by Mark Ayre
"Once or twice," she accepted.
"But do you know how to use that?" he said, nodding at the gun.
Abbie glanced at the weapon, then back at Louis.
"Wrong question."
"Is it?"
"Of course. Do I know how to use the gun? Yes, I'm an excellent markswoman. But anyone could know how to use it, given a little firearm training. Plenty of people could be an outstanding shot were they committed enough to put in the practice. In theory. The question is never, Can you shoot? It's, Will you shoot? Putting a bullet through a paper target is one thing, but can you put a bullet through the heart or head of a man or woman when they're a couple of feet away? When you know a twitch of your finger will extinguish a life forever. That's the vital question, and, for most people, the answer's no."
As Abbie spoke, she held Louis' eye. The way his smile faltered told her he already knew the answer to his next question.
"And you," he said. "Will you shoot?"
"Yes, Louis," she said without hesitation, "I will."
A cold silence fell between them. An old, ticking grandfather clock would have fit the quiet perfectly, but there was none. Nothing broke the silence until Louis cleared his throat and spoke.
"Have you been sent to kill me?"
"Why would anyone want to kill you?"
"Don't play dumb. Even if you're not an assassin, you walked into this room with Anthony Mitchell, which means you're wrapped up in that family, which means you know at least one person who wants me dead. Tony said you were here to talk about his sister. He didn't mean Alex, did he?"
The name Mitchell had only confused Abbie for a second. Of course, Rayner was Morris’ surname and was shared by Alice and Morris’ two daughters—Ariana and Aurora. Mitchell was either the surname of Anthony and Alex’s father or Alice’s maiden name. Abbie guessed the former.
In answer to Louis’ question, she said, “No."
"He meant Aurora."
Abbie nodded.
"So I ask again, have you been sent to kill me?"
Abbie saw no value in lying. "If I'd been sent by Alice to kill you, would she have allowed Tony to accompany me?"
"Maybe he was supposed to verify my murder."
"I could have filmed it."
"You could, but technology is so unreliable. Footage can be doctored. Tony's eyes cannot."
"But if Tony was to be here anyway, would Alice not give him the gun and save herself my fee?"
"Money means little to Alice," said Louis. "Besides, we can return to your question, can't we? Will you shoot? Would Tony?"
"Fair point. Tony doesn't have it in him, but Ariana and Angel do. What's more, they would consider it a pleasure to end your life."
"I'm sure they would, but is that what they want? Alex tells me they don't view my murder as punishment enough for killing Aurora."
"Interesting," said Abbie.
"What is?"
Abbie had been talking to herself. Having spoken aloud, she decided to include Louis in her thought process.
"You and Alex have been talking about some pretty heavy topics," she said. "Discussing the plans her sisters might or might not have regarding revenge against you for Aurora's murder."
Louis said, "What's your point?" but his expression indicated he knew he'd been caught out.
"Tony guessed Alex would fill the final day of her twenties with bad decisions," said Abbie. "He predicted sex or drugs would be involved. What could be a bigger screw you to turning thirty and growing up than having a meaningless one-night stand with the dangerous man much hated by your family? But Tony and I didn't walk in on a one night stand, did we? You don't bring your trysts home, but you brought Alex, and you've been doing more than having sex. You've been talking, discussing. We didn't disturb a hook-up, did we? We disturbed a relationship."
The frustration in Louis' eyes grew. Now Abbie had caught him out, he could no longer hold the smile.
"If you're not an assassin," Louis asked. "Why are you here?"
Louis was desperate to move on from Alex. Abbie could have pushed him, but what was the point? She didn't plan to torture or kill Louis, so she needed to build some degree of trust to get him to open up. If he wanted her to leave his relationship with Alex alone, she would. For now.
"My aim is simple," said Abbie. "I want to ensure Alice survives until the end of her sixtieth birthday, and preferably much longer than that."
"You're her bodyguard?"
"If I were her bodyguard, I'd be guarding her body. No, I'm not in Alice's employ. I'm a stranger, a wanderer. I'm a nobody, but a noble nobody. I’m noble Miss No One, or at least, that's what I like to think. I exist to save lives."
"You sound like Jack Reacher.”
Abbie sighed. "A little, I suppose. Except I'm scarier. Also more likely to win rear of the year."
Louis tilted his head. "Given you're yet to turn your back to me, I don't know if that's true."
"Eyes up," said Abbie, shifting in the chair. "What would Alex say?"
Louis did as told. He examined Abbie, trying to work her out. She was not your everyday breaker and enterer, after all.
"Why Alice?" he asked. "An ex-con on the cusp of old age. That's noble, is it?"
"I think so. I based my decision on who Alice is as a person today. Her past, her age; I'm interested in none of that."
"You just want to keep Alice alive?"
"That's what I said."
"And you think I might stand in your way?"
Abbie shrugged. "From what I hear, you blame Alice for your brother's death."
"You are well informed, aren't you?"
"Alice and I have a lot in common. We barely know each other, but she's decided to place her trust in me. Desperate times call for desperate measures. After all, she's predicated today will be her last day on Earth."
Louis raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"
It had been a risk, divulging this information, but one Abbie considered worth taking. Her mind was whirring. Every second in Louis' company, she built a clearer picture of what was going on, of where the danger to Alice's life really lay.
"Do you blame Alice for your brother's death?"
Louis considered.
"If not for her, he’d still be alive."
"That's a backwards answer that opens all kinds of people to recrimination. Is it not also true that he’d still be alive had you not decided to send him to rob Alice? Had he not decided to shoot his way past the police? Had the police decided to lay down their weapons, take his bullets, and let him pass? It's a backwards way of answering the question, and a stupid way, too. But it tells me what I need to know."
“What's that?"
“You don't blame Alice. Maybe in the heat of the moment, but not anymore."
On this hypothesis, Louis chose not to comment.
"I assume you know Alice and I are due to meet tonight?" he said instead.
"I do."
"And she believes I plan to kill her at this meeting?"
"Not you. Your people."
"We agreed to meet alone. We both gave our word."
"And she intends to keep hers."
"But doesn't believe I'll keep mine?"
Abbie nodded. Louis pulled himself further up in the bed, dragging with him the duvet.
"I don't blame Alice for my brother's murder," he said.
"I know."
"So this is Alice's hypothesis. Blaming her for Niall’s murder, I reacted in the heat of my anger, killing her daughter. At our meeting, she intends to force me to confess to the murder, at which point she'll shoot me dead, and whoever I brought with me will step out and kill her?”
“That about sums it up,” said Abbie. "She thinks that would be a neat ending. After all, her life’s has been blotted by depression since Aurora's murder. If she could avenge her daughter and escape the pain of her loss in one evening, I think she'd call that a pretty good deal."
Louis was staring again. Here Abbie was, pointing a gun a
t his torso but divulging far more about the person she claimed to represent than Louis would ever have imagined. As yet, he hadn’t been able to work out where all this was going.
"I don't think it's going down like that," Abbie said when Louis failed to fill the silence.
"No?"
"No. I do believe you intend to break your word and bring someone to the meeting, but I can't imagine that someone would shoot Alice dead, no matter what happened. Not with that someone being Alex, her daughter."
Louis said nothing. His expression made it clear Abbie had correctly read the situation.
"I believe you asked for this meeting not to discuss your brother but to announce your relationship. I believe you'll also try to convince Alice you didn't kill Aurora, and Alex will back you up. And I’ve one more key belief."
Louis leaned forward. Folding his hands together and using them to prop up his chin.
He said, "And what's that?"
"When it comes to Aurora's murder," said Abbie. "I believe you're innocent."
Fourteen
Louis released a long breath and leaned back into the headboard as though he was blowing himself over. For a little while, he stared at Abbie. Then he asked the critical question.
"Can I get dressed yet?"
Abbie gave the room a brief scan. She saw jeans and socks in a pile by the bed. A shirt near the en suite door. There was no sign of any underwear.
"Where are your boxers?"
"Wasn't wearing any," said Louis.
"Did the zip of your jeans not... you know what, never mind."
"It didn't," said Louis. "I'd still like to put some on now and to know why you believe I'm not responsible for what happened to Aurora."
Abbie mulled over the request. She didn't believe Louis was a danger but had to act as though he was. That was the safe play, and she was always looking at the safe play. So far, it had kept her alive.
"Where are your boxers?"
Leaning over, Louis tapped the wooden top of his bedside table. "Top drawer."
"And your gun?"
Louis hesitated, then smiled. Tapped the bedside table again. "Bottom drawer."
"How many more weapons in the room?"
A little more thinking time, then he showed two fingers. Gave details before Abbie could prompt him.
"Shotgun under the bed, hunting knife in the en-suite’s cistern."
"Quite the arsenal," said Abbie. "At least you'll be prepared if the monster in your closet ever gets brave enough to venture out at night."
"Maybe," Louis chuckled. "Didn't help when you came bursting in, did they?"
"No, but you were preoccupied."
Abbie rose from the armchair. There was a chance Louis was lying, but she was inclined to believe he had told her everything. He'd confessed to three weapons, after all, and he only had two hands. More weapons would not equal more protection.
"Stay on the bed," she said. "Don't move."
If he was lying, it would be about the location of his closest gun. Good lies stuck close to the truth. Louis might have kept his handgun in the top drawer of his bedside table. Had Abbie believed it was in the bottom drawer and let him collect his own underwear, he could have grabbed it and started shooting.
Abbie remained particularly vigilant as she reached the opposite side of the bed to where Alex and the duvet had fallen. If Louis wanted to attack, he could either dive towards her and try to knock her down, or dive away, collapse to the floor on the other side of the bed, and go for his shotgun. If he tried either, firing immediately would be Abbie’s only chance.
"I don't think you've told me your name," said Louis, as Abbie reached the bed. "Bit unfair, given you know mine."
Abbie crouched on the balls of her feet but ensured the gun was nice and visible to Louis.
"I once had a gun on this guy, and he asked me how old I was," said Abbie. "He thought general chit chat would disarm me, so when I answered, he tried to put a knife through my throat. You may notice my neck is unblemished by scars. On the other hand, this guy is no longer active on social media. Or anywhere else."
She opened the bottom of the two bedside table drawers. Beneath a blank notebook, she found a handgun. Silver. Sleek. Bigger than hers.
"My name's Abbie."
She closed the bottom drawer and opened the top; routing through the underwear, she found no knives nor another gun. She extracted a pair of boxers adorned with pineapples. Chucked them to Louis with a smile.
"They were a father's day present from my younger son," said Louis. "And I really did just want to know your name. No tricks."
Abbie stepped back. With a boot, she tapped Louis' discarded jeans and shirt like Darth Vader attempting to verify Obi-Wan’s demise by stamping on his empty robes.
"I left the gun in the bottom drawer," said Abbie. “I’ll not remove the shotgun from beneath your bed. Take those as signs I don't believe you're a danger. In fact, I think our friendship is blooming nicely, like a beautiful flower."
As Louis scrambled to put his boxers on beneath the duvet, Abbie chucked him his jeans, his shirt, his socks, after which she returned to the armchair and settled herself as Louis continued to dress.
"If our friendship is really coming along as you say," said Louis, now pulling on his jeans. "will you tell me why you don't believe I killed Aurora? After all, I'm the obvious suspect, aren't I?"
"Are you?"
"Sure. For starters, as you've pointed out, I was furious at Alice after Niall died, which makes me the only person with a motive. And for seconds, Aurora had her head bashed and her throat slit, but there was no material evidence on the body. Someone did a grand job cleaning her up. A professional, the police thought."
"And you're a professional killer, are you?"
"I'm a professional criminal. I have experience working outside the confines of the law. I'm not a killer, but if I was to commit that particular crime, I would cover it up as well as I do everything else."
Abbie laughed as Louis buttoned up his shirt.
"What?" he said.
"Isn't it strange," she said. "I come here representing Alice, the woman whose daughter died, yet I seem to be on your side while you support your accusers. Why is that?"
"Why do you think?" said Louis.
"Because you're curious," said Abbie. "You're playing devil's advocate because you want to know how I've reached my conclusion."
"Which you're reluctant to divulge. Why is that?"
"Not reluctant," said Abbie. "I'm just being difficult like you're being difficult playing devil's advocate. I guess we're just a pair of difficult people."
Shirt buttoned, Louis had removed the duvet and was pulling on his socks.
"I guess we are."
Abbie rose. Louis jumped.
"Sorry," Abbie said. "That chair is so comfortable. I don't like being that comfortable; it makes me uncomfortable. I’ll stand."
"Okay. Can I?"
"No, best you stay where you are. Why don't I think you killed Aurora. That's what you want to know?"
"It is."
"And I'll tell you. First, a question. You and Alex, did you become an item before or after Aurora died?"
"I don't believe we’d even spoken before Alex lost her sister."
"Okay, great, so there's a reason for that, probably important, we'll return to it."
"Sure."
"As for why you didn't kill her..."
For the first time, Abbie looked away from Louis to the bedside table. On the hardwood upon which Louis had twice knocked was a framed photo displaying three beaming faces.
"You're a father to two teenage boys," said Abbie. "Aurora must be around the same age as Jacob, correct?"
"They were in the same year at school," said Louis. "They shared a few classes."
"Okay, fine, you said the killing was professionally cleaned up, so you might have murdered Aurora in the heat of your anger, then, coming to your senses, done a thorough clean up job. If you did it, that's
the only way it could have worked, except it doesn't work for me because you're a father. So I don't think was he angry enough about his brother to murder Aurora? Instead, could he look at Aurora, even consumed by rage, and not think of his children? Would you not have thought that Aurora was innocent like Jacob and Kyle were innocent? More than that, would you not have considered revenge? By murdering Alice's teenage daughter, you’d be inviting a retaliatory strike against your sons. Even if you happened to bump into Aurora at the height of your anger, and even if murder crossed your mind, I think your sons would have prevented you from acting. Fatherly love would have prevailed over brotherly anger. What do you think?”
Now dressed, Louis crossed his legs on the bed and sat up.
"I think you're right," he said. "Had my anger lasted long enough to get me to the night of Aurora's murder, and did I believe it acceptable to kill teenagers anyway, which I don't, my sons would have prevented me murdering her."
His eyes followed the pacing Abbie.
“I think so,” she said. “Wouldn’t be true of everyone. There are some psychotic people out there with minds dark enough to slaughter children though they have children of their own. Even if they know their children will be targeted as a result. But those people don’t tend to run criminal organisations and earn enough money to buy six-bedroom houses. It does happen, but I’m going with Occam’s Razor here: the theory that requires the least number of assumptions is often correct. Besides, you didn’t blame Alice for your brother’s murder, did you?”
“For about a day, I did,” said Louis. "Then reality came crashing home—the self-recrimination. I was so desperate to get those guns I took stupid risks. I should never have risked my brother on that fool's errand when I knew she would move the guns. It was idiotic."
"So why do it?"
"I had my reasons. I'll discuss them with Alice tonight if she still wants to meet."
"She will," said Abbie and tried to decide if she wanted to push Louis for more information about the guns. Perhaps sensing this, Louis moved on.
"I didn't kill Aurora, and I won't kill Alice."
"You didn't," said Abbie, "and you don't think you will. Don't think, that's important."
"What is this?" Louis asked. "You think there's a chance I'll kill Alice, so you're going to kill me first. Proactive protection. Is that the kind of person you are?"
