Beyond the Rage

by Michael J Malone

  ‘If I had bothered to look at the display, I wouldn’t have.’

  ‘Is everything okay? You sound–’

  ‘What? Angry? Let down? Left out like the only circumcised dick on the nudist beach?’

  ‘Oh man. That was funny...’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for laughing.’

  ‘...when you threatened to pull your dick out in that restaurant, I thought...’ Alexis laughed and Kenny felt himself respond to the sound of it. Chewed on his answering smile.

  ‘Yeah, whatever. If you’re done laughing, I have stuff to do.’ He cut the connection, annoyed that he had reacted to her laughter.

  It rang back immediately. He considered letting it go to his answering service. Despite himself, he picked up.

  ‘Kenny, please,’ Alexis said before he could speak. ‘I owe you an explanation. Let me–’

  ‘That was my mistake, Alexis. Thinking you owed me anything. You owe me nothing. I owe you nothing. You’re a whore. I’m your client. End of. Now you may have nothing better to do than wait for wankers with a full wallet and a hard-on to call, but I have real work to do.’

  ‘You sanctimonious arse.’

  ‘Goodbye.’ Even as he hung up, he was enjoying the way Alexis said the word ‘arse’. Her accent made it seem more like a term of endearment than an insult.

  Hell. Was he being too harsh, he asked himself. He mentally shrugged, decided he was happy if he was and, putting his car in gear, he drove off.

  As he drove he considered his next step. Still no closer to finding his father; Alexis had seriously pissed him off; Vi’s health issues and her strange admission. Admissions. Were they the imaginings of a woman in pain? The issue of a fevered mind?

  Kenny was used to dealing with people and it was a fact of life – one that should be taught right after the sperm meets egg – that People Lie. But Vi’s words had a strong ring of truth. In any case, why would you make all of that stuff up?

  As he headed back across town, he spotted a large supermarket. A five-minute detour and armed with a bottle of malt whisky he was on his way to visit one of the few people he knew who’d been around at the same time as his father.

  Harry Fyfe opened his door with a broad smile and a warm ‘In you come, son.’

  The thick hall carpet had the expected track marks from a hoover, and a row of jackets and hats hung like a display on the wall behind the door.

  Kenny followed Harry into his living room and sat on the same seat as last time.

  ‘So, your pal Ray McBain popped by the other day,’ said Harry as he poured each of them a generous measure. He winked. ‘I didn’t let on that you’d been by.’

  ‘Cheers, Harry. I appreciate it.’

  Harry held his glass up. ‘It’s 7pm somewhere in the world, right?’ As he drank he closed his eyes. ‘Aaaah. Boy, did that hit the spot.’

  Kenny took a sip from his more as an effort in community than any real thirst.

  ‘So,’ – Harry leaned forward in his chair – ‘you’re not here to feed my habit, Kenny. What do you need?’

  ‘God, you’re a cheap date, Harry,’ Kenny said and grinned. Then he allowed his expression to fold into worry. ‘It’s just... you’re one of the few people who knew my family and...’ He paused. ‘My Aunt Vi took me in after Mum died and my dad disappeared. She’s the one adult who didn’t let me down.’ He looked up into Harry’s eyes. ‘She’s dying, Harry.’

  ‘Ach, son. Life’s a bastard, eh?’ He lifted one foot so that it was resting on the other knee. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘She had a stroke last week. This week, well, today she’s had a heart attack.’

  Harry looked through Kenny into his own memory. He sniffed, twisted his mouth as if suppressing emotion and exhaled. ‘That’s rotten, son. Pure rotten. What’s the prognosis?’

  ‘They don’t know for sure. But one on top of the other can’t be good.’ Kenny took another sip. He was actually confident that his aunt would recover but it wouldn’t do any harm to engage Harry’s sympathy.

  Harry sucked at his teeth and looked at Kenny for a long moment. ‘I didn’t know your Aunt Vi well, Kenny. But the fact she took you in the way she did suggests she’s a good woman.’

  ‘Were you ever aware of any relationships she might have had other than my uncle?’

  Harry looked confused. ‘Strange question. What’s brought that on?’

  ‘She did.’ Kenny made a face. ‘It was like her deathbed confession. Please forgive me, I have sinned and had an affair with your dad.’

  Harry slumped back into his chair. He whistled. ‘D’ye know, nothing surprises me anymore. Families, eh? And they do say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.’

  ‘She also said something even more strange. Apart from my cousin might be my brother. She said it was her fault and that they killed the wrong woman.’

  ‘Je-sus. That’s strange right enough. Any idea what she’s talking about?’

  ‘Nope. Haven’t a clue. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light.’

  Harry shrugged. Looked to the side. ‘What do I remember of your Aunt Vi? They probably went out in a foursome with your mum and dad. Vi was like a toned-down version of your mum. You could tell they were sisters but the same features on your mum had more of a glamour on them.’ Harry thought some more with the help of a generous slug of whisky. ‘Nah. Can’t remember much else. Sorry, son.’

  It was pretty much what Kenny expected but he hid his disappointment behind a rueful grin.

  ‘She was persistent, right enough, on the phone when your mum died. Demanding an investigation. Trying to make sure we didn’t put it down to a suicide.’ Harry scratched at the side of his face as he studied Kenny some more. ‘You don’t look so good, young man. Not been sleeping?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Up shagging all night or is this all getting to you?’

  Kenny made an och-you-know face. ‘If I tell you, I have to kill you.’

  ‘There’s a reason that sayings become popular, Kenny. Because of the truth we all see in them. And here’s an expression for you. Let sleeping dogs lie.’

  Kenny shrugged.

  ‘Jings. Get me,’ said Harry. ‘Getting all philosophical on one large whisky.’

  ‘You do have something, Harry, but there’s something about this. I can’t let it go.’ He told Harry about his father’s letters.

  After he had finished talking, Harry demonstrated that, once a cop always a cop.

  ‘A mother and child died. Your dad said it was an accident. No one believes him.’ Harry chewed on the inside of his mouth and creased his eyes in thought. ‘Can’t remember any tragedies around that same time...’ Another sip. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can dig up, eh?’ He seemed to become more alert at the thought of having something to do. He nodded. ‘Leave it with me, Kenny.’

  ‘Sorry to change the subject on you, but what do you know about Tommy Hunt?’

  ‘Nothing more than what I read in the papers. Made a lot of money. I seem to remember something about – oh, what was it? – it was a Sunday paper special. Successful Scots and all that. He came from a moneyed background and made shitloads more rather than sitting back and...’ He shot forward. ‘If I remember rightly, they made a big deal about his motivation to work harder. His wife died and then he spent all of his energy in making his business a success.’ Harry’s eyes had a strong light in them now. ‘You’re not thinking what I’m thinking?’

  ‘Might be.’

  ‘You’d need to find out when Hunt’s wife died. And how she died.’ Harry rubbed his hands together. ‘God, I miss this stuff.’ He suddenly had more energy than at any time since Kenny first met him.

  ‘What about my dad, Harry? Can you remember any conversations you might have had with him that could give a clue as to where he
might have gone?’

  ‘He was a good talker, I’ll give you that, Kenny. Full of the blethers.’ Harry stopped speaking for a moment as he sought information in his memory cells. ‘Thing is I cannae remember what I had for breakfast but I can remember whole conversations and interviews I had years ago with convicts.’ He held a hand up. ‘Sorry, Kenny. Don’t want to be calling your old man names.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, Harry. That’s what he was. A convict.’

  ‘Actually he wasn’t. He was never tried and convicted for anything. Too smart. Just like yourself.’ Harry wore a wicked grin. ‘Maybe he got out of the life in the nick of time. Before his luck ran out.’ Harry slapped a hand down on his thigh. His voice loud. ‘Anyway. Conversations with Pete O’Neill.’ A pause. ‘Partick Thistle. He talked a lot about games down at Firhill. Said he would hate to take the lazy way out and follow Celtic or Rangers. I remember he talked about one holiday he was planning for you and your mum. He was going to take you to Edinburgh to take in the castle and the Tattoo. He could never understand why any Scot would want to go abroad when we had all this on our doorstep.’

  ‘That’s pretty much the impression I have of him too, Harry. Did he ever tell you about the women in his life?’

  ‘Not really. He was quite discreet that way. Some men delight in giving you a stroke-by-stroke account of their love affairs. To be fair, Pete acted like he was above all that. He definitely had an eye for the ladies. He was just more... aye, “discreet” is a good word to use.’ Harry whistled. ‘So he had an affair with your Aunt Vi?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘Cannae see why the woman would make up something like that. Did your uncle know about it?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That could provide some motivation. Colin finds out his wife is shagging his mate. He sets Pete up. Bish, bash, bosh.’

  ‘Nah. I can’t see it. Colin’s your archetypal accountant. He’s all about the numbers.’

  ‘Here’s another saying for you, Kenny. Still waters run deep.’

  36

  Mason Budge had a diamond-edged hard-on. He could punch through glass with this one.

  His heart started beating like a drill when the text came through and it felt like every drop of blood in his body surged straight to his dick.

  It was from the boss. It read,

  Disappointed!!! She’s not done her job yet. Make sure she does. Do whatever it takes.

  Carte blanche, that’s what that text gave him. Permission to do whatever the fuck he liked. He felt like getting out a pen and drawing up a list. The thought of that pussy wrapped round his shaft was almost enough to make him swoon. He gripped his phallus and shut his eyes. Savoured the thrill.

  Exhaled slowly in an attempt to make his heartbeat calm down.

  Not yet. Some restraint was called for. If he let himself go completely she wouldn’t be in a fit state to do the job the boss wanted. Fun could be had though. Just enough fist and cock to get the message across and then, when the job was finally done, he could allow himself to really let go.

  37

  Kenny left ten minutes later with Harry’s promise ringing in his ears. He would scour his mind for memories of that time and see if he could remember anything about a woman and her child dying in an accident.

  So lost was he in thought it was a wonder of absent-minded driving that he made it back to his flat without getting into an accident. He found a parking space on his road and reaching for his phone he dialled Dimitri. It was time for some different thinking on this one.

  ‘Dimitri and O’Neill. Finding people is our speciality. How can I help you?’

  ‘Except you couldn’t find your way out of a garden shed with a key, an axe and a map, mate.’

  ‘Och, just having a wee laugh, boss,’ said Dimitri.

  ‘Not in a laughing mood, mate. Got anything?’

  ‘Sorry. It’s like he vanished into thin air, boss. Generally if someone really doesn’t want to be found it’s nigh on impossible to find them.’

  ‘I don’t do impossible, Dimitri. There’s always a way.’

  ‘Mmmm. Any ideas, Mr Positivity?’

  ‘You know those milk cartons you see in American TV with the faces of missing people on them?’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ said Dimitri thinking out loud. ‘That could work. Do you have an up-to-date photo?’

  Kenny had scanned the photo of his dad into his computer. He reached over to his laptop, opened up his email, attached the photo and sent it to Dimitri.

  ‘No, but you’re the computer whizz. I’ve just sent you a photograph. Get yourself some of that face-ageing software and do a mock-up of what he might look like now.’

  ‘You going for blanket coverage of Scotland with your milk?’

  Kenny thought for a minute. ‘No. I’m going to draw up a list. No. You’re going to draw up a list. Historical tourist spots on the west coast and central Scotland and then find out the milk producers in the regions concerned and appeal to their better nature. Failing that we’ll spill some cash their way.’

  ‘How much you willing to spend?’

  ‘Let’s wait and see if it’s possible first. Then we’ll talk money.’

  Something caught his eye as he was talking and he looked up. Someone was bundled up and sitting at the communal entrance to his flat. They hadn’t been there when he parked. Better not be one of the local druggies or he’d kick their arse.

  A head lifted from the collection of dark clothing. He could make out blood and bruising. The right eye was swollen shut and entire left side of the face was a lumpen mess. The person had long dirty hair that might have been blonde. They turned and looked down the street as if waiting for someone. Or possibly hiding from someone. The face stopped its traverse of the street when they saw Kenny’s car. He could make out that it was a girl now and the person met his gaze with their one good eye and then looked away as if they had recognised him.

  That small movement was enough for Kenny to work out who it was.

  ‘Dimitri, need to go.’

  He was out of the car and on his knees in front of the damaged woman.

  ‘Alexis,’ he said. ‘What the fuck...?’

  ‘Just take me inside, Kenny. Please?’ The words were hard to make out as they stumbled from the face that Kenny used to know so well.

  ‘Inside? You need to get to a hospital, like now.’

  ‘No. No hospital.’ Alexis grabbed his jacket, her one open eye desperate with the need to get her message across. ‘No. Please. No hospital. That will get the police involved.’ She shook her head, now mute.

  ‘What bastard did this?’ Kenny was filled with rage. It was so hot it almost blinded him. He didn’t need to ask, he knew who it was. Mr Bigshot and his enforcer guy. If Kenny ever got his hands on either of them...

  ‘Inside, Kenny. Please?’

  She was almost weightless in Kenny’s arms as he climbed the stairs to his flat. She was wordless as he filled his bath and then carefully undressed her. When he pulled off her jeans he saw the blood and bite marks on her inner thighs and his anger took on new levels.

  ‘I think you should get a tetanus shot,’ he said. She didn’t respond to his suggestion. It was as if all of her strength was being used to keep the air flowing in and out of her lungs. ‘Did you hear me?’ he said again. ‘Human bites are worse than dog bites. You need a doctor to stop any infection.’

  ‘He bit me?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘Everything so sore... didn’t notice...’ Eyes half-closed with pain and loathing, she turned to him. ‘No doctor. I can’t...’ She began to sob.

  ‘Okay. Okay,’ he said, stroking her head. ‘No doctor.’

  She was in her bra and pants now. Her flesh was mottled down one side. One bruise settling into another. Kenny didn’t know how to touch her without causing her more pain. Neither did he know if he
should remove her underwear. She was doing nothing for herself and he didn’t think she would be comfortable being naked before a man after what she had just gone through.

  ‘In you go,’ he said, thinking that she might make the decision for him. She did and stepped in to the water just as she was. As the hot water touched the more tender parts she inhaled with a sharp hiss. First she went down on to her knees and then she eased on to her backside, twisting so that each leg was placed in front of her. Then she pulled her knees up to her chest and focussed on the shiny metal of the taps as if looking anywhere else was going to hurt her eyes.

  Kenny picked up a sponge and flushed it with water, dabbed some soap on it and then began to slowly wash her back. In and out of the water he pushed the sponge and then allowed the water to pour down the bruised landscape of her back. Each of her vertebrae jutted out from her skin like an accusation. You are a man, they said. You are guilty by association. He kept his movement even, suspecting that the rhythm he created was more soothing for him than it was for her.

  ‘You in a lot of pain?’ he asked and then cursed himself as an ass. Of course she was in a lot of pain. His knees creaked as he stood up. ‘I’ll get you some painkillers.’

  In the kitchen he found a small white packet that he kept for emergencies. Usually these emergencies were for his own broken bones and sprained joints after a training bout down at The Hut. He never imagined it would be put to use like this.

  With a glass of water in his hand along with two tablets, he returned to the bathroom. Alexis was sitting in exactly the same place he had left her.

  ‘Here you go,’ he said and handed them to her. As if they had performed this action a thousand times, she kept her focus on the tap and held a hand out for the tablets. Once they were in her mouth she took the glass and, tipping it to her mouth, she swallowed.

  ‘Whenever I take these, I sleep for hours, ‘ Kenny said. ‘So let’s get you out of there and dried and into a nice warm bed.’ Listen to yourself, O’Neill. As if a pill and a pillow is going to make everything better.

  Like a child might, she did as he suggested and stepped from the water. She stood in the middle of the floor waiting for him to dry her off.