Shadowville: Book One of the Shadoweaters

by Paul Taylor

  The next day turned out to be a beautiful, crisp and sunny day, the grey chill of winter temporarily dispersed by a surprised sun that seemed like it didn't quite know what it was doing there. The dull roar of traffic did not live here and the most noise came from semi-frequent trucks thundering through town like summer storms. The trucks came up through town from South Casino and beyond, making the high Irving Bridge shudder as they crossed. Follow the Summerland Way through the town and past the golf course until you came to the Meatworks, Cassino Abattoir.

  Once, the Meatworks had been Casino's life-blood, employing the majority of the town's male population. But now, thanks to tight-fisted managers, cost-cutting schemes and the infernal Enterprise Bargaining Agreement, the abattoir was on the verge of being closed down. In previous months, a number of buyers had stepped forward, ready to turn what had once been the state's biggest meat processing and packing plant back into a force to be reckoned with. So far they'd been turned down. But with the plant continuing its decline the townsfolk knew (or hoped, or prayed) that the owners would soon see an acceptable offer.

  Ben, of course, could have cared less about any of that. As far as he was concerned - although deeper down it might be a different story - the world would be better off if the whole damn town dried up and blew away.

  Ben had decided the day before, after spending the majority of weekend wandering around and not really doing much of anything, to go and see his fountain of knowledge and find out what she knew about these strange people staying in the motel. These Shadoweaters.

  The sliding door chimed when he went through and Mavis looked up in alarm, her hand rapidly fanning a cloud of smoke.

  "It's all right," said Ben, leaning comfortably on the desk. "I won't tell anyone. As long as I get a couple of answers."

  Mavis squinted at him. "Are you trying to blackmail me, sonny jim? 'Cause I don't take kindly to blackmail."

  "No," Ben laughed. "I'm kidding. I was actually hoping you might be able to help me out."

  Mavis lit up another cigarette. "You mean Dwayne Martin." Not a question.

  "Do you know what's happening?" asked Ben.

  "Not especially," said Mavis. "Just that that boy couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it."

  "You know something," said Ben. "What is it?"

  "Look," said Mavis in a low voice, leaning forward so he could hear. "All I'm saying is, some people don't know when to keep their mouths shut. And some people, believe it or not, know when it's in their best interests not to talk about something."

  "You're being threatened?" said Ben. "Is that it? This is all to do with those strangers, isn't it?"

  "It's a lot more than that," said Mavis. "All I'm telling you, this and nothing more, is that your buddy Dwayne better keep his mouth shut or Mummy Martin's going to have one less mouth to feed."

  "What?" said Ben, now thoroughly confused. "I just want to find out who they are. If Dwayne's involved, I might already be involved. Please, just tell me what you can."

  "Okay, look," said Mavis, and her voice dropped so low Ben had to lean forward to hear her. "I know you're trying to help Dwayne but the best thing I can tell you is not to get involved. It's going bad here, real bad, and half the town's involved, including your buddy Neil. Now my best advice to you is to go back out there, get in that big old petrol-burner of yours, and drive as far and as fast as you can from this town. It's not worth it. Nothing's worth it." She grabbed his wrist. "Just get away," she said.

  Ben suppressed a grimace at the feel of her skin on his, like a warm snake wrapped around his arm. "But why?" he said. "What is it?"

  She didn't answer. Her eyes were riveted on something outside the door. Allan was strolling past and he casually glanced in, his sunglasses lingering with what seemed to be more than idle curiosity. Ben looked from Mavis to him and back again and saw that Mavis was almost frozen with fear.

  What could that bastard have done to induce such fear in a tough old boot of a woman like her? Ben moved to go after him and found Mavis's hand restraining him.

  She was very slowly, and very carefully, shaking her head. "Don't," she told him.

  Ben relaxed and let him go, for now. He turned to ask Mavis what the hell was going on but she was already disappearing into the cubby-hole of an office.

  "Damn it," said Ben as she locked the door behind her. What the hell was going on here?

  Ben turned and stormed out the door and almost leapt straight back through it. Allan was standing right beside the door.

  "Sorry," said Ben. "You scared me."

  "I didn't mean to. That was an intense conversation," said Allan as he walked with Ben out onto the footpath. "The old lady telling you all the gossip?"

  "Something like that," said Ben, quickening his pace.

  "Listen," said Allan, grabbing him hard at the elbow and speaking right into his ear. "Whatever she told you about us you can forget. It'll only get you in trouble. Okay?"

  Ben tried to pull his arm free and found he couldn't. He stopped walking and turned to look at Allan. "No," he said. "It's not okay. Now you listen to me. I don't know what the hell's going on here except you've got that woman so scared she wouldn't say shit if she had a mouthful. So you've got nothing to worry about. Your little secret's safe, okay?"

  Allan continued to stare at him. Finally he dropped his hand and let Ben go.

  "Thank you," said Ben, muttering 'motherfucker' as he stormed off. Bad enough he was so worried about Kath but now he had to put up with this shit.

  Work, Ben decided after his forth abortive attempt at fixing up this web-page, was definitely out of the question. He couldn't even think straight, let alone work. At least he had the phone on now, so he could surf the net, all it had taken was a single phone call when he'd gotten back from the motel.

  While Ben sat fruitlessly in front of his computer his mobile rang and he leapt on it, eager for the distraction.

  "G'day, Ben?" Mavis's voice, like smoke-stained leather. "Listen love, I don't know how to tell you this, but it's about your mate, Dwayne..."

  "Yeah," said Ben, gripping the phone.

  "He's turned up dead."

  "Ben, hello? You there?"

  "I'm here," said Ben, but I don't know for how long, he thought. His head was spinning.

  "They found him this morning and the police reckon he probably died last night. They can't place the exact time because they reckon his body was all dried up like he'd been dead for months."

  Her voice was flighty, flitting from word to word like a bee gathering honey. Ben sensed her distress, but under that, he also sensed the vicarious joy she gained from spreading really good gossip.

  "It was them, wasn't it?" said Ben, speaking around a very large lump in his throat.

  "Them? Them who?" she said nervously. "The police don't have any suspects yet."

  "So he was murdered?"

  "Yes, they're, what do they say? They're treating his death as suspicious."

  "Do they..." Ben stopped, he never thought he'd be asking someone this question. "Do they know how he died?"

  "Not yet, no," said Mavis.

  "Okay," said Ben. "Well. Thanks for letting me know."

  "I thought I'd better tell you," said Mavis. "Because I knew you two were buddying around and I didn't want you to have to see it in the paper or something."

  "Yeah, thanks—"

  "Because I know how traumatic that can be. There's nothing worse than someone you know dying and you only find out about it two or three days later when you see it in the obituaries column.

  "That's right," said Ben. "Listen, thanks a lot, but I have to go now. Okay? Bye."

  She started to say something else as he broke the connection.

  Ben almost dropped the phone as he set it down on the coffee table and he looked down at his hands. They were shaking like a palsied old man's.

  "Jesus, Dwayne," he said, setting his laptop aside and leaning forward, resting his head on his hands. "Fuckin
g shit."

  Ben found he didn't have it in his heart to cry for Dwayne, sure they'd been mates, but not that close, Ben had only spoken to him twice since being home. And both times Dwayne had been smashed. But still...

  He felt he should call someone, tell them that Dwayne was dead. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do? But he didn't know anyone. Except Kath. She was still hooked into the Casino grapevine though, she probably already knew. And besides, she was at work and he didn't want to distract her. Paging through his address book, Ben looked for a phone number of someone who wouldn't be completely shocked to hear from him. Someone who wouldn't be angry or simply hang up when they recognised his voice. He reached the end of the book and went back through in the opposite direction to be absolutely sure.

  There was no one. Of course.

  Maybe he could go on-line, try and find an active chat room and join in. Wasn't the same though, he needed to hear someone's voice. Needed to speak to someone, anyone, so he wouldn't feel so alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE