Cucumber Coolie (Blake Dent Mysteries Book 2)

by Ryan Casey

  He walks past the row of shops, heads just outside the market.

  Next, he will get to work on her eyelids. Or maybe he’ll do some dentistry on her mouth. He enjoys that part. Plucking out their teeth, propping open their jaws with his metal contraptions…

  Or maybe it’s time for him to wrap the hose around Subject C’s neck for the first time.

  He can’t stop himself smiling. The possibilities are endless.

  “Woah, sorry,” he says, as he almost bumps into a hooded kid on a bicycle.

  The kid glares at him. Shoots a threatening look in his direction.

  Hose only smiles. The kid has no idea what he could do if he wanted to.

  He has no idea what he is capable of. Nobody does.

  Alas, he is running low on Ecstacia. It’s all fair and well entering a subject’s house, but if they are wide awake when he drags them away, all sorts of things could go wrong.

  He has to restock in time for tonight. In time for Subject D.

  Assuming, of course, Preston’s little “hero” doesn’t figure out how to find Subject C in time. Time to find out just how much of a hero he is after all. A test of his qualifications, his credentials.

  He shuffles into the market, squeezes past a few people gathered around the discount CD stall, keeps his head down, his hood up. He looks for Donny. He should be nearby. Nearby, with his supply. And Hose has plenty more fifty pound notes. Enough for another boxful of pure Ecstacia. Poor old Donny looked like he’d died and gone to heaven the last time Hose waved some fifties in his face.

  Not yet, Donny. Your time will come.

  It takes him a few minutes to see Donny through the crowd of discount-buying, sweat-stinking tramps.

  But when he does, he stops.

  Donny is being taken away by police officers. An idiot-faced police officer with a horrifying grin, as well as two others.

  But there are two more people with the police.

  One of which he recognises very well.

  He grits his teeth together. Anger fills up his stomach.

  Blake Dent, the city’s little “hero”—boyfriend of Subject C—is walking away from the stall.

  Walking away from the police.

  Blake walks towards Hose. Hose lowers his head. Lowers it and stares at the ground, trying his best not to shake too hard.

  Blake walks past him at such a close distance that he almost brushes against him.

  The shit. The arrogant, foolish shit. Does he not take his police threat seriously? So much for a hero. What kind of hero involves the police department at the first opportunity?

  Not only that, but Donny is being taken away by police, too. Donny, who he relies on for Ecstacia. Donny, who he relies on for his plan to play out successfully.

  His neck tingles.

  This is not good.

  He is being made a mockery of.

  He takes a few deep breaths as colours fill his eyes. He tastes something metallic and realises he is biting his lip.

  “You okay, mate?”

  A man’s voice. Just in front of him to the left.

  He looks and sees a black guy looking at him with concern.

  He takes another deep breath of the smokey, polluted air. Looks ahead, as Blake Dent and his friend walk away.

  “Yes,” he says. “Just fine. Thanks for asking.”

  He wasn’t fine just yet.

  But he would be when he got back to Subject C.

  When he sent Blake “Hero” Dent a timely reminder of the rules of the game…

  SEVENTEEN

  I watched the time tick away as I sat on the park bench opposite the police station and waited for news.

  “Watching the time isn’t gonna do you any good, hun,” Martha said. She was chewing on a flaky steak and onion pasty. The crumbs of it wafted over me in the breeze. The thought of any food made my gut wrench. I wasn’t sure I’d ever eat again.

  “Then what do you suggest?” I asked. I kept on staring at the time on my phone. 12.46 now. Almost down to thirteen hours. Almost halfway.

  “I dunno,” Martha said. “Just… the police have the notes. They have a way of looking for fingerprints. And they’ll look at CCTV, too. CCTV from the market. They’ll find this guy.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  Martha gave me that look. The look that said, “I honestly don’t have a clue.”

  She was probably right to have that kind of outlook, in truth.

  “I just, er… I think we could be more productive while we wait for the police. Like, Danielle’s lock? You said it looked like it’d been sawed away?”

  I nodded. “Something electric that took the latch off, no doubt. Can’t have been loud or one of us would’ve heard it.”

  “You underestimate how deeply you sleep. I’ve heard the way you snore in the past.”

  “Fair point.”

  “We need to get researching. Get—get looking on the police records for known burglars, things like that. I know a few myself. Maybe they can point me in the right direction. I mean, this guy must be a pro. Certainly knows his tools with the… with the locks and the… the mouth thing you mentioned.”

  She cleared her throat.

  I know she’d just had the same image as me: Danielle, her toothless mouth and broken jaw propped open by a metal brace.

  “Probably a good idea,” I said. “You contacting those people might help. And they aren’t police, so it’s not like we’re breaking the rules in any way.”

  Martha shrugged. “If you ask me, I’d be right in that police station. Not like this Hose guy is stalking you, right? Or how would he be able to get on with the… you know… the stuff he does?”

  Martha had a valid point. But I was just too wary to go inside the police station, especially after the close call at the market. “No. You contact your people. We’ll… we’ll see what we can find. I have a good feeling about this Ecstacia lead, though. I mean, Hose said something about the answers being on show. To look around. I have a good feeling this is exactly what he was talking about.”

  Martha finished her pasty. Licked her lips. “What do you think he’ll do? If you… if you find him?”

  I gulped. My mouth was dry and tasteless. “I don’t know. I don’t have a clue. But all I know is that I have to find him. I have to find Danielle.”

  I looked at my phone again.

  12.49.

  “You really care about her, don’t you?”

  Martha’s words broke a silence that felt like it’d been there forever.

  “I suppose I do.”

  “Poetic as ever.”

  I watched the cars whizz down the road. Watched people flock in and out of the police station. “You know, once this is over, I’m done. Like, screw my bloody Fun Funds and all that. I’m gonna do something normal, like get a job.”

  “Holy shit,” Martha said, tugging loose pasty crumbs from her lips. “I always knew it’d take something big for you to fully commit, but a kidnapping? You are cold.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Felt totally shitty, but Martha always had a way of making me smile. Went back to her Mart days, that ability.

  “We’ll find her, hun,” Martha said. “We’re clever bastards. Solving things is what we do.”

  “I hope so.”

  “None of that hope shit. We will find her.”

  I nodded. Took in a deep breath of the cool, car-fume tinged air.

  And then I felt my phone vibrate on my lap.

  A thousand bolts shocked through my body. “This’ll be Lenny.”

  I hit “answer.” Pulled the phone to my ear, my heart thumping.

  “Lenny? What’ve you got?”

  The other end of the line was silent. Silent, but for a little crackling of static. Bloody EE. I seriously needed a new contract, and sharpish.

  “Lenny? Is that—”

  “Hello, Blake Dent. I’m assuming ‘Lenny’ is your little friend from the police.”

  The voice made every inch of my
body curdle like off milk.

  It was modified. Electronic. Inhumane.

  “You… Is that…”

  “I saw you today,” the voice continued. “At the market. Having a little meeting with the police. Don’t you remember my note, hero? Don’t you remember my instructions?”

  I could hear Martha asking me who it was, but all of my senses were focused on this phone call. “I wasn’t… The police was a coincidence—”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, hero. Besides, you’ve annoyed me. Donny was an important asset to me. An important part of my plans. I don’t like it when my plans are interrupted. But well done on finding the Ecstacia link. I must credit you for that. You got further than the other pathetic husbands and boyfriends.”

  I closed my eyes. Swallowed a sickly lump. “Danielle… Please. She’s innocent. She’s—she’s done nothing—”

  “You’re right there,” Hose said. “She is innocent. I like innocent girls. I like the way they look when I wrap my hose around their necks.”

  “You don’t put a fucking hand on her—”

  “You aren’t in a position to be making demands, hero. Don’t push me any further. I’ve already let you off once.”

  My head shook with the pressure of my racing heart. My muscles were weak. All rational thought slipped away the second I heard this modified voice. “I… Please. Take me instead. Do… do anything. Just don’t hurt Danielle. Please.”

  I knew how frigging pathetic I sounded, but I wasn’t thinking straight.

  Judging by the vocally modified laugh, Hose thought I sounded pathetic too.

  “Not a hero’s mentality, that,” he said. “Not one bit heroic. Disappointing. I expect better from you. Alas, you contacted the police. So maybe I was wrong to expect better from you. But I assure you I’ll get better from you soon. Answer the FaceTime call.”

  It took me a few seconds to understand Hose’s words. “FaceTime? What…”

  “The FaceTime call, hero. Don’t play dumb with me. Not if you want to see Danielle again.”

  The call cut out. I lowered my phone. Stared at the screen, my hands shaking, my head spinning.

  “Blake? Hun? What’s happening? What’s going on?”

  I ignored Martha and waited. Waited for the FaceTime call. Was Hose bluffing? Was he fucking with me? He’d said I could see Danielle. He’d said I could—

  Incoming FaceTime Call.

  I held my breath. Bit my lip.

  “Honey, don’t play his game,” Martha said. “If—if that’s who I think it is, let’s get the shit to the station right now.”

  I knew that if we got to the station, we could locate the call. We could find Hose.

  But Danielle.

  I needed to see Danielle.

  I exhaled and I answered the call.

  It took a few seconds for the image at Hose’s end to appear on my screen.

  When it did, I couldn’t help but gasp.

  Danielle was on her knees in front of a blank cream wall. Her gorgeous blonde hair had been completely shaven away, and she was naked. Her mouth was covered with duct tape, and her hands were tied behind her back.

  But she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t whimpering. She was just staring at the camera, holding her nerve.

  “Danielle, I… I’m so sorry, Dani. I’m coming for you. I promise I’m coming for you.”

  A figure stepped behind Danielle. A tall, dark figure. He had black gloved hands, a black jacket, and black trousers.

  “Don’t—don’t touch her,” I shouted. “Please. Please don’t lay a finger on—”

  “You didn’t play by my rules, hero. So this is a reminder of what will happen if you disobey the game again. You and your weirdo friend. Treat it as a slap on the wrist.”

  He reached into his pocket.

  Pulled out a small metal object, like an ultra-thin, sharp knife.

  And then he pressed a button on it and I watched as it whirred to life, like a mini chainsaw.

  “Get away from her!” I shouted. Martha grabbed my arm, but I was too lost in the screen, too lost in the room with Danielle and with Hose. “Please. Get the fuck away. Get the fuck away!”

  He grabbed her left ear.

  Pulled it out.

  “You’ve got thirteen hours, hero. Don’t let Danielle down.”

  And then he pressed the switch on the sharp, mini chainsaw and he pushed it against the top of Danielle’s ear.

  I dropped my phone on the ground the second contact was made.

  I didn’t see the images on the screen.

  But I didn’t have to. In my mind, I saw everything so clearly.

  EIGHTEEN

  My phone vibrated, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

  “You’re gonna have to answer Lenny at some point, hun,” Martha said. She sat on her knees in her darkened living room. The glow of her CRT television added a bit of vibrance. I still couldn’t understand why she hadn’t upgraded her television when she’d earned half a million quid on the Chipps case.

  Hell. She probably had her priorities straight.

  I let the phone ring out. Unknown Number, so there was no knowing who it was.

  It could be Lenny.

  It could be Hose.

  I couldn’t risk answering to Hose again. Not after the last call. Not after seeing him get so close to slicing Danielle’s ear off…

  No. Better not to picture it.

  Martha flicked through her address book. It was like a home-made Yellow Pages for all the dodgy contacts she’d made in her years as a bounty hunter and a PI. “Okay, so I’ve tried Graham West… tried Bill Kuptner but he doesn’t do lock picks anymore…”

  “Might as well not try at bloody all,” I mumbled.

  She ignored me completely and keyed in another number, muttering under her breath.

  I rested my chin in my hand and stared at the moving images on the TV screen. Rolling news, no volume.

  But it didn’t matter. I had enough images playing through my mind as it was.

  In a way, it was almost worse that I hadn’t seen Hose slice Danielle’s ear off. At least seeing it, I would’ve known what it looked like. I’d have one horrible bloody image stuck in my head.

  But dropping my phone on the ground. Not seeing what was on the screen… a billion possibilities ran through my mind, all of them similarly awful.

  “Okay Dean,” Martha said. “Thanks for your help, anyway.” She put the phone down. Half-glanced to check if I was looking.

  “No luck?”

  She shook her head and cleared her throat, then turned another page of her handwritten notepad. “Not yet. But there’s plenty more to try. Why don’t you give me a hand, anyway?”

  The thought of doing anything made me feel sick. I know—frigging awful boyfriend sitting around while his girlfriend went through unimaginable pain and suffering. And sure, it was two p.m. now, which made it twelve hours gone, twelve hours remaining.

  But I wasn’t sure what I could do. The police were out of the question. And Martha’s contacts, who she was calling about lock picks or something like that, well. I’d met Martha’s contacts in the past. They were hardly the most co-operative of people.

  “Well if you aren’t gonna make yourself useful, hun, you might as well get some rest until I find something out.”

  “Why are you so frigging desperate for me to take one of your Ecstacia bullshit pills?”

  Martha glared at me with her sharp, penetrative eyes that I swore were never so scary when she used to be a bloke. “Hey. Don’t take this out on me. I’m trying to help save your girlfriend’s life here.”

  “And you think the way to save her life is by me bloody falling to sleep?”

  “Well you might as well for all the help you’re offering right now.”

  Her cheeks went red and she turned away.

  I felt heat in my own cheeks. Embarrassment, or anger. Probably a mix of both. If I was a more reasonable person, I might’ve apologised.

/>   But I wasn’t. So tough.

  “I’m doing my best here, hun. Doing my absolute best. But you should answer Lenny’s calls.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Or what? You think Hose is tracing you or something?”

  I shrugged. “You tell me.”

  “I’ll tell you alright: you need to man the fuck up.”

  “Rich coming from you.”

  “I had a fucking gender change and still I’m showing more balls than you.”

  “You’ll be growing your fucking bollocks back if you keep on taking illegal sleeping pills!”

  I got up from Martha’s sofa. Stepped away from her, as she sat there blushing on the floor.

  “Is that what all this is about, hmm? All about me and my sleeping pills?”

  I got closer to the front door. I needed fresh air.

  I needed a kick.

  I needed menthol.

  “Because if I remember correctly, it was me who helped get you off painkillers ten years ago. So I’m sorry, but you aren’t really one to judge.”

  My arms tingled when Martha mentioned the painkillers. It wasn’t a time of my life I liked to remember too much. The aching pain I felt in my back, even when it wasn’t there. Just pop a painkiller or six in. Always did the trick.

  “You should know pills are silly,” I said.

  “You aren’t my dad, hun. Thank God, or I wouldn’t be helping you right now. But fuck, man—you need to get over yourself. Start focusing on your own problems before those around you.”

  I turned around. “Are you calling me nosy?”

  “You’ve always been the same. You’ve always had such double standards. Giving me funny looks right now when I take a pill to help me sleep while chewing away on all your cough sweets.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with cough sweets.”

  “Yeah, I figured there mustn’t be. Absolutely fine as long as you take them.”

  She went quiet. Lowered her phone and stood up.

  “Blake, I can see you’re hurting. Let me help you. Please. Let me phone Lenny, or something like that. He could have news on the fingerprints. The fingerprints or the CCTV outside Danielle’s house, or at the market when Donny sold his Ecstacia to Hose. But please. I… I know why you’re doing this. I’m not stupid.”