The Killing Games

by Antony J Woodward

  Chris’ first thought upon clapping eyes on the drug-dealer was a worry that his bent detective had outted Chris’ involvement in the Fairy Killer murder. Yet, judging by the cheery disposition, it seemed that cat was not out of the bag yet.

  “I tried calling you…” Chris reminded pointedly.

  “Sorry, been a little busy…” Sam flicked a sharp gesture at Alexis briefly, she retreated inwards a fraction and went to hover near the door. She was dressed in a short black top and a little flash of bruises caught his attention. Dressed all in black like a funeral or like she wanted to disappear into the shadows at the first chance. “But the answer is no. I’m not taking my drugs back. Not yet anyway…”

  “I told you, if you don’t take it back I’m going to dispose of it.”

  “No you won’t…” Sam smiled. He adjusted the gold puffa jacket he was wearing, a look he had finished with grey joggers, branded trainers and a gold baseball cap. Cheap wannabe gangster personified.

  “Won’t I?” his expression made Sam question how sure he was of that supposed fact. Damn this kid was a slippery fuck…

  “You’re gonna store more for me, because you’re a friend…”

  “No I certainly am not…” Chris answered firmly.

  “Oh come on, we’re friends…”

  “Just because I was friends with your dead brother doesn’t mean we are…” Chris’ tone was a little sharp but he didn’t care. “I told you before I don’t want in on your little drug game, it‘s not my thing…”

  Sam’s arrogant smile faltered a little, “There’s something big about to go down in town, you wanna be on my side when it does…”

  What was he alluding to?

  “I still don’t want involving…” Chris stressed for what felt like the billionth time.

  “Too late for that Chrissy-boy, you’re already involved. And if you so much as touch those drugs, I’ll make sure you regret it. Even if I have to use your pretty little Auntie to do it…” he promised. The darkness to the promise chilled Chris a little, he meant it. While Chris was quite fine with the concept of collateral damage, he felt it wasn’t fair for his Aunt to be dragged into this. His patience with Le Bont was beginning to wear dangerously thin.

  “Fine. I’ll keep hold of your little package for a little longer. But as soon as your bullshit is over… You take it back. And I’m not storing any more… I won‘t be blackmailed, or coerced into anything. We will be done…” Chris vowed.

  “You sure you want out? You don’t even know what advantages I could give you. Nice girls, nice cars, good money…” the pitch was line perfect for the drug-peddler cliché.

  “Firstly, I’m not interested in pussy, or a pimpin’ ride. Secondly; I got more money in my account than you’ll ever see in your lifetime…” Chris was scathing with his mockery, “so when I tell you I’m not interested. I mean it. I’m not in. When your business is wrapped up, you collect your drugs and we are done…”

  Sam was frustrated that yet again Chris had refused him, but he knew it was pointless to argue. It was disappointing but he reckoned he’d have to write him off, despite being a potentially great addition to his gang.

  “Fine,” and with that Sam walked back towards the door, “I’m having a little house party tomorrow night, I’d be delighted if you could come.”

  “I’m busy…” Chris lied.

  “Then be un-busy, I need to be able to rely on your loyalty for a little longer…”

  And with that Sam left the studio, Alexis scurrying after him.

  Chris sighed to himself. Sweet Jesus this Le Bont did not give up! He was tired of being hounded and pressured into entering the drug trade. How many times did he need to refuse before he got the fucking hint? He turned for his phone with the intention of ringing Pierre but he found a text message he’d missed. It was from Alexis, it simply read; “I need your help.”

  It had been sent an hour or so ago.

  Help with what? Chris couldn’t help but wonder what she’d meant, even if he was pretty convinced he wanted to play no part in it. He wanted to cut Alexis and Samuel from his life as quickly and efficiently as he could. For he feared the longer he stayed in their orbit the more dangerous it became.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

  The house party was in full swing and Chris felt grossly uncomfortable. Beside him Pierre seemed to be feeling the same, he had only come along for moral support. Chris and Pierre had found a settee and perched themselves on it, trying to ignore the masses of students all trying to pretend this was fun. Chris didn’t know who’s house this was, but it was nicely decorated. It probably wouldn’t be by the end of the evening, he’d already spied a girl vomiting into a vase behind the curtain. The music was some electronic garbage that both Chris and Pierre were finding grating.

  “I’m off to find a loo…” Pierre whispered in his ear. He had dressed casually tonight, a plain zipped hoodie and jeans. Chris dressed similarly in a green hooded top, and black jeans. He’d tied his long hair into a ponytail upon his head. He was loathe to refer to it as a man-bun and would probably head-butt anybody who dared described it as such.

  He felt Pierre stand, the weight shifting from the settee. He then disappeared deeper into the house. He turned his attention to the warm punch in the plastic beaker. It tasted like shit, but he took a sip anyway. Anything to try and break the boredom. The party was chronically dull and tedious. He scanned the crowds again but still no Sam had arrived. Or any of his cronies for that matter. That struck him as odd. Where was the man of the hour?

  “Have you ever wanted to kill someone?” Alexis flopped against him on the settee. It was the first time she’d spoke to him properly since that unpleasant encounter on her doorstep. He slowly turned to her. She had tried to cover her black eye with foundation, but the effect was streaky and looked dam sight worse than if she‘d never bothered. Maybe she’d rubbed her eyes over the course of the evening?

  Her pupils were a little wide. Chris suspected she was under the influence of something.

  “Like how easy would it be?” she posed, but he wasn’t sure if she was being rhetorical. “Imagine if someone just… slipped backwards and cracked their head on a table… That’s it… done…”

  His eyes narrowed. It struck a little too close to the nerve.

  “Imagine if you just killed someone like that.”

  What was the point to this conversation?

  “Like your friend Aden Harrison… He did it right. Murder without the effort…”

  Ok, how did she know that? His suspicions spiked sharply, she knew an awful lot about his past. Stuff that she shouldn’t have known, unless she’d gone digging of course.

  “What are you trying to say Alexis?”

  She shrugged, then smirked to herself. “I dunno. Maybe that I wish I could kill someone that easily… Someone who deserves to die. Who’s a right piece of shit…”

  Chris felt she was trying to goad him, but he wasn’t gonna fall for that one, “Maybe just trust in karma?” he suggested politely.

  “You mean the whole ‘what goes around comes around‘? It’s a load of shit… People like him don’t face justice, they’re above it. They take good men like my father and they fucking kneecap him, they use him as a scapegoat. Set fire to him… Piss on him… People like him don‘t get their just deserts…” she trailed off.

  “Who are we referring to here?” Chris pushed her to name him.

  “Imagine if you killed him, all that power you could have…” she was rambling into space now, or was she? It was hard to tell what was an act with her.

  “Is this what you wanted help with?” he was referring to that text he’d never replied to.

  “It shouldn’t be a solo-sport should it. It’s always easier with someone to watch your back…”

  “Are you high again?” he shook his head. His opinion of Alexis had continued to sour and now he was getting tired of her broken routine. She wasn’t even entertaining as she landed on rock bottom. She
was just exhausting, bewildering and unavoidably disappointing.

  “Just imagine how powerful you would be, if you killed him…” she placed a hand on Chris’ arm and gave him the strangest of looks, “look at me. See what he’s capable of…”

  “I’m not saying you deserved it, but didn’t you fuck a guy just for drugs?” he wasn’t exonerating or forgiving anyone for domestic violence, but he was prepared to mirror Alexis’ own shitty decisions and actions back to her as she sat there throwing stones.

  She didn’t like it, her face puckered.

  “Y’know what Chris, fuck you…” she hissed.

  “Oh go fuck yourself Alexis, it’s probably the only person you haven’t fucked…” he sighed.

  She lifted her hand like she was going to slap him, but she didn’t.

  “I’ve been a good friend to you,” she stood sharply.

  Had she? He couldn’t think of a single instance where she had been a friend. If anything she had just been a train wreck complicating his life on the side. “When?” He challenged her.

  She didn’t have an answer but her eyes darkened. “You don’t wanna piss me off Christopher, I know all your dirty little fucking secrets. Fucking your half brother like an incestuous piece of shit…” she growled.

  He smiled like a snake and it threw her. “So you did your homework, clever girl…”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t piss me off when all it’d take is one little word and Samuel would know all about how involved you were with Jason’s death…”

  “You’re blackmailing me now? Trying to manipulate me into murdering your boyfriend?”

  “It’s what friends are for…” she hissed. He watched her as she stormed off, then he was alone on the sofa once more. He sat back and sighed deeply. She had just elevated herself from chronic irritation to a severe danger.

  How did she know all this? About Jesse, about Jason… How did she know it was Aden who had pushed Jason? He thought of the enigmatic school bully he’d slept with during the last months of Callinghurst. The bully who’d stepped in and accidentally killed Jason Le Bont in his stead. Why had Alexis gone digging into his past at all? And why did Alexis want Samuel dead? He didn’t know, but it all made him feel uneasy…

  He was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the party around him suddenly started thinning out. It wasn’t until the music cut out that he roused.

  He looked up and saw he was all alone in the lounge.

  A black male stepped into view. His cultural heritage was a little mixed, maybe an African ancestry. He was boyishly handsome, but Chris suspected he might be in about his late twenties. He was attired in a red shirt and black jeans. He had finished his look with a black tie, a black designer cap and dazzlingly white trainers. He had a strange swagger with every step. He was followed by a small pack of similarly attired black males.

  It was like the air in the room had suddenly changed.

  “Samuel Le Bont?!” The intruder called out emphatically, but he knew Sam wasn’t here. It was a show, a display for the dwindling partygoers.

  He slowly turned his attention to Chris sat on the settee still cradling a plastic cup of pinky-orange liquid. This long haired boy looked curious, but not concerned. The black male decided he would change that. Wasn’t this one of the new recruits?

  “Damn, I get an invite to the hottest party on the block!” the male threw a gold envelope on the coffee table at Chris’ knees, “and the main man isn’t even here!”

  Chris’ expression didn’t change.

  “But who are you pretty boy?” the male came close, pressing his face into Chris’. He was dismayed that the ‘pretty boy’ didn’t even flinch.

  “The name is Christopher,” Chris flatly answered.

  “Well I’m Xander,” and he extended a hand. Chris shook it. “So, what part of the operation are you? The fall guy? The bait?”

  “I don’t know what you mean…” Chris’ brow furrowed.

  “Oh come on, you’re part of Sam’s crew. That’s why you’re the host of this little party…”

  Now Chris understood why he was invited to this party. Xander was right, he was the bait. And because he’d not dispersed with the rest of the party he’d inadvertently identified himself as part of that plan. Damn Le Bont had played him.

  “I assure you I’m not…” Chris answered flatly.

  “Oh pretty boy, you’re shit at lying… Why you lying for him? He left you here, for me to find…” and with that Xander pulled a handgun out from the waistband of his jeans.

  “I don’t think you brought that sizeable piece for me… So you obviously came here because you want to kill Sam?” Chris paid no heed to the gun that was slowly working in towards his face.

  “I do, and you know… I always get what I want…” the gun was now pressed against his temple.

  “Is everything ok?” it was Pierre.

  Xander righted himself, removing the gun from Chris’ face.

  “Hey, no harm - just having fun.”

  “Good. Cos I hope you ain’t threatening my boyfriend…” Pierre warned firmly.

  “No no, course not!” Xander’s swagger dropped a little.

  “Come on Chris, we’re leaving…” Pierre gestured for Chris to come. Chris knew an escape route when he saw one, he rose softly and headed towards Pierre. He was hyper-aware of Xander’s eyes following his every move. Chris didn’t know what power Pierre had that made people bend around him, but he was pleased tonight. He didn’t fancy his chances against Xander and his goons.

  “You tell Sammy boy, that he’s as good as dead next time I see him… Fortune favours the bold, and his days are numbered.-”

  “-Boss, our warehouse has just been attacked…”

  Chris and Pierre were heading out of the door but they heard it. They shot one another a curious glance. What the fuck was going off here? Neither of them wanted to be around to find out.

  “What?!” Xander recoiled in disbelief, “OH! The fucking bastard!”

  And suddenly Chris understood what the point of the party was, it was to draw Xander out and attack his operations while he was distracted. Sam Le Bont had played not just Chris, but Xander too. He reached Pierre’s car as quickly as he could and the two of them drove off, back inside the house Xander exploded in a fit of rage. He smashed the lounge to pieces as he realised he’d just lost a colossal chunk of his drug stock. He’d been played like a fool!

  -------------------------------------

  Chris had tried ringing Samuel, but like always he got no response. He was now pacing the length of his bedroom, unable to sleep. Nearby in his bed, to Chris’ dismay, Pierre was sleeping peacefully, having stayed over after the party. Party, it was more of a trap than a party. And Chris had been played right into it.

  He wasn’t sure if that was what was aggravating him so much, the fact he had been played. He had been the player, he’d never been played.

  He paced back and forth, if he walked any faster he might have burnt tracks into the carpet as he did. The night was getting later and later, yet he didn’t feel any closer to sleep than he did hours ago.

  Alexis’ words came to mind. “Imagine if you killed him…”

  Then the threats she’d made. The blackmail she’d tried.

  Chris was that furious with both her and her shitty boyfriend that he had found himself fantasising about Samuel Le Bont’s grisly demise and Alexis’ along with it. He had already tried to form a plan that would rid himself of the bastards but nothing would come together. He was too angry, too emotional to plan. A first for the cold calculated killer he had once been. Emotions weren’t all they were cracked up to be it seemed.

  “Imagine if you killed him”. He would then be free, instead of wrapped up in this bullshit war over drugs. For a moment he thought of Xander, would Xander help him kill Le Bont?

  He stopped the train of thoughts with a full slam on the breaks. Was that viable? Sure the enemy of your enemy was a friend, but what happened whe
n then there was no enemy left? Would Chris be swapping one drug-dealer for another?

  Then his thoughts led to the detective Jean Dubois. The one in Sam’s pocket.

  Another one who knew too much and had Chris in a very precarious situation.

  Shit! To truly be free Chris would have to sort out the crooked detective too, and he was almost untouchable…!

  Damn… Why did he get drawn into this? He thought of the cocaine in his wardrobe, how he longed to flush that down the toilet. How he longed to punish Sam for playing him like that.

  Before he knew it he was tearing his wardrobe doors open, he dove for the package.

  It wasn’t there. He blinked, then swept the clothes lining the bottom of the wardrobe to the floor. It was missing! He turned and hit his light switch, it was blinding but as soon as his eyes adjusted he studied the wardrobe.

  “Babe?” It was Pierre, he was grimacing under the scrutiny of the light. His face melted into confusion as he witnessed his boyfriend tearing clothes from the wardrobe and throwing them to the floor.

  “It’s gone…” Chris cried.

  “What’s gone…”

  “The drugs…”

  Now Pierre woke up, he slowly sat up. “Sam’s drugs?”

  “It’s gone…” Chris stepped back in horror. Where the fuck had the package gone?

  Who had taken it? He felt panic claw itself up his throat.

  Even as Pierre’s arms slid around him, he couldn’t hold back the feelings of panic and desperation that bubbled up through him. The drugs were missing and he had no idea who had taken them. Sam was not going to be happy about this, it was going to be yet another complication in the mess. But the question was; who knew about the drugs? Who would want to take them from him?

  -----------------------------------------

  “C’mon babe…” Pierre tugged on his arm gently. The late night walk had been his suggestion, anything to try and shake Chris from his torrent of thoughts.