by S. B. Caves
‘Do I?’
Lyrics from the music video bobbed to the surface of his mind.
Money up front or I’ll be at your door with the blade out… Pay what you owe or I’ll carve your face out.
‘Yes. Your colour has returned. And secondly,’ she said, pouring champagne, ‘this is a very special evening.’
He looked at her, confused. It wasn’t their anniversary, he knew that for sure. They had met on Valentine’s Day at a pub that was hosting a singles-only night. He’d wandered in for a drink after work, not really intending to get involved in any of that Valentine’s Day bullshit, but saw lots of people his own age there and that was a nice change from being the old man in the room. May had been alone at one end of the bar, drinking a rum and Coke, looking over at him in between sips through the straw. It was the first and only time he’d sent a drink over to a woman. She was attractive, yes, but pulling a Richard Gere move like that was something they only did in the films and it definitely wasn’t his style. He did it because she looked lonely, and because he knew at a glance that she could help him. Maybe not right away, but somewhere down the line, he could open up to her. She was just the thing he needed.
‘Why’s it special?’ he asked.
Ignoring his question, she went into the kitchen and returned with a plate. On top of it was a ring box.
‘We’ve been going together for almost five years now,’ she said, and the sexy demeanour she’d maintained all through dinner betrayed her. ‘I know it isn’t the leap year, but I’m a progressive woman, and I like to think…’
‘May, wait a minute,’ Jack said, shifting in the chair. The lack of sleep and the stress of Craig Morley had made his thoughts slow and soupy. He had just realised what she was planning on doing when she got down on one knee.
‘Don’t speak. Please don’t speak,’ she said softly, shyly almost. He noticed that she was shivering and he wasn’t convinced that it was just because she was half-naked. ‘Jack, I haven’t had a lot of luck with men in my life. I think part of it was probably my own fault. Some of my friends used to say I fall in love too easily, but I can’t help that. I’m a hopeless romantic at heart,’ she tittered nervously, biting her lower lip. ‘When my marriage ended, I thought my life was over. And some nights I wished it was,’ she said, the memory visibly paining her. She frowned and bit her lip harder to keep from crying. ‘But then I met you, and things were different. I know I can be a bit high-maintenance, but you still treated me nicely. You gave me respect. And for that I’ll always love you, Jack.’ She took the box from the plate and opened it. A diamond studded gold band winked and sparkled in the candlelight. ‘I’d do anything for you, Jack. Will you marry me?’
He looked at her childlike face, the large eyes brimming with hope.
Money up front or I’ll be at your door with the blade out…
Craig Morley’s face sprung up in his mind, smiling through the rear window of the car.
‘May, we shouldn’t,’ he said, helping her to her feet. He tried to sit her down on his lap but she became rigid as an ironing board in his arms. ‘I don’t think marriage is a good idea. Not now.’
‘Wh-why not?’
‘Because I don’t want to be married right now. I’ve got too much to do,’ he said, more sternly than he had intended. ‘What with the new warehouse and all, I’m run off my feet. Plus, think about how expensive it would be. And this ring – Christ, May, how much did you spend on this thing?’
‘Don’t worry about the money! And we don’t have to have a big wedding. We could just go down to the registry office and—’
‘We don’t even live together, May.’
‘Yes, and that is your choice, not mine,’ she stabbed a finger in his direction.
‘It’s because I need my space. Look, you know how I feel about you, May.’
‘Do I? How would I know?’ She snapped the ring box closed and threw it on the couch. ‘You don’t talk to me, you don’t tell me anything! You don’t give anything in this relationship, Jack. You just take. All these years and you’re still so guarded, so secretive. I try my best and you give me nothing.’
He bowed his head, the first painful murmurs of a migraine forming. ‘May, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, and that’s deliberate. There’s things I’d rather not share with you just yet, and that’s just how it is. And that’s how it will always be with me. That’s who I am.’
‘But why? Why can’t you just trust me?’
‘Maybe I should go,’ he said drily.
She blinked, confused. ‘What?’
‘This isn’t doing either one of us any good.’
‘You’re not… Jack, you can’t…’
‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe all I do is take, and that isn’t fair. I don’t want to be that person. You do deserve better than that, May, and I can’t give it to you right now.’
He got up from the chair, feeling twice as heavy as when he’d entered the house. That soothing feeling of drunkenness that had greased his gears before dinner had evaporated and now the machinery was rusting again.
Money up front or I’ll be at your door with the blade out…
Shut up, shut up!
‘No, Jack, let’s just rewind a little bit, OK? Hold on’ – she put her hands up defensively, as though preparing to push him back in the chair – ‘I made a mistake. I jumped the gun and I tried to pressure you. Just sit down, please.’
‘I have to go,’ he said, tired of this constant tug of war with her. ‘Let’s pick this up in a couple of days or something, how about that?’ He trudged toward the door. She turned and ran in front of it, blocking his path.
‘No! You’re not going anywhere!’
‘May…’
‘Let’s just forget all of this and continue on with our evening like we were doing.’ A hopeful smile twitched on her lips. ‘Forget about marriage and all that, it was silly. I don’t want to get married really. I just thought that was what you wanted.’
‘Please move out of the way.’
‘No. I’m not letting you go. I won’t.’ She dropped to her knees and hugged his legs. ‘Jack, please!’
He reached down and unclasped her hands from around his legs, then manoeuvred her out of the way of the door. She was bawling and wailing incoherently on all fours as he reached for the lock.
‘If you go…’ she said in a high, strained voice, ‘then I’ll kill myself!’
He shot her a look that made her stutter on her sobs.
Her face slackened, and there was a second of silent recognition as she read his expression. It had been the wrong thing to say, and the threat of violence crackled in the air between them.
He didn’t hit her, though. Instead he exhaled, the migraine exploding in his head. Tiny pitchforks stabbed into the back of his eyeballs. He opened the door and stepped outside.
He hadn’t made it halfway down the path when he heard May’s bare feet slapping on the concrete behind him. He felt her pummel him in the back with her fists. He turned, caught her at the wrists. ‘Go inside, the neighbours will see you.’
Her face was puffy and red with fury. ‘I don’t care about the fucking neighbours,’ she screamed at him, loud enough to pierce his eardrums. ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare walk out on me!’
Jack tried to guide her back to the house but she thrashed in his grasp. ‘Get your fucking hands off me!’
He released her.
‘Pig! Bastard!’
‘Fine,’ he muttered, then marched quickly to the driver’s side of the van. He saw silhouettes behind her neighbours’ windows, watching the drama unfold.
‘Who is she?’ May screamed, bending over with the effort. She looked possessed. ‘Tell me who you’re seeing!’ He started the van just as May slapped the window with both hands. ‘Who is she? Tell me her name!’
‘Go inside,’ he shouted. She slapped the window again, rattling it in the frame.
‘Fuck you! Bastard! Go to your little floozy!
You bastard, I fucking hate you!’
He pulled away and left her standing there, shouting and swearing with her nightgown billowing in the breeze.
Chapter Twelve
‘It’s not going to work,’ Emily said, entering Jack’s house. He caught a strong waft of alcohol as she walked past him. ‘And what’s wrong with your phone? I’ve been calling you for ages.’
‘I had to unplug it,’ he muttered wearily, rubbing his forehead. ‘What’s not going to work?’
‘Your plan for Morley isn’t going to work.’
‘Why not?’
She walked through to the kitchen, searched for a glass in the cupboards, found one and filled it with tap water. She gulped it down and took a seat at his kitchen table.
‘You didn’t tell me he was a fucking giant, Jack.’
‘You saw him?’
‘Yes. I waited in the hallway on the eighth floor.’ She got up from the table restlessly, went back into the cupboard and grabbed two chipped mugs. ‘You want tea?’
‘Yeah,’ he said absently. ‘You went to Frazier Avenue by yourself?’
With clumsy hands, she filled the kettle up and flicked it on. Over the burr of the boiling water she said, ‘I had to see him for myself. I had to make it real, and I wanted to see what he looked like in the flesh. And now I know none of this is going to work.’
‘It’ll work,’ Jack said darkly, his migraine still echoing with the sound of May screaming. ‘Doesn’t matter how big he is. If I hit him, he’ll go down.’
‘It’s not the going down part I’m worried about; it’s getting him up off the ground and moving him,’ she said, opening the fridge. ‘Where’s your milk?’
‘Don’t have any,’ he said.
‘Shit,’ she hissed. ‘Morley is massive. How are we going to get him into the van and then out again, swiftly, and without attracting attention to ourselves?’
‘You leave that to me. I can manage it.’
‘With respect, Jack, I’m not sure you can.’
‘I lug boxes bigger than him around all day. He won’t be a problem.’
‘And to get him out of the flat, you’re thinking about breaking into his car? That’s not going to work either.’ The kettle clicked, and she poured, spilling hot water on the counter. ‘Jesus!’
‘Is everything all right? You seem shaky,’ he said, rushing in with a tea towel to mop up the water as it dripped off the counter.
‘I’m fine,’ she huffed. ‘The car park is right in view of all the windows. If we make a fuss then people are going to be looking right down on us. It only takes one nosy neighbour to get the licence plate or a description of the van.’
‘It’ll be dark, they won’t make it out.’
‘The car park is lit up with street lights, Jack.’
‘I’ll change the licence plate. Even if someone sees us, you really think they’ll report it to the police? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but there was a huge riot on that estate in the eighties because of police brutality. A policeman was murdered and—’
‘Will you just stop it?’
‘Stop what?’
‘Stop trying to paper over the cracks of your plan by being flippant. I don’t like this rushed thinking of yours. You’re so eager to go in and get him that you aren’t thinking things through properly.’
‘Believe me, I am. And I’m not being flippant. I’m just saying that I don’t think we have to worry about people ratting us out to the police, if it even gets that far.’
‘I don’t care what you think, Jack. I need to feel comfortable that we’re going to do this properly. And that means not alerting the whole fucking estate that we’re there by setting off Morley’s car alarm.’
‘OK.’ He grabbed his mug, removed the teabag from the scorching water with his fingers and slung it in the bin. He blew on his tea and then took a sip. ‘What did you see today?’
She placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said, ‘I waited in his hallway for him to come out. I was thinking of knocking on his door, pretending to be a Jehovah’s Witness, but then I remembered you’d already done that delivery thing, so I left it.’
‘And?’
She laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles. ‘At about three o’clock his door opened.’ She told him what had happened back in the tower block. When she was finished, Emily held the mug by her chin, the steam rising and warming her face.
Jack’s stillness was beginning to frighten her. He listened to her relay the story without interruption, the muscles in his jaw pulsing. He smoothed his beard with the palm of his hand and said, ‘Why would he harass you like that? Did you provoke him in any way?’
‘No. I just walked past him.’
Jack nodded but the pupils of his eyes seemed to darken. ‘He was terrorising you for no reason then. He knew you weren’t a policewoman. He didn’t care that you might report him to the police either.’
‘He did it because he knew I was up to something.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know. It was weird the way he turned on me. Maybe I was giving off some sort of vibe.’
‘No.’ Jack shook his head. ‘He’s made his bread and butter from being able to spot police. He’s spent enough time around them, learned from his mistakes. He could probably suss out a plain-clothes policeman in a crowd as though they were holding up a fluorescent sign. He knows the way they move, and he knew you didn’t move like a copper. But you were on his floor and you made him jumpy, which means he’s hiding something in his flat.’
‘What do you think it is?’
‘Drugs, probably.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I can only imagine that he’s graduated to selling hard drugs now. It’s probably what bought him that Mercedes.’
‘You don’t think he knows that I’m Kate’s sister, do you?’
Jack’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did you mention her?’
‘No. Not at all. But I look like her, don’t I? And he said I reminded him of someone.’ She placed her cup on the counter. ‘I watch a lot of documentaries about serial killers, and a common thread is that they keep souvenirs of their victims. All right, so maybe Morley isn’t a serial killer, but I’ll fucking bet he has a newspaper clipping or something like that. He has something to remind him that he got away with murder.’ She clapped her hands. ‘That’s it. He recognised Kate in me.’ She slapped the counter, angry at how pathetic she’d been in the stairwell, angry that she let him bully her. ‘All this time and he thinks he got away with it.’
‘But he hasn’t. And we’re going to get him.’
She nodded slowly. Yes, she wanted Morley dead and then maybe the nightmares would go away. Or maybe killing Morley will make the nightmares worse. ‘Wait,’ she said, exasperated. She was beginning to feel headachy and lethargic. Even exhaling seemed to take incredible effort. ‘This isn’t a game, Jack. This is—’
‘Justice,’ he finished for her.
‘Yes, but… we have to be a hundred percent certain.’
‘And aren’t you?’ Jack asked, his words coming out more aggressive than he had intended.
‘I don’t know. I think so…’
Without another word, Jack hurried out of the kitchen and returned with a laptop, slamming it on the counter. He opened the lid, the laptop stuttering and whirring as it woke up. The screen was paused on a YouTube video.
‘What’s this?’ Emily asked, but she had already read the title and thought she had a good idea.
Jack pressed play. There was a delay as they waited for the laptop to wake from its stupor, and then they watched the whole three minutes and forty-two seconds in silence. Emily could feel him tensing next to her, and in her peripheral vision saw his shoulders rising and falling.
When it was over, Jack said, ‘Money up front or I’ll be at your door with the blade out… Pay what you owe or I’ll carve your face out.’
She hadn’t even realised that those were the words. The whole song sounded messy to her, and the particul
ars were difficult to decipher.
Very quietly, almost in a whisper, Jack said, ‘He’s bragging, He’s bragging about Kate.’
Chapter Thirteen
It took May a long time to get ready. Her brain felt like a wrung-out sponge, and her throat was sore and scratchy from vomiting. After Jack drove off and left her sobbing and screaming in the street – god, what must I have looked like? – she turned her rage on the house. She became a whirlwind of fury, wrecking the living room, smashing plates and glasses, ripping pictures from the walls. Then, when she had burned up the last of her energy, she collapsed in a pitiful heap, cutting the soles of her feet on the shards of shattered crockery.
She sat there crying miserably, watching blood dribble out of the wounds, wondering what she had done to deserve such terrible treatment. She replayed the evening in her mind, cringing as she recalled Jack’s reaction upon seeing the ring. The grey beast of depression reared its head and for the first time in years, since Carl split on her for a younger model, she thought about the sleeping tablets. Why shouldn’t she do it? Nobody gave a fuck about her. All anyone ever did was use her up, waste her time. First Carl takes the best years of her life and then ditches her, and now Jack, who she loved more than anyone, takes off on a whim. Her life was just one big fucking joke to them, wasn’t it?
Trailing bloody footprints into the kitchen, May picked up the Jack Daniels and sucked it straight from the bottle. The whisky burned her throat and she coughed as it lit a fire in her stomach. She sobbed, gasped, drank.
Before long, she was unconscious on the sofa. She woke somewhere near dawn to the horrible sound of birdsong, and felt the violent urge to vomit rocketing up through her. She stood up and tried to run upstairs to the bathroom but everything was off-kilter like one of those crazy houses at the funfair. She and Jack had gone to a funfair a couple of summers ago, and hadn’t they had a great time? More tears, the sponge wringing in her head.
She didn’t make it to the bathroom. She was halfway up the stairs when she was sick, puking warm bile onto her bare, bloody feet. When the first wave of nausea had passed, she crawled up the stairs and into the bathroom like a dog – and why not? Isn’t that how everyone treated her anyway? – and stayed by the toilet.
