by Jack Hammond
“Come on mate,” he urged. “Where to?”
“I need you to follow that car.” Max said pointing at the silver Vauxhall Vectra turning out onto the road ahead.
The driver snorted and looked back, “You having a laugh?”
“No. Follow him, now.” Max retorted.
"Alright," he said with a touch of uncertainty in his voice. "Why exactly are you following the car?"
Max needed an excuse he would find acceptable. The man was in his mid-thirties and by the manner in which he kept his car he assumed he was single, possibly a player with the ladies. He had no wedding ring on his finger Max had noticed. He needed something he could relate to or at least appreciate, “I think he’s seeing my girl.” Max told him, “I want to make sure before…” he paused deliberately, “I decide what to do.”
The driver gave a disapproving shake of his head, “Wanker.” He snapped. “I’d kick the crap out of him if he went near my bird.”
“Let’s just say, I won’t be happy.”
“I bet. Bloody women, huh, can’t live with them, can’t kill them.” He jested.
“Isn’t that the truth.” Max agreed, interacting with the driver more than he wanted to.
The car weaved its way through the snowy streets of the city, the BMW cruising comfortably through the wet roads as it tailed the Vauxhall at a safe distance. Max wondered if the driver had been asked to do this before, he seemed to be doing a rather good job of following the car. The meter was reading almost twenty pounds when they entered the city centre. Prices had certainly gone up since the last time he had taken a cab. The huge House of Frasier shop flashed by as the taxi followed the car around the corner. Slowly pulling up on the corner of the street, the driver stared ahead at the silver Vectra as it pulled up into a parking spot outside the police station.
“I would give it a pass, mate.” The man said sympathetically.
Max leaned forward putting his elbows on the front seats, watching the cheap suited tool enter the police station. “You might very well be right.” Max said with a grin. He took out a handful of bank notes and handed them to him. “Keep the change.” He said.
“Stay safe and don’t do anything silly, mate.” The drivers parting words seemed earnest. Sadly Max had no choice but to ignore them. If he was police, it complicated things.
The evening had drawn in, before Max saw his target again. The city streets were clearing as the shops in the Victoria centre began to close, shoppers and workers alike making their way home. It was plain to Max the man was connected to the police, most likely a detective, he thought as he caught sight of him making his way down the steps of the police station. Max didn’t need to flag down a taxi this time, having procured some transport of his own. A light green 50cc moped, he had paid a student an extortionate amount of money for, it wasn’t his money so he really didn’t care. 'Needs must as the devil drives', that’s what his father used to say.
Max pulled on the white unfashionable crash helmet and kicked the moped into life. With a couple of revs he released the kick stand and headed off into traffic, keeping a safe distance from the Vectra. The ride was rough. The last time Max had ridden a bike he'd been a teenager on a waste ground. Its suspension was less than adequate, but thankfully the target did not live too far away from the police station.
The apartment block was four levels high, modern construction and well kept. The car park was surrounded by grey fence spikes, each one finished with a gold tip. Max watched the gates close behind the Vectra from the adjacent road. The targets residence was located, now Max needed to get entry and then confront him. The latter really not appealing to him, somehow Max had to subdue him. He crossed the street and made his way inside the complex.
The parking area was full of expensive vehicles, BMW’s, Mercedes and of course Max’s new acquaintance’s Vauxhall Vectra. Max eyed the intercom with interest as he arrived at the blue door. A row of numbers, all with a button next to them. The question was now, who was Max’s lucky victim? A great deal of people had number seven as their lucky number. He wasn’t a lover of that number, but preferred number thirteen. Max's only reservation was who'd be dwelling in the apartment? He buzzed the occupants.
A woman answered the intercom. “Hello?” she asked, her voice sounded young.
“Sorry, I pressed the wrong button.” Max replied in a husky voice.
“No problem.” She replied.
Max had chosen the number well, he just needed an in. A flower delivery would do nicely. He went back to the uncomfortable mode of transport.
Max spared no expense choosing the most extravagant bunch of flowers from the local supermarket. He made his way back on foot, leaving his moped to languish in the car park. The distance wasn’t great; normally a thirty minute walk but Max took extra care due to the conditions on the pavement. He reached the complex again just under an hour later, making his way to the garish blue door, Max once again buzzed number thirteen. Nothing. He buzzed and second time, a third, still there was no response. Damn it! Max cursed in his head. Pick another number, he continued.
Number seventeen seemed to speak to him. He pushed his thumb against the button.
“Hello?” the voice responded.
Max made a fist in celebration as he heard a woman’s voice, his flowers would not be wasted, “Hi, I have a flower delivery for this address.” Max replied.
She asked, “Who for?”
“Sorry, I don’t have a name. Just an address,” Max lied. Please don’t be a stickler for security he pleaded.
“No, thanks.” the woman replied.
“Okay, I’ll return them,” he said a hint of genuine disappointment in his voice.
Max was stumped for a moment. He tucked the flowers under his arm as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone, as he struggled, a woman approached.
“I’ll get the door.” She said.
Max smiled, she thought he was a tenant struggling to find his keys. “Thank you, they’re always the last place you look.”
“Don’t want you crushing those flowers, they’re beautiful.” She stated as she opened the door.
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s no problem,” She replied. “Whatever you did I’m sure they’ll make up for it.”
“What makes you say that?” he smiled.
"The only reason a man buys flowers is to apologise," she smiled back at him. "In my experience."
“Oh, I’m sure that can’t be true.” Max remarked.
“My last boyfriend had to shown the door by my neighbour,” she said openly “He’s a copper, so he has way with people.” She laughed.
“Is that so?” Max laughed along with her. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”
For someone who didn’t subscribe to coincidence, there was an awful lot of it floating around Max today. He couldn’t help but wonder if greater powers were at work. The two of them stood silently in the lift. The woman had selected the second floor, Max decided to press the top one. As the elevator made its way up, the pair exchanged looks and smiles. She was pretty Max thought, no makeup, but with some effort, no doubt she could be a stunner in the making. Her auburn hair was rather dishevelled from the high winds, the big coat and scarf did her no justice. But her eyes and lips were beautiful.
The doors parted, and she stepped out, “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Max replied watching her walk along the corridor. She only moved past two apartments before looking for her keys. He held the doors open and waited patiently for her, she opened her door and with a quick look back she smiled as the elevator doors started to close. She could just see Max wave as she entered her apartment. Suddenly sticking his foot between the doors, they jolted as the security measures kicked in and they opened once again.
Max placed the flowers down on the ground and removed the card he had attached. The only message was the shinning symbol Max had drawn on to it himself. He took out a pen, flipped it over and scribbled a random series o
f numbers onto the other side, adding the name Milo. He wasn’t a Milo, he didn’t even know a Milo, but he had brought the name up from somewhere and he liked the fit. Max put the pen and card back into his pocket, picked up the flowers and decided to play a hunch. Coincidence had led him this far, fate had presented him an opportunity and it would be unwise not to take advantage.
The bright white walls glared in the well-lit hallway. His feet squeaked against the tiled floor, his wet boots leaving prints as he moved. Max looked at the plaque next to the bell when he reached the door. It was handmade; flying doves surrounded the word ‘peace’. Max pressed the buzzer. A few seconds later the door opened. The woman looked a little surprised to see him again. It was quite clear on her face. “That was quick.” She said.
“I lied,” Max began. “We had some problems, and she cheated on me. But I still wanted her back, I was bringing her these to show it doesn’t matter and we can move on.” He continued to lie, very well he thought.
She prompted him, “But?”
“It does matter and I can’t move on,” Max declared. “So I thought you'd like these flowers. To show not all men use them to say sorry, some use them to say thank you.”
“Thank you, for what?”
“Something about you...” he lingered on his reply, “it made me realise I was doing the wrong thing. I know it sounds stupid, but there you go.” He finished, handing her the flowers.
There are not many women out there who wouldn’t accept flowers from a total stranger. Something inside all females gave them an urgency to put flowers in water, it was genetics. No woman could receive a bunch of flowers without immediately rushing to the nearest vase.
“Thank you.” She graciously replied taking hold of them.
“Can I ask one thing?”
“Go on?” she replied a hint of caution in her voice.
“Here’s my card,” He began. “I’ve written my number on it, don’t panic.” He joked. “No pressure, I know there’s a police man next door.” Max said pointing to his right.
“Behind you,” she gestured with a nod.
“But…” he continued as if that information was not important. “If you could keep it close, sleep on it tonight. Not literally.” He broadened his smile. “And when you wake up tomorrow if you think I might be someone you would like to get to know, call me?”
The woman reciprocated his smile as she took the card in her hand. She looked at the name and number. “Milo, I have never met a Milo before.” She commented.
“We’re a rare breed.”
“So it would seem.” She replied unable to hide her delight.
“Thank you, again.” Max’s smile remained, before walking away.
“You haven’t asked my name.” She said stopping him in his tracks.
“I don’t want to know it.” Max looked back at her. “If you don’t call me tomorrow, it would be easier for me to have no name to dwell on.”
“I have a feeling you’ll get a call.” She laughed. She wasn’t the playing hard to get kind, he was charming and nice looking she thought to herself.
“Talk to you tomorrow then.” Max finished as he entered the lift.
“Bye Milo!” she called out as the lift doors closed.
Max whispered under his breath, “Gotcha!”
The flowers were quickly unwrapped and treated with the sachets taped to the stems after being added to water. The clear glass vase was then proudly placed on the front room table. Monica’s heart was still racing. “You’ve still got it,” she declared. It wouldn’t be long before she was telling her friend about the mystery man. Monica couldn’t do it right away, her friend was working late. She went into the kitchenette, took out a carrot stick and chewed on it as she looked at the bouquet. She was stunned how a simple meaningless conversation had led to flowers and the possibility of more.
The doubts were not far away. Thinking about what his faults were was inevitable. Why had the woman on the fourth floor chosen to cheat on him? Was he a bad lover? Uncaring, he didn’t seem the type, argumentative? Then a voice called out in his defence, perhaps she was just promiscuous? Maybe it wasn't him? Happy with the lack of conclusion, she parked herself down on the sofa and flicked on the television placing the remote in her lap.
The flat was neat and tidy; an assortment of knickknacks adorned the walls, mostly animals. The bookcase beside the television was filled with books, steamy romance novels and how to books. There were a few photos of her and another girl, Debra her best friend. The two looked happy in all the pictures, there were a couple on the window sill were of them on vacation in Canada a few years before. The iconic CN Tower in downtown Toronto clearly visible in the background. Milo hadn’t drifted far from her mind the entire night, coming to the fore when she gleefully recanted the whole incident to her friend over the phone a few hours later.
“He was so charming.” Monica gushed.
“As long as he’s fit,” Debra joked, with an air of seriousness.
“Oh he was.” She replied.
“Told you someone would suddenly appear in your life, I read it in your horoscope and knew you were going to meet Mr, Right.”
“I don’t know about Mr Right. Mr he’ll do for right now?” she laughed.
Monica was on the phone for at least an hour and a half, the pair finished chatting and she got changed. She slipped into some grey jogging bottoms and a loose fitting top and mounted the exercise bike in her bedroom and started the twenty minute cycle. She loved to exercise before bed, it tired her out and with a nice shower afterwards she always felt refreshed in the morning. She spent longer in the shower washing off the sweat, than she had taken to build it up. A pink fluffy bathrobe wrapped around her, she dried her hair as she passed through the front room. Monica paused at the doorway, her eyes focusing on the card Milo had given her. With a smile she walked over and picked it up, then continued on into her bedroom.
The room was small, large floor to ceiling mirrored wardrobe doors in front of the bed helped give a feeling of more space. Perched on the edge of the bed, Monica put Milo’s number on her bedside table. Some soft classical music played on her radio as she brushed her hair and prepared for a good night sleep. Finally pulling the quilt up around her, she set her phone’s alarm and got comfy. She contemplated what the new day would bring, hoping this new man would bring some much needed excitement into her bland existence.
Two o’clock in the morning, it was quiet inside Monica’s apartment. The double glazing kept the sound of the blustery conditions outside to a minimum. Monica threw back the duvet and slipped out of bed, ignoring her dressing gown. She moved out of the bedroom in a pair of knickers and a thin T-shirt. Her arms swung lifelessly by her side. The girls eyes were still firmly shut, manoeuvring through the flat by instinct as she made her way towards the front door. First she slid the security chain off, unfastened the dead bolt before turning the handle and opening the door.
Max stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind. He looked around and moved further inside, noticing his flowers on the table, he felt a little guilty. Max left the girl lingering at the door as he went into her bedroom. Sure enough his card was there. The symbol had moved her consciousness to a place where she could be utilised, to aid Max’s goal. Max put it in his pocket and returned to the front room. He stood for a moment looking at the front door. Not even paying attention to the woman he had a spoken to earlier. He dragged the coffee table closer to the centre of the room and made sure it could be seen from the hallway. Max knocked the vase of flowers onto the floor and tipped over the table as well.
The thick glass did not break, but the water and flowers were scattered across the beige carpet. Max looked again, from his position it was directly in front of the door. “Come here.” Max ordered. With the girl’s own will removed, she obeyed. He took her by the shoulders he gently eased her onto the floor, arranging her as if she had taken a tumble over the table. Max glanced from the doorway and admired his handy work. W
ith a mental nod of approval he left her lying on the floor, among the flowers, in the deepest sleep she’d ever had. Max left the woman’s front door wide open and took one final look.
He took a deep breath, clenched his fist and beat it against the adjacent flat door before dipping out of sight into the stairwell. As he removed his boots, a thought occurred. What if there was another policeman living in the complex? The chances of that were low, he convinced himself as he peered out. It seemed to take forever before he heard the sound of the locking mechanism pop on the flat door. A moment past then he saw the burly man, dressed only in a pair of boxers dart across the hall into the opposite apartment.
Silently Max moved into the targets flat, once inside he swiftly took note of his surroundings, the layout identical to the woman’s, although messy in comparison. The windows in the kitchenette were open wide and with the heating on full, it was rather stifling. Max searched for a place he could conceal himself, but the bedroom was too small. With a grimace, Max thought about hiding behind the long curtains at the front room window. Was that too much of a cliché? He would be certain not to leave his toes sticking out.
Max tucked himself behind the thick velvet crush curtain and forced himself back against the wall. Hopefully this guy snored, so he would know when he could move. Then another unhelpful thought entered his mind, what if he stayed the rest of the night at her flat? Max had tried his hardest to make it look as innocuous as possible, hoping the scantily clad woman would preoccupy the man from asking who it was that had banged on his door and her embarrassment removing any thoughts of how her door managed to open seemingly by itself. Max hoped they would fill in the blanks with something plausible.
The sound of voices drifted into the flat, Max could clearly hear them chatting, but not what was being said. Max knew how the scene would play out. He would obviously be thinking about sex. No man could see a half-naked girl without thinking about sex. She would be disorientated from her visit to the darkness and be thinking about getting her robe quickly. They'd mull over the possibilities of how everything occurred. One of them would try to make light of the situation, knowing there was no imminent danger. It would most likely be him who made the joke, to try to put the young lady at ease.
