Hunt Hunted, Murder Murdered

by Michael McBride

  ‘Oh, just this week… it’s difficult

  ‘OK, no problem’

  ‘Unless…’

  ‘….’

  ‘…there’s somewhere…’

  ‘It’s difficult. People know me at the hotel’.

  ‘No problem, I understand’.

  ‘I’ll see you next week all being well’.

  He was good money, but the councillor was a friend of her Dad, and she had been loathe at first to offer her ‘extra services’, but really needed the money. Now she depended on him and he wasn’t so bad. Never an affair, but there was tenderness and mutual respect. Not like the others. And then, of course, there were those she still needed to pay off…

  Monica pushed the phone into the pocket of her handbag. Mirror, signal, manoevre and left the car park.

  2.3 Bob

  Bob smiled to himself. The squeals from the cupboard were stifled by something. He glanced across the floor at the other blokes, while starting to turn another bolt into a piece of sheet metal, positioning the washer into place at the back. One guy laid his head on the work surface, tears streaming down his face and couldn’t hold back any more. The laughter boomed through the factory floor. Bob felt a little awkward. This prank could get him into real trouble with the superiors. He could see them peering from the top offices down to the floor. He walked off towards the cupboard.

  Through flashes from molten steel, screams continued. A terrified dark haired man tried to pull himself away from violent sparks as molten liquid flashed up the side of the container. The heat was stiff. Bob smirked at the victim.

  He pulled a Stanley knife from his pocket and began to remove the tape from the man’s ankles and wrists. The man grabbed at the tape over his mouth.

  ‘You shits – fuckin hell, I thought I was going to die’

  Bob slapped his victims back.

  ‘Just a laugh eh?’.

  Bob stood laughing as the door opened.

  Murray Johnson, the shift manager walked in with a white shirt on. No overalls for him today. He also wore a tie. Credibility cloth meant something was up. Suddenly Bob began to think whether today was the wrong day to exact some workplace revenge. This looked serious.

  ‘You two. With me. NOW’. He opened the fire exit door out to the yard.

  Bob knew this was not good. A couple of hours later while sitting on his bike down by the scrap yard in Inverkeithing, he thought about ending it Evil Kneivel style, throwing himself over the salvaged ship and into the mudflats which would see the end of him. No. It was bad enough losing the job. He would need another job fast and, in the meantime, it was the bike that would have to go.

  2.4 Marie

  ‘Marie’. She stopped in the gym corridor, and swigged from her isotonic drink.

  It was Matt Henson the Gym owner.

  ‘I’ve been getting good feedback about your classes’

  ‘That’s great’

  ‘More than that’, Matt opened the office door and indicated for Marie to go through before closing the door behind her. The office was typical leather desktop and chairs. Professional, clean and impressive.

  ‘I’ve been talking to my Dad about expanding the business’, Marie was ushered into the seat across from Matt’s desk.

  ‘I don’t want to be too forward, but you have talent. You are an asset here, and you probably know more about the running of this place than I do.’ It pleased Marie, to at last get some praise for her efforts.

  ‘It’s good of you to say that Matt. I appreciate it’.

  Matt blurted out ‘How would you feel about managing a new gym for me?’ He sat up on the outside of his desk and looked directly at Marie. ‘Or better still, buy in to the business’

  What could she say? This was an unbelievable opportunity for a lass from Fife who had only ever ‘got by’ in anything she had done.

  Bob and Marie had some savings and he would support her with this surely.

  ‘I don’t know what to say Matt. That’s unbelievable’

  ‘I think you’d be a great asset for the Gym and the business going forward. I really want you to say yes’.

  ‘That would be great, of course, yes’

  The morning passed with a couple of classes. Not her best with other things on her mind. But enough time to help some punters with their steps, and to get another ego-boost from a couple of hunks who she assisted with some aerobic positions.

  She couldn’t wait to get home to share the news. Should she text Bob? No she would spoil him and then share the news. The rest of the day was a blur. What a dream! What an opportunity! This was more amazing to her than any dream.

  2.5 Tom

  The radio blared in the Service restaurant. Some indie crap Tom thought. The truck had been sluggish and he was about an hour behind schedule, but the fucking rules meant he had to take a break before he got to Preston and that meant an unavoidable turn off at Abington. On the road days on end he was used to eating in these places, snoozing in the cab and showering in the ‘pay as you go’ facilities. It wasn’t much of a life, but it did the job. He knew the places he liked and the services he didn’t and he worked his hours to fit in with Premier Inns and familiar local village stops, where the talent was better than the hairy arsed truckers he found surrounding him here.

  The olive green paint followed the wall around over the canteen area. To the right there was a paper shop. No interest. Listening to the radio all day you don’t need to read about it, it’s repeated on the hour every hour.

  Driving had always been a passion. Driving HGVs was more a status thing than anything and, of course, it gave him the cash to allow him to do what he loved: racing cars and riding girls. One day he heard through a mate that there was a real ride of a woman up in Dunfermline and he went to meet her – only to find out it was Aidrian's wife Monica. More than shocked he gave her the money and rode her. When he was done he picked up the money and walked out. She didn’t argue. The fact was she obviously felt guilty. So she should, but that wasn’t enough for Tom. He arranged to meet her again, and this time told her that this would continue until he decided it would stop. What could she do but agree? But he was never there and felt it was like unspent cash having her at his beck and call, but then being unable to use her as he would. She even seemed unable to see him when he wanted her which led him to the current situation. When she didn’t see him she had to pay him what she had charged him that first time, and it wasn’t cheap. She must be at it regular to be able to afford it, and he wouldn’t tell Aids – I mean it would look bad on her. So after a while he stopped pestering her and waited for the cash, and it continued to arrive. They didn’t even talk much now, but he had plenty cash to play with when he was away, so it was a means to an end.

  The bacon butty cost £4.25, and wouldn’t have been worth two pound. Boredom. The waitress came by wearing a blue checked shirt and short skirt. What the hell. He got up from the unclean orange plastic table and followed the girl to the kitchen area.

  ‘Excuse me’ the girl turned. Pretty.

  ‘Do you want to earn 30 quid?’ The girl looked concerned.

  ‘Listen, I just think you look like a great girl and I was looking for some company’

  He didn’t care if she wanted to or not. He would have her and legitimately too.

  ‘Nah, I don’t think so’, she turned away.

  ‘Sorry, darling. I didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘OK’, she walked away from him.

  ‘200 quid. It’s my final offer.’ It must have sounded like desperation, but he knew she would have a price with her short skirt and working for pennies in a dump like this.

  She paused.

  ‘OK, I’ll meet you in the car park’.

  He would have to show her the money of course, so he made a point of taking out a sum of cash from the autoteller before placing it in his wallet. He glanced towards her as she cleaned another table and walked out towards the front of the building. He would have put a cigarette in his m
outh just to prove how smooth he was, but it would spoil the few moments of pleasure he was about to enjoy with young nameless waitress from Abington or close by.

  She followed as he knew she would, and he opened the cab door to allow her to come in to his den. The bed through the back was useful. Very useful. He moved his Gibson guitar onto the front seat and positioned himself around the back. She climbed in without any encouragement and went down so easily it was if she had done this before. The smell of money was too much for her but, after consenting, and moaning and sweating in the back of the cab for him, Tom would not be paying her a cent. He knew this and he lay back as she straddled him til orgasm. He had done this before and he would do it again.

  2.6 Emma

  The train was packed. The earlier train was cancelled and this meant she would have to run from Haymarket to get to the office in time for the interview. Fucking trains.

  The sweaty, wet people created a musty smell and the trains were used so regularly they would never lose it she guessed. But this was what she wanted - a chance to get away from Fife and the familiar – an adventure with the other side, on the other side of the water.

  The train crossed the Forth Bridge in all its glory, albeit the views were limited along the river by low cloud and heavy rain. Standing holding on to the luggage rack Emma became aware of two eyes staring at her from a raincoat clad man close by. Embarrassed by this eye contact she turned away, leg pressed against one of the luggage-rack legs. She rolled her hand down it to tidy her skirt, before realizing that it wasn’t the luggage rack at all.

  Her eyes looked straight at the gentleman she had fondled. He seemed a little shocked, but quite happy.

  ‘I’m sorry’

  ‘Never worry’

  She turned back towards the luggage rack as the train stopped at Dalmeny on the South side of the river. Few bodies got off, but more got on, and this time the people crammed around her. She thought of potential answers for the interview. Why she wanted the position. Why she would rather have a job which meant having to commute each day. Even without the pressure of the interview at this point she still found it difficult to answer them. She would never get it. The bodies were tight, but suddenly there was a tug at her waist, and a warmth across her midriff. A hand had appeared, straying from a coat sleeve. Emma's eyes looked up and around her. Many eyes were looking at the ceiling, or at books held high out of the way of the others. One set of eyes looked at her. They seemed kind, the man was mid twenties, with a boyish charm. Good bone structure.

  ‘Sorry’, he said.

  ‘Never worry’ Emma replied. The hand did not move. She gulped but found it hard not to stare at the blond gent who would not have looked out of place in a fashion magazine with his wide collar and purple sheen tie. The hand moved down to her waist and across the front of her skirt. His eyes were still on hers. The train had been moving, and was now stopping again just outside South Gyle. She could feel a strange nervous feeling within. Horror and delight in equal measure. The train headed off and the blond man continued to stare at her. The hand moved down across the top of her thigh, and rubbed for a second. She looked down to see the hand there. She looked up again quickly. The blond man had turned away. The hand remained. She pushed her hand down upon it and it moved quickly away as the people started bustling for position. The blond man followed his guide dog away, and Emma felt sick and squeezed into a seat which had been left by a passenger who had reached his stop.

  Her heart beat quicker. What the hell was going on in the world? She had been attacked. Yet she did nothing. She was so disillusioned by Tom she almost wanted to be taken away. This wasn’t the way though. The job would be the way out.

  2.7 Simon

  The College corridors gleamed behind Spiv. A job well done. The 50 metres or so which faced him were like the Wall of China awaiting a coat of paint. The students cared not for his job. Many students treated him like shit, lower than a piece of shit even. One spat at his feet. His reaction was sudden. He had been provoked. That’s all that saved him from the sack. If he lost this job he wouldn’t get another – it would be the start of the rocky road to ruin. He was quite capable of doing that even with a job. He drank far too much, smoked like a chimney, and drugs were a recreation he partook of too often. Being around students made it too easy to be presented with opportunities.

  He dipped the mop into the bucket - the cleaner’s duty. He was the janitor, but what with cut backs the Facilities manager gave him the ultimatum. Do it or leave. No option really.

  Still, the hours suited and it was only a couple of hours until he would enjoy a few pints in the Union bar, before heading up the town to spend his earnings in the pub again – reliving past footballing glories with Kelty Hearts and the time he was given trials with Dunfermline. Too old now to dream about it. Injury put paid to it, but realistically it would never have happened. He didn’t have the head or heart for it. Too intent on self destruction on and off the pitch, too many brushes with the wrong side of the law and a marked man in the toun. Happy to stay below the parapet, but he still got his thrills when he could. A sly snog and fondle with a fresher for a few years - until he met Pam. Even then it didn’t stop him being entirely faithful. But it was as close as dammit for Spiv.

  Spiv had secrets. He was friends with all the guys, including Dev. In fact he was probably closer to Dev at the end than anyone. But then again that wasn’t a surprise.

  About 18 months before Simon Deuchar’s dad had told him a secret. He had told him that Dev Coulding was his brother. Simon didn’t know what to do about this. In fact it seemed pointless doing anything, but it was becoming more and more difficult when he was out – because every time Dev was there he felt it would come out. But why shouldn’t it?

  Pointless now. Simon's dad died a couple of months after Dev of lung cancer. A slow lingering death, ending abruptly one night when Spiv found him choked on blood pouring out of his mouth. Horrific find and another reason why Spiv kept drinking and smoking. To forget about it all. Now he was alone in the world...

  Except for Pam. Sweet little Pamela who had come onto the scene 2 years ago and been actively involved ever since. Times with her were the only special times and she even adjusted just to make sure he was OK. She was innocent. She was good. She was his judgment and his life. She had helped him out so much during the time his dad was really ill and, obviously, when Dev had been killed.

  The mop sploshed along the wall. Pools of dirty water falling and then soaking up again. It looked cleaner, but was it? Who cared? The good thoughts turned away again, and Spiv looked across at 2 student girls in their hockey uniforms coming closer.

  ‘Mind yer feet ladies’.

  They smiled at him. He was handsome after all and could be a gent.

  One of the girls slipped slightly. Spiv held her arm to prevent a fall.

  ‘I did warn you’.

  ‘My hero’, the giggling girl laughed, before walking on.

  ‘Maybe you can repay me later’, Spiv called on.

  The girl disappeared from view before a muted shout of ‘Maybe’ came through.

  Still got it!

  2.8 Pam

  The lecture hall was half empty. Those that remained were wrapped up warm. These halls were murder in the winter months. So scarves and gloves were like personal protection. The subject was commercial law. The literature was dry. The questions would be fairly simple to gain a good score for, and it would certainly help her as she progressed into business. She didn’t see herself becoming a court lawyer. Perhaps commercial or contracts manager for a big firm, with a good salary and big benefits and less stress and no need to work the longest of hours.

  The lecture would be followed by a trip to the library to follow up with the correct notes and to ensure that she had the head start on the rest of the class. Perfection was not easy, but she had lived up to this all her life and was not going to stop now.

  When Dev was killed she had blipped. It was her first blip and it
really hurt. She dropped to a B grade for the semester and didn’t know what was happening as her focus diminished and her thoughts and principles changed in importance. It was a huge blow losing Dev. He had been fairly supportive of her, although he had tried it on with her originally. However she had turned to him for help when she found herself pregnant not 3 months after getting together with Simon. Simon still didn’t know about the abortion. With Dev gone he never would.

  She could not believe the stories that came out about Dev after his death. Pam had been working with the Ingram's P/T, living in the Crook Inn to pay the rent, and it was working out well. After young Ollie disappeared she helped a little more than usual, to the point that her grades suffered. The police really attacked her when the bodies were found. She had a direct link to both victims. But there was never any motive with either. Still she hid the truth about Dev though, to protect herself and to make sure she didn’t lose Simon. She was only 17 then, still a girl herself, but so much in love.

  The night of the treasure hunt she had been with Simon, but left early to go back for her shift. When she had got to the Crook Inn the place was in uproar. Ian Ingram had shot off looking for some bloke who he thought had Ollie. Everyone was agitated and trying to work it out. Pam took over at the bar. Next thing the police were there, and Pam had to tell Simon of the news. By this time he was back at the bar with Bob and Marie and the others. No Dev, but Simon just said that Dev was always last. Bob and Marie had sent him up to Kinross Market with his clue. So why he ever came into the Crook, or ended up with Ollie….