Hunt Hunted, Murder Murdered

by Michael McBride

  'Fucks sake Bob'.

  'Have you got the RAC number?' Bob asked more in hope than belief.

  'No'

  'What about your phone?'

  'No I left it in the house' Bob rolled his eyes and Marie hit him again. 'You don't get any reception in the pub anyway. Do you have yours?'

  'Left it on charge'

  'Well?'

  'I guess we better start walking then'

  'I don't think so'

  Bob took off his seatbelt.

  'You coming?'

  'I'm not leaving the car here'. She pushed the switch on the radio, remembered the problems with the car and turned it back off.

  'It's only 10 mins walk to the pub down the hill. I dinnae want to leave you here yerself'

  'I think I could look after myself.'

  True, Bob thought, she did all that karate stuff right enough.

  'I'll lock the doors until you get back.'

  'Sorry Marie. I'm a dick.'

  'I know. Just hurry up and get back.'

  'Ok, Love you, see ye in a minute.' Bob trudged up the hill and eventually out of sight.

  3.3 Spiv and Pam

  'Pish!' Spiv looked at the clue.

  'What?' Pam sat in the passenger seat. The drizzle on the windscreen glistened under the car park lights.

  'I forgot I was to go to my ma's'.

  'Well go then or we'll never get back'. Pam had noticed some of her college buddies in the bar, and felt she could do without these stupid games. ‘You know I haven’t got long tonight. I need to get back’. Spiv knew he had to get over to his mums tonight. He was sober, and had to speak to her while with a fresh head. So much had been happening with his Dad, that he needed her confirmation of details.

  'Naw, listen, you get in there I'll go get the clues after I've been to my mum's'.

  With one hand already on the door, Pam replied, ‘You sure?’

  'Yeah, just go and I'll see you in a bit'

  'Ok', she kissed him on the cheek. ‘Do you want me to help you with the clue first?'

  'Eh, no. It's fine. I'll be fine. I'll be back soon.'

  Pam left and, holding her hood to her hair, she jogged towards the back door of the pub and was soon inside in the warmth.

  She watched from the back window as Spiv got out of his car and disappeared from view up the back steps. She felt in her pocket and found her own car keys there. He would be going to his mothers. He would be a while. She could always head back home herself if necessary. She turned to see the bustle of people across the bar.

  3.4 Tom and Emma

  Emma sat in the car, waiting. Tom had been gone for a good few minutes. The clue should have been simple enough to ensure this was a quick visit.

  'Wait there, I'll just be a minute', he had said. But something didn't feel right, so she opened the car door and made her way to the bar entrance, which was situated up the right hand side of the alleyway. It was cool and she was not well attired for this. She folded her arms and walked steadily up to the pub entrance. Two blokes were leaving as she arrived and one held the door while looking her up and down. She smiled kindly, and hoped Tom was on his way out of there.

  The pub was dry and bright. Some football screens on the TV to the left and about three folk discussing the game. Quiet. To the right two couples at different tables. No hilarity, half drunk pints and two small whiskies. When they got the clue they would be able to comment on just how sad this little pub was – and this used to be Tom's local. But where the hell could he be?

  There didn't appear to be anyone serving, so Emma made her way back out the doors without speaking to anyone. A giggle up the alleyway stopped her in her tracks as she glanced around into the darkness. A whisper, a light moan and a giggle. Some footsteps and 2 shadows close together came out of the shadows.

  ‘You bastard Tom!’

  ‘What?’ The shadowy figures kept walking towards her, but Tom had spoken to her from towards the car. ‘What’s up with you shouting?’

  ‘I thought…’

  Tom pieced the thought.

  ‘Oh fuckin great. I go off for one minute and you fuckin thought that I was away getting off with some fat old bird.’ Toms raised voice was heard by the couple who had emerged from the shadows and they whispered to each other in disgruntled disparagement as they strolled down the slope.

  ‘I’m away all fuckin week, I come home and you are thinking I’m away off with someone when I’ve only been away for 2 minutes. You have a problem Emma. A serious fuckin problem.’ Tom stormed off.

  ‘Where are you going? Tom, answer me.’

  ‘The fuck away from you.’ He disappeared into the shadows.

  “I’m sorry. Tom. Did you hear me?’

  Emma wept in the car for a while. So many thoughts ran through her mind. Should she wait here for him? It didn’t look like he was going to come back. But maybe he would and she could show him how much she loved him. Embrace and warm him up from the cold night in the car or somewhere else. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to feel alone. She sat alone.

  ---

  The journey had been a long one for Bob. Gripping the inside of the door for dear life as Spiv turned more and more aggressive towards him - like he was with all the other commuters.

  'Fucksake' Spiv bellowed again, undertaking another car as the road shrank back to one lane, wheel trim clipping the kerb, speedometer reading over 80, and this was heading into Kincardine.

  'What’s the hurry?'

  'Fuckin amateurs, man, I'm tellin ye.' Spiv had not been happy when they had found out that it was almost a certainty Ian Ingram had been sending the letters to Aid. His car flew past another one, which flashed it’s headlights at him. Spiv still had time to direct an extended middle finger in the direction of the far side traveller, who had to brake to reduce the risk of collision.

  'How long has Aid been getting these letters for?'

  'Why are you so bothered?'

  'I'm not, it's just shit getting this all dragged up again'

  'I think Aid just wants Ingram to know we have nowt to do with this.'

  Spiv slowed the car slightly on approaching another roundabout, Bob grabbed the passenger door again, this time with his right hand too.

  'Fuckin hell man!'

  'I just want to get back. Sorry. Listen, Bob, this just gies me the willies. It makes you think that maybe we dinnae ken everything eh? I mean we were given the full monty when it came to questioning I think, but maybe one of us hasn't been entirely honest. Maybe there is something else.'

  Bob sat nodding. Spiv was quiet again. They were both thinking to themselves. Bob’s thoughts were split between speaking to Marie on the subject of his sacking and about who had killed his friend Dev Coulding but mainly about holding on tight to the door handle and praying he would get home in one piece.

  4

  4.1 Marie and Bob

  The fridge was full of fine foodstuffs. Appetizers and snacks adorned the shelves and there were 30 odd cans of lager and cider under the table. ‘What else do we need?’ Marie thought. The party was now only a couple of days away, after all, and she needed to get everything right. Bob was at work, so she took a half day to tidy the place up. The carpets had been laid earlier in the day (her mum had been over to let the fitters in) and now, after sharing some small talk about Auntie Bessy's piles (why her mother had to share such stories was beyond her) over a latte frappe, she was now able to dad on with the housework. Polishing knobs and mantles, washing handles of doors, and frames. It was always in her mind that someone would rub a finger over the frame and wipe a fingerful of dust down with a grimace in her direction. She would be mortified, so she would not let it happen. Now it was time to get the hoovering done, but no sooner had she switched it on than the phone erupted into life. The house phone. Probably an International call centre, with a 'Meesees Smeeth, you haf won a purize.... ' She turned the hoover off and lifted the receiver.

  'Hello'

  'He
llo, is Bob Reilly there?'

  'No, no he's not. He's at work.'

  The caller stalled 'OK, can you tell me when he'll be back?'

  'About 5.30 usually. Can I ask who's calling?'

  'It's Murray Johnson from Johnston Willis Steelworks. Bob used to work for us. We just need him to give us a call.'

  'Used to... You telling me he's not working with you anymore?'

  'I'm sorry Mrs Reilly.'

  'It's Smith. Miss Smith. When did he finish up?’

  'Just a couple of days ago'.

  Marie ended the call. She had more questions, but not for Murray Johnson. Where was Bob and what the hell was going on?

  Bob turned the key in the lock and walked in. The carpet looked lovely. All that moaning about the cost for nothing...

  'Ahem' a small cough brought him to life.

  'Oh hiya'.

  'Shouldn't you be somewhere?' It was a knowing question.

  'Aye. I need to speak to you...' A cushion was thrown across the room.

  'We are meant to be a couple. You are meant to tell me if there is a problem'.

  'I know. I know. Sorry. Who told you?'

  'No-one yet. Your ex-boss phoned looking for you'

  'Are they going to take me back?'

  'I don't fuckin know. Didn't sound like it. What did you do to lose your job?'

  'I was just being an idiot. I've been looking for something else. Honestly we'll be alright.' He tried to sound convincing, but he didn't feel that convinced himself. Marie sat down on the couch, still fuming.

  'We'll be alright'. Repetition would maybe convince her.

  Nothing. Bob sat looking at her while she looked into her lap.

  'Marie?'

  She eventually looked him in the eye. She let out a gentle laugh with a tear in her eye. ‘I don't know how we are still together Bob.'

  'Because we love each other?'

  'Is it enough for you. This? I mean is it? Because it isn't for me'

  Bob looked around him for inspiration.

  'But I thought you liked this house. We even got new carpets ‘cause you wanted them.'

  She smiled at this dopey man. He really didn't understand.

  'Well you have made it easy for me at least.'

  Bob grew wary. This did not sound good.

  'I'm sorry Marie. I'll do better. I'll get another job. Don't leave me. I know I'm stupid, but I'll grow up. I promise.'

  Marie looked at him blankly.

  'What you talking about. I'm not leaving you. I wouldn't make it that easy for you. Christ, Bob. I love you. Even though we still ain't married, I believe in for better for worse.'

  Now it was Bob’s turn to look blank.

  'Bob, I've been given a really good job opportunity through my work. But it will mean relocating...'

  This did not sound so bad, when in his mind the alternative was losing her forever. Bob could see this was what Marie wanted and maybe this was what would make him grow up. It was all about compromise.

  2. Aidrian

  Another sick day call made, and Aid knew he would have to go to work tomorrow or else try and get a sick note from the doctor. He trundled through from the kitchen with his coffee and newspaper. Monica had been off with him again this morning. But he could not go to work with all the shit flying. He settled down to relax and read about the football from last night and to forget all the worries he had. Back page showed some rumours of transfers for Celtic and Rangers and there was even a wee mention about Dunfermline Athletic. Spiv would be happy. He was a big fan and would be delighted that they had managed to get an old SPL pro playing with them as they pushed for promotion from the First Division. But the relaxed air was short lived as the postman delivered some more bad news. As he approached the doorway he foresaw the bad news which was within that envelope. Suddenly it had become real. Aidrian knew he would have to speak to Mon and all of this would have to come out. He had been suspended on full pay pending inquiry into financial irregularities. His bosses had found out and now he would need to speak to Bob and let him know that they were both in trouble. No more secrets. No more lies. They would have to be straight...

  Another sup of coffee wouldn't make this go away. No wonder some people turned to drink. Bob was not going to be happy, but it was too late to change their minds. They had taken the cash when it seemed like easy money, so they would have to take the medicine now. He picked up his mobile to speak to his friend. It was not going to be an enjoyable conversation.

  4.3 Aid and Bob

  The Job centre had been in the town centre for years, and Aid had walked past looking at the smokers gathering outside as the desperate looked for any job going, and the chancer's looked at the jobs they could not get. Bob was walking up the High Street, face like fizz. The news he received from Aid had not been greeted with much response, mainly because Marie was in the background when the phone rang. So they needed to talk.

  'I'm no going in there yet. We need to go over this. Surely there is a way out. If not Marie is going to kill me. Or worse...leave me!'

  Aid considered fleetingly the possibility that death might be best and least painful option. But suicide was no option for him nor for Bob. They just needed to get used to what they had to do; and face up to their partners.

  'Right. What’s the options?' Bob started.

  'I don't think we have any'.

  Silence gripped them. They supped double shot Starbucks Grande lattes, looking at each other with stony faces. Then Bob’s expression began to change, and a smirk appeared.

  'Maybe we'll be in the same cell!'

  Aid took a humoured breath and smiled back.

  'It’s the right thing to do'. Bob nodded. They had been foolish and as they gripped each other by their right hands across the table they felt strong.

  'When you gonna tell Mon?'

  'When you gonna tell Marie?'

  A sigh and a deep breath out. They both knew it was coming.

  'Well if I'm heading to jail there’s something I need to do before I get there!'

  'What’s that then?'

  'Get a fuckin’ job for a start!'. The Job Centre awaited them.

  4.4 Emma and Tom

  Tom was showering. Emma was snuggled into the corner of the easy chair. Daytime TV blared unique domestic problems at her and she popped a malteser into her mouth as she flicked over a magazine page. The post had been, but no word of the job. Hmmph. No text or phone call. No news is good news, she thought. The interview had gone OK. She had entered without nerves and had answered questions she had been told to by the job advisor.

  'So why do you want this job Emma?' she had been asked.

  'I have experience working in an office, I have good computer skills, and I really want to work in the city. It is my ambition to work for a good employer, which I believe you are from the information you have on your website, and from the agency I spoke with.' They had been impressed. There was even some light relief when the manager spilled her coffee and Emma had quickly got her paper hankies out of her bag and mopped up the mess. 'I've also got good housekeeping skills' she added. The phone buzzed. Not her mobile, but Tom's. He was still upstairs. He slept late on his days at home and then pissed off to play golf or to see his mates. Emma sometimes felt like a Navy wife, like lots of the other women round here. Some of them kept themselves to themselves, others were out and about and some, worse still, had a reputation. But it was boring sitting at home waiting for your man to come back, and worrying when you were glad to see him going off to work for days and weeks at a time. Who was calling Tom? She flicked open his mobile. Text from Jack. Who's Jack? Emma put the phone down again. Tom and his secrets. She popped another chocolate treat into her mouth, still looking at the phone. The shower went off upstairs.

  'Where's ma Ben Sherman shirt?'

  'Should be in the wardrobe' Emma shouted back. Tom would be a while tarting himself up. She admitted to herself that she was still attracted to him. He always looked presentable, and smell
ed nice, but she worried that this preening wasn't always for her. She picked up his phone again. Text from Jack. She moved her finger across the screen and the message opened up.

  Look 4ward 2 c u l8r. x

  The shit. The utter shit. Emma stayed seated. She would have it out with Tom.

  'I can't find it', Tom shouted again.

  'Who is Jack?'

  There was a moments silence before Tom responded.' What?'

  'Jack just texted you. Who's Jack?'

  'Just a mate'. The lying shit.

  'OK'.

  Tom hurriedly came downstairs looking for his phone.

  'It's over here'. Emma handed him the phone.

  'You read it?'

  'Yes'

  Tom read the message and laughed.

  'He's a clown. What a guy'.

  'A guy. You picking up guys now?'

  'Just a guy I drove up from Carlisle one time. He gives me a shout when he's in Dunfermline so we can catch up and have a drink.'

  Emma said nothing.

  'What you reading my texts for anyway?'

  'I wasn't. I was just seeing who was texting'.

  'Well it's nowt to do with you. Nosy bitch'.

  'Whatever'.

  'Emm, don't start. I don't go looking at your phone'

  'No you don't. You don't see all the secret people I have on my phone'. Emma got up and walked through to the kitchen.

  'Whats your problem?'

  Emma stood back in full view of Tom.

  'So you are telling me Jack is a guy. You are full of shit'.

  'Fuck sake Emma, I just told you'.

  'Do all your mates look forward to seeing you and leave a wee kiss? Eh'.

  'You’re a loon. You have been reading my texts. I don't know. You have nae trust at all. Why are you here? You are a fuckin’ loony. A lunatic. Give me some credit. You think I would put girls’ names in my phone.'