DEAD UNLUCKY: A Joe Box Story

by Jim Reeves

  Joe stared at him, not sure what to say. He had wondered why he was there. It seemed he was about to find out. ‘Do you really think I want to hear about your ex-wives, your shitty, unimportant little life?’ asked Braun. ‘Do I care if you lost your job? You are insignificant. A nonentity. A nothing. The scrapings off my boot are of more interest to me.’

  Bruno and Karl stood back a few feet. Both were still a little breathless, recovering from the struggle but smiling, enjoying Joe’s plight.

  Joe was fighting the urge to respond with a smart-arse remark. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, in the circumstances, but he couldn’t just help himself. ‘To be honest, you bored the arse off me tonight,’ he told Braun wheezily. ‘So that kind of makes us even.’ Maybe not the wisest thing to say, but Joe decided things couldn’t get much worse, whatever happened. Then again, he could be wrong.

  ‘I saw you smiling at my daughter,’ said Braun. ‘I know you were having filthy, salacious thoughts.’

  ‘No,’ Joe said. ‘She just seemed like a nice lady.’

  Braun’s expression hardened and he threw the remains the coffee in the cup he was holding into Joe’s face. ‘Do not speak of my daughter,’ he snarled.

  ‘Is she part of this? Is she in on the deal,’ asked Joe, blinking to clear coffee from his eyes.

  Braun looked ready to hit him. This time it was Bruno who did the restraining.

  ‘He will suffer soon enough,’ said Bruno. He smiled at Joe.

  ‘So what’s going on?’ asked Joe.

  ‘You are going to die,’ said Braun. ‘Very slowly. I’m afraid your last few hours won’t be pleasant.’

  So there it was. No window dressing. No wrapping it up in cotton wool. Right up front where it hurts. He was going to die. Joe had guessed it was going to be bad, but, he was hoping, not quite that bad.

  ‘Can I ask why?’ Joe managed to sound calm even though his guts were churning on full throttle. ‘Was it something I said?’

  Braun didn’t answer immediately. He poured himself a whisky then returned to stand in front of Joe. He sipped the whisky slowly as he watched Joe continue to struggle. ‘You say you only just met George Bishop?’

  Joe nodded.

  ‘I think he chose well. He always looks for losers when he sends somebody over. I think he found one for sure this time.’

  ‘What’s this all about?’ asked Joe again.

  ‘George and I, we like to think we can help to tidy up society as we go about our business.’ Braun was smiling again. ‘Kill two birds with one stone. George always tries to choose somebody who won’t be missed. Somebody who doesn’t have any loved ones. An absolute piece of shit, if possible.’ Joe stared at Braun, waiting for him to continue. ‘Do you have many friends in England?’ asked Braun.

  ‘One or two,’ Joe told him. ‘Maybe more on a good day.’

  ‘Anybody who will really miss you when you don’t go home?’

  Joe thought about Fish. He would miss him but what would he do about it? Probably, not a lot. The same went for Sally. Patti would definitely miss him but she would soon get another piano player when he didn’t return. Penny was off the scene now. He looked at Braun but said nothing.

  ‘No wife, no friends who really care,’ smiled Braun. ‘No great loss to anybody. Nobody will come looking for you. You are a perfect choice. We will be doing the world a favour. Ridding it of a piece of flotsam. I must congratulate George next time we speak.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me why I’m going to die,’ Joe said.

  Braun shrugged and looked almost apologetic. ‘I get nervous when people like you make deliveries here. Who will you talk to? What will you say? You are a loose end that could destroy my whole operation.’

  Joe shook his head. ‘I don’t know anything about your operation.’

  ‘But you know who I am and where I am,’ Braun pointed out.

  ‘No.’ Joe said. ‘If you hadn’t brought me here, I wouldn’t have had a clue, and I definitely wouldn’t give a toss.’

  Braun sipped his whisky. ‘You say that, but you might talk to somebody. A careless word might provide a small piece in a larger jig-saw.’

  Joe shook his head. ‘I’m not interested in you or what you do.’ He nods at Bruno. ‘If King Kong here hadn’t dragged me along, I’d have been tucked up in bed in a nice hotel by now. Ready to fly home tomorrow.’

  ‘I have to apologize. Perhaps I am being over cautious but I couldn’t take a chance,’ said Braun. ‘I always like to tie up loose ends.’

  Joe looks at the straps. ‘Like this?’

  ‘Yes, like that,’ Braun smiled.

  ‘So how am I going to die slowly?’ Joe asked although he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.

  ‘Have you ever experienced the sub-zero temperatures in our country?’ asked Braun.

  ‘This is my first visit,’ Joe reminded him. He still struggled against the straps holding him. ‘And probably my last.’

  ‘For once, you are right. This is your one and only visit.’ Bruno and Karl grinned.

  Braun smiled. ‘In a little while we will put you outside in the garden. The weather forecast for tonight is good for us, bad for you. It is ten degrees below freezing already and will probably get very much colder. Also, it is snowing at the moment. You will not survive for very long. You will die in the chair you are sitting in. I am afraid it will be a little unpleasant for you. That cannot be avoided.’

  Joe wasn’t sure why he asked the next question. He didn’t want to give them any ideas. ‘Why not just shoot me? Wouldn’t that be a lot less trouble?’

  Braun frowned. ‘Guns are very messy. Bullets can be traced. If they find a bullet in your body, they might try harder to find out what happened. You might bleed and leave blood traces to be found, either here or in the boot of a car. If you freeze to death,’ he shrugged, ‘That way is slower and bad for you. But it is tidier and better for us. We will release you from the chair in a few hours when you have ceased to care, and dump your body somewhere to be found at the side of a road near the town. A post-mortem will reveal that you are full of alcohol and good food. It will be assumed that you over-indulged at a local hostelry and passed out on your way to your hotel. Local police might make some enquiries but will find out nothing.’

  ‘I’m not booked into a hotel,’ Joe pointed out.

  ‘I took the liberty of telephoning one of our best hotels and reserving a room in your name,’ Braun smiled.

  ‘That’s why you fed me so well,’ Joe said suddenly understanding.

  ‘And wasted much good wine and whisky,’ Braun added a little sadly.

  ‘Elsa will wonder where I am,’ Joe said.

  ‘I will tell her you left early to catch your flight home,’ said Braun.

  Joe struggled, but failed, to find any other reason why it was a bad idea for them to kill him.

  Braun looked at Bruno and Karl smirking. ‘We’d better get our coats. It will be cold outside.’

  They laughed as they left Joe alone for a few moments while they went out to the hall. He thought of calling for help but decided that it would be a waste of time, and might just bring him more pain. Braun wouldn’t allow Elsa to dissuade him from what he planned to do even if she came to investigate. Joe tried, one more time, to get free but there was not the slightest chance and he gave up the struggle almost immediately. Braun and the other two returned, pulling on heavy coats, hats and gloves.

  ‘Get him outside. We’ve wasted enough time,’ said Braun.

  Joe sat helplessly as Bruno and Karl each gripped an arm of the carver chair and carried it towards the large French window at the back of the room. Braun unlocked the door and pulled it open to allow Bruno and Karl to carry the chair outside. Braun followed and pulled the door closed behind him.

  As soon as the intense cold hit him, Joe started coughing painfully. Snow settled on him even as they carried him. He knew he wouldn’t last long in the freezing conditions. Much less than an hour. Maybe
only minutes.

  They carried him about thirty yards up the garden and rested the chair on what was probably a patio. It was hard to tell with several inches of snow covering it. He shivered violently as they stood looking at him.

  ‘This is where we say goodbye,’ said Braun.

  Joe hurled off a string of obscenities through chattering teeth. There was no point in observing niceties now. It didn’t matter if he hurt any feelings. They were going to let him die. Nothing was going to save him. He knew he was finished. He was reduced to obscenities but Braun was probably too thick skinned to care and he was having the last laugh anyway.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’ Braun shrugged. ‘We will be back much later. I doubt you will be so disrespectful then.’

  ‘You bastards,’ Joe shouted.

  ‘You can shout all you want,’ smiled Braun looking around. ‘The sound won’t carry very far. The wind and snow will blanket everything.’ Braun looked round at Bruno and Karl. ‘Gentlemen, time for us to go inside before we all freeze to death.’ All three men laughed.

  Bruno stepped forward, leaned close to Joe and gripped his groin in a large hand. He gave a squeeze that was hard enough to elicit a protest from Joe, but not hard enough to bruise. Bruno grinned, as Joe jerked slightly and then stepped away.

  As they were about to depart, Braun picked up a snow shovel that was leaning against a snow covered bench. He scooped up a large shovel of snow and threw it into Joe’s face. Snow cascaded over Joe’s head, shoulders and thighs.

  ‘Enjoy,’ said Braun as they laughed and turned to walk back to the house.

  Although it seemed pointless worrying about the snow covering him, instinct made Joe shake his head to clear it. ‘Bastards!’ he screamed after the retreating trio. As if they cared. ‘You bastards!’ His voice was little more than a whisper as he waited to die.

  Snow was falling heavily. Large flakes settled on him and slowly melted. The cold wind whipped snow viciously into his face, adding to his misery. He rocked and strained in vain against the straps that held him. His chest jumped intermittently as he coughed. He could feel himself gradually slipping away, blacking out for seconds, and then coming back with a start. Then blacking out again. The bitter cold air chafing at his face was agony. His skin felt raw. His ears felt brittle. Was that what frost bite felt like, he wondered? A layer of snow was starting to cover him more thickly. He couldn’t shake it off. His body went into short spasms as the cold penetrated deep inside. He could feel his bare hands freezing to the arms of the chair. His limbs twitched involuntarily. He would die soon. He knew that now. Nobody could survive these conditions for long. He felt himself urinate but it didn’t seem to matter when he felt the warm urine freeze on his leg as soon as it touched him. He wondered if there was anybody he should be thinking about. His thoughts were drifting aimlessly, slowing down. He tried to cough but it wasn’t helping any more. His lungs were seizing up. He couldn’t raise a cough strong enough to clear them. His head fell forward then jerked back. Blackness came and went. Blackness. He couldn’t hear the wind any more. Everything was suddenly quiet. So quiet. Everything was black and so very quiet.

  Chapter 19

  ‘Joe. Joe. Mister Box.’ Somebody was shaking him violently and calling his name. He could feel nothing. His limbs were numb. He was barely conscious but was vaguely aware that the straps were no longer holding him. He felt like he was floating, airborne. Although his eyes were closed and darkness shrouded everything, he tried to stand, keeled forward and fell coughing and hawking onto the snow covered patio. ‘Joe. Wake up.’ Somebody was still shaking him. He wished they would go way and leave him alone, he just wanted to sleep. It was nearly over now. ‘Joe,’ the voice was urgent, almost a scream. ‘Wake up.’

  His eyes opened slowly. He tried to blink away snowflakes as they fell onto his face. Elsa was leaning over him, trying to pull him into a sitting position. His whole body seemed to be covered in a thick layer of snow. ‘Wake up,’ she commanded when she saw him looking at her. Joe tried to sit up but rolled over onto his side. Nothing seemed to be working properly. His limbs were numb. His joints felt rigid when he tried to move. He would sleep a while. Everything would be all right if he could just get some sleep. A harsh slap rocked his head sideways and forced his eyes wide open. He stared reproachfully at Elsa. She stared back apologetically. She had hit him hard. Very hard. It seemed to have the desired effect. He decided he would get to his feet before she hit him again. She couldn’t know how sensitive and raw his frosted skin felt. He eased himself onto all fours, and then steadied himself against the chair as he rose to his feet. Elsa supported him and steered him towards what looked like a summer house. It was only a few yards away but it was hard going for Joe in his near paralytic state. He was coughing violently and struggling to stay on his feet on the icy ground. The tumultuous wind more than covered the sound he was making. The snow was even heavier than when he had been dumped outside. He could barely see as Elsa guided him towards the shelter.

  They reached the summer house and stumbled inside. Elsa pushed the door too, cutting off the wind, shutting out the snow. The temperature was still sub-zero but after the rigours outside it seemed relatively placid. Joe’s legs gave way and he slid down onto the floor, hugging himself and shaking violently. Trying to drive away the cold. Elsa brushed most of the snow off him with her hands, then got him into a sitting position and threw a blanket over his shoulders. Then she produced a thermos flask of hot coffee. Joe was shivering too violently to hold the steaming cup that she offered him, so she held it gently to his lips and let him sip it slowly. Neither of them spoke. Minutes passed. Very slowly, his breathing improved. He still shivered but not so violently. After a while he held the cup himself and drank slowly while Elsa rubbed his feet and calves trying to restore the circulation. Joe winced as he bent his knees backward and forward to ease the stiffness. He finally broke the silence. ‘Your old man doesn’t seem to like me,’ he rasped.

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Elsa. ‘I don’t know what it is all about.’

  ‘Me neither. I intend to find out though.’

  ‘You must leave here,’ Elsa said anxiously. ‘Before they find out you have gone.’

  ‘Will you get into trouble?’ asked Joe.

  ‘I refastened the straps,’ she said. ‘They will think you managed to slip out somehow.’

  ‘Houdini wouldn’t have got out of that chair,’ Joe said.

  ‘No matter. You must go as soon as you feel strong enough to walk.’

  ‘I don’t think this is the first time they have done this,’ Joe told her. The effort of speaking set off a violent coughing fit.

  ‘My Father has visitors from time to time,’ said Elsa. ‘I don’t always see them leave the next day.’

  ‘Don’t you ever wonder why?’ Joe asked wheezily.

  ‘If I ask, my Father tells me they have left early to catch their flight home.’

  ‘Why did you let me out of the chair?’

  ‘I don’t know why my Father did this but you seem like a good man.’

  ‘I know a few people who might disagree with that.’ Joe managed a rueful smile as he sipped more coffee. ‘How did you know I was out here?’

  ‘I heard the noise last night,’ Elsa told him. ‘The shooting. I knew something was wrong.’

  ‘Lucky for me,’ Joe said. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just after midnight. Are you strong enough to walk yet?’ asked Elsa.

  ‘Maybe.’ Joe struggled to get to his feet, leaning against the wall. Elsa stepped forward to steady him and he stood upright, swaying slightly. Joe had his arms round her shoulders. There was a momentary pause as they made close eye contact. Joe felt Elsa’s breath warming his face. At any other time there would have been a kiss, an embrace and who knows what else? Joe held her gaze, cursing the timing. Even so, he felt himself drawing slowly towards her. In another second they would have kissed. It was Elsa who broke the spell.

  ‘I�
��ll walk with you to the end of the drive,’ she said quickly. ‘Turn left there and walk downhill to the town. You must find somewhere to hide until morning. The railway and bus stations are at the far end of the town, close to the river. There won’t be any trains or buses until morning but you should leave Eichl as soon as possible.’

  ‘Your Father emptied my wallet,’ Joe said. ‘I don’t have any money.’

  Elsa passed several Euro notes to Joe. ‘That should be enough to get you to Salzburg but you must go now.’

  Elsa pulled the door of the summer house open and a shaft of icy air cut through them. Joe had to brace himself and hold onto the door frame as he stepped outside. He wasn’t sure he could walk far but he knew it would be suicide to stay where he was.

  There was no sign of any let up as they stepped out into violent flurries of snow. Joe ducked his head, blinking constantly, trying to keep the snow off his face. The cold seemed even more intense if that was possible. Joe guessed that he might well have been dead by then if Elsa hadn’t released him from the icebound chair. He had been pretty much ready to shake hands with his maker when she had turned up.

  They stomped slowly up the long drive towards the road. Their footsteps were muffled by the deep cushion of snow. Elsa supported Joe as they went. ‘They’ll see your footprints,’ Joe whispered breathlessly.

  ‘The snow will soon cover them,’ said Elsa. ‘That is not a problem.’

  They reached the end of the drive and Elsa released her grip on Joe’s arm. He swayed backwards and fell onto the soft snow. He rolled onto all fours and she helped him to his feet again.

  ‘I wish I could walk with you to the town,’ she said. ‘But I should get back now.’

  Joe gripped her arm and smiled. ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ he told her. ‘I don’t want you taking any more chances. He hugged her for a moment. When he stepped back he had left a sprinkling of snow on her face. They both smiled as he brushed the snow away. They stood silently for a few more seconds before Joe turned away.

  ‘It’s not far to the town,’ Elsa called after him as he shuffled downhill through the snow. Joe raised his hand in acknowledgement but didn’t look back. He was having trouble keeping his balance although the soft snow, at least, gave his shoes something to grip.