The Killer You Know

by S. R. Masters

  Not quite knowing what to say to this, I just said, “I’m not famous.”

  “It would make a good podcast, wouldn’t it?” Jen said. “We’d probably all be famous.”

  “Maybe,” I said. She sounded like Xan now. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

  I found Steve inside and he handed me a glass of wine. I downed half of it and explained what had happened. And when I was done, I asked him if the Nirvana logo I’d seen drawn on the back of his car was his handiwork.

  And of course, he shook his head.

  Will, 1998

  Problems, problems, problems—they never end at home. He’s grateful now to be outside after the morning he’s had, happy to be going down to the fields with his spade on his shoulder and some cigarettes in his pocket and the sun toasting his cheeks. He’ll find a place to dig and just space out for a while. It’s really the only thing that he likes to do when the others aren’t around. Rupesh will be home from India today, then they can all get back to what they do best.

  He’s never realised before how important Steve’s place is to the group. Jen, Rupesh and Adeline’s parents don’t like kids coming over—they’re all so strict. And while Mum and Dad aren’t strict, the total opposite really, they have their own issues—and he definitely doesn’t want the gang inside his house, seeing all Mum’s stuff. She’d been having one of her low mornings, and he couldn’t just leave her sitting at the kitchen counter alone while she was wearing one of her wigs. Especially not the black one. Was she Elizabeth Taylor, or maybe Audrey Hepburn? Not that she looks like any of them, really, she just looks like Mum in a—

  So he’d spent the morning reassuring her, talking about all the usual things she has to talk about to get back to normal again. All the stuff about Liz, the stuff Dad and Monks won’t talk to her about any more.

  A rat in a cage, that’s how he’d felt. Not now. Now he is closing in on Dead Man’s, and once he’s found a good spot he’ll—

  “You again.”

  The voice came from his left. It’s Mr. Strachan, standing on the other side of the hedge. His hedge. What does he want? He’d said hello the other day, too, told him his tie-dyed T-shirt was blinding him. Wanted to know if he had a pair of flares to match.

  “Hello.”

  “You off to bury the bodies?”

  “No,” he says, far too quickly, and he keeps walking. It’s a joke, though, because it’s a funny thing to say to someone carrying a spade, not because he actually thinks Will is about to bury anything. “Looking for Roman stuff.”

  “Really?” Strachan says. “And what do you know about Roman stuff?”

  Will stops. He knows a lot about Roman stuff. He knows lots about history. About castles and forts and Pyramids and mental half-animal, half-human gods. He knows some locals think that Blythe might once have had a very small Roman outpost, or even a settlement. Locals like Rupesh’s dad, who told him he wanted to go out to the fields with a metal detector when he retires. He’s a bit different for a doctor, Rupesh’s dad, and as well as history he likes UFOs and Nessie and stuff like that. Will likes him, thinks he is a—

  “Good God,” Strachan says, “are you catching flies in your mouth or are you thinking?”

  He must be thinking, because he prefers to catch flies with those long strips of yellow paper, although he wishes he had one of those electric bug zapper things.

  “I heard there might be coins out there,” Will says, and shrugs.

  “Did you?” Strachan says.

  “My friend’s dad says some people at The Nag’s Head have found stuff… artefacts.” He’s pleased with himself for remembering this word. “He says no one has ever properly investigated round here. Thinks local people want to keep it to themselves so they can find and claim anything valuable.”

  “He might be on to something there,” Strachan says. “Do the farmers know you’ll be digging up their land?”

  “No,” Will says. “I didn’t know—”

  “Don’t worry, kid, it never stopped me,” Strachan says with a wink.

  Strachan seems all right. They had all hated him so much last year, yet here he is talking about the Romans with him like he didn’t get a brick through his windscreen and a note left on his van because of—

  The dog! That’s why they hated him. He was mean to it, leaving it outside like that all the time, the wazzock.

  “What happened to your dog?” Will says. Shit. He shouldn’t have said anything. Now he’s made it obvious.

  “He’s inside. Safe. What’s your name? I see you about a lot, you and the other Famous Five.”

  He should lie really. But Will’s terrible at lying under the cosh.

  “Will,” he says.

  “Right, Will, pleased to meet you,” he says. “Do you know my name?”

  Will shrugs.

  “It’s Bill. Which is short for William, like you. Will, I don’t think some of your friends like me very much, do they?”

  He shrugs again. Up until now he’d have sworn he didn’t like Strachan. Now he’s not sure.

  “Have you seen Roman stuff then?” Will says.

  “I might have,” Strachan says. “I can show you if you want.”

  He’s about to say yes, because he’d quite like to see an adult’s collection of Roman stuff, see if it’s like any of the rubbish he’s collected over the years. This is how they get you, though. The paedos and the nonces. And he nearly fell for it.

  “Not now,” he says, and starts to walk off.

  He hears Strachan mutter, “Suit yourself,” and tut.

  He hopes he didn’t get it wrong. Steve might be right about Strachan, though, and if he goes off with him… well, that’s how these things happen. They get you alone in their house, on your own, away from safety. But if Strachan’s not a paedo, then maybe he’d been a bit rude walking off like that. He has his spade; he could have chanced it. Would have been a good weapon had Strachan actually tried anything. He vividly pictures himself striking Strachan with it—not down onto his head with the flat part, no. Heads are made for things to land on them from above. No, he would keep the spade low and shovel up into the pocket between Strachan’s lower jaw and his Adam’s apple. One quick blow, that’s all it would take. Then he could stand over him while he choked and spat, grabbing himself and struggling for breath, bring down the—

  He looks up. Steve is outside his drive at the end of Elm Close looking over at Will. He’s wearing yellow gloves and tidying up the overgrown hedge for his dad again. After a second he waves. Will waves back but quickly darts down Dead Man’s. He’s not in the mood for Steve today. He might end up having to do gardening again, and that electric hedge trimmer hadn’t been half as fun as Steve made out.

  Nearly at the end of Dead Man’s he stops. It occurs to Will that there’re more questions he wants to ask Strachan. About what he thinks Romans might’ve been up to around here. And why no one’s found anything here at all. And really, while he’s got the spade, there isn’t anything to worry about. Plus if he is up to anything funny then Will can be the one to catch him at it. He’ll be a hero.

  Back he goes, peering out from the entrance to Dead Man’s to check for Steve. The coast clear, he runs back down the road and into Strachan’s drive.

  At the front of his lounge Steve is standing like some sort of ringmaster while the credits to the Scooby Doo film they watched last year play behind him on the television. Steve’s raring to start the summer for real with whatever scheme he’s dreamed up, though what a cartoon dog had to do with it Will hasn’t a clue.

  “So we are going to play a game called The Dedication,” Steve says. “Loosely based on what we just watched. Sorry, probably didn’t need to see the whole thing.”

  They all groan, including Rupesh whose arrival late afternoon had prompted Steve into calling this gathering.

  In the film, Shaggy is left a mansion by his late uncle. The rest of his stuff—gold and jewels and all that—has been hidden in different places, and t
he only way for the gang to find it is to solve these silly clues hidden over the estate. Turns out the silly clues are the extent to which the film is relevant to Steve’s game. He could have just called it a clue hunt and they’d have got it. Then again, this is the whole point of Steve—his showmanship. Keeps things interesting.

  Rupesh has a trench across his brow already.

  “So, basically, each of us will have a turn being the Puzzlemaster,” Steve says.

  “The… what?” Will says, sniggering, setting the others off.

  “You heard,” Steve says, taking it in his stride. “The Puzzlemaster will then set the others a task—”

  “You’ve got to come up with a better name,” Jen says.

  “Shush, let him finish,” Adeline says.

  “Thank you, Adeline,” Steve says, his face stern. “So each one of us will take a turn at being Lord Puzzle—”

  Even Steve can’t keep a straight face this time. Will falls on his side and squeaks, “Lord Puzzle,” between breaths. Jen rolls her eyes.

  “The rest of us then have to solve each puzzle,” Steve says, “with the ultimate aim being to get to some final point where Lord… the person setting the puzzle will be waiting.”

  All of them look at him blankly. Then Rupesh puts his hand up. “I don’t understand,” he says.

  “Okay, so it’s like that film? Let’s say I’m the person setting the clues.”

  “Lord Puzzle,” Will says with a grin.

  “Yeah, so I’m Lord Puzzle. I basically leave clues for you. So one might be: Go to the place where someone threw a brick through a car window. Obviously better and a bit more mysterious than that—but not too mysterious, we want everyone to understand it. And so you’ll all trot off to Mr. Strachan’s based on that clue, and there will be another clue waiting for you there. And so on and so on, until the final clue takes you to me, Lord Puzzle.”

  “Do we have to trot?” Will says.

  “Trotting’s optional,” Adeline says.

  “What happens when we find you?” Rupesh says.

  “Well, it’s sort of a race,” Steve says. “So the first person to me gets four points, the next three, down to the last person who gets one point.”

  “Why isn’t the first just the winner?” Jen says.

  “Well, they are the winner, but of that round,” Steve says. “But each of us has a turn at being Lord Puzzle.”

  “How do we decide who’s Lord Puzzle?” Rupesh asks.

  “Well, my trusty assistant, Adie, over here managed to find the perfect solution to that very problem,” Steve says, pointing. Adeline holds up the broken chopsticks in one hand and gives him the middle finger with the other; he’s her fucking assistant.

  “Oh, cockflaps,” Rupesh says. “My favourite.”

  It’s an interesting idea, a big game that lasts longer than an afternoon. There are problems with it too, though, and Will has questions.

  “If we’re all following the same clues what if we bump into each other?”

  “That’s part of the game,” Steve says. “You’ve got to try and avoid seeing each other so you can get ahead in the race.”

  “Okay,” Will says, nodding. “Can you, like, destroy a clue when you find it, to like, make it harder for the next person?”

  Jen tuts, but Adeline’s giggling. She’s always laughing at the stuff he says, although he reckons sometimes it’s because she feels sorry for him. She’s all right Adeline, and definitely has the best taste in music. Maybe a bit up herself. You can tell she’s one of those that’s just used to people falling all over themselves for her, so Will doesn’t like to give her much. You had to resist that sort of thing. Give ’em an inch et cetera, that’s what Dad says about women. Will’s clever enough to know Dad is talking about Mum mostly, although Dad probably thinks what happened to Liz wouldn’t have happened if he’d been stricter with her. Kept her from going out all the time.

  “That would make it impossible, not just hard,” Rupesh says.

  “Yeah, don’t do that,” Steve says. “It’d be a nightmare. Also, if you’re setting the puzzles, try and think big, okay? We don’t have to be confined to Blythe. I’m imagining each person’s Dedication will have its own day, so there shouldn’t really be people bumping into each other as different people will solve the puzzles at different times and will try different routes to get places.”

  “What about joining forces?” Jen says.

  “Why would you want to do that?” Steve says. “Points can’t be shared.”

  “People could help each other solve the clues maybe, then it could be a foot race.”

  “What if we both reach you at the same time?” Will says.

  “Again, it’s a race,” Steve says. “You actually have to touch the puzzle setter to place.”

  “Can you sabotage people in other ways?” Will asks. “Like cutting brake lines on people’s bikes or whatever?”

  “For God’s sake, Will. Stop trying to sabotage people,” Jen says.

  “It’s really up to you,” Steve says. “But, you know, within reason. Not sure anyone is going to want to stay friends with someone who cuts their brakes.”

  “Fair enough,” Will says.

  “How many clues do we do each?” Adeline says.

  “It’s up to the person setting the clues,” Steve says. “I’d think three or four would be the least amount to make it a good round. Also, the person setting the clues will probably have to think of a way to let all the others know at around the same time to make it fair, and take into account where various people live. Like maybe phoning them or something. Or leaving a clue that can only be opened at a certain time with everyone there. Everyone happy so far?”

  “Casual,” Will says. Although it seems to him that the gang won’t be spending much time together during this game. Then again, they’d be out in the fields, wouldn’t they? So he can bring along his spade and kill time that way.

  The others nod too, except for Rupesh who looks like he’s tasted something sour.

  “Am I the only one that thinks it’s going to be a lot of hassle?” Rupesh says. “I mean, is it really going to be fun, or is it going to be a lot of hard work? Coming up with clues, walking around all over the place.”

  “It’ll be fun,” Jen says. “All of us out in the fields sneaking around.”

  “Not with Moonshine about,” Will says.

  “Who?” Steve says.

  Will’s tried this name before, at school. It didn’t take. With this lot it might. “Moonshine. You know, the guy in the van. Because it’s a silver van.”

  “Oh, Strachan, you mean?” Steve says.

  “If you like.”

  “Don’t say that, Will,” Jen says. “Don’t be creepy.” A spear of injustice pierces his belly. That’s so unfair: what he’d said is creepy, but he isn’t being creepy. Why is she saying that if it isn’t true? To wound him, is why. To remind him that she hasn’t forgotten the afternoon when she went mental at him, when all he’d done was try to be kind, let her sleep even though his back was hurting just because she’d told him she’d been up all night because of her sister, and she’d looked so pretty too, in the sun, her hair and teeth and lips—

  “We’re not letting him ruin the summer,” Steve says. “He probably won’t attack near here anyway. I showed you the map.”

  The map, yeah. Steve’s map based on what his mate’s dad supposedly said. Whatever, never mind: it doesn’t bother him really. He’s not scared of being kidnapped. It’s just more of Steve being Steve. Making things dramatic.

  “If you’re all with me so far, the next bit is the real decider, but it might be a bit controversial. At the moment the game needs some consequences.”

  “Stakes,” Will says.

  “You hungry?” Rupesh says.

  “The game needs stakes.”

  “Exactly,” Steve says.

  “I’m vegetarian,” Rupesh says.

  “Like a prize or a forfeit or something,” Will sa
ys.

  “Totally,” Steve says, looking to the others. “I’ve got some ideas of my own. I thought I’d open it up to suggestions first, though.”

  After a long silence, Rupesh says, “Can’t we just have a prize for the winner?”

  “What prize?” Steve says.

  “I don’t know,” Rupesh says. “Like, one of your films or something? You’ve got enough of them.”

  “Oh, Rupesh,” Jen says, “you’re sweet.” She reaches over and rubs his shoulder.

  Will isn’t sure what to make of this. It makes him cross, although Jen is always poking and hugging and stroking people. Not him, mind.

  “The prize has to mean something if it’s going to work,” Steve says. “If you can think of a present, Rup, that will make you do your best to win if you’re behind on points in round four then I’m listening. I’m just not sure anyone’s going to be that fussed about a second-hand, pirated copy of Shakespeare in Love, no matter how much they like Gwyneth Paltrow.” He looks at Will here.

  “If the prize was actually Gwyneth Paltrow,” Will says. He’s joking around, but he’s nervous. It’s clear Steve has a plan, and he doesn’t always like Steve’s plans.

  “So my idea,” Steve says, “is that the loser gets banned from coming round here.”

  Kaboom. Through puckered lips Will emits a soft oooo. Jen blows air out of her cheeks. Rupesh looks terrified.

  “For ever?” Rupesh asks. “I mean, that would be like being thrown out of the group.”

  It’s a critical point, and it’s unclear what any of the others are thinking. They’re all hesitant to commit, it’s a big decision. Thing is, this is what they’ve been after: a bit of excitement. And Steve’s delivered his bit.

  “I’m against that in theory,” Adeline says. “But the stakes do make a difference to how fun it’ll be. And actually, I’m assuming that we’ll be staggering out these rounds.” Steve nods. “So by the time we’ve finished, maybe there won’t be much of the summer left anyway. And who knows what’ll happen after that? We’ll all be at different colleges.”