by Nick Bryan
Matt mumbled something that might’ve been a hello and kept going, always looking at the floor.
“Right. Good lunch? Everything alright?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Matt said, at least looking up. “Your assistant made us take some guesses at who killed William.”
“Really?” He stared daggers at Choi with his mind, though not his eyes. “And who was it?”
“Um, we’re not sure.” He looked down at his computer. “Maybe you should talk to your friend.”
Hobson glanced down at Emily, but even she seemed bewildered. So much so, she gazed at him with wide-eyed empathy, even though a minute earlier she was willing him to fuck off.
“Right. Thanks.”
He nodded at the two of them, before going back over to Choi. He affected a stern, intimidating walk, loud enough to get Lettie and Pete looking over their shoulders. They scattered as he came nearer, knocking chairs aside as they went.
Once he arrived, he swept past Lettie’s desk and took Choi aside. “So,” he said, not bothering with pleasantries. “Matt said to talk to you.”
“Oh, um, he passed me a note as we left Subway. He’d scribbled it on his sandwich wrapper.”
“Saying what? I killed William, I’m so sorry?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
“He, um, wants me, um, well, us I guess, to meet him here after work at seven this evening, he says he has some information.”
“Can’t he just text you the sodding information?”
“I think he’s scared of something.”
Hobson growled. “I’m pretty sure he’s scared of everything.”
“So are we going to do it?”
“Yeah.”
*****
“Okay,” Hobson nodded at the side-room. “Well, we’re here, I’d better have this check-up with the boss.”
Angelina gazed at it, hoping she was imagining the strange lights and weird sounds within. “Will you be okay in there?”
“Choi, he’s got the muscle definition of a dead kitten, I’ll be fine.”
The rest of Social Awesome were working. Even Lettie and Pete left each other alone for the moment, staring at their monitors and sometimes muttering. Angelina didn’t yet have the intuition to know if something was wrong or they were just socially awkward. Emily didn’t seem too geeky, for example. Now her head was starting to ache again, until Hobson slapped her on the shoulder.
“Okay Choi, I’m going in. Talk to them if you must, but try not to ruin everything.”
With those words, he stamped over to Edward Lyne’s office door, loud enough to get everyone looking over from their individual seats.
As he knocked and entered, they turned their attention to poor, tiny Angelina Choi standing at the entrance, alone in a huge empty space. She would’ve considered jumping down the lift shaft if the door had been open.
Instead, she waved childishly at the nearest desk — she could charm them like this a second time, couldn’t she? Even when the recipient was as grumpy as Lettie Vole?
*****
“Mister Hobson. How are you? Take a seat.”
“Thanks, Mister Lyne. So, what did you want to talk about?”
“I just wondered how the investigation was going. Have you got everything under control?”
“No major progress since you asked me the same questions yesterday. My assistant and I are talking to some people.”
“I thought she was your intern?”
“Depends.”
“And these people, do they include my employees?”
“Yes. I’m afraid the victim was a nerd and didn’t seem to have a life outside work.”
“I’d rather Social Awesome wasn’t involved.”
“Mister Lyne, sorry if this wasn’t clear, but when you took me on to look into this case, I didn’t promise to leave your company out of it.”
“I see.”
“Would you like me to do that?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good. So, while we’re here, one question, if you don’t mind.”
“Which is?”
“Why did everyone hate William Lane?”
*****
“Man, Angie,” Lettie sighed, “your job sounds so much more fun than mine.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, bristling only a little at being called Angie. “I mean, I do get to investigate a murder, but this morning I got squashed against the wall of a pub by a fat guy, and I’ve been yelled at, sent for sandwiches, seen blood dribbling from a corpse.”
She smiled and kicked back in the spare chair near Lettie’s desk.
It turned out, all she had to do was show interest in Lettie’s job, and the bored woman was anyone’s. Still, hard work pretending to care. Lettie answered phones, filled in expense forms, ordered stationery, argued with her brother all day — all so dull.
“Oh, and the other thing,” Lettie lurched down her endless list of grievances, “bloody Pete hitting on every woman who walks through the door.” She kept her voice low, as bloody Pete was only a few desks away. “I mean, maybe it’s because he’s my brother — I mean, yick — but it’s not just that he hits on them, it’s that he does it so badly. Don’t touch him, Angie, no matter how much he begs.”
Angelina felt herself turning a little pink. “He did call me sweetheart earlier, which I didn’t like, but I just ignored him.”
“Good. Keep doing that.” Lettie said, shaking her head. “Punch him if you have to.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Determined to get the conversation away from sex, she flailed for a new question: “Um, what about William the dead guy? Did you like him?”
Lettie laughed. “You mean in a sex way?”
*****
“I don’t know what you mean, Mister Hobson. William was a good employee, always punctual, friendly. Maybe not outgoing and gregarious, but that’s what we have Emily and Pete for. He sat back here with Matt, he only talked to clients by email.”
“So he was popular? No housemate tensions with Pete? No awkwardness with Emily after their date? Everything was tickety-amazing?”
“Maybe not perfect, you know, we’re all passionate people working in a creative field, there were disagreements, I’m not sure William always fitted in perfectly with how we wanted to do things.”
“Uh-huh. Two things: you work in social media, it’s about as creative as shitting up a bathroom wall. Secondly, I’ve spoken to your people, and they hate him. Why?”
“We’ve always done things a certain way, Mister Hobson. William didn’t always like it.”
“Why didn’t you fire him, then?”
“I thought he might have something to contribute.”
“Right.”
“For whatever it’s worth, Mister Hobson, I didn’t kill him, and I’d appreciate it if you found whoever did.”
“Even if it’s one of your staff?”
“I suppose so.”
“Do I have to come in for another check-in tomorrow?”
“Not unless you have something to report.”
“Fantastic.”
*****
Once Angelina established, no, she definitely wasn’t asking about William in a sex way, Lettie fell quiet. In fact, she insisted on going alone to get a cup of tea, although she offered to bring one back for Angelina. Did their budding friendship still stand a chance?
A desperate need for approval might not be a great attribute for undercover work, Angelina thought, as she checked her phone. A few people on Twitter were asking how the case was going — she’d check with Hobson first before replying.
She glimpsed Matt looking over at her, but he turned back to his monitor as soon as she met his eyes. That face couldn’t look any more miserable.
“Here you go.” A mug of tea clattered in front of her, and Angelina smiled. She wasn’t a huge fan of hot caffeinated beverages, to tell the truth, but seemed rude to say no.
“Thanks.”
&n
bsp; Lettie sighed back down into her chair, and there was a silence.
“Okay, look,” Lettie said, eyes wide and starting to go as red as her hair. “William was just earnest, in a quiet way. He was young, straight out of school, and he wanted to… do a bit more than other people.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, y’know, look at us,” she said, almost in a whisper. “We’re hardly a machine. We do the bare minimum, we collect, we drink. It’s fine. I mean, I’m not a high-ranking part of the company, but Will was so moany about everything we weren’t doing, it even got on my nerves.”
“So you think someone killed him for being annoying at the office?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Seems a stupid reason to kill someone to me. But someone who had a lot to lose if the company folded?”
“Why would it fold?”
“Because someone might call all our clients and tell them how little we actually do?”
Angelina looked over at Edward Lyne’s office, her own eyes growing as saucer-like as Lettie’s. “Shit.”
For a moment, she wondered if Hobson was in real danger. Should she charge Lyne’s door? Would her weedy frame even survive a full-on ramming impact? If Hobson couldn’t overpower him, what good would she do?
Before she dislocated her shoulder finding out, the target door flew open and Hobson stormed out yet again. Angelina, well trained in this exit move by now, nodded to Lettie. “Um, see you later?”
To her pleasure, she got a “Sure thing, Angie” back, just in time to peel away when Hobson came past. A few moments later, they were back in the lift.
“So,” she began, “I’m a bit worried it might be Edward Lyne.”
“Dammit Choi, I was finally starting to agree with you about it being Matt.”
“Sorry.”
“Never mind.” Hobson grinned. “We’ll come back in a few hours for this after hours meeting, he’ll confess, then you’ll really have earned the nothing I pay you.”
SEVEN
Could Be Darker
They’d debated locations for evening food, but the winner was clear from the start: Subway, yet again — Hobson still wanted that sandwich. He got the full footlong meatball, whilst Choi sat there, moaning that she couldn’t have the same thing for both major meals of the day.
The more she sulked, the slower Hobson ate.
After he took her down the road and bought her a Cornish pasty, they found themselves on a bench, a few feet back from the street near some grass and a church. She devoured the whole brown pastry-blob in less than a minute. For such a tiny thing, she ate like a wolf — maybe she was the killer. At last, both finished, they stared at the sky.
The Inspiration Gestation Station was only five minutes’ walk away, and they tried to wait away from public transport. Didn’t want any of the Social Awesome staff to pass by and realise they were heading back later.
“So, Choi,” Hobson said, “what do you think Matt wants to tell us? Now you’ve decided he’s not the killer.”
“Maybe he’s gonna tell us the same thing Lettie told me — Lyne killed William to keep Social Awesome going.”
“She didn’t really tell you that, and Lyne told me he didn’t do it.”
“And he would never tell a lie? He’s basically Skeletor,” Choi said, grinning in satisfaction at her own insight.
“How does someone as young as you know who Skeletor is?”
“From the internet, other people mention it.”
“Right. Good.” Hobson sighed and brought the conversation back around. “There isn’t some dark secret, y’know? They’re just a bit lazy. You don’t kill someone to stop that spreading, you just pay them off.”
“But Lyne’s evil,” she said, as if he’d missed the winning argument.
“Real people aren’t evil, Choi.” Although, he must admit, Edward Lyne often seemed despicable. “So you’ve gone off Matt as a suspect?”
“Maybe he’s just creepy.”
“Maybe,” he said, happier with that sentiment.
The dark settled, the commuters were drifting out onto the pavement around them. Most were on their way to the area’s many bars and shops, ready for action after escaping the office. Their ties were steadily loosening. Hobson kept his pushed up tight. “When did Matt’s stupid note say we should meet him?” he said, foot twitching.
“Seven.”
Hobson looked at his watch. “Half an hour’s time. Let’s get this over with.”
They got up, threw their rubbish away and joined the surge of people down the road, watching for the shadow of the IGS in the left darkness. The building’s decor was less infuriating when he couldn’t see it.
*****
When Angelina first visited the Inspiration Gestation Station, it felt like a friendly, welcoming place. She enjoyed the chatty receptionist and bright colours. Social Awesome’s business environment seemed way better than her own, at first anyway.
That hadn’t lasted long. Not only were Social Awesome not all they seemed, but returning to the IGS late at night, the sunlight dissolved away, it didn’t seem as wonderful. The sharp angles loomed above her like a haunted rock. All the lights were out, except Social Awesome’s. Even the reception area was in darkness. She jumped out of her skin as a car started nearby, Hobson glared at her.
An intercom sat on the wall next to the glass card-locked front door, and she pointed at it, nervous. “Um, Matt’s note said to buzz him and he’d come let us in.”
“This really is stupid,” Hobson said.
“He’s a nervous guy, maybe he feels safe behind a locked door.”
Hobson tutted, then took a closer look at the front door of the IGS — it was ajar. His body tensed up, fists flexing, and Angelina shrank even more.
He stretched out a foot and kicked the door. Giving no resistance, it drifted inwards. “Doesn’t seem like we need the buzzer.”
“Yeah,” Angelina said, adding for the sake of it: “Guess he left it open for us.”
“Yeah.”
Angelina broke eye contact with Hobson. She mounted the small step from the pavement, ready to march inside.
Before a single cell of her body crossed the threshold, Hobson grabbed her by the shoulder and tugged her backwards. She gasped, so unprepared that her feet almost left the floor.
“Choi,” he growled, “just in case it wasn’t fucking clear, I will be first into the darkened building, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, no worries.” His grip pinched into her and she tried to recoil. With so little flab on her shoulder, Hobson was squeezing the bone. Still, he waited a few moments, as if making sure she’d heard her own words, before letting go and dropping the weight back onto her feet.
“You don’t need to pull me around,” Angelina grumbled, “I’m not a little girl.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Why’d you let me come at all, then?”
Hobson looked up at the black windows, streetlight reflections floating in them like grim stars. “Right now, Choi, I’m not sure. But you’re already here, and I’m not leaving you out on the street either.”
Exchanging one last look, they tugged the door open and stepped into the glowing reception area. Nothing happened, no alarm went off. A few moments after they entered, a weak strip light shuddered into life on some kind of automatic sensor. Angelina breathed a sigh of relief, looking around and taking comfort in the silly pasture designs on the walls. The desk was tidy, door to the stairs closed and dark. No-one was there, nothing was wrong.
“Lift’s dead,” Hobson muttered.
“What?”
“The lift, they’ve turned it off. Reception closes at six according to the sign, guess Jacq shuts it down when she leaves.”
“Right.”
Shaking his head, Hobson went back over to the door, reached outside and pressed the Social Awesome button on the intercom. It rang, sounding more desperate to Angelina with every tone, until the machine gave up the ghost. Silence fell, a
nd the cold was flooding through the open door now, chilling her even further.
“Brilliant,” he said.
“Now what?” Angelina hoped the answer involved going home.
“We get the fuck out of here, Choi,” he snapped.
“Thank God.”
“And next time a nerd asks you out, I’m not chaperoning.”
Before she could blush or complain, there was a scream, a yell, a clear human awful noise. It pierced through the walls of the building and almost squeezed the Cornish pasty out of Angelina’s stomach. Finally, it ended with a thud. She yelled, jumped, landed, then spat out: “HobsonWhatTheFuckWasThat?”
He glanced at the lift, and then behind him at the door marked STAIRS. “Don’t know,” he said, “but think it came from in there.”
“Well, let’s run away from it, then.”
Hobson looked through the gloomy porthole in the door. “There’s something dripping down in there.”
“Let’s definitely run away.”
“Gimme a second.”
Hobson poked the stairwell door open bit-by-bit, stepping inside once there was space. He took a wide diversion around something just the other side, underneath the staircase itself. The lights flickered on in the porthole as he entered, revealing him edging towards the back wall, before climbing the stairs slowly.
After another glance out to the street, Angelina crept up to the window in the door. There was something falling down in there, from the first floor to ground level. A steady rush of blood poured through the plastic railings and smashed into the floor. It was thickening and red, congealing around the edges of its own splat.
Gulping, she looked up, and saw the source: a ripped up torso of a body creeping towards the edge of the next level, glooping its insides everywhere. Hobson was kneeling down next to the remains, eyes wide and back of huge hand covering his mouth and nose.
Angelina pushed the door gently open — enough to let her voice through, without risking a trip into the thin waterfall of gore.
“Hobson?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that Matt?”
He looked down towards her and nodded.
Angelina inhaled so deep, she almost made herself sick.
*****
The door slammed downstairs, and Hobson sighed. Was it too late to send Choi out for a sandwich again?
