She reached for her handbag that was, gratefully, within reach, but didn’t bother to check its contents. There was nothing in it yesterday, and there was sure to be nothing of any value in there now. Tampons and cheap makeup were never the subject of any robbery, and if she had any money to begin with she wouldn’t be feeling the after effects of god knows how many penetrations now. She was not up to seeing if any or all of the condoms that she always kept at hand had been used, but judging by the squelching in her loins she was not hopeful.
She rose to her feet, grabbing the adjacent dumpster bin for support. Once upright, she was happy that her mobility was not impeded. Being off the ground allowed her to get a better grasp on where she was, and she recognised the back-side of the bar across the road from her flat. Even in her still clouded mental state she could smile that at least she didn’t have far to go home.
Chapter - 82.
True to his word, Devlin kept his mouth shut and mind open for the drive. He had no idea where he was going, and Glen seemed content to keep him in the dark. Glen seemed generally contented, even bordering on being exuberant as he drove.
“Are you going to talk to me at all?” Devlin asked.
“There’s not a great deal to say. You’ll know more soon enough.”
“But if I want to understand now. What harm could it do for me to know more.”
“Knowledge is a powerful thing.”
“Whitely said knowledge isn’t truth.”
“Very true,” Glen replied succinctly.
Chapter - 83.
Once again Tania exercised her oft repeated plan to wash away the past, hopeful. Standing under the shower, her face pressed against the perpetually cool tiles and her back to the soothing heat of the water, memories flooded into her now sobering state. If only the memories would disappear down the drain like the residue of a cheap hair colour. As ever, she knew she’d run out of hot water long before that happened.
She was thankful that her memory of last night was lost forever, more than likely blacked out in a wash of spirits and never to return, rather than just suppressed. The body would heal, it always did, but her mind’s wounds were accumulating faster than she could expect to recover. Each painful memory just made those before it worse, and no matter how much she drank, she would always sober up eventually.
In some ways, she figured that Tim understood to some extent. No matter what happened, no matter how many times she’d fallen off the wagon, he’d always stayed as close as she’d allow. Unlike the rest, her so called ‘friends’ who’d distanced themselves gradually or ritually broken contact.
Family was another matter entirely. That Tim had been her sole surviving relative was an isolating thought, but in retrospect, as each of her other family members had passed she’d grown progressively ambivalent to how they each had actually died. Whether they’d died before their time, like the question of ‘how’, was largely irrelevant. They were dead now and nothing would bring them back. Even just thinking about it, she felt the usual anger that her family never understood her pain, so whether they were alive or dead was of no great benefit to her. In any case, she knew that she’d long since used up all the favours and goodwill on offer from friends and family.
No matter how much she expected it, Tania was always surprised when the hot water did eventually run out. The jolt of cold and the subsequent frantic rush to extricate herself from the freezing water had a tendency to awaken her from her delirium. She’d be aroused in the middle of a memory, and with the randomness of a roulette wheel she’d hope that the house would show some pity and some luck would come her way. The reality, however, was that the wheel was loaded and she didn’t even have a bet on the table. There was no upside to her memories.
She marvelled too that it was high time for her to be given a break. For what seemed an eternity now her life had been going from bad to worse. Friends were long gone, family were gone, career was gone. If there was any justice in this life, she was sure that she’d more than paid for anything and everything that she’d done.
Chapter - 84.
Devlin was surprised to arrive at the café near Tania’s house. While Glen had taken a completely different route and even parked in a back laneway several streets away, Devlin recognised the smell of bad coffee before he could even see the café. Even more surprising was the fact that both Whitely and the Detective were waiting for them.
There was no sense of reunion from either Whitely or the Detective, and barely any acknowledgement other than for them each to check their watches simultaneously. Instead, they just edged around their table, as if to allow Glen to occupy a position of seniority between them.
Devlin remained standing for a time, but eventually seated himself at the opposite side of the table facing the others.
Glen beckoned the waitress, who reacted at first as if such customer service was significantly outside her job description. She looked as if she was prepared to stare down Glen while she made some obscene gestures under the counter, out of sight of any of the customers. It was unclear whether she responded to Glen’s reciprocated stare, or if she just felt an odd need to interact with a customer, but in any case she sauntered to the table. Glen placed an order for himself and deferred to the others for anything that they too might like. Devlin steered clear of the coffees, but didn’t feel like sharing any warning. He smiled, somewhat relaxed by the fact that he knew something that Glen didn’t. Glen thanked the attendant cum waitress cynically for her ‘above and beyond commitment to customer service’ and paid up front for the table’s order and included a sizeable tip. She trudged her way back to her domain at the counter, either oblivious or ignorant to Glen’s comment. Devlin was all the more appreciative that his order, a simple can of coke, couldn’t be tampered with, if she suddenly understood what Glen had said.
By the time that the order arrived, Devlin was comfortable in his seat, but unsettled by the fact that no-one was talking to him. There was an easy, bordering on jovial mood between the Detective, Glen and Whitely, but they seemed content to continue their banter between themselves without making any effort to include him in their discussion. He put up with it for a few minutes, but eventually he felt an overwhelming need for his subtle isolation to end. “I’ve kept an open mind for long enough, Glen. It’s about to snap shut.”
“Relax Devlin. Just a little longer,” Glen appeased.
“Haven’t I waited long enough?”
Whitely laughed heartily, much to the amusement of the Detective before turning serious as the laughter subsided. “What the fuck do you know about waiting?”
“So what am I waiting for?”
“You’re waiting to round out your understanding,” offered Glen as he rested a placative, calming hand on Whitely’s shoulder. “What Whitely and Alan here could have said was that they’ve waited substantially longer than you.”
“So we’re here to see Tania?”
“Of sorts,” replied Glen. “I’ll let them answer more fully.” He slid his chair backwards away from the table, as if to leave centre stage.
“You know Devlin, I’ve spent years loathing that woman on a personal level, and until relatively recently I’ve had little to do with her professionally,” Detective Reymond began. “Of course, with the death of her brother, I’d be lying if there wasn’t something bittersweet in seeing her in pain. But it’s an abstract kind of feeling, just sitting back and effectively revelling in someone else’s misfortune. There’s nothing legally wrong with it, and probably nothing morally wrong with it. So should I feel bad that the bitch who took away my life should experience a little loss?”
Pending silence suggested that the Detective actually wanted a reply. “Probably not,” said Devlin. “I’m assuming of course that you weren’t directly implicated in what happened to her brother, but on the surface at least I see what you’re saying.”
“The question is whether I’m an active or a passive observer. How close do I have to be to causing that misfortune
before I hit your moral speed-bump? Before I’ve done the wrong thing?”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to be more specific,” suggested Devlin.
“Fair enough.” Reymond drank from his coffee, his face shrivelling up like a prune at the bitterness of the brew. He looked to Whitely, as if warning of disclosure. “You know over the years I’ve sat back and waited, appalled at my own inaction, but too gutless, or possibly smart, to do something about it. Unlike some of us, I couldn’t act on my own suppressed want for revenge for fear of the implications, which in itself is comical given that I had, have, nothing left. Unlike some of us, I couldn’t bring myself to partake of petty, or more serious, acts of revenge. I couldn’t leave the contents of sharps or other biohazard containers in soap. I couldn’t break into her home only to stick toothbrushes in my ass and leave without any indication that I’d even been there. Unlike others.” Whitely took a protracted drink from his mug.
“You haven’t explained why we’re here,” Devlin said dismissively. “And Glen, you still owe me where Malcolm fits into this.”
“Relax Devlin. It won’t be too long now.”
Glen’s comment did nothing to settle Devlin’s anxiety, but it was apparent after looking at the others that he was the only one who was not relaxed. Whitely was struggling a smile in between long periods where he appeared to observe the other café patrons. The Detective was similarly settled as he rhythmically and continually stirred his cup. Glen himself seemed more interested in checking his watch. Periodically, someone would look to the street or scan the other patrons of the café, and doing so seemed to alert the others to something. In a weird kind of way, Devlin felt like he was watching a wildlife documentary where one animal’s heightened anxiety alerted all those around. The thought made Devlin look at Reymond’s ears the next time his eyes drifted from his cup, as if they would be furry and erect, listening for an approaching lion.
Chapter - 85.
Devlin’s wait dragged on, but he seemed to be the only one in any way perturbed. Eventually, he asked, “Can we talk about Malcolm then?”
At first, Devlin assumed that it was his question that made Glen, Whitely and the Detective sit up and take notice. They stopped what they were doing, and Devlin hoped that at last his question hit a chord such that he’d finally get the answers he craved. When a reply did not come immediately, he wasn’t too surprised. Being seated across the table from the others, Devlin felt the heat of their stares. He saw the Detective’s tired eyes brighten and Whitely even removed his sunglasses to reveal his battered face made moderately presentable by probably a hint of makeup. Even Glen was breaking his own golden rule, staring right through him so brazenly that his eyes could not have been focussed. It was then that it occurred to Devlin that no-one was actually looking at him.
Devlin turned to see a lone male at the counter. The guy was well dressed; good cut of a suit and re-soled expensive looking black leather shoes, but Devlin couldn’t tell much more about him until he turned around. He figured that it was Malcolm, and the quiet fixation from the others was paramount to a ‘he’s here, ask him yourself’. But then as he watched, the guy pivoted a turn away from the counter and left. It wasn’t Malcolm. In the few steps it took him to cross from the counter to the entry the guy had managed to look down on everyone present with disdain, which at least gave Devlin the opportunity to see the guy’s face for a fraction of a second. The electronic chime of the door sensor marked his exit.
As if hearing the chime was a cue to continue any pending conversation, Devlin turned again to the front, expecting that someone would recover from the distraction of the visitor. Assuming of course that Malcolm’s arrival had been anticipated, he expected to see perhaps a little disappointment or even inconvenience at having their wait extended. Instead, he saw and felt smiles. The Detective wore a warm glow, and even his eyes being closed couldn’t hide the contentment that he obviously felt. Whitely was beaming such that a few of his wounds were starting to weep, if not bleed outright. Glen himself was more subdued, sitting with a knowing grin and his arms folded.
Devlin was about to re-ask his question about Malcolm, or possibly to ask about the change in the mood at the table when Whitely stood and put on his jacket from the back of his chair. It was only then that Devlin noticed that Whitely had clearly gone to some effort for the morning and was out of his dressing gown, and the smell of his house had not followed him. Devlin wondered how much showering that took. Whitely rested his hand on Glen’s shoulder while he walked to the Detective. The Detective too stood and received Whitely’s protracted embrace. Whitely then nodded in passing to Devlin as he headed for the door. The Detective was more formal, opting to shake Glen’s hand before he too sauntered from the table into daylight.
“Where are they going?” Devlin asked of Glen incredulously. “I’m no wiser now, and they’re not going to help now that they’re gone, are they?”
Glen beckoned the waitress over again. “Whitely and the Detective are every bit the reason why you needed to be here, to learn. You didn’t need to speak to Malcolm.” He ordered more coffees, knowing full well that Devlin was drinking Coke. “I want you to figure it out and understand.”
Devlin kept his mouth shut for no other reason than he didn’t know what to say.
Chapter - 86.
Sun on his face, Malcolm sat in a child’s swing in the playground looking at the bank of windows, one of which was surely Tania’s living room. Exactly which window was Tania’s was not important. He knew she was inside and he didn’t need to see her face at the window to confirm the fact.
Malcolm smiled and sighed for a job well done. Thereafter, the culmination of this particular project was something of an anti-climax, much like the rest. He couldn’t share in any celebratory drinks, he wouldn’t receive any pats on the back, and he knew he’d never hear an appreciative word from anyone. His efforts would go un-rewarded, but they would not go un-noticed. Not that he undertook this project for anyone but himself, but selected people would sleep better for his efforts, regardless of whether they understood or cared for the role that he had played. It didn’t matter. He could look at himself in the mirror with pride for what he did, but it was just unfortunate that others couldn’t share his pride and were on the main oblivious to what he did.
There were few regrets in Malcolm’s memory. His mother never had any time for thoughts or emotions that weren’t implicitly positive. Just as he didn’t allow his bad days to interfere with his good, he didn’t let bad thoughts drag down his plans. He focussed on a greater good. Doing so allowed him to feel pride, even if he couldn’t share it.
There was one notable exception. To make a point to Glen he had done one thing of which he was not proud. Admittedly, there were actions which he recalled with ambivalence, neither positively nor negatively, but only one thing that made him feel what others would describe as ‘regret’.
His mood on the turn, he wasn’t thinking clearly when he felt backed into a corner after an ongoing discussion with Glen. The mistake was his and his alone; he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. For what he’d deemed naive arrogance, Glen was not prepared to listen to his concerns and so Malcolm decided to show him. With the impetuousness of a child, he stormed out of LastGasp’ and into the first internet café. There he’d watched a live news feed, waiting for someone to die, like the angel of death himself.
It was the middle of the night, and Malcolm waited for many hours before it happened. Sirens and fire engines coincided with a flurry of news traffic; the media alerted to a fire at a little known suburban chemical facility. Two Police officers working out of hours to legally supplement their incomes were injured and the first news crews couldn’t help themselves in a rush to identify them.
Malcolm did not play any odds to make his point. He prepared two messages. He knew what to do, it just required a little homework to get right.
For the officer with family, ‘his’ message was a simple, heartfelt stream of word
s much as he imagined his own mother would have said on her last night. Perhaps she did say them, but he never heard them. His brief research indicated that while the officer, Robert Duffton, and his wife were having more than their share of marital issues, ‘his’ message focussed only on the upside and potential for a complete reconciliation. He didn’t think there was anything to be gained in any mention of any of the negatives. He included an anecdote for each of his children and an earnest request that they grow to live and love and know that they were loved. It seemed appropriate, particularly when he was already a LastGasp’ member.
The other police officer, sadly, was known to him. Malcolm understood their history following long discussions on the matter with Glen. Albert Fenton. Glen owed him a debt for the role that he’d played in the Leon Newman debacle, but Glen’s persistent scepticism with police interest forced him to keep Albert largely at arm’s length. When Malcolm thought about what message was necessary or appropriate for Albert, he struggled. The guy was alone and with a dubious sexual orientation it was unlikely that he’d ever father any children to justify the need to pass on any endearing message. It struck him that most of Albert’s adult life had been spent with his friend, right down to the fact that they were both now injured together. Malcolm decided it was time that Alert was outed.
It was a spiteful thing to do. Malcolm knew it at the time but he did it anyway. He now understood that some things can’t be undone and some secrets are better kept. Albert’s determination proved it. Not one to fear, he did sometimes worry if Albert himself would eventually be able to see the greater good of this episode.
In the meantime, Malcolm looked forward and focussed on the future, his next project. Nebojsa’s time had come.
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