Minions

by Addison, Garrett

  Chapter - 72.

  Devlin was a man on a mission, or as much as was possible in the passenger seat of the Detective’s car, returning to LastGasp’. The thought of Glen and his recruitment practices had left him determined to confront Glen, and to his mind, the Detective was doing little more than delaying the moment by driving at or even below the speed limit where a rush was in order.

  He was fidgeting, and alternated between chewing his fingernails and looking for distractions around the interior of the car. Inevitably, he sought a distraction to the quiet of the car. The radio wasn’t going to do, particularly with his thought processes higher functioning as they were. “I’m thinking,” he said. “I’m thinking about what might be in Ikel’s message, what he might say.”

  “What about it?”

  “I’m wondering what he might have seen fit to share,” Devlin continued. “And what might have died with him. It’s just like Whitely said, that knowledge comes with death’s release.”

  “You might never know the truth,” said the Detective.

  “Whitely also warned me to understand the difference between knowledge and truth. I didn’t know what to make of his comment at the time, but now I’m thinking he might be worth another visit.”

  “I thought I was just dropping you home.” The Detective wasn’t very convincing as he sighed after thinking a little. “I guess he might tolerate a little more company.”

  Chapter - 73.

  Devlin mistimed his walk from the car to Whitely’s home. His plan was to hold his breath for as long as possible, but this only forced him to breathe deeply amid the detritus of the garden. He marched into the darkness of the hall corridor, lit erratically by the flickering of a television. “Whitely. It’s us again.” He edged towards the lounge room, ambivalent to whether the Detective followed or waited outside.

  Whitely was dozing in front of the television, but he wasn’t too perturbed when Devlin turned on the reading lamp that extended over his chair. Instead, he just raised his eye-brows, as much to arouse his face as acknowledge the presence of visitors. When the Detective entered the room, Whitely nodded in greeting but said nothing.

  “Ikel’s dead. He crashed his car tonight,” Devlin announced aggressively. He planned only that much. He remained standing expectantly, as if naively sure that Whitely would break into explanation. When Whitely started cycling through the channels of his television, Devlin was less hopeful that anything would be achieved with the visit. “Ikel’s dead,” he repeated, more politely.

  “Nothing I can do about that, but given that I could have learnt that much from the news or phone, I’m assuming you have more to say than just that.” At last, he turned off the television in a deliberate final movement and returned the remote control to his chair-side table. “Ask away Devlin, ‘cos I’ll be fucked if I’m going to guess what you need to know.”

  “We’re interested in why Ikel and possibly David might have died,” Detective Reymond offered. “We want to understand what’s going on.”

  “Alan, I wanted to understand what was going on years ago but I recall you told me that understanding wouldn’t change things, or help,” Whitely was curt. “So provided that you’re not formally or professionally interested, go back to your baby-sitting and shut the fuck up.”

  “Don’t we go back long enough for a little decorum?” the Detective asked.

  “Decorum has nothing to do with this, Alan.”

  “I could just as easily engage my interest formally …”

  “If that were a possibility you’d have done it by now, but you haven’t. In any case, you and Devlin here will be clearer before too long anyway.”

  “There you go. As of now, that comment there, I have cause to be concerned for Devlin’s wellbeing.”

  “Oh, fuck off Alan! How long the fuck have you known me! Do you think that I’m going to cause this guy harm.” Whitely was incensed. He gestured as if to present Devlin to an audience. “Look at him. He’s oblivious, sure, but he’s not at risk!”

  “You’re not the one who I’m thinking is going to do the harm.”

  Whitely cooled himself down a little before continuing, his tone substantially more mellow. “He’s not at risk from me or anyone that I know of. A few people’s suicides doesn’t mean that others are at risk, unless you’re in the firing line.”

  “OK. So what has LastGasp’ and Glen got to do with this?”

  “You especially don’t want to interfere, Alan. I’ll not say a thing against Glen, and that’s not out of fear or obligation, but out of understanding.”

  “Well I think ...” Reymond started.

  “Alan, I don’t care for what you think, but I do care for how Devlin’s understanding is progressing. So how about you give it a rest and let him talk.”

  Devlin felt both Whitely and the Detective’s stares, “Ikel was my friend.”

  “Move on, Devlin,” said Whitely with a yawn.

  “What about Tania?”

  Whitely exuberantly writhed in his seat, his face beaming with a smile that would have stressed most wounds on his face. “What do you know about poor Tania?” He spoke while reaching for a few tissues.

  “Only that her brother was killed.”

  “Tania’s probably learnt that all the remorse in the world doesn’t change what’s happened,” said Detective Reymond.

  “Thanks Alan. But this isn’t about you.” Whitely said politely. “Go on, Devlin.”

  “There’s not a lot more to tell, except that her name was magically singled out by the LastGasp’ Research Interface when I was expecting it to reveal some pearl of wisdom about all of the past readers.”

  “Indeed.” Whitely waved to Devlin, as if to shoo him away. “So fuck off.” He turned to face the Detective. “Alan, I’d like a word in private.”

  Chapter - 74.

  Before the interior light of the car faded, Devlin was rummaging through the case notes that the Detective had left in the back seat. Even with the privacy afforded by the absence of the Detective he couldn’t make any more sense of the notes than he had previously. Despite his efforts, in reality he was doing little more than killing time until the Detective returned to the car.

  Even in the dim light of the dashboard instrumentation, Devlin could tell that the Detective looked different as he drove. He looked like a man content in maintaining a secret despite the lure of disclosure.

  Devlin tried to guess what Whitely could have said in private to prompt the Detectives mood. He waited for the Detective to say something unprompted, even if it was just to clarify where they were headed, but instead the Detective was unashamedly coy. Eventually, he had to ask. “So what did Whitely say to make you so …”

  The Detective was in no rush to answer, and for a moment Devlin considered re-wording his question, but soon enough the Detective nodded as if to suggest that he had at least heard the question.

  “It’s private, and none of your concern,” the Detective answered as his subtle grin gave way to a more professionally appropriate expression. “We just talked about my daughter. That’s all.” A reminiscent smile returned to the Detective’s face.

  “You just seem upbeat, that’s all.”

  “It’s just …” the Detective paused, as if struggling to come up with the right words. “I’m thinking that maybe it’s time for me to retire.”

  “What’s brought about the change of heart?”

  “Who says it’s a change of heart? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m old enough. Perhaps it’s time. Whitely just made me think, that’s all.”

  “He didn’t enlighten you further about where Tania fits into all of this, did he?”

  “Yes, and no. You know it’s late, Devlin, and we could almost continue this in the morning if absolutely necessary. I’m sure we’ll catch up then.”

  “I’d really prefer to know now. I barely slept last night, and I won’t be able to sleep tonight without some closure.”

  “Some people go for years without
closure. Maybe you just need to learn some patience.”

  “Patience I have, but I’m not sure that I’ve got the time to wait for closure. Conrad suggested that others came to at least some realisation, much like I’ve done, just before they died.” Noting that the Detective was unperturbed, Devlin pressed the issue. “Don’t you have an obligation to at least sound interested? What about Malcolm?”

  “I’ve lost interest in pursuing Malcolm.”

  “So what was it that Whitely told you that inspired you to forget Malcolm and finally retire?”

  “My daughter.” The Detective began with a sigh. “Whitely and I were devastated when she died. At the time, I was prepared to blame everyone, anyone, but all the blame in the world wouldn’t bring her back. I might add that this came on the back of the death of my granddaughter, her daughter, Whitely’s daughter. As fuelled as I was with anger, there was nothing I could do about it.”

  “You said she died of an overdose. So surely that much was out of your control.”

  “The overdose was part of it. The fact is that she was hit by a car as she savoured a drug induced haze before she fell unconscious. The car killed her, but as far as the coroner was concerned, it only hastened her demise. The driver was one Tania Wilson. Ably assisted by a cocky young lawyer, she even kept her drivers’ license.”

  “I’m assuming that this is the same Tania Wilson.”

  The detective nodded. “They say that good things come to those who wait, and there’s a small matter of karma too. But I have to say that I’ve been disappointed with my wait.

  “Admittedly, there was more than a little irony in the passing of Tania’s brother, and then that I was the one to break the news and assume the role of ‘hand holder’. But I’d moved on from my anger to such an extent that I found myself incapable of really feeling anything. I’d waited for something good, but it never came. The fact was that for the duration of my wait, I had nothing, and something happening to Tania wouldn’t have helped that.”

  “It must have been a long, hard wait.”

  “Like you wouldn’t know. If I was feeling more benevolent, I might also add that Tania’s had more than her share of sadness too over the years. Not that I felt for her sadness, but I understood it.”

  “So what did Whitely tell you about Tania?” Devlin asked as they pulled up outside LastGasp’.

  “Only that everything happens for a reason.”

  Chapter - 75.

  Angie formulated a plan. It wasn’t the kind of plan that Malcolm had talked about, but it was a plan nonetheless. Malcolm had spoken about his plans taking months to be completed, but her plan was either less grandiose or perhaps it just needed a woman’s touch to shorten or fine-tune the process. Maybe it was just that he lacked the motivation, whereas Angie had enough anger inside her to fuel anything that she cared to put her mind to.

  Malcolm had said precious little else about what he did. He never appeared before work or after work, or at any set time of the day. He just showed up, as if he was perpetually close by, evidenced by the fact he was around at random intervals. This hadn’t been a problem as she’d enjoyed both the company and the passive protection that his presence provided.

  If Malcolm had taught her anything, it was that there are those that ‘do’, and those that get ‘done to’. More importantly, he told her that if she was being done to, then just braving up to the inevitability of it continuing was not going to improve things. That he’d said this when they’d first met at the corner pharmacy was remarkable only because he hadn’t mentioned the Police or Religion. Other strangers she’d met would voice their opinion, as if they understood anything of her situation. As if they understood either the physical or emotional toll of life in her shoes. But Malcolm’s advice was almost philosophically constructive, as if he really understood what she felt. She remembered feeling as if her life was on the improve after that first meeting and she felt the same surge in positivity now.

  Angie was saddened when she found Malcolm’s note. Except that the envelope also contained her home key, it could have been from anyone. The note did not contain an apology, but realistically she didn’t expect one. Now that she’d calmed down a little and was able to be a little more rational, she accepted that he had nothing to apologise for.

  On Malcolm’s recommendation, Angie promised to give Devlin the benefit of the doubt. She owed him that much.

  Chapter - 76.

  The Detective had driven off in a hurry leaving Devlin alone with his thoughts, and a myriad of punters heading for one of the brothels on either side of LastGasp’. It was well after midnight, and for a time he considered returning to his hotel in the naïve hope that things would be clearer in the morning after a full night’s sleep. Of course, that the hotel would still be blockaded to him was going to be a problem, and one that he didn’t feel like embracing. The vibration of his phone in his pocket however, sent his mind racing and reminded him that sleep was unlikely. The phone call was from Glen urging him inside, and Devlin smiled at the CCTV camera above the LastGasp’ door and obliged.

  “It’s sad about Ikel,” Glen began. “But life goes on.”

  “You don’t sound too touched,” Devlin said provocatively as he grabbed a bottled beer from the kitchen. He joined Glen in the lounge but resisted Glen’s suggestion to take a seat with him. “I thought you’d be more concerned, if only for the extra effort that you’ll need to invest in recruitment.”

  “Don’t be like that, Devlin. He was a nice kid, and I’ll miss him, as will you. The problem is that you and I are in the minority. You’re fortunate enough to be able to judge him, and remember him, with just a snapshot of his life to judge him by.”

  “So?”

  “You seem to have become adept in the use and abuse of my Research Interface, so why not answer that question yourself?”

  Chapter - 77.

  Detective Reymond returned to the station. He was no stranger to being there ‘after hours’, but the middle of the night was always a particularly lonely time to be at his desk. To do so regularly reminded him that he had nothing or no-one to go home to, and no amount of positive thinking, religion or counselling could convince him otherwise, and God knows he’d tried. In that sense, his job was both a blessing and curse. It gave him a purpose to live, if not a reason, but it required him to avail himself whenever, and this meant the sociable daylight hours and also the lonely times when he would have almost the entire station to himself, alone with this thoughts.

  Typically his thoughts were primarily of his daughter and grand-daughter, but tonight Reymond’s thoughts were to recall two chapters of Whitely’s words that echoed in his head. He remembered the circumstances of their parting years ago, when the wound of their common loss was still raw. Whitely had lost his child, his wife, and most recently his job, and he was living with Reymond. It was an uneasy co-habitation, but they managed only because Reymond himself found it easier to devote himself to work than offer emotional support to the man who was effectively, if not legally, his son-in-law.

  That Tania was able to keep her license was the final straw for both men. Whitely swore revenge and it took all of the Detective’s professional and personal experience to talk the man down into some degree of rational thought. Reymond felt the same desire for revenge of course, but at the time he knew that little would be gained in retribution. He calmed Whitely by convincing him of the inevitability that if he did do anything himself, he would be the one going to jail. At the time, Reymond added weight to his argument by suggesting that Whitely was the only family he had left. His mood softened by a mixture of acceptance and medication, Whitely calmly agreed with the line of placation.

  In Reymond’s memory, he sat holding Whitely for hours, though in reality it was surely nowhere near that long. He still remembered the manner with which Whitely stood, shrugging off his embrace. Raw with tears, Whitely made an announcement, calmly and rationally. “I want her dead, but the trouble with death is that it doesn’t c
ause her enough pain. I’d very much prefer for her to die in pain, and with nothing.”

  With those words, Whitely packed only a few of his belongings and left. Reymond remembered those words and the way that they’d been said with perfect clarity. He’d thought about them often since then, particularly when he thought about his daughter and whenever he conjured up some pseudo official excuse to keep tabs on either Tania Wilson or Whitely himself.

  In the days immediately following when those words were first said, Reymond feared that Whitely would do something he’d live to regret. However, given the conviction with which Whitely had spoken, Reymond figured that it was very possible that Whitely wouldn’t live through turning his prophetic comment into reality. He reasoned that there was amazingly little he could do about it, if Whitely was to take things into his own hands. The reality was that Reymond wouldn’t have really wanted to interfere.

  Days turned to weeks, then months, and then years. Whitely had kept himself out of major trouble, and Reymond had assumed that he’d moved on since those words. Certainly on the infrequent occasions that he’d visited Whitely, the topic of Tania never came up, though it was obvious that Whitely’s loss was just as raw as ever.

  Until tonight.

  Tonight, privately, Whitely shared more of himself than he had in many years. He also made no attempt to hide what he thought of Tania’s brother’s passing, suggesting it was not evidence of some theory of random misfortune. What he’d said required consideration, particularly when Whitely circled tomorrows date on a calendar hanging by his chair. With tears streaming from his eyes he said, “I’ve waited for this.”

  Now alone at his desk with a hot coffee in his chipped mug, Reymond was thinking about Whitely and about what he’d said then and now.

  He started his usual checks on both Whitely and Tania. Admittedly, he was nowhere near as regular as he used to be, but Whitely’s result was the same as it ever was. The guy rarely left his home, never had any visitors of any merit or notoriety, and short of unsubstantiated domestic disturbances where he was the victim, he was the usual clean slate. Tania’s profile, however, was different.