by Logan May
And a man with a baseball bat.
Lukas saw the bat coming in a window reflection. He ducked and yelled, ‘Hey! What the hell!’ The bat slapped into the brickwork, chipping off a chunk. Someone snarled a curse.
Scampering sideways, Lukas saw his attacker was short and chubby—he might have been related to Harry Upton—wearing a tee-shirt and large shorts that ridiculed his legs. His wide face was grimly determined, the bat raised for another blow.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Lukas asked him, edging further away.
‘Getting you, before you get me,’ the man cried in a thin voice. ‘I know why you’re here.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Lukas said, holding up his hands.
‘I don’t give a shit what you say. You’re trespassing anyway. I’m entitled to defend myself. If you just stand still I’ll... I’ll just break your legs or something. Sound fair?’
‘Or something?’
A woman’s voice piped from the house. ‘Just hit him, Mick. For Christ’s sake, stop fucking around!’
‘Shut up, Jules! I know what I’m doing.’ He said again to Lukas, ‘I’m allowed to defend myself. It says so on the internet.’
‘So am I,’ Lukas said and drew his gun, pointing it at the man’s head.
‘Shit, that’s not fair,’ Mick Shields said in a wounded voice. ‘I’ve only got this.’ He patted the bat.
‘You don’t bloody need it, put it down. I don’t know what you think I’m doing, but I’m only here looking for your wife’s damned cat.’
‘My what?’
‘Your wife’s bloody cat, okay? It’s missing.’
‘Esther? Why would she be here? This is bloody miles away from home.’ Mick lowered the bat.
Lukas figured it was safe to holster his Glock. ‘She reckons you’ve kidnapped the cat to demand a ransom.’
‘Why the hell would I do that? I’ve won the lottery.’ Mick turned pale. ‘Ah, I mean...’
Lukas stared at him. ‘Say that again?’
‘I—I won the lottery a few weeks ago... shit, I shouldn’t have said that.’ Mick slumped.
‘That’s why you left Barbara?’
A woman burst out of the house. She looked remarkably like Barbara Shields. She said quickly, running across the lawn, ‘When Mick says he won the lottery, he means me. I’m as good as winning any silly lottery.’ She went to Mick’s side. He dropped the bat to give her a hug, then they exchanged a telling glance.
Lukas said, ‘Yeah, and how much money?’
Mick looked sheepish. ‘Six hundred thousand bucks.’
‘So you want a divorce, before Barbara finds out you’ve got an extra 600K in your wallet?’
‘Well, there is that,’ Mick nodded. ‘Look, I never want to see her again, so I’m not going to do anything stupid like pinching the bloody cat, am I? Besides, the bastard’s a walking fur factory. You’ve seen that for yourself.’ He nodded at Lukas, who rubbed self-consciously at his cat hair-covered coat. ‘Who are you, anyway?’
‘Lukas Boston, I’m a private detective. Barbara’s hired me to find Esther. Who are you?’ He asked the woman.
‘Abigail,’ she said, grabbing at Mick possessively.
‘Are you Barbara’s sister?’ Lukas thought this might explain a few things.
‘Cheeky prick!’
Okay, apparently not.
‘You honestly haven’t got the cat here?’
Mick said, ‘It’s probably gone under a bus somewhere.’
Lukas didn’t say this had been his first theory, too. He sighed, ‘All right, I had to check.’ This had been a total waste of time and tyre rubber. Lukas considered apologising for the ruined lawn sprinkler and figured the baseball bat thing made them even. He turned to leave.
Mick said, ‘You won’t tell her about the money? I’ve already got every bastard I’ve ever known my entire life coming here and trying to get their hands on it somehow. For God’s sake, don’t tell her.’
Waving over his shoulder Lukas said, ‘No, let’s say you owe me one, okay?’
Lukas wasn’t serious. It was a force of habit.
Mick said uncertainly, ‘Fair enough, give me a call.’
‘What do you do?’ Lukas asked as he opened the gate.
‘I’m working for an undertaker, these days,’ Mick said.
‘Definitely useful,’ Lukas grunted.
*****
Lukas went home to change his clothes and remove the stench of cat’s piss and fur. He parked in the street, took the stairs two at a time and let himself inside where he got changed and bundled his clothes into a plastic bag. He briefly considered dumping them, before deciding against it. While he was still searching for Esther the probably-very-flat cat and risked future visits to Barbara Shield’s home, he’d need to own some “cat clothes”. He could ditch them at the end of the case.
It’s not a case, Lukas told himself. It’s a missing damned cat. He cursed Pete Goodall. It didn’t help.
Eating something might improve his mood. Lukas made a thick burger from two frozen beef patties, slices of cheese and a fried egg, washing it down with a can of coke and a cigarette. In all, his life-span was shortened by several months, but Lukas felt fortified enough to try another five-year old lead. There was somebody else Lukas knew who might have gotten a recent visit from Hucknall.
Stepping out of the building Lukas saw two men leaning on his car, waiting for him. Both were large, wearing dark suits and sunglasses, and instantly wary when Lukas appeared.
‘Looking for aliens?’ Lukas called, slowing down. ‘There’s a woman around here called Irene who is definitely from another planet. You should check her out.’
Reaching for his Glock wouldn’t be a good move. They’d be expecting it. Lukas’ eyes slid to the footpath, wondering if he should run for it—albeit a temporary solution since they knew where he lived. Still, these guys were fat and out-running them shouldn’t be hard. As long as nobody started shooting.
One of the men smiled sadly and wagged a finger at Lukas, knowing what he was thinking. Footsteps from behind told Lukas they were well prepared.
SEVEN
The back of the wooden chair cut into Lukas’ arms. His bound hands were pulled too tightly behind him. His feet were going slightly numb from the tape attaching his ankles to the chair legs. The blindfold stank of grease and engine oil. They’d taken off his jacket and shirt, supposedly to search him for weapons, but Lukas was bracing himself for something a whole lot more painful than cold hands on his bare chest. The air chilled him. It was the least of his worries, he knew.
A scuffling noise behind made him turn his head, then the blindfold was ripped off. Lukas blinked in a pale glow. Above him a single light swung from its cord throwing the rest of the room into complete darkness, but he could sense the emptiness of a large space. A disused garage or warehouse. He squinted up at the light even though it would ruin his sight more.
Lukas said to the gloom, ‘Come on, really? You’ve been watching too many movies.’
‘Shut your smart-arse face, if you want to stay alive. Besides, it’s one of them economy globes. The last electricity bill was a bastard.’
‘Oh, that makes perfect sense then,’ Lukas said.
The voice was familiar and Lukas tried to put a name to it. A man came closer into the circle of light.
‘Birdy Curran,’ Lukas said wearily. ‘What is it—parole, or did you escape from somewhere? Escape without nearly killing yourself this time, I mean.’
‘Parole for good behaviour,’ Curran told him. ‘Something you’re not going to see much of today, I can promise you that. Don’t forget, you still owe me for these, you bastard.’ He held up a left hand to reveal two amputated fingers.
‘I warned you not to bite your fingernails. You can hardly blame me.’
‘You might not feel so funny when I even up the score,’ Curran said, pretending to scissor off the missing fingers with his other hand. ‘Snip, snip and we’ll call it quits
, okay?’
Lukas was feeling a cold anxiety in his stomach. Birdy Curran was a small-time thug operating on a single brain cell, the kind of man capable of doing some very stupid things without thinking through the consequences—such as trying to climb a razor-wire fence when Lukas was chasing him, which accounted for the lack of fingers.
It also meant Curran just might start chopping into Lukas’ hand to satisfy some kind of twisted concept of revenge even though the man had panicked and run, then attempted to climb a fence designed to cut a man to shreds. It was hardly Lukas’ fault he left some body parts behind on the wire.
Unfortunately, commonsense wasn’t Birdy’s strong suite.
Lukas said carefully, ‘I don’t think your boss would like you doing that. If I wasn’t needed in one piece and fully functional, someone wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble.’
‘What makes you think I ain’t the boss?’ Curran shuffled nearer, angrily thrusting his beak-like face at Lukas. He resembled one of the chickens that Curran had looked after during his first prison stretch, earning him the nick-name.
‘Jesus, Birdy,’ Lukas turned his head away from a stench of foul breath. ‘Give me a break.’
‘How about I break your face?’ Curran punched Lukas hard in the belly.
Lukas strained to suck in air, whooping with the effort, the chair rocking. Finally he spat out, ‘Failed anatomy classes too, Birdy?’
Curran glared at him, trying to fathom the word. He grinned, figuring it out.
‘I couldn’t give a shit about any planets or the moon and crap, but you’ll be seeing stars soon enough,’ he said, enjoying his own joke.
Lukas sighed and gave Curran a disappointed look. Curran moved closer again, bunching his good fist. A soft, female voice came from the darkness.
‘That will do, Birdy. Leave him alone.’
Curran instantly stepped back. ‘I didn’t hurt him, miss. Just a little tap in his fat guts.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, Birdy,’ she said. Lukas was glad to hear her say this too, until she added, ‘That’s my job. I don’t want you spoiling my fun. Birdy, go and wait outside and make sure no one comes in. This needs to be a private conversation.’
‘Are you sure, miss? He’s a slippery prick, this one.’
‘I’ll be quite safe, Birdy.’
A phone began ringing. It was Lukas’, unless someone else in the world used the Macarena Song for a ringtone. One day he’d figure out how to change it—or maybe sleep again with the funny bitch who somehow permanently programmed it on his phone.
‘Sorry,’ he said to the darkness.
‘So you should be. Really? The Macarena song? Jesus… Birdy, answer that will you?’
Curran went to Lukas’ shirt and jacket on the floor, picked out his phone and took the call. Lukas winced at what might come.
‘This is Lukas Boston’s phone... no, sorry he ain’t taking any calls. He’s a bit tied up...’
‘Oh, you’re hilarious,’ Lukas hissed. Curran waved at him to be quiet.
‘A cat, you say? No, he hasn’t got no cat with him... a Persian? No, he’s got no rugs with him either. I once wrapped a bloke up in a nice Persian rug though... hang on, I’ll see if I can ask him.’ Curran pressed the phone to his chest. ‘Any progress finding this woman’s cat?’
‘No, nothing yet,’ Lukas said through his gritted teeth.
Curran told Barbara Shields grandly, ‘Investigations are on-going, but we’ve got some promising leads.’
‘No we haven’t, you cock!’ Lukas said.
‘I’ll pass on a message,’ Curran said, and broke the connection.
‘Why did you tell her that?’
‘That’s what you always say, right?’ Curran sounded hurt.
‘No, you fool. You don’t just say... oh, never mind.’
The woman said, ‘Time to leave, Birdy. Fly away and off you go.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m bloody sure.’ She was getting impatient.
Curran’s footsteps dragged away into the distance. A square of light briefly showed, a door opening in the side of the building, and Lukas got a quick glimpse of a large, empty warehouse with a raised, mezzanine office area against one huge wall. The door clanged shut.
‘I’m assuming you’re my host?’ he said. ‘Any chance of turning on the air conditioning. It’s freezing in here.’
Julie Monroe walked into the light and studied Lukas.
He studied her back. In particular the tight jeans and low-cut tank-top that revealed some very impressive bits of Julie Monroe indeed. Lukas wasn’t sure where to look—it was all excellent viewing. Her hair was cut in a short, boyish style and coloured white. Lukas wasn’t big on the latest hair styles, but he looked all the same. For all of about three seconds. Then his attention returned south.
‘My, haven’t you grown up,’ he said. The last time Lukas saw Julie Monroe was five years ago, a petulant 20-year old sulking in the corner of the Watch House after being arrested for possessing a few grams of cannabis. They’d let her stew for several hours, before dropping the charges and sending her away. Annoying the daughter of Chuckles Monroe with a trivial charge wasn’t worth the grief it might cause. Besides, there was more merit in the small favour of letting her go. Scoring points with her drug lord father.
‘And I’d hardly call you old or fat, Lukas Boston,’ she said, trickling her fingers over his midriff and smiling at him flinching. It gave Lukas a look down her top. She knew it, arching an eyebrow at his impudence.
‘He didn’t say old,’ Lukas told her.
‘He didn’t have to. You’re at least a hundred years old, aren’t you?’ She slid out of sight, circling around behind him.
‘I thought you weren’t going to torture me? That’s a cruel thing to say.’
‘No, I haven’t decided how much I’m going to hurt you yet. It depends on how well you behave.’ She came in front of him again. ‘I trust that Max gave you a comfortable ride here?’
‘Which one’s Max?’
‘The biggest one.’
‘He smells bad. At least, I think it was him, since they all stank.’
‘You don’t want your bodyguards smelling like lavender, right?’
‘Just any kind of soap would be a start. Say, once a month?’
‘Maybe I should use some to wash out your ungrateful mouth?’
They locked eyes for a moment. She broke the moment by bending forward and playfully touching the tip of his nose with her finger. ‘You’re funny. I like funny men.’
‘Okay, good. Before we have a big laugh together, let’s start with what you want, shall we?’ Lukas said, trying not to stare at her breasts again. It didn’t help they were right in front of his eyes.
She leaned tantalizingly close, her lips inches away from his. ‘Need I remind you that my father lost a lot of merchandise a few years ago? We’ve all but given up ever finding it, but a little bird told me you’re asking questions about certain people and I think you know something new. You’ve got some fresh clues, yes?’
‘A little bird? How the hell would he know anything?’
Julie frowned a moment. ‘No, not that little bird. Birdy’s a fucking idiot.’
‘Oh, then which little bird are we talking about?’
‘You don’t need to know.’
Lukas went through a mental list. The damned parole officer who told him where to find Grace Chadwick.
He said, ‘All right. You said “we’ve” almost given up on finding your dad’s missing goodies. I guess your twin brother is involved here? So, now that your dad’s dead, did you both inherit half each of this highly reputable, legitimate company?’
‘Don’t get too funny. My brother will be working for me. Raymond will do as he’s told, just like you.’ Julie disappeared again, doing another slow circle of the chair.
‘Really? Why would I do that? Aside, of course, from the fact you have me tied to a chair and you’re threatening me with
torture?’
Julie whispered into his ear, her breath sweet on his neck. ‘Because I’ll pay you very well.’
Lukas wasn’t expecting that. He’d thought it was more likely Birdy would be called back with his shearing scissors. Playing for time, he said, ‘This is your idea of a job interview?’
‘Would you have come otherwise?’
Good point, Lukas thought. ‘Seriously Julie, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t think it’d be appropriate for me to be on your payroll. What do you really want?’
‘Why not?’ She went behind him again and started massaging his neck, pressing her breasts into his shoulders. ‘It’s a straightforward business arrangement. I simply want to pay you for whatever information you find out. I’m not asking you to act on it or do anything illegal. Just pass on what you know. What’s the harm in that?’
An idea came to Lukas. Maybe he could use this to his advantage? ‘You’d have to tell me a few things too,’ he said. The shoulder massage felt good, distracting him. The breasts felt fantastic, getting the attention of something elsewhere on Lukas’ body.
‘What do you mean?’
‘There are a lot of questions I asked five years ago that nobody answered. Telling me now would go a long way towards solving a lot of puzzles much faster.’
There was a long silence, the massage stopped. Then Lukas heard the unmistakable sound of a switchblade knife being opened. Four inches of gleaming steel appeared in front of his eyes and slowly lowered towards his throat.
Julie said, ‘Let’s make a deal.’
‘Sure, whatever it is, I’m really interested—really interested,’ Lukas said.
The knife disappeared under his chin and touched the flesh there, the razor-like edge caressing his skin. Lukas felt the slightest sting as it effortlessly cut him slightly, drawing blood.
Then he felt the cable ties around his wrists parting.
Julie moved back in front of him, slowly got down on her knees, pushed his legs apart and knelt between them staring up at Lukas. Just as he was about to ask exactly what was going to happen next the switchblade sliced through the tape on his legs.