by David Carter
Blaze sifted through the memories in his head until he wound up back where it all started. “Okay, it all came about when I ran away from home. I was eighteen. I took what little cash I had, and randomly headed north on a bus till I wound up in Brighton. I literally lived on the streets for the first few nights I was there until I met a guy who I later found out was called Vino Barsetti. I met him down an alleyway, as I was looking to buy something good to snort. He thought I’d be an easy target to steal money from, as I wasn’t the biggest guy on the block, but he soon realised he was sadly mistaken. He spent three agonising weeks in the ICU after he underestimated my size and street fighting abilities after I beat the living piss out of him. I took his fat roll of cash, his drugs, his knife, and to top it all off, I took his status.”
“What do you mean, you took his status?” Ryan asked.
“He was a well-known drug dealer relatively high up the food chain in the Lombardi Family circle.”
“Let me guess: that’s where you acquired your trusty knife?” Danny grinned.
“Damn right; stupid fucker didn’t know how to use it properly, so I gave him a show and tell lesson.”
“Nice.” He chuckled.
“I was instantly famous on the streets that night, as word soon got around about some unknown young punk who’d put Vino in hospital. I was quickly tracked down and personally asked by Mr Lombardi himself, the boss of the Family, to come and work for him, as they were in need of some muscle on the ground. I politely declined, then gave him my counter offer.”
“You’ve got some serious balls,” said Ryan.
“To tell you the truth, I was shitting bricks!” He grinned. “I was young and completely out of my depth, but he was amused by my confidence and irresistible charm.”
“Now that I can believe,” said Ryan.
“Mr Lombardi told me I’d done him a favour, as Vino was under suspicion for skimming off his sales. So in effect, I merely gave Vino what was coming to him anyway.”
“What was your counter offer?” asked Danny.
“Well, I have always loved classic cars and motorcycles ever since I was a kid. They’re probably the only two materialistic objects I’ve ever given a shit about. Instead of him paying me for my services, I asked him for a roof over my head, enough money for food and clothes, a Harley Davidson, and a Ford Mustang.”
Ryan and Danny were speechless.
“In return, I told him I’d be at his beck and call, twenty-four/seven, for pickups, deliveries, beat-downs, and—” He stopped himself short.
“And, what?” Ryan probed.
“Use your imagination,” he replied.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” said Ryan grimly.
“Surely Mr Lombardi gave you a beat-down for being so fucking smart,” said Danny with a grin.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Danny-boy.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, he was almost turned on by the idea.”
“Why?”
“Because, when you think about it in relative terms, it was nothing for him to give me what I wanted. In the long run I actually cost him very little to employ considering we stuck to that arrangement for the next five years.”
“And he trusted you, just like that?” asked Ryan.
“Not exactly; I had to pass a small loyalty test first...”
“Which was...?”
Blaze hesitated. “You’d better cover your ears for this, Ryan.”
“Nothing you say goes beyond these walls. Honestly, it’s okay...”
Blaze continued. “Well, he ushered me into a small room in the basement of his house where a man was bound, naked, to a chair. He was in pretty rough shape; he’d taken a savage beating. Mr Lombardi didn’t say anything other than that the guy owed him more money than he could ever pay him back. Then he handed me a pistol and told me to execute him.”
“And, did you?” Ryan asked him nervously.
“Without second guessing myself, I casually levelled the pistol at his head and pulled the trigger.”
“Jesus Christ, Blaze!” exclaimed Ryan. “That’s coldblooded murder!”
“I did tell you to block your ears...”
“Just tell me what happened next,” he said curtly.
“Okay, so five years after I joined the Family, I’d made a few friends on the streets who were into motorcycles. There were four of us, and we started riding together as often as possible to the point where we officially started a club. I approached Mr Lombardi with a proposal: if he could provide us with a clubhouse, booze, drugs, and women, we would become his muling crew.”
“Muling crew?” asked Ryan.
“You know– transporting concealed ‘parcels’.”
“Oh. So where did you collect your ‘parcels’?”
Blaze hesitated. “You ever heard of a place called Smuggler’s Point?”
“No, can’t say I have...”
“It’s a secret cove up north hidden inside a barren stretch of cliffs on the east coast where all things illegal enter the country by boat: drugs, guns, stolen jewellery, criminals, slaves; you fucking name it...”
“And no one’s ever tried to stop it?”
“It’s a fortress of guys with machine guns, run by the meanest motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. Tyrone Sanchez.”
“And just how mean is this Tyrone Sanchez?” asked Ryan.
“Let me put it this way; I’m shit scared of him.”
Ryan was silent as his detective’s mind comprehended this information.
Danny put them back on topic. “Did Mr Lombardi go for your proposal?” he asked Blaze.
“Damn right he did. That was the birth of the Sinful Souls Motorcycle Club. I meet Zoe at our first party in the new clubhouse. We drank hard, we fucked even harder, and she never left.”
“I thought your club name was Sinners and Scarecrows?” Danny commented.
“Not at first; we started out with four members, then expanded to eight after we meet another crew of riders: Scarecrows from Hell. Their leader was a guy called Spider. We all got along and eventually became a tightknit group. So I called for a vote, asking my boys if they wanted them to officially join our crew and work for Mr Lombardi. Spider and his boys were keen, but only on the premise they could still wear their patches.
“I bet that didn’t sit well with you,” said Danny.
“You’re right, it didn’t. And as you could imagine, I wasn’t about to give up our name either, as we were the ones inviting them to join us. But we needed more wheels on the road, as our workload was increasing all the time, meaning we could substantially increase our profits if we worked together. So I came up with a compromise. I designed a new name and logo that represented both our crews, uniting as one; Sinners and Scarecrows.”
“Nice, man.”
“And it worked; we’ve been the closest of brothers ever since.”
“All right, so tell me where things started to go pear-shaped,” said Ryan.
“Well, it was only a few months back that five keys of coke went missing from a warehouse where we’d delivered a fresh shipment. And as president of the SAS, it was my job to work out who the traitor was or face the consequences myself.”
“Which means...?”
“A bullet and a grave with no tombstone deep in the woods somewhere.”
“Jesus Christ! How much is five kilos worth in street value?” queried Ryan.
“You could probably round it off at a quarter of a mill,” Blaze answered.
Ryan appeared shocked.
“Yeah, not exactly pocket change is it? Hence why Mr Lombardi didn’t fuck around when trying to find out who the culprit was. He gave me two days to flush out the thief, or it was my head on the block.”
“What happened?” said Danny.
“I didn’t find the thief. My brothers in the MC, whom I trust completely, swore they didn’t take the coke, meaning the only other suspect was the man who guarded the wareh
ouse.”
“And who was that?” asked Danny
“Vino fucking Barsetti.”
“The guy you put in ICU when you first arrived in Brighton,” recalled Ryan.
“The same fucking guy.”
“Do you think he set you up?”
“More than likely, but I couldn’t prove it. Ultimately, though, in Mr Lombardi’s eyes, it was my responsibility.”
“Shit. How did you get away?” Danny asked.
“They came for me at my house during the night. Mr Lombardi personally held a gun to my head and apologised for what he was about to do. He said he loved me as a son, but the rules are the rules, and he had to make an example of me. I told him the thief had to have been Vino, but I couldn’t give him any proof, so my fate was sealed.”
“You’re still here though,” said Danny, mystified.
“Yeah, I had my knife tucked away in my boot, as usual, so when he told me to kneel on the ground, I slipped it out and surprised him by catapulting myself up and driving the knife through the wrist of his outstretched arm. I yanked it out again as I spun around behind him and held the knife to his throat, demanding the two goons he’d brought with him to drop their weapons and leave.”
“Shit, man,” said Danny, “that’s intense.”
“Believe me, it was. I made a deal with Mr Lombardi, that if I let him live, he would call off the hit on me, or alternatively, I would slit his throat where he stood and let him bleed out.”
“Not much of a choice really,” said Danny.
“Yeah, well, he obviously took the deal, but he said I had twenty-four hours to get out of town and that if he or any of the Family ever saw my face in Brighton again, he would personally give me a slow and painful death. But either he or someone else backflipped on the deal, because they came for me and Zoe the next morning. We were all packed and ready to leave, but I’d left the house for an hour or so to grab some last-minute things from the grocery store and say my goodbyes to my brothers in the MC. When I returned, Zoe was gone. I checked both safes in the house; all our money was still there. Her suitcases were still inside the house, and her car was still in the garage.
“I think Vino finally got his revenge. I think he nabbed her while I was out, and, well...I’ve heard nothing about her ever since. I can only assume the worst.”
“But you don’t know for certain?”
“No, but it makes sense. He’s the only one who had a bone to pick with me. And I’m guessing that when he’d heard Mr Lombardi had removed the bounty off my head, he decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“So what did you do?” asked Danny.
“The only thing I know how to do. I shot my way into the same warehouse where Vino was in charge of the shipment we’d just delivered, and destroyed the whole fucking lot. And I’m talking hundreds of thousands of dollars-worth, millions even. I figured Mr Lombardi wouldn’t let that go unpunished.
“I totally understand your pain,” Danny sympathised with him. “I think it was fate that brought us together.”
“The pitfalls of chasing the ‘easy money’,” said Ryan.
Blaze scowled at him. “Don’t even start, Ryan.”
He apologised. “So, why Glendale?” he asked Blaze.
“Well, I had to get out of Brighton, so I jumped in my Mustang and hit the open road with only a roll of cash, the clothes on my back, and no place to go. I stopped at some hick town bar and drank the night away, mourning for Zoe. The bartender let me sleep in his supply room for the night, during which time the memories of my childhood started flooding my mind, like they always fucking do. And the more I thought about my life, the more I hated myself for running away from it. I’d been carrying some serious hate towards my mother and father and the asshole who’d molested me for my entire life, and it was in that moment that I realised that everything I’d ever done was linked back to that fucking night in my dorm room. So, with nothing left to lose, and Mr Lombardi more than likely having placed a bounty on my head for destroying his warehouse, I devised a plan.”
“You should never drink and make plans.” Danny grinned.
Blaze grinned back at him. “You’re probably right.”
Ryan broke out in a smile, too. “What the hell were you thinking, Blaze? Coming back here to burn down the school?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time...”
They laughed together.
When they all calmed down, Danny said, “But are you okay, man? It’s never easy losing a loved one. I know exactly how you feel.”
“Just another reason why prison didn’t seem like a big deal to me. I felt like I deserved it.”
“Well you’ve punished yourself enough, all right? And we still have time to find this Watcher asshole. It’s not over yet.”
“You’re damn right there, Danny-boy,” he agreed, “it’ll never be over till one of us is dead.”
Ryan’s phone interrupted as it rang in his pocket. He answered it, then protested to the person on the other end of the call, before conceding and clicking off. He said to Blaze and Danny, “Who’s up for a trip to the beach?”
“Are you fucking serious?” said Blaze.
“Deadly,” he replied. “Anyway, we won’t achieve much by moping about in here all day, will we?”
“Who are we going with?” asked Danny.
“The youth group from the church. A few of the mums who were going as helpers have called in sick. There’s a bit of a stomach bug going around or something to that effect. Elizabeth asked Sharon to help, and in turn, Sharon volunteered me to come along. So guess what that means for both of you?”
Blaze rolled his eyes.
“Shouldn’t they be in school?” asked Danny.
“It’s a teachers-only day in Milton City. That’s where all the Glendale students are temporarily attending until the new school is finished.”
“I fucking hate kids,” grumbled Blaze.
“I hate the fucking beach,” protested Danny.
“Then it’s settled.” Ryan grinned. “The bus will pick us up in half an hour.”
Chapter 65
Howard’s beach was swarming with people. The hot summer temperatures were the highest on record in thirty-seven years. Seagulls flocked over picnic leftovers, thousands of laid out towels made the sand appear as a patchwork quilt, and the surf was a lukewarm bath.
“Thanks for coming, boys,” said Elizabeth as she lay down on her towel next to Danny and Blaze. “We’d have had to call the trip off if you didn’t come along.”
“Maybe you should have,” said Blaze curtly.
“Don’t listen to him.” Danny smiled. “He’s always grumpy in the mornings.”
“Oh, believe me, I know...” said Elizabeth.
Ryan and Sharon came and sat down next to them after joining in a game of beach cricket.
“You guys coming for a swim?” Ryan asked them, “the water looks amazing!”
“Na, I’m good,” said Blaze.
“I’m good, too,” echoed Danny.
“What about you, Elizabeth?”
She scoffed at him. “Good gracious no! Not at my age!”
“What about you, Father Meyer?”
He woke from his slumber in his deck chair. “Me? Swim? You must be bonkers, boy.” He laughed.
“Come on, Father, don’t make me go in the water by myself,” he joked.
“No, I’m fine right here with my sunhat and newspaper, thank you.”
Ryan, who was relaxed and enjoying himself immensely, cheekily said, “What if I got Sharon to rub you down with sunscreen first? Would that change your mind?”
Father Meyer was not amused. “That will be quite enough of that kind of talk!” he snapped.
Ryan was taken aback. “I’m sorry, I was just playing around. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
His face softened. “That’s quite all right, Cameron. But a man in my position prefers not to take his clothes off in public or to conduct any intimate ac
tivities with a female. There are rules, you know...”
“Lighten up, Father.” Ryan grinned. “I was only joking.”
He sat up straight in his deck chair. “Be that as it may, I would urge you not to allude to such imagery around me or the children.”
Ryan apologised again and dashed off into the surf. When he returned to the group on the beach, he noticed something that intrigued him. He said to Elizabeth quietly, “I didn’t know Father Meyer was a member of the Glendale Vintage Car Club?”
She looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face. “He isn’t,” she said.
Ryan was confused. “So tell me then, why is he wearing a Glendale Vintage Car Club cap?”
She looked at Father Meyer, noticing that indeed he was wearing the cap Ryan had described. Then she remembered something Father Meyer had told her in passing a few years back.
“He’s an unofficial member,” she said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I think he said something about not having the time to commit to the club as a member, as he likes to be ‘on call’ for God and his children at any given time. But occasionally he goes on a rally with them. And to the best of my knowledge he was made an honorary member, hence the cap.”
That’s interesting, thought Ryan. He looked at Father Meyer, who had once again got comfortable in his deck chair, reading his newspaper with great concentration. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“Does Father Meyer have a basement in his house by any chance?”
Elizabeth clicked onto what he was asking her. “You can stop right there, Cameron,” she said tersely. “If you’re implying what I think you are, then you had better think again. Father Meyer is a wonderful, decent man with a heart of gold. He is a dear friend of mine, and I don’t like the implications you’re making simply because he’s wearing a hat that fits a theory of yours.”
Ryan felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry Elizabeth. I know I’m grasping at straws; I’m afraid I’ve failed the whole town. And you’re right, Father Meyer is a true man of God. The thought should never have crossed my mind.”
“It’s all right, I understand.” She smiled, and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m certain you and Steve have done everything in your power to try and solve the case.”