  ‘Believe it or not, I wanted to make amends.’

  ‘Troy, you–’

  ‘Please, just listen.’ He took a deep breath, folding his arms and avoiding eye contact. Evie guessed that he wasn’t used to making apologies. ‘What I did to you was inexcusable. I just got so carried away and I… Well, there’s no excuse.’

  ‘No, there’s not.’ Evie pulled the strap of her purse up her shoulder. She was coming around to believing that maybe he wasn’t here to cause trouble. Maybe those tears were real.

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ Troy went on, crying harder now. ‘I’m so ashamed of myself for this whole thing. My wife despises me and I don’t blame her.’

  Jesus, he’s married?

  ‘Anyway, I’ve said what I came here to say. If you can’t find it within yourself to forgive me then I totally understand. I just thought I would come by. And, uh…’ His hand went to the back of his neck, as if to scratch an itch. ‘I’ve resigned from Vision.’

  ‘Resigned? But why?’

  ‘Moving on, I guess. Thinking of a fresh start. So, my spot is available if you want it. Take care of yourself, Coffee Girl.’ Troy began to step forward, arms open for an embrace. But when Evie recoiled, he seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel and walked off into the distance.

  Evie felt bad. But it was more complicated than that – she felt bad for feeling bad. She didn’t know if she would ever see Troy Bukowski again, but at least she could put this thing to bed. A simple overnighter at the police station seemed to have corrected him some, which was most surprising.

  But a good thing had come from this, Evie reminded herself. If she wanted to work for those people, maybe she could. Now that a position was open at the magazine, she wondered if Conan Reed might apologise for the way he’d spoken to her, and maybe even offer her the job.

  Yeah right, Evie thought, smiling, as if two miracles could happen in one night.

  29

  The next morning – after she had retreated to her bed to readjust her strategy – Evie made her way straight over to Judy Durant’s house. Now that she realised her only lead could come from this woman, she felt a sudden fear that the entire case might fall flat within the hour.

  Arriving just before noon, Evie knocked on the door and was greeted by a half-smiling Judy. She was dressed in summery clothes, and waved Evie in merrily.

  ‘I’m sorry to keep bothering you like this,’ Evie said, dropping her purse onto a kitchen stool. The house looked bigger than one could have imagined after looking at it from outside. It was nicely decorated too – very flowery and smelling of lilies.

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry.’ Judy moved around the kitchen with the energy of someone half her age. ‘I’m always happy to help. It’s just that this isn’t the best time. I have some friends out back, so I would appreciate it if we could keep this quick.’

  ‘Of course! Of course…’ Evie followed her through to the garden, where Judy took a hose and began to water her colourful patch of petunias. ‘To be honest, I’m not exactly sure why I’m here.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’ve been talking to a few people about this whole situation, and I’m getting different versions from everyone. I even confronted your son about his divorce.’

  Judy Durant shut off the spraying water and turned to Evie. ‘You didn’t mention me by name, I hope? I told you that in confidence, dear.’

  ‘It’s fine. Relax.’

  Judy forced a smile at her friends – who sat at the patio table chatting among themselves – and then returned to spraying her plants. ‘May I ask what happened?’

  ‘Calvin… You probably don’t want to hear this, but your son was having an affair.’

  ‘It doesn’t entirely surprise me. He always had trouble keeping it in his pants. Especially as a teenager.’ Judy giggled. ‘Bless his soul.’

  Evie shuddered at the image of Calvin Durant making love to a woman. She didn’t know why, exactly – he was a good-looking man, but just not her type. ‘And about Sadie? Did you know Calvin’s wife was having an affair too?’

  The water shut off suddenly, and Judy’s mouth hung open. ‘No, I… Really?’ she asked, with all the enthusiasm of a gossiping old lady. She shook her head then, her wrinkled cheeks swinging from side to side. ‘I just couldn’t imagine. Who told you this?’

  ‘John Matthews. This man who worked with her–’

  ‘My dear.’ Judy put down the hose and cupped Evie’s hands, gazing into her eyes as if she were her own daughter. ‘I like to consider myself a reasonable judge of character. I knew Sadie very well and loved her very much – as you can probably tell, seeing as I’m dealing with the funeral arrangements myself.’

  Evie nodded, daring not to speak in case she missed a detail.

  ‘But she would never, ever have betrayed my son’s trust.’

  ‘You’re saying he’s lying?’

  Judy let go of her hands and put them at her sides. ‘I don’t like to use that word, but yes. If I were in your shoes, I would put all of my time into researching that man. If you think he had anything to do with Sadie and Emma’s murders, I would certainly encourage that.’

  ‘I… will,’ Evie said, already formulating her next moves.

  ‘May I ask… How is Calvin?’

  ‘Honestly… I’m scared for him.’ Evie was just realising this for herself. ‘More than anything else in the world, I want to lock this down and find out the truth, before he’s convicted on a murder charge.’

  Judy Durant’s expression suddenly turned into one of disbelief. ‘Then you’d better get a move on, dear. His trial is today.’

  30

  While Calvin Durant threw up in the corner of the courthouse cell, Sam Fitzgerald – his loyal but painfully honest defence attorney – plucked out a tissue from his breast pocket. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it over.

  Calvin spat into the bucket, took the tissue and dabbed it around his mouth.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t feel for you,’ Sam took a seat on the poor excuse for a bed, ‘but it’s a little convenient that you’re sick right now, huh?’

  Once again, Calvin felt an urge coming on. It started in his stomach and rose to his throat in an instant. The contents rained inaccurately into the bucket. ‘Does this look convenient to you?’ he asked, gasping for breath.

  Sam stared at him in silence. It was like he was trying to figure out if this was all a big act. Hell, it could have been real but only for poor nerves. Finally, he shook his head, sighing. ‘Fine, I’ll try to get the trial postponed.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m not saying I’ll succeed. I’m just saying I’ll try.’ Sam tightened up his black silk tie and left the cell, briefcase in hand. He was shaking his head in the way he often did when disapproving of one of Calvin’s decisions.

  Calvin, watching him go, unfolded the tissue and refolded it clean-side-out. That wasn’t pretty, he thought, kneeling down beside the bucket. But you gotta do what you gotta do. He briefly thought about Evie, wondering how far she had come in her investigation – or if she was even still working on it, for that matter. In the event that he could get the trial postponed on account of his sickness (which, sadly, seemed like a stretch), there was no guarantee that the journalist would manage to help him out of there.

  But Calvin had to give her more time. Hovering his mouth over the bucket, he slid two fingers into the back of his throat and continued to throw up. It was vile, he thought, but nece
ssary.

  31

  I wonder how he pulled that off, thought Evie as she stared at her laptop screen. The website was detailing the Durant case, which had been postponed for twenty-four hours due to extreme sickness. Of course, the idea that another journalist was covering this scared Evie off a little, but none of them had the angle she had. None of them knew of the conspiracy.

  Manoeuvring through the deepest corners of the web – or surfing, as many used to say – Evie dug up whatever she could find on John Matthews. She got as far back as high school, where he was a seemingly respectable model of alumnus. Further on in years, he had been on the news for a charity fundraiser that he had single-handedly created. So far, everything pointed to him being Mr Goody-Two-Shoes, but none of that sat with Evie. Not one bit.

  ‘Okay,’ she told herself, ‘make a coffee and come at it with a fresh eye.’ Minutes later, with cheap instant coffee steaming by her side, that fresh eye seemed to do its work. In that same charity article, in black and white, it stated that John Matthews had worked at a grocery store.

  Wasn’t that the place where Sadie Durant had worked?

  Evie searched for the number, dialled it and listened to the ringer with bated breath. When a soft female voice spoke through the phone and said her name was Rebecca-at-Stop-and-Shop-How-Can-I-Help, Evie asked to speak to the manager.

  ‘This is she,’ Rebecca said, though it seemed unlikely, as she sounded like only a teen.

  ‘I was wondering if I could have a moment to speak with you regarding an ex-employee,’ Evie said, absent-mindedly gnawing on her fingernail. ‘John Matthews used to work for you, along with a lady named Sadie Durant.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Finally, a straight-forward answer. ‘Great. You were there during their employment?’