Flank Street

by A. J. Sendall

  ‘Something like that. You want a BLT?’

  The shower hissed loudly and she called above it, ‘With extra bacon and chilli sauce.’

  I could hear muffled words. It sounded as if she was enjoying it, and for a moment I considered joining her. Later, maybe.

  Room service said they would be fifteen minutes, so I sat back and flicked through the newspaper until Carol came out of the shower.

  Soon after, there was a knock on the door and room service delivered the food and coffee. It wasn’t that long since we’d eaten, but Carol had no trouble devouring the toasted sandwich. She sneered at the coffee, obviously preferring something thirty proof or above.

  The Plot

  We left the hotel at around eight o’clock, collected the Jag, and drove back to Pittwater. Hedges was just as I’d left him. I cut the tapes binding his hands and feet, pulled him up and shoved him into the bathroom. He groped around and found the toilet. When he stumbled back into the bedroom, I cut the tape from his mouth and eyes. He yelped like a kicked dog as I pulled the tape off his face, and then gulped down a bottle of water that I handed him.

  ‘Sit down, Barry. Relax. It’s nearly over.’ He blinked a few times, squinted at me, and then rubbed his red eyes.

  ‘What do you want?’ His voice was hoarse and laced with fear. He sat wearily and unsteadily on the side of the bed.

  ‘How much are you worth, Barry?’

  He looked confused, and then said, ‘Couple of million ... I suppose.’

  ‘That’s enough to go someplace warm and start again, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is that what you want? Money?’

  ‘No. I don’t want your money; you’re going to need all of that.’

  He looked up at me, his face a mask of confusion.

  ‘You see, you’ve won a special award for being an unconscionable arsehole. You get the opportunity to start again and live a decent life. Not many people are that lucky.’

  ‘Look, Mr... I’m sorry, I don’t know your name—or you. You must have the wrong person. I’m a—’

  ‘Like I said, you’re an arsehole. Now listen closely. In a short while you’re going to speak with Johno Brookes.’ He flinched at the name. ‘You’re going to apologise for trying to blackmail him, tell him you deeply regret it, and that you will take those regrets to the grave.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘I’ll kill you.’

  ‘So will fucking Brookes, if I say that.’

  ‘Yes, yes he will—if he catches you. But I’ve got you now, and if you don’t do as I say, I’ll tape you to that bed again and then set fire to the house. Be sensible, Barry, and this time tomorrow you’ll be on a plane to a new life in an exotic location. Alternatively, piss me around, and you’re crispy fried arsehole. It’s up to you. Finish your water.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  I moved in quickly and sapped him in the ribs. He doubled up and slipped to the floor. I taped his hands and feet, his eyes, and left the room.

  ‘How’s he doing?’ Carol asked when I walked into the lounge.

  ‘He’ll do as he’s told.’

  She was fidgeting, perhaps nervous, but my guess was excited.

  A few minutes later, she asked, ‘How much longer are we going to wait?’

  ‘Did you used to call Brookes at a specific time?’

  ‘I only called him twice. It was around nine or ten.’

  ‘What time is it now?’

  She checked her cell phone. ‘Ten to nine, so should we give it half an hour?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘How about fifteen minutes?’ she said eagerly.

  ‘No. Fuck it, let’s do it now.’

  A wide grin split her face. I knew my hunch about her being excited was correct; her eyes were wide, her lips full and parted. She almost jumped out of the chair until I raised a hand to stop her.

  ‘Stay calm and get into role.’

  She hard-eyed me for a few seconds and said, ‘Sure, Micky. You’re in control.’ It was patronising, predictable and seductive all at the same time. She was a master player and was in-role all the fucking time.

  ‘Do you remember your lines?’

  ‘Let’s go!’

  This time she was up before I could raise a hand. She snatched the phone from her pocket and waited for me at the foot of the stairs. I walked ahead of her, running the play through my mind as she reached out and squeezed my crotch.

  Hedges was sitting passively nursing his ribs. He jerked when I cut the tapes, slowly looked around. When he saw Carol, his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. He wanted to get up and slap her around.

  Carol made the call.

  ‘Hi, Johno, it’s Carol. Do you have the money ready? ... No, there’s nothing to talk about. It’s pay up or the gun goes to the jacks. ... I know you will; it’s a chance I’ll have to take.’

  She listened for a long time. Brookes ranted. I could hear the many ways he would find her and kill her, even from a few feet away.

  She took a deep breath and burst out with her lines. ‘Johno, it’s not me! He’s making me do it—Barry-fucking-Hedges—’

  I stepped in quickly and slapped her hard without warning. Her scream was real; the phone flew from her hand. I picked it up, grabbed Hedges, pushed the phone against his face and the muzzle of the Beretta against his temple. He spoke his lines perfectly, nervous as hell, ending with a threat to hand the gun over to the cops first thing in the morning if the two hundred large wasn’t paid as arranged. What a fall guy; he almost convinced me it was him all along.

  I ended the call as Brookes was coming up with new and creative ways to kill him, and then I taped his hands and feet again. He stared relentlessly at Carol, as if trying to piece together what had just blown his life apart. Her cheek was red and inflamed from the slap, yet she was smiling, with that look in her eye that said it hurt, but I enjoyed it.

  Hedges started babbling about letting him go, so I taped his mouth, but left his eyes uncovered and pushed him backward onto the bed. His eyes kept switching between Carol and the pistol I was holding.

  ‘Lay still, Barry, this will all be over before you know it.’ I walked towards the door, catching Carol’s arm on the way, guiding her out of the room and downstairs.

  ‘We did it, Micky, didn’t we?’ Hyped-up like a kid on a sugar-high.

  I pushed her into a seat. ‘Sit down and calm down. It’s not over yet by a long way.’

  ‘But Brookes bought it, he bought the story, and that’s the important part.’

  ‘We still have to deal with Hedges and get out clean. Save the celebrating till it’s done.’

  ‘But the hard part is over, right?’ Her eyes were wide and glossy, her lips moist, and a pulse beat high in her neck.

  ‘Depends how you feel about killing him.’

  Her look said it all. She’d never considered she might be the one pulling the trigger.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t play dumb, Carol. You’re in shit up to your ears—and out of options. I could shoot you now and still come out of this. You, on the other hand, have no moves left.’ I pulled the Beretta out of my pack, chambered a round, and said, ‘Do you know how to use it?’

  She reached out with her right hand. ‘Let me see.’

  ‘The safety’s on the left side: push it forward with your thumb.’

  ‘I know.’ She ejected the magazine and racked the round out of the chamber, let it fall to the floor, recovered it, and pushed it into the magazine, which she checked and palmed back into the handgrip. ‘Where are we going to do it?’

  ‘Upstairs, I guess. It makes no real difference.’

  She spun on her heel and took the stairs two at a time. There was a table between us. She was halfway up before I got to the first stair. I heard the rack, and two seconds later, a suppressed shot.

  When I ran into the bedroom, there was a thin plume of smoke rising from the pillow in her left hand and a growing pool of blood beside Barry
Hedges’ head. There was no question that he was dead; most of his forehead was missing. Alarm bells were ringing as the implications swirled through my head. Why was she so keen to kill him? Did she fear exposure by him? Did he have something to tell?

  ‘Nice job, Bonnie. What if I hadn’t finished with him? What if I needed more information?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About you, perhaps?’

  ‘What are you talking about? What do you think he knew about me?’

  I took the Beretta by the barrel. ‘Give me that.’

  ‘Come on, Micky, lighten up. I saved you the trouble of doing it.’

  ‘I don’t need saving by you, or anyone. I just saved you. Pack all your shit up and wait in the Audi.’

  She seemed drunk on euphoria. The adrenaline rush was obvious. I wondered if it was the first kill for her, her first time taking a life in cold blood. Her hand opened and released the gun. She stepped close and rubbed her moist lips across my cheek until they touched mine.

  I stepped back and caught her wrist. ‘Get packed up; we’re out of here in less than five.’

  She smiled in that same seductive way she’d used to hook me in the first place. Now I had two murder weapons, one that allegedly carried the prints of Johno Brookes, and the Beretta with Carol’s.

  I took a close look at Hedges. The bullet had entered at the base of the skull and exited the forehead, blowing most of it away. I guessed he’d been on his side when she shot him, as he was laying foetal. There was a fair amount of brain and blood spray on the wall eight feet away. I checked around that area and was in luck; the slug had buried in the plaster. I dug it out, dropped it in my pocket, and wrapped the Beretta in a piece of plastic dry-cleaner bag from the wardrobe.

  As soon as I got downstairs, I checked the Makarov was still in the backpack and dropped the pistol in beside it. There was no sign of Carol. I hoped she’d gone to the car as I’d told her and wasn’t doing something else stupid. I went down the hallway and through the access door. She was sitting in the driver’s seat listening to the radio.

  There was a can of mower fuel and the kerosene I’d bought. I just needed to create some kind of delayed igniter. Back in the kitchen, I found candles under the sink and took three to the lounge. Six sheets of newspaper rolled into tight tubes would form the fuses. I set the candles on plates, and tied two paper tubes to each about an inch from the top, allowing what I hoped would be an hour’s delay. Three independent igniters should guarantee success. I poured the petrol around the outer wall, put runs of kero between the wall and the candles. I took one last look around, lit them, and went to the garage.

  I opened the driver’s door of the Audi and pulled her out. ‘I’m driving. Get in the other side or stay here.’ She still had the fulfilled smile, the air of victory and satisfaction.

  I took one last, longing look at the XJ12, put the thought of it burning from my mind, and drove slowly down the drive.

  Back in the hotel suite, I went straight to the shower. She’d been chatty during the drive back, but got scant response. I let the hot water blast my face, not knowing why I was so pissed off with her, other than she’d jumped the gun, literally. It hadn’t made any difference, but it pissed me off that she’d been so reckless and killed him without checking. The upside was I now had leverage over her: prints on the Beretta. She didn’t know I’d recovered the slug—and never would.

  I shaved with one of those nasty disposables hotels supply, even when you’re paying eight hundred a night. For that money, I wanted a nubile young maid to straddle me and shave me with a straight razor.

  I wrapped a towel around myself and sat on the bed wondering what to say to her, how to play things. Before I found the words, she said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going to slap me like that?’

  ‘It was a surprise, just like you running up and killing him early.’

  ‘What difference did it make, Micky? We were going to kill him some time this evening. Why drag it out there when we can be back here relaxing?’

  She came and sat beside me, close, so our shoulders and thighs were touching, and handed me a glass of Scotch.

  ‘Was it your first time?’

  She laughed. ‘You make it sound as if I just lost my cherry.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘Yes. How do we play it from here?’

  I didn’t believe her. ‘We go see Brookes or Mitchell Friday night. Then we let this all cool down for a few weeks.’

  The smile left her face. ‘We? Waddaya mean, we?’

  ‘Did you think you were going to dodge that? Go into hiding maybe?’ She glanced around the room looking for inspiration, or another lie.

  ‘What if they don’t believe that story?’

  I shrugged. ‘I guess Ray’ll kill you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Slowly.’

  ‘You know, you can be a real prick at times.’

  ‘I know.’ I lit a cigarette and handed her the pack. ‘Get your story straight: be convincing without overdoing it. Maybe I’ll freshen up that slap-mark before we meet them. Pass me that ashtray beside you.’

  She laid it heavily in my lap and flicked ash. I could almost hear her brain whirring, spinning tales, running through strategies.

  ‘I know you’re right, Micky. I just get so frightened around those guys.’ The cold-blooded killer had been replaced with the helpless female, her thigh rubbing slowly against mine. ‘Where will we meet them?’

  ‘Wherever they say; I’ll try for Frankie’s, but it’s their call.’

  ‘Will you take the gun?’

  ‘We have to. It’s what this is all about. Brookes wants that gun back. I don’t like your chances if we turn up without it.’

  ‘I know, but I meant the other one: the Beretta.’

  ‘No way; if I arrive carrying heat, they’ll suspect something’s not right. The way I view it is this. I’ve just done a job for them. It didn’t turn out quite the way I, or they, expected. But I got a result, and I’ll tell them how it went down. Remember this.

  ‘Hedges made you steal the gun and make it look like a robbery to keep him square with Reed, saying he had irrefutable evidence you had murdered, and would hand it to the jacks if you didn’t, but would give you a fifty-thou escape fund if you did. You thought it was a gun Reed had used and he was going to sell it anonymously to Brookes, giving Brookes leverage over Reed, which you were all for. You conned me into doing it and then took the gun to Hedges. Instead of selling it to Brookes, he had you as a stooge to try and extort money from him. He made you call Brookes and try to blackmail him. After the last call, when he hit you, pushed you on the bed, you thought he was going to rape you, so you attacked him, wrestled the 9mm from him, and during the struggle, you shot him. Then you called me to ask what to do. You were too frightened to speak to Mitchell or Brookes.’

  ‘Sounds complicated; do you think they’ll go for it?’

  ‘If you pitch it right.’

  I looked at the clock: an hour and ten since leaving Pittwater. The fire should be blazing now, all prints and other evidence destroyed.

  ‘Just get the main points in your head and repeat them until they’re like a memory. Play it like a movie in your mind; feel the shock and fear of being told you had to extort the boss of The Cross. Most important: come up with a date, place, and a name of the person you killed. Make it a real person, if you can. If not, a john who knew Hedges.’ She bristled at the mention of a john, but it passed as quickly as it had arrived.

  She stubbed out her cigarette distractedly, putting her hand between the ashtray and my lap as she did so. ‘What shall we do now, Micky?’

  We hung around in the hotel suite the next day, getting room service for breakfast and lunch, dining at the in-house restaurant.

  Carol repeated the story every hour until she knew it inside out and backwards. She sold it to me as if I were Mitchell, even affecting tears when she told the part about him throwing her on the bed. She was a
n actress, a natural bullshitter, and as ready as she’d ever be.

  The Lie

  Frankie’s looked the same. I don’t know why I expected anything to be different: maybe because the past six days had seemed like a month. It was three in the afternoon and the bar was relatively quiet. Carol was still holed-up in the suite at the Sheraton. I’d vowed to kill both her parents if she bolted. I didn’t think she would anyway; she was having too much fun.

  Stella seemed pleased to see me. She asked where I’d been, so I told her a bullshit story about taking some time out sailing.

  While she was busy with customers, I checked in with Lenny and told him to set up a meeting with Mitchell that night. He sounded surprised to hear from me, as if I should have been dead. He was also nervous about arranging a meet that could end up with someone getting killed. Said he’d see me later and hung up.

  The afternoon dragged by, dull in comparison with the past few days. I realised I was missing the action, the element of unknown danger and uncertainty. That addiction to excitement had almost been the end of me in the past. I made a mental note to try to keep it under control, and then ripped it up, knowing how futile that was.

  Lenny called half an hour later to tell me Mitchell would be there at ten or eleven, and I’d better have what they want. I told him, ‘Sure, Lenny, don’t worry.’

  When I arrived back at the Sheraton, Carol was propped up on the bed, wrapped in a towelling gown. She was drinking Scotch and watching a movie. There were a half-dozen empty miniatures beside her and a slur to her words.

  ‘Looking for Dutch courage?’

  ‘Just having an evening drink, Micky. No harm in that.’

  ‘No, there’s not. It’s the other five that fuck you up.’ I picked up the remote and hit the off-button. ‘Just don’t go spewing in front of Mitchell.’

  At the mention of Mitchell, her face lost some of its humour.

  She looked at me wearily. ‘When are we seeing him?’

  ‘Soon, so get cleaned up and straightened out.’

  She tossed back the last of the Scotch, lit two cigarettes, held one out for me, drew hard on the other, and said, ‘You seem uptight. Has something happened?’