The Killer You Know

by S. R. Masters

  What is Steve up to? Rupesh tries to mirror his smile, injecting his own with some puzzlement. “Ha, ha. As if.” He pushes on past the comment. “I just found the wallet under a stile.”

  “I believe you,” Steve says. “The receipts stashed in here are all recent anyway.”

  “Seriously,” Rupesh says, “I just couldn’t think of anything quickly enough.”

  “I get it,” Will says, crossing the room and throwing his long body down on the sofa. “It would have been good if you could have used it as a clue.”

  “Yeah,” Jen says. “I say it should get points for creativity.”

  “I thought the one of you that got there last would realise and collect the wallet or…” He trails off because he might be getting away with it, and wants to bring the discussion to a close before Steve asks anything else. He finishes with more honesty. “Anyway, I didn’t think it through.”

  Steve is studying him, that little smile still there. “So, if you hadn’t found the wallet, right, what would we all be doing now?”

  Rupesh needs to swallow, but suddenly he can’t remember how. As always, Steve just knows things. Like when Rupesh is using his undeniably strict parents as an excuse to get out of doing things he doesn’t want to do.

  He doesn’t have an answer. He is seizing up, panicking. He begins to rub his arm, actually making the pain worse in the process, hoping sympathy might save him.

  “Can’t he just do his round again?” Jen says. “He can pick up where he left off.”

  “Well, he can if he’s actually planned something and wasn’t making it up as he went along,” Steve says.

  “I did have something planned,” Rupesh says.

  “Is your arm okay?” Adeline asks. She looks concerned.

  “Oh my God,” Jen says. “You’re bleeding.”

  Rupesh looks down. He’s somehow managed to get a proper wound going and a rivulet of blood has run down the length of his arm.

  “Kitchen sink,” Adeline says, standing up.

  “I’ll do it,” Jen says, leaping to her feet.

  It’s such a relief to be out of the lounge; it feels like the room’s gravity is different. Jen cleans out the kitchen sink and fills it with warm water. She rolls up his sleeve. He knows it’s spineless, and he hates himself for doing it, but he says softly: “I can’t do another round again. What if I mess up? What if…?”

  What a cockflap. He stops talking, refocusing, trying to sound like he hadn’t been panicked and scared in the fields. No, no, no, no.

  It works. Jen uses kitchen roll to wash his arm and appears to take great pleasure in the act. She would make a brilliant nurse, or doctor even, a brilliant carer of any sort. But Jen would be able to do anything she wanted, she’s so warm and clever. Why is he being so pathetic, so wet in front of her?

  Jen changes the subject to what they should do about the wallet. She thinks they should take it back to Mr. Strachan, money and all, which Rupesh agrees with.

  The two of them return to the lounge. Jen is carrying the broken chopsticks.

  “Uh oh,” Will says.

  “Rupesh wanted to do his Dedication again,” Jen says, “but actually I don’t think that’s fair on him, so we should all just draw chopsticks for the points and move on.”

  There is silence, no one speaking because really the decision is Steve’s. Without even the slightest sign of the annoyance and disappointment he’d shown after the first round, he simply shrugs and nods.

  “It’s not ideal,” he says, “but I suppose… Yeah. Why not?”

  Jen isn’t expecting this. None of them are.

  “I mean, it’s not like Rupesh gets any points for this round anyway whether we do it or not,” Steve says. “Let’s just draw the chopsticks. I’m easy.”

  Jen shuffles them, then brings them around to each person in the room except Rupesh. Adeline wins, followed by Jen, then Will, with Steve picking up the shortest piece and a single point.

  Steve stares at his stub with a lopsided grimace. “Actually, Rupesh, Will and I think you should do your Dedication again.”

  They all laugh. It’s good, and Rupesh’s tension and shame float away. This is why they all hang out together. Why he loves spending time with them.

  Steve reaches underneath his chair and brings out an A4 pad. He starts writing something, then holds it up to show the group. It’s a league table.

  Jen—7

  Steve—4

  Adeline—4

  Will—4

  Rupesh—1

  “I’m falling behind,” Rupesh says.

  “Don’t worry,” Steve said, “still plenty of points to play for.”

  They’re halfway through a film when the discussion starts about what to do with Mr. Strachan’s wallet. Do they keep it and get revenge on him for reporting them all to the police, or do they give it back and just feel good about doing the right thing? Steve pauses the video and now insists on a vote.

  Jen and Will vote for the wallet to be returned.

  Will voting this way is weird. He hated Strachan. Steve pulls a face at this too.

  Adeline votes against. “I just don’t like him,” she says when asked. She’s chewing on her thumb, tapping her foot quickly against the floor. She’s been a bit distant all afternoon. “Why should we help the bastard?” Something’s up with her reaction, too. It’s too forceful.

  There is a way to regain Steve’s trust here, an easy way that will hopefully wipe the slate clean as far as his round is concerned. Rupesh votes to keep the wallet. This gets as many surprised looks as Will’s vote, although Steve can’t keep the impressed look from his eyes. It’s worked. And Steve has no idea. Besides, giving it back will mean interacting with Strachan—and that’s the last thing Rupesh wants. Their last encounter with him had ended with Rupesh chucking a brick through his windscreen. He’d drunk too much vodka that day, and been eager to make things right with Steve so much that doing that had felt like a better solution than whatever Steve might make him do to balance things himself. Only then, as he’d begun to sober up, and the reality of those police visits hit home, he decided it was best to stay quiet—and the others all seemed to think it was Adeline or Will, thank goodness.

  Steve nods, then looks up like he’s considering all of their choices. He’s yet to vote, and having waited to have his say has the chance to decide.

  “Honestly, I don’t like Strachan,” Steve says, “but he’s beneath us. He’s not worth the hassle. And not like this. This is all a bit… too convenient. Like it might be a trap. A wallet right out on the path where we hang out. Nah. It’s just too out of our control.”

  “What?” Adeline’s face twists with confusion.

  This is turning into a strange afternoon. What’s happening here? Is Steve so into disagreeing with Rupesh that he’s going to give the wallet back to spite him?

  “And anyway, we’ve got The Dedication now,” Steve says. “We’re done with him. I’ll throw it on his lawn tonight, he’ll think he dropped it there, dozy nob head.”

  Adeline gives a loud sigh and stands up. “Fine. Do whatever. I’m getting a stomach ache so I think I’m going to go home.”

  “What about the rest of the film?” Steve says.

  Will gets up too, there are leftovers at home and he wants to catch Countdown. Before Adeline gets to complete her storm-out everyone leaves the farmhouse together, which Rupesh is fine with because he still doesn’t entirely understand Steve’s reactions to his failed Dedication and the wallet thing.

  Jen peels off at her house, briefly leaving Rupesh with Adeline and Will.

  “Are you okay?” Rupesh says to Adeline. She has one hand on her stomach and her mouth is a hard line.

  Her look softens. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Didn’t expect Steve to want to take it back to Strachan,” Rupesh says.

  “No,” Adeline says. “Who knows what’s going on in his head?” Her expression tightens further, perhaps with pain, although it also ap
pears a bit regretful.

  They stop opposite Adeline’s. He’s not sure she’s right. Steve might be easier to read than she thinks. What if the reason that he’s okay with Rupesh messing up everything is because he doesn’t care if Rupesh is banned from the house?

  “Adeline,” Rupesh says before she crosses the road, “what’ll happen if I don’t get enough points?”

  “I don’t know, Rupesh,” Adeline says. She sighs. “Just do your best.”

  “I think he’ll stick to the ban if it comes to it,” Will says. “He swore he would.”

  Adeline frowns at Will. “Do you honestly, really in your heart, think Steve is going to make someone stay away from us?”

  Rupesh and Will exchange looks.

  “Do you not understand anything about him?” she says. “About how useless his parents are, and how we’re practically his only family. He won’t hold anyone to it.”

  “You’re well grumpy today,” Will says. “Are you on your period?”

  She groans, shaking her head. “Do you have any idea what a horrible little fucker you sound sometimes? What’s wrong with you, Will?”

  The smirk he used to deliver the line is still there, frozen while the rest of his face expresses actual terror. She is balling her fists.

  “Sorry,” he says. He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t care,” she says. “I’ve had enough of your shit today. Both of you. All of it.”

  She stomps across Elm Close, then pauses at her drive and glances up at the house. Then she looks back at them. When they just stare she makes a shooing gesture and says, “Fuck off.”

  The two of them trudge up to Blythe Lane. Before turning right, Rupesh has a last look back and catches a flash of black hair and black boots: Adeline, disappearing down Dead Man’s Alley.

  It’s not fair that Adeline lumps Rupesh in with Will: he didn’t say anything weird. This is partly why, after saying goodbye to Will, he heads back to Dead Man’s Alley to find her. She would never have said that normally. She is blunt sometimes, and harsh when necessary, but it usually feels right at the time. Something’s definitely wrong with her today.

  Adeline hasn’t gone far. She is sitting facing Rupesh on the stile step where he’d fallen earlier. She glowers at him, eyeliner running down her cheeks.

  “I was worried about you,” Rupesh says and stops in front of her.

  “I’m fine,” she says. He hears warmth in her voice. She isn’t going to tell him to fuck off. She sniffs and lets out a throaty moan.

  “Do you want a tissue?” he asks.

  “Not if you’ve used it,” she says.

  “No, it’s clean.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pack of tissues, a habit born of his mum’s earliest troubles. Often, in the aftermath of an incident, she would cry quietly to herself, and that was when Rupesh would bring out his pack for her. “Such a useful boy,” she would say. He really liked being a useful boy, and he really liked it when she cried. Because if she didn’t cry, and instead just sat there staring out of the window, they knew they would be out again the following day, looking for her up high, or where it was noisy.

  Adeline thanks him and takes one from the pack to blow her nose.

  “I never like to be shy of a tissue,” Rupesh says, then winks. This makes her laugh, and Rupesh can’t believe it. Had he ever made Adeline laugh before? He tells her about why he carries them, and Adeline’s expression grows sombre. He should have kept quiet.

  “How is she now?” she asks.

  “She was better when we first moved here, but it’s got a bit worse recently. She’s started talking about how fast the traffic is up on the bend where the footpath ends on the main road. Dad’s got this mad plan to buy a house up in the Highlands somewhere to keep her away from roads and trains and… but she’d still have ways to do it.” He pauses. “Sometimes I…” Is he going to tell her this?

  It feels natural enough, and somehow right, yet he shouldn’t. It’s too revealing. That he sometimes wonders if it would be better for all his family, including his mum, if she actually just did it, because then at least they could grieve and eventually get back to normal, is not an out-loud thought. Because if he tells her that, he might end up telling her he sometimes hoped she’d done it those times before. Which is worse, he knows. No, he should stay quiet. “No, nothing,” he says.

  “I’m sorry, I feel stupid for crying when you’re going through something so much worse.”

  “Everyone’s problems are different, but they’re still important.”

  “I think your pain is probably worse than mine,” Adeline says, the last part of the sentence becoming clogged up with emotion. She buries her head in her lap, a moment later holding out a palm to Rupesh. He dutifully hands her a tissue. “I’m being pathetic.”

  “Do you want to tell me?” he says. He is surprised by how confident this sounds, how adult. His instinct is to soften it, but when he does even that sounds grown up: “You don’t have to. I can just sit here and be your vending machine if you want.”

  She laughs again. Twice in a minute.

  “I caught my mum having an affair,” she says, then sighs deeply.

  “Oh,” Rupesh says. She doesn’t say anything else. How do you reply to that? Suddenly the little stones near his feet need moving around. He uses the end of one of his laces for the job. But he has to say something more than that, so he tries: “Are you sure?” Is she sure? What an idiot.

  “Yes, definitely sure,” Adeline says. “Dad’s been away at this toy convention thing and I told Mum I was staying out at Jen’s last night. I was actually at Steve’s. But then Steve decided his dad might be coming back, which I’ve no idea why he cares about, but anyway. I got home and that fucking prick from next door was—” Her voice had been gaining in pitch, and now she breaks off before regaining control once more. “Was fucking her on the sofa in the lounge.”

  “Mr. Strachan? Are you sure?” He can’t believe he’s asked it again. How could she not be sure? Mr. Strachan is rather specific.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I walked in and he was fucking her from behind over the… over the stupid leather sofa that Dad hates but lets her have because—”

  She looks like she might cry again; instead, she growls and bangs a fist against her thigh.

  “I hate her, Rupesh. I fucking hate her. And there’s nothing I can do because it would just destroy my dad. He’d kill himse—Oh shit, sorry. That’s not what I meant. It is what I meant but I just…”

  “How do they even know each other?”

  Adeline takes a deep breath. “It’s fucking Will’s fault. They met because of that brick through his windscreen. He’s been sniffing around our garden ever since, and Mum’s been all: Bill’s just showing me his hydrangeas or whatever the fucking fuck. She’s such a bitch.” She punches her leg again.

  Rupesh lifts his head from his miniature quarry without making eye contact with her, and the stile sparks something in his mind that can move them quickly away from her misplaced anger at Will.

  “That’s why you didn’t want us to give the wallet back,” he says.

  She shakes her head, mulling something over. “It’s my fault the wallet was here in the first place,” she says. “It was lying on the table when I ran out of the house, and I knew it wasn’t dad’s because he’s got a Popeye one from the shop. So I just grabbed it and came straight out here to get some air and decided to hide it under the stile. Fuck him. I knew I should have chucked it in the corn. Or buried it. And then, get this, yesterday—and literally this is the only time she’s mentioned the whole thing—Mum asks if I’ve seen it. So I’m like, have you asked Dad? And she’s all, well Mr. Strachan is really worried and it’s a criminal offence, blah blah blah. I said I didn’t have it but to be honest maybe it’s better Steve gives it him back. I just want to forget this as soon as I can. Your parents are doctors: do you know if you can bleach your mind? Do those little mind zappers from Men in Black exist?�
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  “That’s all she said to you?”

  “Yes, well, then she said yesterday: I’m sure you’ll do what you want, but think long and hard about how it would affect your father. I mean, what the actual fuck?”

  “What did you say?”

  “I asked her if she loved Dad, and she looked at me like I was an idiot, and she said: Grow up, Adeline.”

  They listen to the shussshing maize without talking. Rupesh is angry and sad for her. Above, an aeroplane coming in to land at Birmingham Airport whines, one final exertion at the end of a long journey. Unlike the trains, he doesn’t notice the planes now, although when they first moved the sound made him think of going to India, the home of his grandparents. When Grandad had been here last, six months ago, he’d asked what kind of person moved his family to live in the middle of all these fields if they weren’t a farmer. His dad never talks to Grandad about his mum.

  Adeline thanks Rupesh, telling him she feels better having talked about it out loud. He asks her if he is the only one who knows, to which she says yes. It’s funny Steve isn’t out here with her now, handing her tissues and reassuring her.

  “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier,” she says. “Will deserved it, but not you. He can be such a little weirdo sometimes.”

  Rupesh nods, then feels like a traitor. “He’s okay, really.”

  Adeline isn’t impressed, and Rupesh wishes he could tell her what he knows about Will. There is every chance she would change her mind if she knew that, like both of them, Will has his own things going on.

  That the Oswalds are drunk all the time isn’t even the start of it. Neither is the disgusting house, oil and mud darkening the walls and carpets, weeks-old mould growing in tea cups left in odd places. Or even the ice-cube tray he’d found in their freezer last summer, each block home to an entombed spider. No, the real trouble starts when you notice the complete lack of family pictures around the house. Instead, black-and-white photos of random people that he didn’t recognise hung in their place. Will’s mum explained them by saying: “We’re theatre people, my love,” which made no sense at all to Rupesh. She also has this expression, “Galaxy of the stars,” she yells when talking about a famous person she likes. It’s creepy there, and it’s no wonder Will likes to come over to Rupesh’s, where his dad actually finds Will’s oddness charming, often talking to him about history and conspiracy theories and the supernatural, topics that don’t really interest Rupesh.