What Goes Around

by Rollins, Jack

  An idea bubbled away in Luke’s brain. Demi’s upset faded into the background as he turned over the possibilities. He didn’t like the idea, but it would get Kelly off his back. And he might get to keep the car after all.

  “Help me,” she whispered, pointing to the bottle.

  Luke poured another 5ml measure and pressed the cup into Demi’s trembling hand, guiding it to her lips. When she had swallowed the syrup and collapsed back onto the pillow, Luke waited with her as her eyes grew heavy and she slipped off into sleep.

  It was then he made his move. He raced down the stairs three at a time, then inspected the loops of keys on the hooks by the front door. He found one for the stables and a key labelled Tack Room. As he lifted the key, he heard a massive metallic thump. He thought, I hope that wasn’t my car! Then, his shrill car alarm sounded to confirm the worst. Luke almost tore the front door off its hinges as he flung it open and leapt out onto the gravel.

  He raised a hand to his mouth and cried out in anger as soon as his eyes fell upon his vehicle. A huge dent had appeared in the centre of the bonnet. “Who the fuck did this?” he shouted. “Who’s out here?” He pressed the button on his key fob to deactivate the alarm.

  Luke hurried around the house, finding nothing but empty garden and fields beyond. He returned to the car and looked around to see if any clues lay nearby. He expected to find a huge chunk of broken chimneypot, but there was no sign of what had damaged his car.

  “Fucking brilliant!” he muttered. His anger burned hot and bright, but he managed to return his attention to his main purpose and approached the stables. He accessed the tack room easily. It held a dusty assortment of saddles, bridles and stirrups, and in one corner he saw the sort of locker one might use in a garden, to store tools or a lawnmower. A brass padlock held the locker door closed. The smallest key on the loop opened the padlock and Luke pulled back the thick plastic doors to reveal the contents.

  Demi had not exaggerated. Luke guessed she had amassed about fifty half-litre bottles of oramorph in the locker. She really was worried they would take her precious pain relief away. He wondered if her pains were even real anymore. The jigsaw pieces began to slot together. The accident. Her love for that horse and her belief that it had sacrificed itself to save her. The pains that were no doubt real and intense enough to be prescribed some heavy duty relief. Her husband leaving her. Her ability to trim the amount of morphine she took in order to save it up in case they ever took it away from her. She was an addict, nothing more. A clever one with some level of control, but an addict nonetheless.

  In a moment, the phone was in his hand, Kelly’s contact details on the screen, and the tone was in his ear as the call went through.

  “John, it’s Luke.”

  “I bloody know that already. Your name came up.”

  “Whatever. Listen, is oramorph any use to you?”

  John went quiet for a few moments. “Some. Why?”

  “Some? How much? Is it any use to you or not?”

  “As it is, it doesn’t give a massive high, but I know some boys who’ll plug anything up their arses and they’ll have a fucking field day with the stuff. Why, like? Have you got your hands on a bottle?”

  “How much would you give me for a bottle?”

  “How big’s the bottle, and what’s the dosage?”

  Luke grabbed one of the cardboard boxes from the locker and inspected it. “Says here it’s five milligrams per ten millilitres and it’s a five-hundred-millilitre bottle.”

  The phone went silent as John did the mental arithmetic. “I’ll get a few quid for it, Luke, but it’s going to take a lot of that shit to clear what you owe me. Why the fuck are you bothering me about this?”

  “John, I’m looking at about fifty to sixty bottles of it here.”

  “Really? That’s a bit more interesting. And would you care to tell me how you’ve come by that amount of this stuff?”

  Luke proceeded to explain about Demi, the lonely woman on the moors, her morphine addiction and the stockpile she had built up.

  “If you’re doing this, Luke, you must be fucking desperate to pay me back. Now listen, you’re looking at about ten grand for fifty bottles, right? I’ll make more than that, but I have to split it right down to shots for these idiots to stick up their arses. That’s a half of what you owe gone. We’re still looking at the car and whatever else I can lay my hands on up there to clear the rest, yeah?”

  “What do you mean, ‘whatever else’?”

  “There’ll be some ket or something up there, I’ll bet. All sorts of interesting shit I can use on horse farms.”

  “But don’t hurt her. Just leave her alone, okay?”

  “What do you give a fuck, Luke? You called here, inviting me to burgle the place right underneath her. Anyway, what if I give her for free what you charge her money for?”

  “This is a joke, right, John?”

  John remained silent.

  “Tell me you’re fucking kidding me.”

  “What do you take me for?”

  “I know, but… don’t say things like that.” Luke’s legs felt like jelly as he stepped outside into the orange-grey moorland dusk. “The car – it’s got a right dent in the bonnet, John.”

  “Will it tap out?”

  “Probably.”

  Another pause. “Well, I’ll still take it.”

  “And what if there’s no ket?”

  “I’ll take a gamble on that. There’ll be something else I can take. She got any dogs?”

  “A little terrier thing. Yappy, but not big.”

  “When will her next carers come?”

  “They’ll be here shortly for half-an-hour, then not again until nine, gone again about ten, I think.”

  “Lovely. Stay up on the moors. You know that ruined church?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Park near that. I’ll meet you up there and you can give me the guided tour when we see the carers drive off.”

  ***

  Luke did as he was told and waited by the ruined church. Its stone skeleton appeared black against the darkening sky as the last shreds of orange sunset slipped behind the Cheviot hills in the west. He saw the carers approach – two cars, both with their headlamps on, racing along the track with no regard for the condition of their vehicles. They were probably rushed off their feet with dinnertime visits, with little time to get from one place to the next.

  He made a private joke to himself that he should stop them on their way back and give them some career advice, as he could be paid ten to fifteen times what they made in an hour and all they’d have to do is stop selling care and start selling themselves.

  This naturally led him to thoughts of his time with Demi. Rarely was he gripped by excitement as he fucked a new client, but she had been different. He enjoyed her. She looked good, she felt good, she tasted good. Under different circumstances, she might have been good for a relationship, but once they were a client, it was difficult to see a woman as anything else.

  The carers left after about twenty minutes at Demi’s place. It seemed to be a short visit, but he imagined that if she was doped up, her needs would be minimal. Then he wondered who had let them in. It was a brief wonder, as he realised they probably had the numerical code to open the gates without the need for help from the inside.

  The carers headed back for town on the road snaking off to the north, and they had barely slipped out of view before the lights of another two vehicles became visible.

  Luke shook his head in disgusted awe when he realised that John Kelly had brought two of his thugs and a black Ford Transit van. He climbed out of his car as Kelly did the same.

  “Jesus Christ, John. You planning on emptying her house?”

  “Hey, you never know what there might be in there, lad. Out here, these farmer types like an antique, you know?”

  Luke told Kelly about the problem he anticipated with the gate access.

  “She never gave you the code?” Kelly asked.
/>   “If she had, I wouldn’t be saying it’s a problem, would I?” Luke snapped.

  “Wind your fucking neck back in, you silly twat. I’m doing you a fucking favour taking this shit in lieu of payment. Speaking of which, giz a look at this bonnet.” Kelly stepped up to Luke’s Ford Focus, activating the torch on his iPhone. “Aye, that’ll tap out no bother. You didn’t fucking miss it, did you? Got a pretty good smack on you, eh?”

  “Miss it? I don’t know how the fuck it happened.” Luke stroked the metalwork. “Anyway, what about this gate?”

  Kelly pointed over his shoulder with a thumb aimed at the van and its two occupants. “They can get into anything, those two. I’ll be surprised if that lock will keep them out.” Kelly turned to face the men in the van and nodded to the passenger, who emerged from the vehicle rubbing his stubbly jaw as he walked around Luke to the Ford Focus. “Since the car’s mine now, he’s going to drive it. You can ride with me. I’ll drop you off when we’re done.”

  Luke’s face creased with concern. “I thought I was only showing you the way. I don’t want to be there while you knock the place off.”

  “Tough shit.” Kelly sneered and climbed into his car. “You think I’ll let you call the fucking coppers on me while I’m in the middle of the job? I don’t think so. Get in.”

  In minutes the vehicles idled outside the gate at Arion House as one of Kelly’s men worked on the console. It took less than a minute for the man to override the system and the gate swung open, allowing them access to the grounds.

  Kelly pulled his Subaru Legacy estate up outside the stables, stopping at the door Luke had told him led to the tack room. Kelly opened the car boot and withdrew his crowbar. He pried open the black wooden door with a quick and heavy downward jerk. Wood splintered and the locking mechanism tore out of the old door.

  “Follow me,” Kelly said.

  Luke stepped into the tack room with the loan shark. Behind him, Kelly’s men worked to breach the house.

  “Silly cow, how was plastic ever going to keep anyone out?” Kelly muttered, smashing the locker open.

  “I’m sure she didn’t expect anyone coming up here to rob her.”

  “And then she met you, eh?” Kelly snarled. He had a way of ensuring Luke could not distance himself from the crime, reminding him that he was not only an accomplice, but the mastermind behind the whole caper.

  “You’d better help me get this shit out into the car as quickly as possible.”

  They worked fast and lifted the boxed bottles of oramorph into the boot of the waiting Subaru. Kelly covered the packages with a thick grey blanket and slammed the boot shut. “Let’s get over to the house.”

  One of Kelly’s underlings, the grey-haired, moustachioed man who’d driven the van, stood in the front doorway. At his feet lay a pile of silver plates, Demi’s laptop, a blu-ray player and her forty-inch TV. “Mark’s upstairs,” the man said, stepping aside as Kelly entered the house.

  “He’d better not have hurt her,” Luke cried.

  Without warning, Kelly spun on his heels with the crowbar outstretched, striking Luke across the side of his head. A lightning flash of pain preceded a red shroud over Luke’s vision. His legs wobbled and he fell against the kitchen door, which opened upon impact. He hit the slate tiled floor with a heavy thump. As his consciousness faded, he caught a glimpse of something small and white beside his head, but before he could focus on it, all was blackness.

  ***

  Luke woke, cold and with the corners of objects jabbing into his arms and midriff. It took him a moment to realise he was in the back of the van surrounded by everything Kelly and his two accomplices had stolen from Arion House. He pressed his fingers to the left side of his head. Wet, sticky blood met his touch, and excruciating pain planted in him fears for the integrity of his skull.

  Sitting up, Luke heard footsteps crunching over the gravel and the voices of two men grumbling about the raw deal they’d received.

  “I don’t know why he gets to have all the fucking fun. I tied the bitch up.”

  “Always the fucking same. We get the sloppy seconds.”

  “Well, you can have the sloppy thirds, you old fart. I’m not stirring your fucking porridge for you!”

  Luke climbed to his feet and readied his fists, preparing to jump at the men as soon as they opened the doors.

  “What the fuck’s that?”

  “Is there an animal loose or something?”

  Luke couldn’t hear what had caught their attention from within the van, but he noticed that their footfalls moved away from his position. He crept to the doors and pulled the handle, hoping the men were too preoccupied to hear the judder of the door when the catch disengaged.

  He peered out into the darkness. Beams of torchlight cut across the gable end of Arion House as the men approached the rear of the property. Luke stepped down from the back of the van and left the door open in his wake, creeping to the cover afforded by Kelly’s car, which remained parked at the stable block.

  One of the men turned, flashing his torch back to the van doors. Luke kept his head down and waited for the light to pass once more before chancing another peek. He saw the two men disappear around the far corner of the house and considered calling the police. He checked his pockets for his mobile phone, but of course, they had taken that from him while he was unconscious.

  Luke rushed from the cover of the car to the front door. The house lights burned bright and Luke stepped inside with hesitation, placing his steps as carefully and quietly as possible. Kelly could be anywhere and would see him once he entered the light. He needed the element of surprise – there was no way he could overpower the man in a straight fight.

  As he passed the kitchen, he saw Rasputin sprawled on the floor, his tongue grey and limp and hanging from his head, which had been twisted around to face backwards. He saw a cordless telephone handset and considered using it to call the police, but the coward in him decided against it. What was he meant to say? I wanted us to rob her nicely? They made it nasty! He knew it wasn’t a wise choice if he valued his freedom.

  He instead grabbed a knife from the angled wooden block by the cooker and charged up the stairs.

  “I’m almost done here, wait your turn!” Kelly barked upon hearing his approach.

  “You’re done!” Luke cried, plunging the knife deep into the loan shark’s back. He felt the metal blade grind against bone.

  Kelly writhed, trying to reach for the knife handle.

  He slid off the bed, falling face first to the carpet, his bare backside pointing up to the ceiling.

  Demi lay still and silent on the bed. Her lips glistened with what at first Luke thought was semen, but he then noticed the empty bottle of oramorph next to her and realised he’d been fooled by her medication. The bottle hadn’t been full when he’d administered it to her earlier, but there had to have been about 400ml or so. He placed his ear over her mouth and could neither feel nor hear any breaths.

  He pulled the quilt to conceal all but her head, covering her bare legs and torn knickers and exposed breasts, which were bruised from rough handling. Hot tears burned down Luke’s cheeks as he considered the dead woman. I did this to you. You gave me money because you were lonely, and because I wanted more money, you’re dead.

  Luke’s tears were not solely for Demi. They were for himself, too. He was a murderer and an accomplice in a second murder, as well as a number of other charges that could be brought against him in this whole affair.

  He checked the clock and realised the carers would return soon. He might be able to flee the scene without issue, but he had no idea where his mobile phone was. He dragged Kelly clear of the bed and turned him over. The handle of the knife acted as a stand, propping Kelly up and keeping him from lying completely flat. Luke rifled through his pockets, finding Kelly’s phone and wallet but nothing else.

  That meant one of the two thugs outside had to have it. He rolled Kelly over once more. Pressing a foot into the small of th
e dead debt collector’s back to stabilise himself, he applied the great force required to break the vacuum within the wound and yanked the knife free of his spine.

  Luke crept out to the top of the stairs, straining his ears for sounds of anyone approaching. He glanced down the staircase, then found his attention drawn to the open doors of the ransacked spare bedrooms, one of which had been used as something of a studio for Demi’s sketching and painting. Sketches, charcoals and tubes of oil paint lay scattered across the carpet. Luke remembered the sketch she had made of him. Then he thought of the photograph, or photographs – he couldn’t be sure which it really was – she had taken of him. Not necessarily incriminating evidence, but certainly something to connect him to the place.

  Then of course, there was the record of the appointments she had made with him, and her social worker’s knowledge of the arrangement at the outset. No matter what happened, he would have questions to answer, but he could do his best to make those questions simpler and fewer by removing any traces of himself.

  Staying low, he tiptoed into the room, careful not to stand on the oils, which would split the tubes and cause him to leave a lovely set of footprints at a murder scene. He leafed through the scattered notebooks, working frantically, desperate to get out of the house, off the moor and back into town where he could at least have time to think up the next part of the plan.

  As his eyes flicked over every one of Demi’s lovingly rendered sketches, he saw many of various horses and ponies, but the ones that really stood out were the ones she had marked Conquistador XXX. Those sketches were so lifelike, so precise, that even the knowing look in the animal’s eye was captured there on paper. Luke had seen the look before. He knew those eyes. He had been in the presence of this horse more than once.

  Impossible, he thought. Conquistador is dead.

  In that moment, he heard a blood-curdling scream from outside. Grabbing the knife once more, Luke charged downstairs and made it to the kitchen door before he heard the scream again. He knew it was a man’s scream, and for one of those men Kelly had brought with him to be screaming, they must be terrified.