After the Rain

by Philip Cox

  ‘So Steve was with the two of you all evening?’

  ‘No, while we were up at the park, he called Adam and said he had some work to finish off. From that convention, he said; so he would grab something to eat here and meet us at Shots later.

  ‘So, after we were done at EPCOT, we rode back down this way, and met Billy and the others at the diner.’

  ‘Is that diner somewhere you go regularly?’ Ben finished up his coffee.

  ‘Now and again. The food there’s good, but it gets busy and there are other places more local. We all had some food there, then all rode back down to Shots, where Steve was waiting.’

  ‘I take it Steve went by car. You all had bikes?’

  ‘We did. We all have, though Adam rode with me.’

  ‘So, in the bar, we saw you all talking. All the others eventually went over to play pool, leaving you and Adam.’

  She nodded.

  ‘We saw the two of you disappear. Where did you go?’

  She looked embarrassed again. ‘We were left on our own. Adam suggested we went outside –’

  ‘For a shag?’ asked Craig.

  ‘For a -?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, you’d not had sex for at least a few hours,’ explained Ben. ‘That’s what Craig meant.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ she admitted.

  ‘My brother,’ said Craig, raising his hands in mock surrender.

  ‘Well, I went out first. I needed the restroom, and we arranged to meet outside. He said he was going to let Steve know to make his own way back here.’

  ‘So you met him outside?’

  ‘Not right outside. When I’d finished in the restroom, I went outside. It was a warm night, and there was a crowd of about ten or twelve outside.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘Round the back of the building there’s an old shed. Harry keeps junk in there, but it’s quite dark and secluded.’

  ‘An old shed,’ said Craig. ‘Classy.’

  ‘Well, after we’d done, Adam said he could take me back home after all. Steve was well into his pool game and was happy to take a cab here.’

  ‘Why home? Why not here?’

  ‘My mom and stepfather were away for a few days so I had the place to myself. So Adam said he’d drive me home. ‘

  ‘I take it he stayed over?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not this time. He stayed for about an hour or so, then got up, and left. Said he would see me the next day, and we could pick up my bike then.’

  ‘Why didn’t he stay longer?’ asked Craig.

  ‘He said he hadn’t seen Steve for a few days and wanted to catch up. I didn’t mind – I was tired anyhow.’

  ‘And the next day?’

  ‘He hadn’t shown by late morning. I called him, but he went to voicemail. Then later in the afternoon, Steve called me and asked if Adam was there. I said he wasn’t, and he told me that he hadn’t come back here.’

  ‘And that was the last you saw of him?’

  ‘U-huh.’ She was beginning to get upset.

  ‘I think we’re all getting tired,’ said Ben. ‘But can you just tell me why you think his disappearance is down to you, and why you think he’s dead? And what’s the rain got to do with it?’

  ‘After that first night at the bar, I could overhear Jared and Scott talking about Adam and about how much money he seemed to have.’

  ‘He was flashing his wallet about?’ said Craig. ‘Again?’

  ‘Yeah, he was. And I noticed at lunchtime it was full of cards and bills.’

  ‘So you think his disappearance had something to do with that?’ Ben asked. ‘But what do Billy and the others have to do with it?’

  ‘It was the way they were talking,’ she said. ‘And when the police did come round to ask about Adam, Billy told me to tell them only what he had told me to.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Just about the pool game and how he dropped me off and left.’

  ‘Do you always do what Billy tells you?’ asked Craig. ‘Oh, I forgot, something nasty might happen otherwise. That’s when Billy’s not disappearing himself.’

  ‘He said my grandmother might have an accident when she’s home alone.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Sorry,’ Ben said quietly. ‘What about the rain, then? You said it’s too late because of the rain.’

  ‘It’s something Billy said once. It’s dry here in the summer, as you must know. A good place to hide something.’

  ‘A body, you mean?’ said Craig.

  She didn’t need to answer. ‘A good place is in the swamps. But in the dry season, they’re shallow and things don’t always sink properly and get found. But when the rainy season starts, they fill up quickly and are quite deep. So it’s easy to hide – anything – then. By the time the gators and other animals are done with it, and the water level falls again, there’s nothing left. So Billy said the best time to hide Adam’s body is after the rain. Sorry.’ She spoke the last word to Craig.

  ‘Where on earth did he get that idea from?’ Craig scoffed. ‘Never heard of that one before.’

  ‘When Billy told us that he laughed and said he had a technical adviser.’

  ‘What did he mean by that? Ben asked.

  She shook her head once more. ‘Like I told you: you learn not to question Billy.’

  Craig stood up. ‘Well, I’m very tired. Why don’t you stay over, and we’ll carry on tomorrow. You could sleep on the sofa here.’

  ‘No way,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll sleep here. You take my bed.’

  ‘In there?’ Stacey looked over to the bedroom.

  ‘Be better than the sofa,’ said Ben cheerfully.

  ‘No, I’d rather not, not in there,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to decide,’ said Craig, clearly in a hurry to go to bed. ‘See you guys in the morning. In a few hours,’ he added.

  ‘Was that where you and Adam - ?’ Ben asked when Craig had gone.

  She nodded. ‘Out here would be fine.’

  ‘If you say so. Take this shirt. I’ll wear something else.’ He took off his tee shirt and tossed it to her.

  ‘Good night, then,’ she said, as she waited for him to go before she took off the towel.

  ‘Sorry, good night.’

  Ben switched off the light and left Stacey alone. Climbing in to bed he yawned and lay down. As he drifted off to sleep, all was quiet. There was no sound from outside, and the apartment was silent apart from the gentle hum of the fridge and the air conditioning. And the quiet sobbing. Ben frowned: he couldn’t make out whether the sobbing was coming from the lounge or through the wall from Craig’s room.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  DESPITE HIS OWN exhaustion, Ben craned his neck in bed to try to ascertain where the sobbing came from. Not that it really mattered. If it was Craig, then it was no wonder, given the rollercoaster ride of the past few days. The yes he is, no he isn’t game that fate seemed intent on playing with him. He recalled Craig’s reaction the other night when Lieutenant Sanchez called to say a body had been found. He also recalled his reaction when it transpired it was not his brother’s body. And now Stacey announces that Adam is in fact dead, or at least she thinks he is. And now that it is raining, it is the time for someone to hide the body in a swollen swamp. If the body of any of his family were in a swamp being torn apart by alligators, caymans, or whatever else lives in the wild down here, he would be upset too.

  And what about Stacey? Corinne Stacey Garcia. Still something of an enigma, even from when they first saw her in Shots. It is true that hindsight is a wonderful thing, but wasn’t it obviously Stacey on the CCTV with Adam? Why hadn’t they recognised her? And in the car earlier that evening, things were going so well: what was the text message she got that freaked her out so? And if she is so upset about what happened to Adam, from what she started in the car she had recovered pretty quickly.

  He wriggled in bed to get himself more comfortable. Lying on his back, he lifted his arms back so his head reste
d on his hands, and tried to think through this whole affair. Adam – Mister God’s Gift, in his brother’s words – turns up, clearly out to impress a young waitress who probably hasn’t ever left Florida with his good looks, designer tan, and wallet full of cash. Pisses off – probably deliberately – four local guys who, Ben guessed, had designs on Stacey themselves. Then vanishes without a trace. The police have had no success, in spite of pursuing their normal enquiries. What did that mean, anyway? Whenever they try to call Sanchez, she is always either out of town on business or investigating something with greater priority. And that idiot McGee - clearly of the far right in political terms. Clearly he disapproves of Craig and his lifestyle; Ben wondered if he would do the same about Adam’s: clearly heterosexual but indubitably hedonistic; asking for disapproval especially from a foreigner. That’s what’s happening: Sanchez has other fish to fry, maybe looking for a promotion, and McGee is sitting on it as he’s a disapproving Nazi. Ben smirked: he was beginning to sound like Craig.

  If it was just a case of Adam disappearing, then to a certain extent, Ben could see what had happened. The four homeboys, pissed off at Adam and his wallet and their effect on Their Property Stacey, jumped on Adam one dark night, beat him up and sent him on his way. Not unlike what they had done, or tried to do with him and Craig. But it was the withdrawal from Adam’s credit card that swung it for Ben; this was more than just a warning beating that might have gone wrong. Especially when one of the four worked in the bank where the fraud happened, and actually did the transaction. And was the fact that this Bobby Chin seemed to be a computer freak who writes his own programs be related to the fact that Adam’s email account had been hacked into?

  And that was another thing: the activity on the account after Adam had vanished was so inconsequential, so routine; what was the point of doing it? And if you are so good on a computer, why not clear out Adam’s accounts online?

  So many questions still, Ben thought as he finally drifted off to sleep. Before his eyes finally closed, he noticed that the sobbing had stopped.

  *****

  Later that night, Ben was in the supermarket. He had no idea what he had come in for. This was not his usual store, as since his break-up he would call into the little corner shop down the road from his flat. Mr Patel and his wife normally stocked all Ben’s requirements. That was all he needed, together with his 750W microwave.

  Today though, he was carrying a basket of assorted vegetables, some of which he did not recognise, apples, pears, a French loaf and two bottles of red wine. He made his way to the checkout. Whilst waiting he also took a small bar of chocolate from the small stand by the checkout queue. The customer in front had just loaded his items onto the conveyor belt. The cashier scanned them all, and rang up the total. ‘Fifteen thousand dollars, please,’ she said. The customer in front took off his black crash helmet, and Ben saw it was in fact a girl, long dark hair falling down, now she had taken the helmet off. She got her purse out of her pocket and took out a huge wad of dollar bills. After counting fifteen out to the cashier, she looked at Ben and smiled. It was Stacey. She smiled at him. ‘It’ll be raining soon,’ she said.

  *****

  He was about to answer when the customer behind started shaking him by the shoulder. He turned round to see who it was and looked up at Craig who was standing over his bed.

  ‘Wake up, Ben! Wake up!’ Craig was saying, still shaking Ben’s shoulder.

  Ben sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He looked around the room; it was bathed in daylight. The clock said 9:46. ‘What’s up?’ he slurred, still waking up.

  ‘It’s Stacey,’ Craig said, sitting on the bed.

  ‘Stacey?’ Ben had awoken some more and now remembered bringing Stacey back here in the rain and leaving her on the sofa when he went to bed. ‘Oh, yes. Is she awake yet?’

  ‘I should say so,’ replied Craig, standing up. ‘She’s gone.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  BEN LEAPT OUT of bed and rushed into the lounge. Sure enough, the sofa was empty. The tee shirt he had lent her last night was lying across the sofa arm, neatly folded.

  ‘I checked on the balcony,’ Craig said. ‘Her clothes are all gone.’

  ‘I didn’t hear her go,’ said Ben looking around the lounge.

  ‘Me neither,’ Craig added.

  ‘She must have called for a cab,’ Ben said. ‘Her bike’s still at the bar.’

  ‘Bitch!’ said Craig. ‘Do you know where she lives?’

  ‘No, but I guess she’ll be at the bar tonight.’

  ‘No guarantees.’ Craig rubbed his chin. ‘We really need to find where the cab took her.’

  ‘Surely she would have used her own phone,’ Ben said as Craig pressed redial on the landline. He listened to the message, pulled a face, and then put the phone down.

  ‘Yeah. Worth a shot, though. Might have been low on credit, or battery.’ He cocked his head. ‘I know, stay here,’ he said, and ran out of the apartment.

  Ben scratched his head. ‘So you’re going to run after her,’ he muttered. He wandered over to the lounge window and looked down. Craig, still in the shirt and shorts he wore to bed was running across the lawn at the front of the building.

  ‘Clever sod,’ said Ben as he saw Craig run up to the man in overalls running a motor mower over the lawn. They spoke for a few moments, and Craig ran back, waving at the gardener.

  Momentarily, he was back in the apartment, out of breath. ‘Got it,’ he puffed. ‘She left about six this morning, in an orange cab.’

  ‘It was definitely her?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Well, the gardener saw a small figure with hair like hers dressed like she was last night climbing into an orange cab at six this morning, just as he was starting work. Now statistically -’

  Ben held his hands up. ‘Yeah, okay, okay, I get the point. Now we just need to find which taxi company runs orange cabs.’

  Craig went over to the sink and rummaged in a drawer. He walked over to Ben with a business card. He held it up so Ben could read it. Florida Orange Cabs. www.floridaorangecabs.com ☎ 555-CALL ORANGE. ‘Why don’t you give them a call,’ he said, ‘while I get dressed?’

  ‘Right you are.’ Ben took the card and while Craig disappeared to get dressed he dialled the number. An accented voice answered the phone.

  ‘Hillo, Orenge Cebs.’

  ‘Hi, I wonder if you could give me some information, please.’

  ‘Hillo, Orenge Cebs.’

  ‘No, I don’t want a cab; I just need to speak about a fare you took earlier this morning.’

  ‘Ya nye panimayu.’

  Ben swore and hung up.

  Craig appeared, fully dressed. ‘Did you get through? What did they say?’

  Ben threw the phone down onto the table. ‘Got through all right, but couldn’t make myself understood. No idea what language they were speaking. Russian, maybe.’

  ‘Could be. I’ll get up their website, and we can see where they are. I have a feeling they’re based in town; can recall seeing lots of orange cabs near the bus depot. Why don’t you get dressed yourself, then we can head off. Pick up a drive thru breakfast.’

  Ten minutes later, Ben was driving them into town. Craig was right: the cab firm was based near the bus depot, and they only had a ten minute journey.

  ‘Even if that person you spoke to doesn’t understand us, we should be able to find somebody, a driver maybe, there who does. Then we can find out where they took Stacey.’

  ‘We’ll have to find the driver first, though.’

  ‘Not necessarily. If she phoned for the cab, they would have probably asked where she needed to go. Otherwise yes, we will need to find the driver.’

  ‘Can’t believe she couldn’t understand me,’ muttered Ben. ‘How the hell do they get business otherwise?’

  ‘Perhaps they rely on the Russian community,’ suggested Craig.

  ‘Is there a Russian community here?’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea. Niet.’


  ‘You seem quite cheery this morning,’ said Ben, as they waited at a stop light. ‘You know, after what she told us last night.’

  Craig shook his head. ‘Have to be, mate. Still no evidence of what’s happened to him. I have to believe that until we see a body.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope you’re right. Hold on, just got an idea.’ Ben glanced over his shoulder, quickly changed lanes, and made an unexpected left turn.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Craig sat up from where he had been slouching in his seat.

  ‘Just a very brief detour. Thought we could drive past Shots just to see if her bike’s still there.’

  ‘Would you recognise it?’

  ‘Possibly, if I saw it. But at this time of the morning, there’s no reason for any bikes to be there.’

  Just as they turned the corner into the street where the bar was, a figure rode past them in the opposite direction.

  ‘There she is!’ Craig exclaimed, jumping up in his seat.

  Ben braked sharply, instantly thanking God that there was no traffic behind him. He turned round in his seat and looked out of the back window at the motorcyclist disappearing round the corner.

  ‘No, I don’t think it was,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I remember now: hers is black and chrome, like that one, but her helmet is shaped differently.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Craig replied. ‘Let’s have a look in the car park then. I didn’t know you were such an expert on the shape of people’s helmets.’

  Grinning at Craig’s joke, Ben drove slowly up to the Shots driveway, and then made a left into the car park. Three cars were parked outside the shops next to the bar, but outside Shots itself, there were no vehicles. Except one.

  ‘Is that helmet the right shape?’ asked Craig pointing, as Ben drove slowly further into the car park.

  Craig was pointing at the bike stand in which they saw one solitary motorcycle, and the slight figure, dressed totally in black leathers, and a black crash helmet.

  ‘That’s her!’ said Ben, as he moved the car slightly further forward. He turned the engine off, and they both started to open their doors. The figure must have recognised the car, leapt onto the bike, and kick -started the engine. With a roar the bike shot away from the building, around Ben and Craig and out into the street. Another car, travelling past had to screech to a halt, and sound its horn as the bike veered round to the right and up the road.