by Logan May
When he reached the bar he snapped himself back to the business at hand—that business being Job Rewold. And another pint Guinness, since he didn’t finish the first one.
‘Is he still here?’ Lukas asked William, keeping back from the lights.
‘Watching table three, in the middle there. Are you paying for this one?’
‘Nope, Robbie still owes me. Trust me, she’s extremely grateful and I doubt that I’ll ever pay for another drink here again.’
‘If you say so,’ William said oddly, as if he’d heard this before.
Still staying in the gloom and away from the pool table lighting, Lukas wandered down the room and positioned himself between the door and table three. He saw Job leaning back against the wall and Lukas edged through the crowd of players until he was next to him. Job stared at him surprise.
Lukas said casually, ‘Job, we need to have a little talk about the investment opportunity you’re involved in downstairs, and exactly where you’ve gotten the money for that.’
‘You bastard,’ Job said and made to escape. Lukas darted to his left, cutting him off and showing Job that reaching the door wasn’t going to be easy.
Job vaulted one of the tables, knocking the overhead light, then jumped a second table scattering the balls with his feet. Players yelled outraged insults. Job stopped and turned around, glaring at Lukas. ‘Piss off and leave me alone.’
‘That’s not the deal, Job.’ Lukas jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘And that’s the only way out, so calm down and let’s have a talk.’
‘I’ve got nothing to talk about with you.’
‘This was your family’s idea, so come on. I only want to talk.’
Someone else said, ‘He said, he’s got nothing to talk about with you, Boston. Didn’t you hear him?’
Lukas sighed, realizing this was inevitable. The room went completely silent. Billie Cobham walked into the swaying glow of the overhanging light. He held a pool cue in the middle, slapping the thick end into the palm of his other hand.
‘This has got nothing to do with you, Billie. Leave it.’
‘It’s got everything to do with me now, Boston. He’s fucked up my pool game, because of you. I was winning, playing the game of my life.’
‘So, I’ll pay for a new game,’ Lukas said tiredly.
‘It’s not the same, is it?’
‘Okay, I’ll pay for a new game and let you win.’
‘It’s still not the same. You owe me for more than a bloody pool game anyway and I’ve just thought of the perfect way to get my money’s worth.’ Billie wore an evil grin, slapping the pool cue again. He moved forward to the encouraging jeers of the onlookers.
‘Tell you what,’ Lukas said, picking up a ball from the nearest table. ‘To win the game, black into the corner pocket, okay?’
Billie frowned, puzzled.
Lukas hurled the ball at him. Billie saw it coming just in time and ducked. The ball vanished into the shadows and someone yelped loudly.
‘Ow! You fucker!’
‘Now you’ll pay,’ Billie growled.
Another ball sailed out from behind Billie, missing him and Lukas.
‘Hey, you fucker!’ somebody else shouted, lacking originality.
Suddenly there was a fusillade of pool balls flying in either direction. People howled and screeched on all sides as the balls hit targets. Lukas crouched down behind the table. This wasn’t going precisely to plan—actually he didn’t have a plan, but that wasn’t much excuse. Lights began smashing, the fluorescent tubes exploding as pool balls hit them, showering down onto the felt. Lukas groaned. He’d told Robbie that he wouldn’t cause any trouble.
He looked up to see Billie standing above him, still hefting the pool cue. The savage grin grew wider.
Billie said nastily, ‘Stay right there, Detective Arsehole. You’re going to be spilling your brains on the floor anyway.’
Lukas went for his Glock, knowing he wouldn’t reach it in time. ‘Can we talk about this?’
A red ball hit Billie smack in the middle of the forehead making a hollow, wooden sound. ‘Ooh!’ he said surprised and toppled slowly backwards.
‘Top shot,’ Lukas said, and forgot about Billie Cobham. By now the volley of pool balls had slackened off as the warring factions were reduced to scrabbling on the floor for fresh ammunition. Lukas searched around for Job Rewold and couldn’t see him. Lukas swore loudly and ran for the door, but fell painfully flat on his back as his boot skidded on a pool ball. Crawling back up and limping, he burst out into the night.
The footpath was busy. Passers-by were startled by Lukas’ sudden appearance. He stared up and down. There was no sign of Job. Lukas rushed towards his car and realised he couldn’t really remember what it looked like. It looked like all the other damned cars parked on the road.
‘Where the hell are you?’ Lukas snarled, scaring some nearby girls. He stormed along the pavement pressing the unlock button of his keys at every car until finally the lights lit up on his hire car. ‘There you are, you useless piece of crap.’
Behind the wheel, Lukas forced himself to calm down, take a breath and think this through. There was no hurry, really. He knew where Job would be going.
TWELVE
Dwayne said, with the best outrage he could muster and blocking the front door of Rewold Manor, ‘I realise that private investigators work unusual hours, Mr Boston. I sincerely hope this is some kind of emergency? Otherwise I certainly can’t let you in at this time of the evening.’
‘Absolutely,’ Lukas told him. ‘It’s a medical emergency.’
‘Oh really? That’s odd, I haven’t heard anything.’
‘Someone’s got a broken nose.’ Lukas punched him in the face, sending Dwayne reeling backwards.
‘You basthdard,’ Dwayne yelled wetly, sitting on the floor and trying to stem a burst of blood from his nostrils.
‘So call security—oh, wait. You are security. Then you’d better call yourself,’ Lukas said, stepping over him. ‘Where’s Job?’
‘Go thuck yourself.’
‘Forget it, I’ll find him myself.’ Lukas belatedly figured he should have asked Dwayne before he punched him. The moment had been too good to pass up.
He found Tanya, the cleaner, standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at him nervously. ‘Where’s Job, can you tell me?’
‘What are you going to do to him?’
‘I’ll stop him blowing his nose on the bed sheets, if you like.’
‘For that, I’ll show you.’ Tanya headed up the stairs.
Lukas expected the whole family to turn out and see what the commotion was about. Dwayne was still cursing loudly, holding his nose and yelling for someone to bring him a towel to stem the bleeding. No one seemed to care, or maybe broken noses and loud cursing was normal in the Rewold household. Beyond the landing Tanya led him to a door.
‘He’s in there, I saw him come up. Did he steal the money?’
‘Looks like it,’ Lukas said, rapping on the door. Nothing happened. He tried the handle. It was locked.
Tanya said, ‘I’m sure he’s there, probably hiding under the bed, if he knows you’re coming.’
Using the side of his fist Lukas hammered on the door making it shake in its frame. ‘Job, let me in! We have something to discuss.’
Job’s voice came back muffled. ‘Fuck off, it’s none of your business. Okay, you’ve done your job. You can tell everyone who stole the money. Piss off and send us an invoice.’
Lukas sighed and braced himself to bust through the door. Tanya asked him, ‘Are you going to count to three?’
‘What for?’
‘Don’t you always count to three when you break down doors?’
‘Not really.’ Lukas wasn’t looking forward to it. Usually any door-busting was done with a short, heavy battering ram wielded by a SWAT team. Using your shoulder was mostly a good way to spend a lot of money at the chiropractor. Looking at the door, Lukas ruefully acknowledged this wa
s no cheap, plywood type. In keeping with the rest of Rewold Manor, this door was old, ornate and solid.
‘What the hell,’ Lukas muttered and threw himself against it. He rebounded back, his shoulder bursting with pain, the door staying in place. ‘Jesus!’ Lukas rubbed at his arm then launched himself at the door again before he changed his mind. It rattled and creaked, but refused to break.
‘I told you to fuck off,’ Job called, half-mocking. ‘You’ll never break in, it’s made of oak, you fool.’
Lukas considered shooting the lock out. It didn’t really work like in the movies. Still, putting some bullets through the door might convince Job to open up.
Tanya said, disappointed, ‘He’s right, you know. We should use my keys.’
Lukas stared at her. ‘You have a key to this door?’
‘Of course, I’m the bloody cleaner, aren’t I? I’ve got a key to everything.’ She clicked her tongue at Lukas’ stupidity.
‘Do you have it on you now?’
She produced a bunch from a lanyard tied to her waist. ‘I never let them out of my sight. You have to be responsible about these things.’
‘That’s very true, Tanya. I’m impressed by your professionalism. So, could you please open this door for me?’
‘No need to go all smarmy. All you had to do was ask.’
Job was standing on the far side of a large bedroom, a four poster bed between him and Lukas. He was attempting to look both indignant and ready to put up a fight in the face of Lukas’ theatrical entrance. Lukas had pushed the door aside with two fingers and was standing in the frame, blocking any escape.
‘I wouldn’t use the window, Job. It’s a long way down.’
Job said bravely, ‘You seem to have forgotten just who hired who, Boston. I told you, your services are no longer required. You’ve solved the damned crime. This is still a family matter and that’s how we’ll proceed from here without you.’
From behind Lukas, Tanya said, ‘For God’s sake, Job. I only cleaned this room this morning and now look at it! It’s a damned pigsty! I don’t why I bloody bother working my arse off trying to—hey!’
Lukas had taken a few steps forward making Job flinch and flipped the door closed in Tanya’s face. He heard a further squeak of protest and ignored it.
‘How long did it take to find someone at the pool hall who could open the safe for you?’ Lukas asked calmly.
‘Shit, what do you think? About two games,’ Job laughed.
‘And where’s the money?’ Lukas was well aware that Job didn’t have it unless there was some loose change out of the fifty grand he’d given Robbie.
‘It’s all gone, I don’t have it anymore. You’re too late.’
‘What about the rest of the stuff?’
‘The rest of what stuff?’
‘Everything else that was in the safe.’
‘There wasn’t anything else.’
‘Yeah, right. Of course not.’ Lukas gave him a look and started walking slowly around the room, casually opening drawers and lifting things up, checking underneath.
In years past Lukas reckoned he would have found a pile of porn magazines larger than the national library. Now it was just a large, laptop computer on the floor beside the bed.
‘How’s the research into the adult film industry going?’ he asked, poking at the buttons on the computer. A screensaver demanded a password.
‘It’s my work computer, for business,’ Job said uneasily. ‘Nothing else.’
‘What’s the password?’
‘Go fuck yourself, you have no right.’
‘I’ll never type all that in properly. Never mind, this’ll do it.’ Lukas drew his Glock and pressed the muzzle to the screen.
‘All right, all right. So I watch a little porn. It’s not illegal.’
‘More than a little. According to Tanya it’s almost a weight-loss program for you.’
‘Yeah, well Tanya won’t have a job in the morning.’
‘Yes, she will,’ Lukas said meaningfully. ‘Leave her alone.’
‘Anyway, you have no right to search this room,’ Job said, managing to muster up some more anger. ‘Keep it up and I’ll fire you. You’ll get none of your bloody fee, whatever it is.’
‘Ah, that’s the point, Job,’ Lukas said, smiling. ‘I agreed to a fee with your father and I also agreed to… several other things—things that are included in some documents kept in that safe.’ It was a lie that Lukas had invented during the drive over. ‘You see, I know about the uncut diamonds and I don’t give a damn. I know about the money and what you’ve done with it, too—and I still don’t give a damn. I just want those documents. So here’s the deal, you show me everything else you grabbed from that safe and I’ll let you explain to your family about the cash and diamonds. I couldn’t care less about them.’
Lukas was gambling hugely there were some documents and other things in the safe. Anything other than having to mention the digital recorder yet. It seemed a safe bet, but he held his breath.
Job looked at him sideways. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Why not?’ Lukas spread his arms. ‘I don’t get to keep the money when I find it anyway, even if you still had it. And I don’t get the diamonds either. All I want is those documents and my fee paid.’
‘I wasn’t stealing, I’m entitled to it.’
‘I’m sure Agatha will agree. Not my problem.’
Mentioning Agatha startled Job, but he went on.
‘What about the brawl at the pool hall? All the damage?’
‘I’ll say that I started it. They’ll get insurance. No one will blame you.’
This appeared to placate Job more than anything. Still regarding Lukas warily he went to a cupboard and pulled down a large shoebox, dropping it onto the bed and knocking the lid off. ‘That’s all there was. I don’t care, if you don’t believe me.’
‘What about the diamonds?’
‘Well, apart from them obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ Lukas moved in for a closer look. Inside the box was a small collection of papers and some manila envelopes. Sitting on top of them was the digital recorder. Lukas casually scooped it up and put it in his pocket.
‘Hey, what’s that—’ Job began. Lukas stopped him with a finger.
‘It was a digital document, didn’t I say?’ For appearances Lukas shuffled through the paperwork. His eyes barely registered what they were, he wasn’t interested. At random he chose one of the envelopes. ‘And this, that’s all.’
‘I still don’t believe this is all you want.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be back for another chat, if I find you’ve been tampering with any of this.’
‘I haven’t touched it. You’re lucky I didn’t just throw it all in the trash.’
‘No, you’re lucky that you didn’t chuck it in the bin,’ Lukas said darkly, moving to the door. He wanted to get out and listen to the recorder somewhere safe. ‘It’s late and someone’s tried to bounce pool balls off my head and bash my brains in with a cue. I’ve had enough for one day, otherwise I’d drag everyone out of their beds and finish our business now. As it is, I’ll be back. Don’t forget to put your hand up at the breakfast table and tell everyone you’ve been a very naughty boy.’
‘Agatha’s away until tomorrow evening,’ Job said dully.
‘Then you get a twelve hour reprieve. Why don’t you use it to clean up your room? It’s disgusting.’
Lukas slipped out the door and hurried down the stairs, meaning to get outside before confronting anyone else. The entranceway was empty, spots of blood on the floor where Dwayne had landed.
Outside, Lukas reached his car and couldn’t believe he’d gotten away so easily. Perhaps both Theresa and Corrine were out for the evening? It was the only explanation. As Lukas looked up at the house one last time he saw a curtain twitched aside—and another in a second window. People were watching him go, that was certain.
An odd thought came to Lukas as he started the
engine.
They’re letting me leave.
*****
At home in his apartment Lukas found a phone message from Karen saying again she’d be late. That gave Lukas the time to examine the digital recorder in privacy. After setting himself up with a large glass of scotch—which tasted second class to Robbie’s whiskey—he took the recorder out and studied it, finding a compact memory card in the side.
Getting an idea, Lukas got his laptop out and put the memory card into that instead, using a browser to see all the different recordings. There weren’t too many, but each one was long and Lukas resigned himself to a tedious process of listening to a lot of mundane business discussions before he hopefully lucked onto whatever Edward Rewold considered so important. He topped up the scotch, lit a cigarette, and settled into the chair.
Lukas was dozing off when the words “Wharftown Markets” came from the laptop speakers. He jerked awake spilling the drink on his lap, stared blearily at the screen and backed up the media player to the beginning of the audio file.
This was a recording of a meeting somewhere, the sound quality suggesting a large room. Lukas would have put his money on it being a boardroom inside the Wharf Tourist Retail Corporation offices. He heard at least five different voices all discussing the fate of the Wharftown Markets. It suggested a solution that was a damned sight more final than pinning dead chickens to the walls or slashing bad cat paintings. Edward Rewold was easy to pick in the conversation, because he was much louder from wearing the recording device. Rewold argued that the present strategy of harassing and intimidating the tenants into quitting their leases early was all they needed and would work eventually. Patience was required and nobody needed to escalate the violence. All the others in the meeting disagreed vehemently including another voice that Lukas instantly recognised.