by Jim Ody
“How’s things? Good book?”
“Of course. You know I don’t read any old author. When you get to my age, you don’t waste your time on books that have no substance or originality. I only have a number of potential books left to read in my lifetime, so I can be quite picky at what I do read.”
“How was that last book you were reading?”
Deidre had got up and was opening up the “half door” that was security locked from behind. “That was a cracker! Mystery Island, it was called!”
“I’ll have to check that out.” Ginny waited a beat before then asking, “Is Bobby around?”
Deidre grinned and winked, clearly reading a lot more into the question than was there. “Yes, he’s out the back, why don’t you go and find him.”
“Thanks, Deidre.” Ginny walked around the desks and through the security door and back out into a hallway. The décor was tired and felt lost in the 1980s. Having originally been built in the 1960s and re-painted twenty years later, it was only now that things had begun to look incredibly dated with large bulky partitions, bookcases, wire in-trays, and orange strobe lighting.
PC Bobby Ranford looked up from his computer screen and smiled as he saw her. “Ginny?” he said as more of a question than a salutation.
“Hi, Bobby, you okay?”
He waved this off. “Yes, busy as usual.”
She smiled but wondered exactly what could keep you busy here in town. “Is Don around?” she asked and then caught something in his eyes she couldn’t quite make out. Maybe he was a little hurt that she was asking for a senior officer, or perhaps he thought and hoped that the visit was personal.
“He’s out,” he said. “He was called into a council meeting.”
“What’s the news then that Don is called to speak with Alfred and the gang?”
“I dunno.” He looked sheepish.
“It’s okay, Bobby, if you can’t say. I’m not asking you to tell me inside information.” He looked like a guilty schoolboy, having been caught with a lie.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I just…There are things that are happening.” He grabbed his mug but realised too late that it was empty.
“Okay. I understand your position.” She paused. “You remember why you came into this job though, right?”
“Of course I do.” He was a little defiant in his response. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Bobby, please don’t misunderstand me. I know you’re a hell of a policeman. I also know you are in a position where you have to do what you’re told.”
Bobby placed his palms on the table, pushing his mouse out of the way in the process. “Don is not a dirty policeman either, Ginny. I like you, you know that, and I don’t wish to speak out of turn, but you’re not in the police force anymore.”
“I know, Bobby. I’m not talking Hollywood dirty cop here. I’m talking about turning a blind eye to things.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Let me tell you what I think―as a former police officer.” She pulled up a seat, even though she’d not been invited to sit down. She wanted to reason with him not cause a big argument. “I know you were just about getting by—financially I mean—but you’ve just signed on for a beautiful house in Down Thomas.”
“How d’you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know. So if in a depleting police force with budget cuts, you and Don—who by the way has had a handful of test drives on a couple Range Rovers, a Jeep, and even a Ford Mustang—are suddenly buying large expensive things, then I have to wonder where that money is coming from…”
Bobby was now silent, perhaps not wanting to incriminate himself any more.
“And now you say that Don has been called to a council meeting, and another alarm is ringing. What’s going on, Bobby? Why am I hearing these bells?”
“It’s complicated.”
“People are disappearing, and you both know all about it, don’t you?”
“Ginny, this is more than missing people. This is about something big that cannot get out of this town. I back Don, but we’re in the middle of something that we’re struggling to get out of. My advice as a friend, as a good friend, is to forget about it. It will all work itself out, but it has to be done as it’s meant to be done…It…we just…” He put his head in his hands. He had never felt so helpless in the whole of his life. This wasn’t about the money, the perks, the doing things that didn’t seem morally right. These should all have been big major things. This wasn’t because the biggest feeling he had was fear. From the outside looking in, it would be easy to think he was fearful of what the council would do if he did not comply, but that was not it. He was fearful of what it was they were hiding. He was fearful of exactly what it meant for him, his family, the town, maybe even more widespread than that.
He was close to tears. He felt like a big letdown. At a time of need, he was here sat in a room, crying in front of a lady. She was right; this was not what he had envisioned when he had signed up. It was never going to be like the Police Academy movies, but nor was it going to be like The Bill, but he couldn’t make up his mind whether he was doing all of this for the good of the town, or for the good of someone else.
He had to get it off of his chest and tell someone from outside the circle.
When he looked up, Ginny was gone.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Thirty-One
T he anticipation of seeing him again was almost overwhelming. She looked back at Susie and sang along with Rhianna about finding love in a hopeless place. She almost giggled with hysteria, unable to fully sing. But still pumped her fist, and pounded the steering wheel to the beat. She passed a Ford Focus packed with bags and children, noticing the look of horror on the adults’ faces at her unabashed antics.
But such were these feelings that suddenly they washed away as she glanced at the glovebox, knowing within it was the gun, and soon she would have to make a choice.
He would have to make a choice.
It was like somebody had then showered her with melancholy. Something grew suddenly in her throat, restricting her airwaves, and tears raced each other down both cheeks, as she was suddenly uncontrollable.
He had to fuck it up, didn’t he?
A flash of a cinema date appeared in her mind. Some Hollywood rom-com, all sickly sweet. Throughout it, they’d held hands. At one moment, they’d glanced at each other, and there was something unspoken about the connection they’d that mocked the movie in front of them. What they’d had was real and not from the mind of a writer, a director, and a host of producers.
When the movie was over, they’d walked quietly out, and he’d held doors open for her and rested his hand on her knee when driving. The need to touch had been too much. Silently, and with nothing more than sweet glances, they’d walked into his house. They’d kissed lightly at first, and then with a zip, her summer dress had dropped to the floor. There, with the curtains still open and the evening sun lowering in the sky, they’d made love slowly and tenderly, in a way that it should be done. She’d felt so special. He was a man that didn’t say much, but he treated her like a Hollywood lead actress. This was a good time, and there were many, many more.
There had been restaurant meals and weekends away, work parties that he’d shown her off at, grinning as other men looked at her lustfully. There were pictures that they’d shared together playfully.
She pulled the car over to the side and wondered whether Susie knew something was up. She worried at the effect her emotions were having on the child’s development, but this was the journey to completion. When the family was fully reunited, everything would be perfect.
Her mind was racing back into the past so deeply and sporadically, it was beginning to be dangerous trying to drive without seeing the road in front of her.
They’d changed—no, she’d changed—when they agreed to have children. She was desperate for the two-point-four children—the husband, the money, and the beautiful
children—and somewhere along the line, reality escaped her and her fantasies took over. It became another competition she had to win, and at some point, Paul stopped being the joint leader on the team and became just a machine that helped her to win. And eventually, the cause of her loss.
Except she wasn’t winning. She could not get pregnant.
She sobbed uncontrollably at the thought.
She remembered that night with the other guy. She also felt how good it felt. The way the alcohol and her messed up mind was able to justify her actions, allowing her to maintain full control of herself throughout. He was bigger built than Paul, not muscular as such but sturdy and strong. For that one night, having a man that grabbed her and kissed her with an animal lust, empty of emotion and feeling, building up almost to the point of forcing himself upon her was just incredibly exciting. There was an element of fear that only fueled the flames. He’d been a bad boy, high-fiving his mates at the conquest, but Christina felt alive and naughty.
Inevitably, later on, she’d felt the extreme low conversely from the exciting highs of earlier and finally the paralysing guilt. She knew she’d destroyed Paul that night, the way he’d destroyed her ever since with the thoughts of him and that Amazonian blonde. That bitch would not be interested in sensual kisses, of candles and massages. She would want him to jump on her and fuck her every which way to Sunday until she felt abused and debased.
Christina took a deep breath.
She wondered whether Paul would like to see his daughter.
She also wondered what his new bitch would think about the fact that Paul was a liar. There was no way she knew about Susie. Nor that he had only seen her last week.
One of them was definitely going to die. This she was sure of.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Thirty-Two
“C ome on, V!” Robin said out loud to himself, stopping and wiping the sweat from his brow. He’d never felt claustrophobic before, but there is something about being on your own in the dark that can make your mind overthink risks and consequences. He was thinking of movies he had seen, like The Descent, Catacombs, or The Cave. This didn’t help at all. He started to sing The Beach Boys. Their songs were just too happy for anything bad to happen to a person when singing them. Well, aside from the close call in War Of The Worlds. He settled on “California Girls” while picturing the video in the cover version by David Lee Roth. If he was going to meet his demise then picturing bikini-clad females would certainly make things a little easier.
Robin looked at the rock above him and thought about the weight pressing down on it. The engineer in him understood the weight was for the most part evenly spread, and the gap of the tunnel he was in was not wide enough to put any strain on that. However, the start of a natural disaster began at a weak point, and here underground, there was no telling where that weak point was. The catalyst from any action can start by anything from a change in temperature, moisture, or weight. So his bumbling movements could easily set off all kinds of chain reactions.
He grabbed his walkie-talkie, realising this was the real reason he had been on the verge of a panic attack. He pressed the button but heard again only static.
“Kitty? Do you copy? Over.” He started to move again, stepping over some stones his mind told him were freshly dislodged.
He put the walkie-talkie to his mouth again, ready to try for the last time, when suddenly a loud shriek came from the speaker. He quickly turned the sound down, getting visions of it being loud enough to start an earthquake.
He began to question exactly why he was here. Was it about the silver? Or was it about adventure? Or was it simply about the girl?
With his map in hand, he pushed on until he came to a large stone that looked like it had fallen. He checked his map again, and it showed this was the right direction. He thought back to when he had spoken to old Woody.
“There are times when it looks like you can’t get though, but push on. Look around and you will find the path.” The old buffoon had sounded like some crazy prophet.
He pushed to the side of the rock and was sure there was a little movement. He took another deep breath and pushed as hard as he could. However, in doing so, he fell flat on his face just as it was pushed free. As he fell, there was a snap sound and something flew over his head and crashed against the wall ten to fifteen feet behind him.
He turned his head and could just make out what appeared to be a broken arrow. Was this a trap?
He stopped still suddenly, not wanting to move. He waved his arms around, but nothing happened. It was perhaps either an act of genius or an act of madness to wave around in a tight spot that was home to the odd booby trap. For a second, he questioned whether or not he should turn back. What was it they called this? “Fool’s Gold”, wasn’t it? It’s likely not named for the fact of finding iron pyrite having mistaken it for gold, but rather for putting your neck on the line for riches you may never receive.
He pushed on, albeit slightly more tentative than before, over a split in the ground and ducked under a dripping stalactite before the path opened up slightly. There was a box on the wall that looked nothing less than menacing. He picked up a rock and tossed it near it. A whoosh and thunk was heard as the rock hit. Robin crawled under the box, not trusting it to shoot him with something unpleasant. “Bloody silver!” he muttered under his breath. Then as it narrowed again, he could see what appeared to be a door. It sat there like a house appearing in the bowels of the cave. A purely natural thing. He searched in his pocket and pulled out a pair of large keys.
He was happy to see they appeared to be the right size for the lock. He also thought the fisherman showed a lot of hope in him making it this far, as at least twice he may’ve met an untimely death.
He pushed the key in with a wiggle and turned. He half expected an electric shock or for his head to be blown apart.
But of course the key would not turn. He tried again, and again, but it still wouldn’t budge.
“Bloody stupid thing!” he shouted and kicked it hard.
The door flew open, and the momentum sent him reeling back and landing on his backside, swiftly making him come to the conclusion that this whole escapade had indeed been nothing but a pain in the arse. Some stupid fisherman was sat in the Smugglers’ Rest with a jar of ale, laughing about the silly redhead being decapitated underground.
The door hadn’t been locked after all. Looking up from the ground, he could make out a dark room. His flashlight slowly unveiled an empty room that had at least some sort of foundations built in.
The beam dropped to the floor as he tried to get a proper picture of the room without fully going in. He stopped when he saw something sat innocently there.
A single walking boot lay on its side. There could be many reasons for this, but Robin’s logic concluded the person may well have come up the same path as him wearing these boots. That being the case, you would not then leave without it. So, if they didn’t leave…
And the answer was there, laid on his back with large, staring, dead eyes.
He muffled a gasp, suddenly conscious that others may be around, and then a bright flashing light engulfed him for a split second. Thankfully, he had already turned his back, but it lit up the tunnel from where he’d come almost as far as the opening.
He ran, or tried to run, moving as fast as he could without tripping over the rocks and uneven ground. He was sure to bend down at the right places, moving past the traps with speed and trepidation. He was sweating like that bloke in The Hurt Locker disabling bombs. What had once seemed exciting and adventurous now seemed incredibly foolhardy. The risks were meant to be minimal—not getting lost or buried alive. That man was dead, and in Robin’s view, it was no accident. The treasure trove of silver appeared to be missing. Something was definitely wrong with the picture.
His sense of direction had always been strong, and thankfully there were only a couple of forks he needed to remember. He ran for what seemed like twenty minutes, b
ut was more likely less than five, before he saw the light at the end of the tunnel.
He burst out and into the open, gulping in a large lungful of oxygen.
“You beat the boulder and the booby traps?” a female voice said.
He turned and looked at her, the blood still drained from his face. “You really have no idea how close to the truth you are,” he said, his heart rate returning to normal.
“Well, Indy, what did you find? Can you cross my palms with silver?”
He ushered her away with hand movements. “Flesh and bones, more likely. There was a body.”
“What?” Her jovial demeanour had vanished.
“You heard me right,” he said. “And booby traps that almost took my head off. Let’s get out of here.”
And with that they left, their conversation filled with speculation surrounding who the body was, what the bright light was, and where the building above it was. Although, the last one was fairly easy to work out. Whilst you could never be completely sure of distance when underground, the general direction meant it could be only one of two places around here.
The Dudley House or The Lodge.
THE PLACE THAT NEVER EXISTED
Chapter Thirty-Three
T he world can be a terribly confusing place, Sam thought as she knocked on the hotel room door in the early afternoon. They say that murder often surrounds money, sex, and power, and it is these three things that she was suddenly caught up in, among of course other things.
He’d finally got hold of her, which was of no surprise. He had the power, and that changed the whole dynamic of their relationship. Rupert held all the cards.
When Sam had met him, he was just another older man, not great to look at but not the worst. Men with money tended to look after themselves, so while they were not always the most handsome of men, they did smell good and had better hygiene than others. They were also appreciative of younger women and knew how to treat them well. This meant quite a lot when you were lying naked underneath them.
