by Dan Clark
“Anything?” Barry asks.
She shakes her head. “Completely empty. Not a single web page showing that he’s visited lately.”
“He’s hiding his search results? Hmm, maybe there is something dodgy about him.”
Carolyn logs out and powers down the laptop. “Okay, let’s return it.”
“That’s it, then?”
“I don’t know what else I was hoping to find.”
Outside Patrick Sawhill’s cottage, Barry switches off the engine and they wait, watching for a light to show anywhere inside. The place looks just how they’d left it.
“There will be more chances,” he insists.
“Will there?” she asks, disappointed.
Barry then attempts to argue that he will return the laptop if Carolyn opens the door. She tells him that she knows exactly where the laptop was, and it’ll be much quicker and quieter to just let her go. Barry clearly doesn’t like this, but reluctantly accepts and agrees to wait outside the window.
Carolyn places the laptop back where she found it, watching carefully not to bump into the cut-out of David Beckham again. On the way out she notices a newspaper clipping on the inside glass of one of the pictures of the elderly woman. She takes a closer look and finds it to be an obituary. Again, at a loss and no idea where to go from here, she pulls out her phone and takes a picture. The flash frightens her. She prays it didn’t reach up the stairs.
Outside, Barry closes the window and they head for his van.
“I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’ll give you your money back tomorrow,” Carolyn promises, sighing deeply. “I was just really expecting to find more, you know.” She pulls out her phone and begins reading the message Jeanette had sent earlier.
Barry shrugs, concentrating on the road. “It’s fine. I don’t know what you expected to find on that computer either. The main thing is that we got in and out undetected. And you can keep the tenner.” He lifts his head and yawns.
“Well, if you won’t let me pay you back, at least let me buy you a drink tomorrow night. My mum messaged earlier asking if I wanted to go to The Red Fox Halloween party tomorrow night. Apparently, it’s a good night out.”
“I was already planning on asking if you wanted to go. I figured you wouldn’t want to stay in. You’re probably used to taking Ryan out Trick-or-Treating.”
“I won’t be doing that this year,” Carolyn sighs. “But yeah, I could do with a drink, after our failure this evening. I think we deserve one.”
Barry smiles. “Yeah, I agree.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
October 31st
Father Joseph insists that he won’t be drinking, and offers to drive Jeanette and Carolyn to The Red Fox for 7:30 pm, as Frank Lloyd has not yet returned Jeanette’s car.
Carolyn thinks back to what Father Joseph said at the fair in Fishguard, recalling that he’d said he had a drinking problem.
Father Joseph’s face is a mess, with red gashes across his cheeks and throat which are painted on with fake blood. He’s torn rips in the sleeves and across the chest of an old shirt. Jeanette tells Carolyn that he did the same last year too.
Carolyn isn’t in the mood for dressing up. She and Simon would usually head to a friend’s party after they’d taken Ryan Trick-or-Treating. Last year Simon went as the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz, and Carolyn as Dorothy. Tonight, though, she doesn’t want take part in any of this. She doesn’t want to have fun without Simon and Ryan.
She’d agreed to wear a simple masquerade mask that Jeanette picked up this morning while out shopping. The mask helps to hide the cut and bruising on her forehead from the incident with Owen Lloyd. At times, when sitting a certain way or walking, the bruise on her leg starts to hurt, and she needs to rest it or alter her position. Though she’s tried not to draw attention to it in front of Jeanette, her mother has already asked about the incident with the ‘fox’ a few too many times. “What else were you looking at? Not keeping your eyes on the road?” and “So it ran out in front of you, just like that? How big was it?”
Carolyn has kept to the same story: “Yes, the fox ran out in front of me. It wasn’t much bigger than an average-size cat. Barry found me down the ditch and called a tow truck to collect the car before rushing me to the hospital.”
Father Joseph wanders off once they get through the doors of The Red Fox, and Jeanette begins chatting with a short woman who holds a constant open-mouth smile and wide eyes. Carolyn heads for the only free table left, at the back and up a couple of steps. She sits, resting her elbows on the table as she keeps an eye open for Barry, as well as watching her mother mix with the people of Llanbedr. Jeanette laughs and welcomes people at the bar, pointing and discussing their costumes. Unlike Carolyn, Jeanette has always been good at making friends easily. At the moment, she is speaking to an extremely skinny man who is trying to look convincing in an Incredible Hulk costume.
Carolyn is gasping for a drink, a cold wine to secretly celebrate breaking into Patrick Sawhill’s home last night – and, of course, getting back out unnoticed. No one was hurt and no one is any the wiser. It also means no prison time, for which she is very grateful.
As Carolyn was lying in bed, with the night replaying over in her mind, she was sure she had missed something, something crucial. Carolyn hates the words ‘breaking into’. It makes her feel like a criminal, a petty thief, or drug addict looking for ways to support their habit. She much prefers ‘obtaining entry’.
Before leaving tonight, Carolyn had done a bit of digging on Facebook and other social media sites for Patrick Sawhill, but no results came back. The most she found was the address of P’s Party Accessories, and some outdated amateur pictures of the shop and its inventory.
Carolyn wishes desperately that she could discuss the shop owner with her mother, and get Jeanette’s opinion of him.
The internal voice would tell her to forget all about Patrick Sawhill and his laptop. But she can’t. She’s convinced there is something dodgy about those ledgers.
At some point last night, as she was thinking what the figures on the account could have referred to, she thought she had cracked it. It made sense to her and she was able to accept it and get some sleep. Now, though, she has come to the conclusion that it isn’t drug-related. The amounts weren’t high enough, and in any case what drug dealer accepts online payments and keeps a journal of his takings?
Carolyn debates going to the bar herself, but doesn’t want to lose the table, as the room is filled with more crowds of witches, zombie schoolgirls and superheroes. It really is going to be a busy night.
“You look tired,” Barry says.
Carolyn hadn’t seen him enter and make his way over to the table through the crowds, even though he is abnormally bulky.
She looks up and smiles at him. “Hi. You know what? I am tired, Barry. I couldn’t sleep last night. I must have managed two hours, maybe less. I couldn’t help but think we’ve missed something in those files.” She pulls out a stool next to her for Barry to sit on. He’s wearing brown trousers, a khaki-coloured shirt underneath a dark brown leather jacket, and a brown Fedora hat that matches the jacket. Carolyn examines his costume with a confused look in her eye.
“Really?” he says, sounding disappointed.
Carolyn doesn’t answer. She recognises the character, but still she can’t quite put her finger on it.
“I’m Indiana Jones,” Barry mutters, taking the seat.
Carolyn nods. “Ah, I get it now.” Not that she’s ever been a fan of the Indiana Jones films. They were more to Simon’s taste.
“Anyway… I was thinking about it too,” Barry says, taking off his Fedora and placing it on the table. “But we’re not going back there. What would happen if we’d got caught? Lisa would have made sure that I never see Amy again. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk tha—”
He is interrupted by Jeanette placing two glasses of wine down on the wobbly table, along with a Coke for Father Joseph.
“Hello,
I’m Jeanette, Carolyn’s mother. I love the Indiana Jones films.” Jeanette holds out her hand for Barry to shake. A smile grows on his face and he reaches for her hand. “Thank you. I thought it was an easy one myself, but Carolyn didn’t seem to know who I was.”
After arguing, he allows Jeanette to buy him a beer.
Carolyn can smell the aftershave he’s wearing. It’s sweet, and with a hint of ginger. It isn’t the same one he was wearing the other day, the one Simon used to have. This is more potent.
Father Joseph joins them and greets Barry before taking a seat next to Jeanette.
Carolyn finishes her wine before anyone else and heads for the bar, ignoring Father Joseph’s niggling eyes and humourless comments about her being thirsty, or to slow down.
On a shelf at the back of the bar Carolyn notices a bottle of Catena Malbec. It’s the same brand Simon would pick up on a Friday night, on his way home from work. They’d usually have a takeaway too, and when Ryan had gone to bed they’d open the bottle and watch a film.
Carolyn orders herself a glass, along with what Jeanette had been drinking, and another beer for Barry. Father Joseph doesn’t want another drink.
The place grows busier as Michael Jackson’s Thriller is playing for the third time since they arrived. It doesn’t stop people chanting and proceeding to the dance floor with their cringey dance moves. Carolyn makes it back to the table before the rush of people can sweep her away. A group of zombie cheerleaders sit to the left of them. Carolyn’s eyes meet Inspector Richard Williams’ gaze and they exchange half-hearted smiles. Williams downs the last of his pint and makes his way over to their table, almost stumbling on the step and falling into their drinks.
“Hi everyone. Hav… having a good night?” he asks, mumbling his words and burping. He has beer stains down the front of his beige shirt.
Everyone says hello back.
“Barry Cookson. I didn’t know you knew Jeanette,” Williams says.
“I do now, I guess. I’m here with Carolyn.”
Williams places his empty glass on the table and rests a sweaty palm on Father Joseph’s shoulder as if to stop himself from falling, then looks back to Barry.
“I hope she’s not filling your head with crazy things and that she’s keeping you out of trouble,” Williams says, looking from Barry to Carolyn, a smirk appearing at the corners of his mouth.
“I think she knows it was down to stress, Rich.” Father Joseph speaks for her, as if she is some mental patient unable to give an accurate reply without screaming nonsense and throwing shit at them. Carolyn’s fists tighten, and she can feel the immense urge to give Father Joseph and the drunken, red-faced Richard Williams, who knows nothing about what she saw down in that well, a good piece of her mind. Barry kicks her feet under the table. When she doesn’t take her stare away from the two men, he stands and grabs her hand.
“Let’s dance,” Barry says, pulling her over to the dance floor.
“I’m not in the mood for dancing, Barry,” she shouts as they make their way through a group of people on the dance floor and take a place next to a couple who are passionately kissing. The girl has her arms slumped around the boy’s neck.
“Neither am I. I hate dancing, if I’m being honest with you. But I could see how this was going to end.” Carolyn looks at him and raises her eyebrows, urging Barry to continue. “You would have taken a swing for either Richard Williams or for the priest, and neither is a good idea,” Barry admits, chuckling. “I can see how much this means to you… to find out what happened to those boys, but making more enemies… You don’t want that, Carolyn.” Barry holds onto Carolyn’s hands and forces her to lift them up in the air. The faces of the judging men begin to fade.
Back at the table, Barry and Carolyn take their seats. Richard Williams straightens, taking his weight from Father Joseph’s shoulder and asks if anyone wants a drink.
Nobody answers, as they obviously don’t want to give Williams a reason to sit with them.
“I think it’s my round, Rich. I’ll get them in,” Father Joseph says, standing and pushing his thick glasses up his nose. “Same again?”
Barry and Jeanette both nod to say yes.
“I’ll have a double vodka and Coke, please,” Carolyn says. She wonders if she is making a mistake; she has never been a fan of spirits, but she wants to make Father Joseph pay a little more than what her favourite wine costs. He acknowledges her order and walks away with his hand on Richard Williams’ back.
Two hours have passed, and the Halloween trivia quiz – mainly questions on horror movies and their soundtracks – has just finished. Carolyn is back to drinking wine; the one vodka and Coke Father Joseph had bought her was enough. She’d drunk it without grimacing, and had pretended to be enjoying it whenever his watchful eyes met hers.
Barry is at the bar, and Father Joseph is speaking to the quizmaster, while Jeanette has headed to the toilet. A man dressed as a zombie has been limping and dragging his foot behind him all night, groaning and staying in character. Carolyn watches as he struggles past her table, then her attention is caught by something she sees at the end of the bar.
A werewolf is sitting alone, looking in her direction. The mask – with a long snout, rubber teeth and big yellow eyes – covers the whole of the person’s face. Carolyn can’t say for sure that whoever is wearing the costume is in fact watching her. But the position of the body on the bar stool shows a direct line of sight towards where she is sitting. She looks away, bringing her attention instead to the group of zombie cheerleaders. One of them says something that must have been hilarious, as the whole table bursts out laughing.
Carolyn looks around at the other drinkers before glancing back towards the bar. The werewolf is sitting alone, not moving or chatting with anyone, not using a mobile, not bopping his or her head to the music.
All of a sudden she feels anxious, wary even. She tries to get Barry’s attention to see if he might know who it could be, but he’s standing at the front of the queue, and the bar is too noisy. There’s only one way to put her mind at ease, and that’s to strike up a conversation with the werewolf, and to confirm that she’s just being childish and paranoid. Surely it’s just an ordinary person in a costume.
The person wearing the costume looks down to their wrist before looking back up towards Carolyn. A large wristwatch with a thick red strap is poking out from their sleeve.
Carolyn stands and walks around the table. The werewolf also stands and swiftly exits through the side door. Thriller starts again, and the DJ announces it will be the last song of the night. The dance floor begins to flood with ghouls, vampires and inappropriately-dressed nurses.
Carolyn fights her way through the crowds.
“BARRY!” she shouts, pushing people out of her way. Pointy elbows and thick shoulders slap at her face and ribs. Legs knock at the tender side of her thigh. She pushes through. Reaching the side door is a struggle; getting outside seems almost impossible. People are rushing in to make the last song of the night, filling the narrow corridor. Carolyn bumps shoulders with a larger woman dressed as a biker; the woman has short hair and piercings on various parts of her face. The biker-looking woman frowns at her and stops dead. Carolyn turns away and heads on. Finally, she finds a gap and squeezes outside, trips off the small step and lands on her knees. The biker woman laughs from behind and heads indoors.
The werewolf is gone.
All that’s left in the cold October night is a group of non-dancing, poorly-dressed demons. They chuckle quietly and watch as Carolyn gets back to her feet, wiping the dirt from her knees. The luminance from the beer garden lights ends just shy of the wooden fence that surrounds the perimeter. Beyond the fence is fog and darkness.
Barry catches up outside, followed by Jeanette, who is swaying slightly.
“What’s going on?” Jeanette asks.
Carolyn looks at Barry before answering her mother. “I thought I was going to throw up.”
Jeanette laughs. “Well,
I’m ready to go home whenever you are. It’ll be closing soon anyway. They’ve already called Last Orders.” Jeanette turns and heads back inside in search of Father Joseph.
“So what really happened?” Barry asks.
“Somebody was watching me. Someone wearing a werewolf costume.”
“Are you sure?” Barry said, looking around the beer garden and stopping at the chuckling demons to his right. They stop laughing instantly.
“Yes, I’m sure. I was watching for a few minutes, and when I got up to head over to speak to the person, he or she ran out of the side door before all the people came pushing through.”
They go back inside. A glass of water rests on the bar where the werewolf had been sitting.
Who comes to a Halloween party alone and drinks water at the bar? Carolyn thinks.
Barry books himself a taxi and sees Jeanette, Father Joseph and Carolyn off outside to Father Joseph’s car as he waits.
At home, Carolyn, the less drunk of the two, walks Jeanette to her room after saying goodnight to Father Joseph. She walks back to lock the front door and spots an envelope on the mat with her boot print smeared across the front.
She picks it up and turns the envelope over.
The envelope has no address or stamp, and only a single name across the centre: Carolyn.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carolyn wakes to the clanging of pans coming from the kitchen. Jeanette is preparing breakfast, loudly.
Carolyn’s head throbs and her throat feels as dry as dust.
She flips the pillow and turns to face the wall, closing her eyes. She’s desperate for another hour of sleep, but as she feels herself slipping off, a memory from last night enters her mind and her eyes snap open. She remembers the person in the werewolf costume who had been watching her, and how they had coincidentally left in a hurry as she approached. Then she remembers the envelope that she had found on the doormat.