I took my time in the Asian supermarket, getting everything I needed. I was parched and starving, so I chucked a bottle of water into the basket along with a couple of Chinese hot dog buns from the bakery section. I decided to spring for some Panadol as well, maybe take the burn out of my ribs. Then I dropped by the homewares aisle and spent a couple of minutes browsing up and down. I finally selected a length of yellow clothesline and a stiff boning knife. I tried not to think about how good the knife felt in my hand. I paid at the checkout with more of Malcolm’s cash, then tossed most of the items into my backpack while I tore into the bun.
Night had fallen, and the crowds had already started to descend on K Road. No one hassled me as I navigated among the swirling club-goers to the dodgier end of the street. The crowds thinned out. I loitered in a shop doorway for a couple of seconds as a middle-aged gay couple passed, then I ducked down the alley that led to the car park behind Deepest Desires.
I recognised the red sedan sitting alone in the dark car park. It had been burned into my memory. No sign of a car that might belong to Dennis. But that was okay. I could be a patient guy.
It occurred to me that this was stupid, that I had a number for a detective in my pocket that would probably listen and at least haul Dennis in long enough to screw with him a bit. I had the evidence. And I would do that, eventually. First I wanted to take my pound of flesh.
And I had an idea how to get to Dennis.
I stayed in the shadows of the alley for a moment, checking things out. The parking lot was unlit, little more than concrete and weeds and broken beer bottles and scattered stones. One side of the parking lot backed onto the building, and the rest was fenced off except for the driveway. Nothing moved. Satisfied I wasn’t going to get ambushed, I crossed the parking lot and tried the doors of Malcolm’s car. Locked. But there were no flashing lights inside to indicate an active alarm.
I found a nice sized rock on the edge of the parking lot. Came back, made a guess which direction he’d be coming from. I decided the rear left window was my best bet. I glanced around again, watched the street for a moment. No one. I steadied my ribs, hefted the rock in my good hand, and tossed it at the window. It bounced off.
Goddamn it. I looked around to make sure the sound hadn’t brought me any attention. No one came running, so I went and found a bigger rock. My ribs groaned as I hurled it. The tinkle of shattering glass echoed through the car park. A thrill went through me.
I didn’t stop to look around this time. I reached in and snapped the lock up, opened the door, then pulled the rock back out and used it to clear away the shards around the window frame. It was dark; if no one looked too close they might not realise it was broken for a few seconds. That was all I needed. I wrapped my sleeve around my hand and brushed out the glass from the back seat and the floor. Good enough.
I went through my phone contacts and found the number for Malcolm that Jo had given me. I dialled and pressed the phone to my ear. My heart thumped softly.
“Yeah?” Malcolm said.
“I’ve got something of yours.”
A pause. “Who is this?”
“Take a guess.”
“I gave you a fair warning, kid. I really did.”
My shattered fingers stung. “I hear someone stole your laptop the other day. Be a pity if you had some delicate information on there. Be a pity if someone cracked your encryption with the code he found in your wallet.”
He sighed. “What do you want?”
“To talk. Taylors Park. Ten minutes. If you’re not there in eleven, the file’s going to the cops.”
“That’s not enough ti—”
I hung up. I crawled into the back of his car, put the rock on the back seat, closed the door, locked it again. Dug the knife and the clothesline out of my backpack. Then I lay down on the floor of the backseat, breathed in the smell of the carpet, and waited.
His footsteps crunched up to the car a few seconds later. He was in a hurry. I caught the jingle of keys, then the door opened and he slipped into the front seat. His deodorant was strong enough to make me gag. Keys jingled again, going for the ignition.
I came up behind him quick and looped the clothesline around his neck. He got as far as saying, “What—?” before I tugged it tight. Not tight enough to kill him, but tight enough so he knew that breathing was a privilege, not a right. He thrashed against the seat for a second while I quickly wrapped the other end of the clothesline around my left hand and clutched it in my remaining fingers. The thrashing stopped when he felt me scraping the point of the boning knife over his right kidney.
“If you’re thinking I won’t poke holes in you, you’re wrong,” I said in his ear. I tugged on the clothesline a little. “And if you’re thinking of shouting for help, know that I will crush your windpipe without a second thought. Keep your hands on the wheel. I want to keep this nice and cosy, got me?”
Malcolm nodded. He was doing his best dying fish impression. The rope was loose enough that he could probably talk if he wanted, but I was happy to have him in a listening mood for now.
“I heard your little recorded calls. I heard what happened to Ella. Now I want to get to Dennis.” I dug the point of the knife in a little. “You’re going to tell me how.”
He gasped something, but I couldn’t make it out. I loosened the clothesline a little.
“What?” I said.
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Bullshit.”
Malcolm cringed as I angled the knife higher, as high as I could get in the confined space. “He’s cleaning house. Shutting down operations. No contact until rendezvous in six months.”
“Shutting down? Why?”
“Because of you, you stupid fucking kid. Trashing the studio, sending the cops snooping around. Some goddamn detective showed up at my house.”
“You’ve got worse than cops to worry about now. You’ve got me. You should’ve just paid Ella and let her live.”
He shot me a look in the mirror, then glanced away again.
“What?” I said, prompting him with the knife.
He cringed and bared his teeth. “Ella wasn’t the blackmailer.”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
“We were sure it was. But Dennis said the blackmailer contacted him again.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
This morning. The blackmailer was still alive. It wasn’t Ella. I didn’t know if that made me happy or more angry.
“So,” I said, “you killed her for nothing.”
“It wasn’t me.” Malcolm’s voice went up a notch. “I never wanted her dead.”
“Neither did I,” I said. “But she is. Tell me. What does this mystery blackmailer want now?”
Malcolm’s gaze flicked away from the mirror. “I don’t know.”
“Talk.”
“Dennis didn’t tell me. He said I didn’t need to know.” The way he said it, the simmering anger and shame, I almost believed him.
The knife quivered in my hand, begging to be plunged into this bastard’s gut. He was useless to me. And the things he’d done to Ella….
I forced a breath out through my tightening throat. I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I changed tack. “Tell me how it happened,” I said, quieter. “Tell me how Dennis killed her.”
“How the hell should I know? I wasn’t there.”
“Take a guess, then.”
The knife in his side convinced Malcolm to play along. “All right, all right. Dennis looks like a geek, but he’s got some creep on him.”
“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I heard he came up hard, practically feral. Cassie once told me he survived as a kid by sneaking into houses, stealing cash, video tapes, CDs, anything portable and untraceable.”
“Was he good at it?”
“How the hell should I know? I don't even know if the story’s true. But he got into the Lewis girl’s house all right. So what do you think?”
I didn’t say anything.
“If Dennis doesn’t want to hear you coming, you won’t,” Malcolm said. “If he wants to get into your house, nothing you do can keep him from getting in. And if he decides to kill you, nothing you can say will stop him.”
“Sounds like a sociopathic cockroach,” I said, but I was already imagining the scene in my head. Dennis shimmying up the side of Ella’s house or picking his way through a locked door. Ella home late after working with Malcolm in their sick studios, brushing her teeth to wash the taste of semen out of her mouth. Did she even see Dennis before he came up behind her and wrapped the belt around her neck? Did she get a chance to struggle before the life slipped out of her and she went limp? Was she already dead by the time Dennis strung her up on the bathroom doorknob and crawled back out of the house?
I pulled hard on the clothesline. Malcolm’s hands flew to his throat, instinct overwhelming the fear of the knife at his side. I closed his throat off and listened to the sound of him hissing as he tried to breathe.
“You’re going to give me something. One last chance. You’re going to get me to Dennis. Or you die like Ella did.”
His eyes were filling the mirror. I held on for twenty seconds, thirty. I watched his reddening face, taking savage joy in the fear stink filling the car. Then I loosened the rope and he gasped for air.
“I don’t know where Dennis is,” he rasped. “I swear.”
“The blackmailer, then. Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they want?” I screamed in his ear.
“I told you I don’t know. Dennis has been keeping me on the outside. He thinks I’ve been too close.”
“But there must’ve been something. What did Dennis say?”
“Nothing. Just that they’d come to an arrangement.”
“What kind of arrangement?”
Malcolm said nothing. I pulled the clothesline tight, brought the knife up, pressed it to his cheek so hard it drew blood.
“What was the arrangement?” I yelled. “What did Dennis get?”
“You!” Malcolm choked out.
My bones went cold. I let the clothesline go loose, brought the knife away from his face. “Me.”
“The blackmailer knew you. They gave you up. Told Dennis everything. Your name, where you go to school. You’re the last loose end, and Dennis is going to tie you up. Understand?”
His pupils were huge in the mirror. He was as scared of Dennis as I was. But that wasn’t what was making my gut churn.
The blackmailer knew me. And they knew Dennis and had access to the raw footage. They’d set Ella up to take the fall for them. And now they were setting me up as well.
There was only one answer. It was someone who’d taken me into her home. Someone who’d been setting me up from the beginning. I finally knew Stephanie’s angle.
Malcolm’s muscles loosened when the point of the knife left his side. “I’ve told you what I know,” he said. “Now let me—”
I smashed the rock against the side of his head. He grunted once, then went out with a trickle of blood leaking down past his ear. I tossed the rock away and lowered his unconscious form over the steering wheel so his head didn’t lean on the horn. I thought about tossing him out and taking the car, but I had to stay under the radar. If the car had a GPS tracker, they’d find me and kill me before I could get to Stephanie. Besides, I could use the walk.
“I’ll be back for you,” I whispered in his ear. Then I gathered up my clothesline and knife and went to meet a blackmailer.
~~~
This book is available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords. Find out more at www.harrystjohn.com.
Thanks for reading!