STAYAWAY HIDEAWAY
Written By Cillian Dunne
Table of Contents
Chapter 1. The Note
Chapter 2. The Finding
Chapter 3. The Daughter; Part One
Chapter 4. The Daughter; Part Two
Chapter 5. The Truth
Official Police Report
Chapter 6. The Unknown Truth
Chapter 7. Happy Wife, Happy Life
Chapter 8. The Search for Randall Adams
Chapter 9. Consciously Aware
Chapter 10. Tracking the Herring
Chapter 11. The Incarcerated Little Man
Chapter 12. The Meeting
Chapter 13. The Anniversary
Chapter 14. Another Note?
Chapter 15. Catching the Herring
Chapter 16. Why the Herring swam west
Chapter 17. The Cigarette
Chapter 18. Man & Beast
Chapter 19. The Fued
Chapter 20. The Bridge
Chapter 21. The Mother She Never Had
Chapter 22. The Act of God
Chapter 23. Sisterly resolution
Chapter 24. The Mailman
Chapter 25. The Showdown
Chapter 26. The Handshake
Chapter 1. The Note
October 17, 2018.
If you're reading this, I am already dead. I fear that the actions I have taken in my short life have finally caught up to me. The lies and betrayal all of you have faced are of my own doing, and so I wish to confess my sins to my loved ones. To my sweet and elegant daughter, Aurelia, I apologize for the death of your beloved mother. She was a kind woman who engulfed herself in your betterment. My exit from your life caused the destruction you faced afterward. The countless nights of alcohol infused scuffles, the strange men, the scars. I apologize. The anger you will face toward me will last a life time, and I know there is nothing I can do to counteract that. But, you must know that I left for good reason. There is much you don't know, and much you will never know. Upon finding this note, the Authorities will use it as evidence in attempt to conclude an investigation that has been going on for too long. This is where you will truly learn about your estranged father.
To my other daughter, Lydia, I apologize for my estrangement in the final years of my life. I will never forget the days of your youth, and the happiness you gave to me. You provided me with direction in the darkest period of my life, and you are an angel sent from above. I will assume you will become aware of this note around your fifteenth birthday, which saddens me. Just know, the memory of you and I taking the long route to the grocery store on that fine spring day will lie with me forever as the best day of my life. I have never seen a smile so big or a heart pound so loud, and all for me. I will take that memory to the grave. But, you too will become involved in the police's investigation. You will soon see a different side of your father. A side that you could have never have interpreted, and never predicted in your wildest imagination. To R.A, you once told me that a great man never dies. And we know a lot of great men. I have written you a separate note to give you further instructions of my original plan. It will be located where the Herring swims west.
To the rest of you, I apologize for getting you tied up in this investigation. These next few months will be of major inconvenience to you all, especially those of you who willingly, but unknowingly became an accomplice of mine. However, it will not be all for nothing. As Confucius once said, A man who has committed a mistake and doesn't correct it, is committing another mistake. I enjoyed my time on this wonderful planet. I experienced every emotion there is, and I would give anything to feel them all again. Life is a treasure, and many of us spend most of our lives exploring to find it. I was fortunate enough to find that treasure and all the riches that it brings. I may have passed, but may the treasure that was my life spoil you all and provide you with comfort.
Lastly, I would like to direct this final statement to Detective Larry Pete of the FBI's Boston division. I wish you the best of luck in your investigation. I mean that. I've taken you for a ride these last two decades, and I know it has not been easy on you and your family. But remember, I didn't do this to you, so don't take my actions personally. Your wife left you for reasons out of your control, and I am not to blame. Correlation does not always mean causality. And the string of crimes I have committed through the dark times of your life are not to blame, you are. I hope to see you all on the other side one day.
Au Revoir, Jim Duke.
Chapter 2. The Finding
November 3, 2018.
Detective Larry Pete
Jesus fucking Christ. Twenty years chasing this fucking self-proclaimed God, and he just up and dies on us. Nobody in the office fucking cares, they're all glad that this Duke character is dead. And of course Detective Richard “Dick” Walters is the one to find the note. I wonder what it says. I wonder if that snide motherfucker mentions me in it. I bet he does that piece of shit. Not all the cigarettes in the world could set my head straight right now, so I might as well just go read it. It's probably filled with nonsense. A bunch of shit that'll lead us into a deeper hole than we're in right now. No explanations for anything, the money, the murders, nothing.. But they're all in there now going over it, I can't put this off any longer. There's Detective Walters over there. I'll just grab my coffee and head on over.
Hey Detective, where's the note?
In the evidence room with that forensic guy, Grimes. Says that beady-eyed fuck with a smirk on his face like he just caught Capone.
Twenty years and this guy finds the note? What a giant slap in the god damn face. It's like studying for a test for 12 hours straight, no sleep, no breaks, and then you take the test and some shit cheats off you and ends up getting a higher grade. Of course that would happen to me. I'm always that fucking guy. I am that guy.
I also fucking hate how far the evidence room is away from my office. I mean, pack a fucking lunch kid because you're not coming back anytime soon. They probably put me there because I never even get any of the evidence. They probably are in there cracking jokes about me right now. Detective Larry Pete, the guy with two first names... Whatever. I won't know until I read it for myself. And there's the door right now. Jesus, there's gotta' be five agents in there right now reading it. Look at their smiles. Of course this is a joke to them.
Detectives.. Is that the note?
Sure is. That wrinkly old ball sack Grimes says to me with a smirk on his withered face.
Let me see this.
Long note, from the top... To Aurelia... I apologize.. To Lydia- Wait.
Jim Duke had two daughters?
We were just as surprised as you are. Walters says to me, that asshole.
They all stare at me as I continue reading about Duke apologizing for this and that. This guy was good. R.A? Who is R.A? Should I ask Walters? Fuck no. I'll look into that myself later. Oh, and now he's quoting Confucius? This pretentious fuck. What does that even mean? Correcting your mistakes? You're dead, bud. And lastly I would like to thank- Oh fuck. He did mention me. This god damn asshole. Grimes and the detectives can tell I'm reading this part of the note, I better note give anything away.
Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
Nobody responds.. Of course. Of course Duke says something like that before he dies. The last thing he probably ever wrote, and it was an insult to me. This guy has had it out for me since the day this case landed on my desk. And somehow he knew it was mine. Literally a week after I get the case. That fucking evil mastermind. I still think he had a rat in the office. Nothing else would explain it. Literally nothing else. But of course Peterson investigates for two years and brushes it off. A twenty year case where the guy knows everything I'm doing? Yeah
that's smart, let's spend two years checking it out and then just completely forget about it. Wait a minute-
Is there a body?
Not yet. Walters found the note in what we presume was one of his estates. The lease was in his daughter's name. Aurelia. Duke's body was nowhere to be found on the premises or in the nearby area. Says Detective Peterson.
All right, Boss. I didn't ask for his life story. I just wanted to know if there was a fucking body or not. But what does this mean. No body? That is fishy as fuck to me. This guy is one sneaky bastard, he could still be alive. But what do I do about it. If he's alive he's probably in fucking Bolivia or something like that. Fucking Jonestown. Jesus Christ I need a cigarette.
Larry, we're going to need you to contact the daughters and bring them in. They're probably going to want to know about this, says that taint Peterson.
Sure thing. I'll get their info after a smoke.
Couldn't get the information yourself, you lazy fuck? Calm down, Larry. Just go have your cigarette and get back to work. Maybe one of these chicks will have info on their dad that'll lead me right to him. Who knows, maybe this guy isn't so clever?
Guess it's time to make this walk out of the evidence room back to my office to get my cigarettes. I wonder how many steps I'm clocking in right now. Probably at least 300. Maybe even 350. Not bad for a day at the office. I might even be one of most in-shape detectives we have on this floor. We should have a competition to actually find that out. I don't know anyone who would give me a run for my money. I'd smoke all of them any day of the week. Well, maybe not Detective Peterson, that guy does run marathons. But definitely fucking Grimes, that fucking tortoise. And definitely Walters. Yeah, I could definitely smoke them. There's my cigs, sitting nicely next to all those files. Huh, only four left. I'll have to buy some more later. Now, just before I go outside. Cigarettes? Check. Lighter? Check. Coat? Check. Perfect. Ten minute smoke break then I'll get back to it. Jim Duke, if you're still alive, I'm fucking coming for you.
Chapter 3. The Daughter; Part One
November 3, 2018
Aurelia Pelisson
An eighth left. Great. How much did we smoke yesterday? It must've been close to four grams. I'll just have to get more today. Where is my phone? Under the pillow? Nope. Maybe it's caught in between the sheets. God I hate it when that happens. Where did I leave it? Jesus Christ I'm a mess. What the hell is wrong with me. Maybe Joe knows where I put it.
Hey Joe.
What's up? says Joe, that brain dead dude probably has no idea where it is.
Have you seen my phone?
Yeah it's been ringing for the last twenty minutes.
And you don't think to tell me? Jesus fuck I swear to god if he didn't look the way he did I'd have his ass out in the street. I'll just get out of bed now then and see who's been calling me. Who the hell could it be? It's not like I have any friends or family. Well, I suppose I do technically have one family member left but it's definitely not that asshole. Jesus my room is a mess.
I hate it when Joe has my phone. He's always looking through it trying to find "evidence" of me cheating on him. Like I ever associate myself with anyone else. If he actually broke through that lock he'd see that I text two people, him and my dealer, who he couldn't even get mad about seeing as I supply every gram of weed he's smoked in the last six months. What a healthy relationship. Oh- And he cheated on me with an older woman. I caught them in his apartment one day. I had a key, I didn’t break in or anything… that time. But still, that guy owes me big time.
Let me see my phone, Joe.
As he hands it to me I can literally feel the sweat on the case. You would swear this guy sweats 24/7. That's a side effect of having anxiety. Probably why he smokes so much weed. Some time I should probably ask him about that. But, for now let's see who's been calling me. Oh shit-
Joe. Why didn't you tell me that the FBI were calling me?
This guy is so god damn stupid. You would think that the first thing you'd do if you saw the FBI leave a voicemail on your girlfriend's phone would be to tell her.
I don't know, babe. I didn't think it was any of my business.
God damn right it's none of your business. But of all the times you could have had that philosophy, you do it when the FBI are calling? This guy has got to go.
All right, Joe. You should probably leave I need to call them back.
Before he can even answer I redial the number. I'm not dealing with any of his shit right now. Oh, good he got the message. Bon Voyage, stupid.
Hello? Says Detective Pete
Hi this is Aurelia Pelisson, I'm calling you back.
What the hell could this be about?
Oh yes, Ms. Pelisson. We have some bad news. We found a note from your Father, it was somewhat of a death note. We need you to come down to our office to answer a couple of questions.
My father? Oh, you mean the man who impregnanted my mother 26 years ago and left us when I was nine? That father?
Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can.
So that's it. He's really dead. He was dying and didn't think to even reach out to me. 16 years and not a single word. I can't even remember what the man looks like. How am I supposed to answer questions about him? Oh, apart from asshole-related questions. Like, "Why did your dad leave your mom". "Oh, because he's an asshole". Now I have to get all dressed up, drive 45 minutes into Boston, pay $30 to park my car, walk to the station, and answer questions for what I presume will be a long time considering the FBI called me about just a death note. Clearly there's a lot I don't know, so I don't know what help I'll be. Anyways, I better get ready and drive in. The sooner I get this done the better.
Chapter 4. The Daughter; Part Two
November 3, 2018
Lydia Arnold
Wow. 15 years old. I can't believe it. I can do so much more things now and nobody can really tell me what to do. Well, except for driving a car, drinking alcohol, smoking tobacco, enlisting in the army, having sex, and? That's probably it. That's not too bad at all! And most of those things I'll be able to do in three years anyways so what's the rush. I had a good party yesterday and I feel great today. That's all I can ask for right now. But, I can't believe what Stacy said about George though. I mean I've never heard of any boy doing anything like that ever. Is that the type of thing that boys like to do with girls? I mean, it just seems kind of gross. But whatever, not my problem. I wonder where Mom is?
Hey Mom?
Silence. She must be out running errands. She's always out running errands. I wonder what she does? I mean, every time I have gone shopping to get groceries with her it only takes us like an hour. So it can't take her that long. And it's also at the exact same time every Saturday morning. That's weird, right? I don't know. Maybe she just has a routine that she follows. I have a routine too for school.
Wake up: 6am
Yoga: 6-6:30am
Shower: 6:35-6:45 [Sometimes this takes a little longer depending how sleepy I am]
Get ready for school: 6:45-7:15
Breakfast: 7:15-7:30
School: 8am-3pm
Extra-curricular activities: 3-6pm
Dinner: 6:30-7pm
Homework: 7-10pm
Me time: 10-10:30pm
Bed: 10:30pm
Yeah, routines are good. Mom probably has a really good routine she really sticks to her schedule, especially on the weekends. But it is kind of weird. When Dad was around she was never like that. She was always home and making sure everything was neat and tidy, that my dinner was always ready for me and Dad when we both came home, and even would wake up extra early to make us both breakfast. God, she really was different. I never even think about it. Now she just keeps to herself, sleeps in late, and hardly ever makes me a meal. The birthday party was great though. And I do have friends that are loyal too. I guess things aren't all so bad.
Oh shit, is that the phone ringing?
Why the hell do we keep the phone all the way on the other side of the hous
e. Why do we even have a phone? I mean, like nobody does anymore. I don't even think I've heard anyone but my mom use the words "house phone" in ten years! Oh, I should pick that up, our ring tone is poison to my ears.
Hello?
Hello? Lydia? says Mom, or Martha, as most people call her. Not me, though. That would be kind of weird.
What's up, Mom?
Can you sit down for a second, darling?
Mom is never this serious. What could this be about? Oh Jesus, I hope I didn't do bad on my report card. That would be the worst thing ever. I haven't even gotten a B since I was six! And that was bullshit too by the way. I deserved an A for that essay on The Jungle Book. I watched the movie three damn times. I knew it inside and out, that was ridiculous.
Are you sitting?
Yes, what's wrong, Mom?
It's your Father, sweetie. The Police they- They found a note in his Newton house. They say that it was a death note and that he's dead.
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
What Mom? Are you serious?
I am going to cry. No, worse. I am going to die. How could this have happened. He was so healthy. He was only like fifty, that's not that old right? He can't just be dead. He can't. That's impossible. There is no way. Oh no, now Mom is crying. This can't be real.
I am serious, honey. The Police want you and I to come down to their station to look at the note. They say that there's a lot we don't know. That your Father was a criminal wanted by the FBI. I don't want for you to get any ideas in your head until we actually go and figure it out for ourselves.
Jesus. Christ.
Chapter 5. The Truth
November 3, 2018.
Detective Larry Pete
Gotta' pass the time. Gotta' pass the time. How the fuck can I pass the time? I could take another cigarette break, but that might be excessive. Seven cigarettes in two hours can't be good. But what the fuck else am I supposed to do? I wonder how Walters spends his time. Probably finger-banging his asshole. I know for a fact that guy is into some weird shit. I heard the rumors and everything, the ones about the public indecency at the county fair etcetera etcetera. But, I have seen it with my own eyes. I have seen that overweight, piece of shit man do something so incredibly terrible that even the catholic church would excommunicate him for. Never in all my years on this Earth have I seen something so grotesque, so nerve-pinching, so cruel. I'll never forget it. Summer, 2013. New York, New York. Three-thirty in the morning. I was walking down that Alley way, the one just off West 42nd. I had been looking for Walters for half an hour. Then out nowhere I just see him squatting there, over that poor woman. The presence of traffic from that moment still consumes my mind. The screeching tires. The way the headlights bounced off the street below me. It's as if the world just stopped turning for a millisecond. Long enough for my fucking brain to process the fact that Walters had just killed someone. Or, almost killed someone. I guess neither of us still know.
Stayaway Hideaway Page 1
