by Keith Dixon
CHAPTER – THE PRIVATE LIE
ONE
I don’t care how experienced you are as a private investigator, when your son is holding a heavyweight Desert Eagle pistol on you, and he’s not smiling, it gets your attention.
‘Is it loaded?’ I said.
‘No fun if it’s not,’ he said.
I considered my options. I could rush him—but my desk was between us. I could sweet-talk him—but I wasn’t in the mood and I didn’t think he was, either.
‘You’ve got a plan to get away,’ I said.
‘Not that you’d notice. I’m as shocked as you are to get this far.’ Coming as it did from a skinny teenager’s body, his voice was surprisingly confident and strong.
‘You need a plan if you’re going to shoot someone,’ I said. ‘I don’t think you’ve thought this through.’
‘If I’d have thought this through I wouldn’t have come. I had to do it like on impulse.’
‘Impulsiveness isn’t a good trait in someone holding a gun.’
‘And being mouthy isn’t good for someone staring down its barrel.’
He had a point. I watched his eyes and gauged his breathing. There was no hand-shake and he hadn’t cracked a sweat. Two minutes previously I’d been browsing through a copy of Uncut magazine when he’d knocked and entered without invitation. A slim youth with dark hair wearing a green hooded anorak over pale washed jeans and scuffed Nike trainers. He’d checked that I was Sam Dyke, private investigator of this parish, then reached inside his anorak and pulled out the gun like an archaeologist with a rare find, holding it carefully but just tight enough to be secure. In that confident voice he’d told me his name was Dan and asked whether I knew who he was. He was surprised when I said I did.
Now he asked, ‘Don’t you want to know why I’m here?’ He waved the gun slightly, as though it might encourage curiosity.
‘You’ll tell me eventually. I’m more interested in how you found me.’
‘Never mind how,’ he said. ‘The point is, I’m here and you’re there.’
I crossed my arms and he took a step backwards.
‘Go steady,’ he said.
My office is square, with one door and one window looking out over the centre of Crewe, and holds a desk, a leather seat for me and two upright chairs for clients.
I’d never had more than two clients in my office at one time. I didn’t think I could take the excitement.
‘So let me get this straight,’ I said. ‘I’m guessing you found out I’m your dad and you think I’m responsible for your mother’s death. You’ve never met either of us and inside five minutes of tracking me down, you’re willing to kill me.’
For the first time I saw a cloud of doubt cross his face.
‘Who said anything about killing you?’ he asked.
I nodded at the gun. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, that’s not the new Nokia you’re pointing at me.’
He looked at the handgun and was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘You’re just like I thought you’d be.’
‘How’s that, then?’
‘Cocky Yorkshireman. Showing how tough you are. Not really interested in me and what I’m doing here. Nice to meet you, Dad.’
‘Take a seat and we’ll chat. How does a nice cup of tea sound?’
‘Don’t take the piss.’
‘Then how about telling me what you want before your gun arm gets tired and you shoot me by accident? You’re beginning to look sleepy.’
This time he didn’t say anything but pulled up one of the client chairs and sat in it, dropping his slight frame as if he were no more than bones wrapped in clothing. He looked around at the office briefly.
‘So this is where you make a living,’ he said. ‘What is it that private investigators do nowadays? Serve court papers? Photograph adulterers?’
‘You’re talking top-of-the-range work there.’
‘I looked you up on the internet. You don’t exist, do you? No web presence at all. Probably just as well. The sites I did see were a joke—lots of photos of middle-aged white men trying to look trustworthy while wearing a suit and tie.’
‘We meet down the golf club and regale each other with stories about our wacky clients.’
The April rain suddenly threw itself against my office window and we both looked at it.
‘So where are we, then?’ I asked.
‘I’m thinking,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to wonder whether you’re up to it.’
‘Up to what?’
‘I want you to help me,’ he said. ‘There’s this girl, Kelly. We were going out but she dumped me a couple of months ago.’
‘Am I to blame for that as well?’
‘Shut up and listen. We were living in a squat and then all of a sudden she’s gone. We’d been together for like six months and she didn’t even leave me a note. That’s why I’m thinking something’s not right. She didn’t tell anybody where she was going. No sign of her anywhere. Then someone I know told me she was in Manchester and saying she wasn’t coming back.’
‘Who’s this someone?’
‘You’ll find out.’
‘Okay. Does she work?’
He laughed. ‘Not what you’d call a proper job. Not exactly on the executive career path. More like anything for money.’
‘She got a habit?’
‘Too many cigarettes. And she prefers a party to reading a book. Bad girl.’
I smiled grimly. ‘Sounds like a prize catch for my son and heir.’
He looked away as if he were suddenly interested in the rain splattering my windows. His eyes looked impossibly hurt. I noticed that he had the long lashes of his mother. His dead mother. I felt a small stab of guilt in my chest but kept smiling at him. At least I think my expression was a smile.
‘Yeah, well,’ he said eventually. ‘So your job is to help me find her.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You owe me,’ he said, his voice cold. ‘You dumped my mother, you dumped me, you left me with people who had no interest in me except what I was worth for bringing in cash. I think a little help isn’t too much to ask.’
‘If you’ve done your research you know I had no idea you were alive. Your mother didn’t tell me. Your foster parents didn’t tell me. The little jiminy cricket who sits on my shoulder and looks after me didn’t whisper in my ear and tell me. Now you’re here I’m glad to meet you and have a conversation, but don’t blame me for not doing something I wasn’t aware I was supposed to do.’
‘Like trying to find out anything about me?’ He became agitated. ‘My mother’s been dead four months and I haven’t heard a word from you. And don’t tell me you didn’t know about me because that’s not true.’ He pulled up short, a little breathless.
Now I knew who had told him – a woman I met when investigating a case a few months before. She was married to the man who murdered Tara, Dan’s mother. As it turned out, I later killed her husband.
It had been a complicated affair.
‘I don’t think you understand how this stuff works,’ I said. ‘I do this for a living. People pay me money. I perform a service. I can’t afford to take on charity cases, especially when the police would be your best bet in a situation like this.’
He raised the gun again. Its small black o came to rest on me. Looking down the barrel of a gun is always a religious experience – whatever your spiritual beliefs, it brings you quickly to faith.
‘I don’t think you understand,’ he said. ‘You don’t have a choice.’
‘What—you’re going to follow me around for the next few days pointing a gun at my head? It’ll make bath-times difficult.’
‘If you don’t say yes I won’t need the next few days.’
‘Been reading your Greek tragedy, have you?’
‘What?’
‘Never mind. I read. The result of having too much time on my hands during stake-outs. Look, even if I help you find this girl—’
‘Kelly.
’
‘—what if she doesn’t want to come back? What if she was running away from you?’
‘I’ve thought about that. I don’t believe it, but if she says that’s how it is, then OK. Just so she can tell me to my face. I want to know she’s safe.’
I looked at him and felt sorry for him again. The need for reassurance lingered in his eyes like a memory he couldn’t erase.
‘I have a full case load,’ I lied. ‘I can’t just drop everything because you’re pointing a gun at me.’
‘Can you think of a better reason?’
‘People are expecting me to finish what I started. That might not mean anything to you, but it’s my reputation at stake.’
‘Think what your reputation will be if it gets out you refused to help your own son. And it will get out.’
We stared at each other across the desk while the rain beat against the window. I admired his persistence, maybe even recognised where it came from.
I raised a hand. ‘OK, I’ll help you find Kelly,’ I said. ‘But you and me have some serious talking to do. It sounds like people have been filling your head with shit for eighteen years. I don’t like that.’
‘Well perhaps you should have been there.’
‘Perhaps I should have been an astronaut and flown to the moon. It was never going to happen. Now for God’s sake put that toy down and let’s go eat lunch.’
He turned the gun towards himself and looked down the barrel. He glanced at me, then slowly pulled the trigger until the firing pin made a plastic ‘phut’ sound.
He said, ‘How could you tell?’
‘That’s why I’m the detective and you’re not.’
I didn’t tell him that had it been a real Desert Eagle, and loaded, he could never have held it trained on me for so long without wavering. It’s too heavy.
You have to keep some detective secrets to yourself, otherwise everyone would have a licence and there wouldn’t be enough work to go around.
ALTERED LIFE
By
KEITH DIXON
A Sam Dyke Investigation
Copyright
Keith Dixon 2006
First published by Semiologic Ltd
Keith Dixon has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph, photocopy, or any other means, electronic or physical, without express written permission of the author.
Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental and to be deplored.
ISBN 9781475106008
For information, contact: [email protected]
Cover image © Roland Tanglao
under Creative Commons License https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode
Design by Keith Dixon
To Liz
About the Author
Keith Dixon was born in Yorkshire and grew up in the Midlands. He’s been writing since he was thirteen years old in a number of different genres: thriller, espionage, science fiction, literary. He’s the author of seven novels in the Sam Dyke Investigations series and two other non-crime works, as well as two collections of blog posts on the craft of writing.
When he’s not writing he enjoys reading, learning the guitar, watching movies and binge-inhaling great TV series. He’s currently spending more time in France than is probably good for him.
Learn more about Keith by following him on Twitter @keithyd6, by reading his blog at www.cwconfidential.blogspot.com or connect with him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/SamDykeInvestigations/ On his website you can download a couple of free books and find out more about the others: www.keithdixonnovels.com.
Other Works
The Sam Dyke Series
Altered Life
The Private Lie
The Hard Swim
The Bleak
The Strange Girl
The Secret Sharers
The Innocent Dead
Standalone Novels
A French Darcy – a Romance
Actress – a Contemporary novel
Essays on Writing
The Idle Writer
Crime Writing Confidential
Blog
www.cwconfidential.blogspot.com
Webpage
https://www.keithdixonnovels.com
If you subscribe to the newsletter through the link on the Blog or the Webpage you’ll get The Private Lie, the next in the Sam Dyke series, for free!
Contents
ALTERED LIFE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
BONUS CHAPTER – THE PRIVATE LIE
Copyright
About the Author
Other Works
