by Simon Leigh
‘Lucy?’ he yelled from the foot of the stairs, her sobs audible down here.
‘Chloe is safe. She’s in the living room on the sofa.’
No reply.
‘Luce?’
He wanted to be with her, but knew he couldn’t deal with that right now. He grabbed his baseball bat from the cupboard under the stairs and ran back outside.
I’ll kill him.
The man was regaining consciousness. Freddie swung the bat into his ribs and kicked him again, sending him back to sleep.
With a tight grip on the man’s arm, he dragged him into the garage through the side entrance and sat him in a chair using a rope to tie his hands behind his back.
Standing in front of him, he gazed at the man’s rough, scarred, bloody face, barely breathing through his battered nose.
Adrenaline flowed through Freddie’s body, manifesting itself in an overwhelming amount of anger. He paced back and forth, confused, wondering how and when this sick bastard managed to get his address and what connection he had to him, knowing it must have had something to do with his work.
He slapped him to try and wake him up, but his head just rocked on his shoulders. He thought about burying a screwdriver through his temple and ending it here and now, instead biting his lip and slapping him again, harder this time.
The man stirred.
Freddie stood over him and asked, ‘Who are you?’
Groggy, the man said, ‘Where am I?’
‘Who are you? I won’t ask you again.’
‘What, what is this place?’
Clenching his fist, Freddie hit him again. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, he would punch him to hell if he had to. ‘Answer me or this will get a lot messier.’
The man spat a mouthful of blood at him, laughing. ‘You’ll just have to kill me.’
Would Chloe have been sold? Murdered? Or raped? All these possibilities went through his mind making the thought of burying something in the guy’s head more enticing.
The realism that his son was dead hadn’t quite sunk in yet.
‘Oh, I’ll kill you,’ he said. ‘I’ll just do it extremely painfully and slow.’ Moving to within inches of the man’s face, he said in a low, assertive tone, ‘Nobody touches my children.’ He took a step back. ‘Nobody!’ Grabbing a screwdriver from the shelf, he jammed it as hard as he could into the man’s thigh until it touched bone, twisting it.
The scream was almost deafening.
He pulled it out and the guy writhed in pain, laughing at the same time. ‘I know who you are, Freddie.’
‘What?’
‘Tell Matherson that his precious business is going down. Everyone there is basically dead already. They’ve all got targets on the back of their heads. And as for your friend, Valerie is it? Well let’s just say she’ll get it anyway we can give it to her.’
‘Valerie? What’s she got to do with this?’
He smiled showing yellow, bloody teeth. ‘One day, you’ll find out.’
Freddie squeezed the man’s thigh,, hard, pushing a finger into the wound.
He screamed again.
‘Everyone has a breaking point you fucking piece of shit. Why did you come here?’
‘You’re all going to die. I won’t say when, but that organization will crumble. You and all your kind will be begging for your lives when we’ve finished with you.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘I know everything about you, Freddie. Everything. I know that you lie to Lucy. I know when you’re together and when you’re not. I know she knows nothing about you and Matherson. What will happen if she finds out you’re really a murderous thug. She is a fine looking woman for sure, would be a shame to lose her. Don’t you agree?’
Well that was it, Freddie lost all control, letting go of the thigh and picking up the baseball bat. ‘She won’t find out, now shut the fuck up.’ He swung at his face like he was hitting a home run, splattering blood against the wall.
The lifeless body flopped in the chair.
Lucy said from the door, ‘What are you doing? Who the hell is that? Freddie, our son is dead,’ she cried, running back to the house.
He followed. ‘Lucy, wait a sec.’
In the kitchen, Lucy cradled Chloe close to her chest, pacing up and down. ‘You lying son of a bitch, how could you? You killed our son.’
‘Lucy, I can explain.’
‘Freddie, our son is dead. Michelle is dead. Thank God for Chloe. And it’s all on you for bringing this shit into our house.’ She stopped pacing and looked at him. ‘Tell me the truth.’
He said nothing.
She slapped him with her free hand.
Sirens screamed in the background. ‘I called an ambulance, and the police.’
‘What?’
She sat on the floor still holding Chloe against her chest and started rocking back and forth. ‘How could you leave me in that bedroom alone? I needed you.’
‘That man in the garage is responsible, Lucy. That’s why I left you. Please, you have to understand.’
‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.’
‘Are you listening to me?’ he shouted. ‘That man is the murderer.’
‘Is he? Or are you?’
The sirens closing in.
He left her, running back to the garage, finding the chair empty with a trail of blood leading outside and fading away over the garden grass.
Fuck.
A note left on the chair said:
SEE YOU AGAIN SOON, FREDDIE!!
He put the note in his pocket and quickly tried to hide any evidence, putting the chair back and wiping the walls and his clothes as much as he could.
He returned to the house.
Then it hit him.
What have I done?
In the kitchen doorway, Lucy watched him, still crying.
He didn’t know what to say.
She slapped him again, harder this time and walked out to the front of the house with Chloe in silence to greet the emergency services.
After the ambulance had left, the police stayed to take statements and offered them a place to stay.
They refused.
At the end of the driveway, Lucy stood with Freddie.
‘I’m taking Chloe to my parent’s house,’ she said. ‘Please don’t call.’ With her packed bag, she walked away from him towards a police officer standing by. She hadn’t mentioned the man in the garage or Chloe being taken. Not for Freddie’s sake, but for Chloe’s.
‘Lucy, please,’ he begged.
‘Don’t you dare, Freddie.’ And with that, she left.
Watching her leave felt like his life was leaving him. He fell on the ground leaning his back against the wall, cradling his face.
What have I done?
Taking out his cell, he called the only person he had left.
‘Freddie? What’s wrong?’
‘Valerie,’ he cried. ‘I need your help.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s Michael.’
‘What about him?’
‘Valerie, please, can you just come and get me. I’m at my home.’
‘Is it safe?’
‘Valerie.’
‘I’m on my way.’
iv
Nursing a shot of vodka between his hands, Freddie relived everything that had happened. ‘...and then I found the note.’
Valerie listened quietly, wanting to say something comforting, but daring not to.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he whispered. ‘I can still remember his birth, how he’d grabbed my thumb when I held him in my arms.’
She stayed quiet.
‘What am I going to do now? My job has murdered my son, and Michelle. They had nothing to do with anything.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Valerie said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘We should thank God you got Chloe back safely though.’ By the time she’d realized what she was saying, it was too late.
He lifted his eyes to hers. ‘I’ll never thank God for anything in my e
ntire life!’ he yelled. ‘Do you understand? God is a bastard, he sits up there looking down on us like pieces of shit.’
‘Freddie, I...’
‘I’ve had enough now, Valerie. I need a way out. I should have gotten out when you told me to all those years ago.’
‘All right, Freddie. I will help you, but won’t be easy.’
‘Yes. I know it won’t!’ he snapped, musing on the subject a little before submitting to a thought: ‘I can’t leave though, not yet. This could be the only way to find out who did this.’
This time she didn’t dare say anything. Seeing his torn and tormented future ahead of him, she felt for the guy, her friend.
Freddie stood up. ‘I’m going to bed.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At 10:00, Wednesday 9th, the sun was high and the air was fresh.
Valerie and Bill were sitting opposite each other at Café Petit. Bill had decaf. Valerie was running on empty and wanted something to stimulate her – a double espresso.
The bustle of December life in Southbrook moved by rapidly through the window making Valerie edgy and impatient, like she was wasting time missing out on something.
‘This coffee is just what the doctor ordered on a morning like this, don’t you think little lady?’
She rolled her eyes and nodded irritably. ‘Do you mind if we get down to business?’
‘Sure thing, where shall we start?’ he said, taking a sip of his warm, sweet coffee and savouring it for a moment before swallowing.
‘Start at the beginning. What did Freddie’s letter say?’
‘This sounds more like an interrogation, you know.’
I don’t have time for this.
‘Can you please just explain?’
‘Fine. It said he wanted to find out who murdered his son, Michael, and who left that note in his garage. He still had it, you know? That note. Anyway, I met him in the park that night and he looked a mess, it was clear to me he was desperate. He was unshaven and hadn’t washed. He told me he’d exhausted all avenues and I was his only hope. He told me about the business he couldn’t get out of, said his line of work was the reason Michael was killed and he blamed himself for what happened. So I decided to help him.’
‘He never showed any signs of problems when I saw him. I mean, I knew he wanted the man who did it, but I never thought he was so obsessed. I remember when it happened. He called me. Lucy wanted nothing more to do with him. He’d lost his only son and almost lost his daughter. The babysitter died too, you know. He was devastated and blamed himself like you said. I let him stay with me until he picked his feet up but since he moved out of my apartment, he just seemed like always, never mentioning it. Lucy agreed to let him see Chloe, which made him happier. Just wish he’d told me.’
‘Not to cause offence, but perhaps you weren’t looking.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Bill took another sip. ‘I mean, the signs must have been there to see, you just missed them.’
She looked away from him. ‘If they were there, I’d have seen them.’
‘All right, you knew him better than I did. Perhaps he was a closet broken man, as it were,’ he said with a smile.
‘Is that a fucking joke?’
‘Meant nothing by it.’
She sat back, watching him. ‘So what did you find out?’
‘Not a lot to be honest. I didn’t know where to start.’
‘Yeah, I know the feeling.’
Bill finished his coffee and leaned back to mirror her. ‘Do you remember a few years ago when an Asian man was shot in the head with a revolver in his apartment in the Amber Heights building?’
‘Sure. I mean I heard of it.’
‘It’s OK, missy. I know what happened with Freddie that night. I also know that the same person who shot the Asian could have been the same person who shot Freddie. The case was never solved and he was found with a hole in his head, too. Now I think about it, the revolver gives it away.’
‘How do you know Freddie was shot with a revolver?’
‘My old colleague told me. I mentioned it to you back at my office.’
‘How do you know the Asian was?’
‘Heard it on the news back then.’
She didn’t believe a word, but went along with it. ‘Michael was so long ago, do you think the same person has been following Freddie all these years?’
‘Certainly looks that way.’
‘Got any leads?’
‘Now we’ve kinda linked Wong and Freddie together, we should take a look at the security tapes from the apartment block the night Wong was shot.’
‘What? There’s a tape?’
‘Yeah, there’s a small dome camera hidden above the door of Amber Heights. They’re all over the city. The people living there can’t watch it or anything, but it’s there, you know, for security.’
‘Where’s the tape?’
‘Probably in the security office that monitors the apartments I reckon,’ he said, smiling, trying to lighten the mood. ‘That would be a couple of blocks away. They monitor all of the cameras, including street cameras. Just so happens I know the security guard who works there and he likes to help me, makes him feel like a cop. Fancy a drive?’
‘I’d prefer to go alone.’ She stood up. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘Won’t get anywhere without me, Val.’
She stopped. He was right. As much as she didn’t want to be around him, she needed him. She sighed. ‘Fine. Can we go?’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At Lucy’s building, Detective Baker left an officer in the parking lot to keep watch just in case she made a run for it. Having been informed of Lucy’s loss four years ago, he figured she had the perfect motive for murder.
On the other hand, if she hadn’t found out about Freddie’s death he didn’t want her to feel crowded when breaking the news to her.
He made it inside the building after catching the door of someone exiting the building, finding her apartment on the seventh floor.
He knocked.
Nobody answered.
He knocked again, harder this time.
Still no answer.
She’s on the run.
With a sigh, he reached into his pocket for a card to slide under her door when a neighbour came out of her apartment. She was overweight with frizzy greying hair and he placed her in her fifties.
‘I help you with something?’ she asked.
‘Do you know where the tenant is?’
‘Yeah. Who are you?’
He showed her his badge. ‘Detective Baker, Southbrook P.D.’
A grin beamed across her face like she’d won the lottery. ‘She took her kid to kindergarten. You here about the noise this morning?’ she asked, folding her arms and leaning against the wall ready for any gossip she could get her hands on.
‘What noise?’
‘Some shouting in the early hours. Woke me up and I don’t sleep well anyway.’
Her gaze shifted passed Baker to a pretty, twenty something lady in tight fit blue jeans and a long, white jacket walking up to them.
‘Can I help you?’ the lady asked.
The neighbour disappeared back into her apartment leaving the door open slightly.
‘Are you Lucy Decker?’ asked Baker.
‘Yeah, traffic’s bad this time in a morning, you know,’ she said with a smile. ‘Who are you?’
‘Detective Baker.’ He showed her his badge. ‘May I come in?’
Her smile vanished. ‘Sure’. She unlocked the door and walked in.
Baker followed.
She picked up the few toys from the floor. ‘You want a drink?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘OK then, shall we talk?’
‘I think you should sit down.’
Shaking with a mixture of emotion, she took a seat.
Baker sat opposite her.
‘Do you mind telling me what the commotion was this morning?’
Lucy frowned, glaring at the connecting wall between her and her neighbour. ‘Did she tell you that?’
‘Can you answer the question please?’
‘It was my sister. Nothing special. Do you mind telling me why you’re here?’
‘All right, Lucy. I have some bad news.’
‘It’s Freddie isn’t it?’ She stood up. ‘I should have known. He never misses a chance to see Chloe.’
‘His body was found this morning by Father McGregor.’
Baker had seen it a thousand times before – the lack of reaction, the lips quivering before falling onto a chair or the floor. The mind can’t absorb this kind of thing in one go. It takes time.
‘What? Why?’ she asked.
‘We intend to find out why. The body has been taken to our morgue and we need you to identify him.’
‘He can’t be dead.’
‘Look, I know this is difficult, but it needs to be done.’
Her eyes surrendered to the unyielding tears.
Baker passed her a tissue.
‘How did it happen?’
‘Can you please just come with me?’
‘No,’ she shouted, getting back to her feet. ‘Tell me what happened, or I’m going nowhere.’
Baker stood up with her, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘He was found tied to a cross this morning after being shot. I will give you a moment then I need you to come with me to the morgue.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
With her arms folded defensively, Valerie walked with Bill, who was relaxed and strong with a straight posture and square shoulders, oozing confidence. They were heading back to his office to collect his car before moving on to the security hub.
Valerie looked at him, trying to work him out. She didn’t want to tell him about Jackson, preferring to go it alone. Hanging around with a private detective wasn’t something she wanted to advertise.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ he asked. ‘Something on your mind?’
Without answering, she walked on.
People of all shapes and sizes walked by, many of whom stressed by the whole Christmas experience. Valerie couldn’t understand it. Among religious beliefs, Christmas, as she saw it, was supposed to be about family, yet all it seemed to her these days was a commercial enterprise designed to make people part ways with money. Sometimes vast amounts of money. She was being harsh, she knew that, putting it down to the lack of many happy Christmases as a child, or not having someone herself to lavish with love.