by Jamie Bowers
‘Hey, buddy. I don’t want any trouble but if I have to call the cops, I will. I am going to get back to my customers, but if your friend doesn’t show, I want you to leave, with no trouble.’ Joe slipped the gun back into the back of his belt.
‘As soon as I’ve met my friend, I’ll leave.’ The barman walked back to the bar and served the two patrons, continually watching Joe as he sat in silence.
Joe sat patiently waiting, tapping his thumbs on the table like a drum. He stared at the door, turning his eyes to the clock every few minutes. The two men at the bar kept looking over at Joe and he knew that it would only be a matter of time until someone recognises him. The clock now showed twenty past six, Francis was late. Joe shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his face with his hands wondering what to do next. The barman stepped to the end of the bar and placed a handgun on the counter.
‘It looks like your friend isn’t coming, pal.’ He said with his hand resting on the pistol, ‘So I’m going to need you to leave now.’
‘She will be here soon.’ said Joe, ‘Please give me a little longer.’ The barman held the gun in his right hand and pointed it in Joe’s direction.
‘Here’s the thing,’ he said resting both elbows on the bar, ‘you will be leaving here on your feet or feet first. I know who you are and that I could probably get a large reward for your ass. I don’t mind you coming in here because we all have our own little secrets and I need to protect mine along with my bar.’ Joe pushed his chair out and went to stand. The front door of the bar opened and both men turned their attention to it. Francis walked in, wearing a t-shirt and jeans with a green baseball cap shadowing her face. The barman slid the gun from the counter and placed it on a shelf below.
‘Is this your friend?’ he asked. Joe nodded as Francis approached the bar. The barman stepped towards Francis and they spoke briefly. He placed two drinks on the bar and Francis gave him some money and took the drinks to Joe.
‘Sit down, Joe.’ She said placing two glasses of beer on the table, ‘You don’t want anyone to recognise you.’ Joe sat down slowly, watching the barman staring back at them both.
‘I got you a drink,’ said Francis sliding one of the glasses towards Joe, ‘I figured you probably need this.’
‘Thank you.’ said Joe raising the glass to his lips and take a large mouthful of beer. ‘You forget how good something is until you no longer have its pleasure.’ Joe placed the glass back on the table, ‘I don’t remember when I last had a beer, but I do remember my first. I was just fourteen when me and my brother Tom sneaked into our Dad’s bedroom. Tom is a couple of years younger than me, he would follow me anywhere and I would always look after him and make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. Well, not any more trouble than I would get us in. We found two bottles of beer in the bottom of my Dad’s wardrobe. He would hide it from our Mum because she didn’t like him drinking but we knew he did. Me and Tom took the bottles and sat under the stairs while we finished them off. They disappeared so quickly, like lemonade. The beer went straight to our heads and we ended up going to sleep, only for Dad to come home from work and dragged us out by our ears. He gave me such a beating; I couldn’t sit down for a week.’ Joe smiled recollecting his memories. He picked the beer to take another mouthful only for Francis to place her hand over the glass.
‘That’s a nice story, Joe.’ She said forcing him to place the glass on the table, ‘but I’m not here to listen to your childhood stories. I told you I would give you an hour and so far you haven’t given me a reason not to turn you in.’ Joe stared down at her hand on her glass and touched it gently with his.
‘I will tell you everything, but I need you to know that I will deal with things in my own way.’ He leant forward to talk quieter to ensure nobody could overhear. ‘I’m innocent, Francis. I didn’t kill Gina and Mary.’
‘So you keep saying, Joe.’ said Francis, ‘but I can’t help but ignore what I’ve read and the fact that you went to court and they found you guilty. If you are saying you didn’t kill them, then who did?’ Joe looked Francis in the eyes.
‘They are still alive.’ He said without breaking his gaze.
‘What do you mean still alive?’ asked Francis. Joe told Francis the full story of what he has found out so far.
‘I can’t believe it.’ said Francis, ‘What are you going to do now?’ Joe lent back in his chair.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said rubbing his brow, ‘but I need your help to find out what’s going on. Can you help me?’ Francis looked at Joe with concern.
‘How am I going to help you and where are you going to stay?’
‘Well that’s the thing.’ said Joe, ‘Can I stay with you for a little while? I promise that once I have proven my innocence I’m going.’ Francis sipped the last amount of beer in her glass and placed it on the table.
‘Your time was up five minutes ago, Joe. If I wasn’t going to help you I would have left by now and be on the telephone to the police. You can stop with me, but if there is any sign of trouble, I’m straight on the phone and you will have yourself to thank.’ Joe started to smile.
‘Thank you, Franny.’ He said with a sigh of relief. Francis stood up from the chair. ‘Where are you going?’ asked Joe.
‘Well, I’m not going to sit in this bar all night, Joe.’ She replied, ‘And I think you need a shower, judging by the sight and smell of you. Let’s go.’ Joe drank the last of his beer and stood up. They both walked out of the bar without making eye contact with any of the occupants, including the barman.
By this time, the sun had already begun to set and darkness was coming along with the cold night that Joe had already experienced. Francis walked down the street without saying a word as Joe followed.
‘Slow down,’ he said dragging his leg, ‘I can’t walk that fast.’ Francis stepped down an alleyway and kept on walking at a brisk pace, ‘Franny, slow down.’ Joe shouted as she got further away from him. Francis stopped suddenly and turned to face Joe.
‘We need to get out of the public, fast. If I am seen with you they will lock me up, you will probably get sent to a different prison and they won’t care how innocent you claim you are. At least if I’m ahead of you it looks like you’re following me rather than being with me. We are nearly there, just down the other end of this alley and across the road to the park. I live on the other side, if you can’t keep up then you can meet me there, 62 is the house number, facing the park.’ Francis turned and started to walk again at the same speed as before. Joe tried to keep pace but he couldn’t, as he got to the end of the alleyway Francis had already crossed the road and was into the park. Gathering his breath he crossed the road and entered the park, the darkness from the canopy of the trees made it very difficult to see anything other than the lights of buildings and cars on the other side of the park. He knew that he needed to get to the houses on the other side. Stumbling into shrubs and plants along the way, he made sure that the houses were still in his sight. Eventually he got through the trees and shrubs and onto the street. The other side of the road was adorned with large three storey city homes, the kind that Joe dreamed of living in one day with Gina and Mary. Joe stood on the kerb, looking across at the luxury when he spotted number 62, Francis’ house. He waited for the cars to pass and crossed over, going up the steps he knocked on the door. Francis opened the door slightly and looked at Joe through the gap.
‘Make sure that nobody is out there.’ She said holding the door. Joe looked around briefly.
‘It’s safe,’ he said, ‘apart from an old man watching his dog take a shit.’ Francis opened the door and Joe walked in, closing the door behind him. The floor of the hallway as adorned with small, coloured tiles, intricately placed to depict a glamorous pattern chosen many years ago. This led to several doorways and the staircase that ran up the centre of the house to the top floor overlooking the city landscape beyond the park. Francis stepped to the bottom of the wooden stairs.
‘The bathroom is the first on the right,
’ she said pointing upstairs, ‘clean towels are in the hamper. If you leave your clothes outside the door I’ll clean them for you.’ Joe was unable to contain his amazement at the size of the house.
‘Wow!’ he said looking around the décor at every angle. ‘How can you afford to live here?’ Francis stepped towards him.
‘There is plenty of time for that later,’ she said as she removed his jacket, ‘but for now I would like you to get cleaned up. I will cook us something to eat and then I’ll check your injuries.’ Joe stepped over to the stairs and took a step up. As he placed his hand on the railing he turned and faced Francis.
‘Thank you,’ he said with a smile on his face, ‘for everything.’ Francis patted her hand on his,
‘Supper is in one hour. I’ll see you then.’
Joe went up the stairs and around the railing to the bathroom, all the while admiring the décor and furniture that would be associated with a lifestyle of higher standing. Dragging his leg behind him, he entered the bathroom and closed the door before slumping onto the toilet seat. Letting out a big gasp of air, he unfastened the top of his trousers and slid them down his legs. The extent of damage to his leg was immediately evident as he gently unravelled the homemade dressing. Dried blood and dirt was heavily embedded in the wound along with ash from when he tried to repair it himself. He took off all his clothes with care, every part of his body hurt for one reason or another. Standing up slowly, he turned the shower on and dipped his hand underneath to check the temperature. Joe picked up his clothes and quietly opened the door to put them on the floor outside as requested. Walking back to the shower, he stepped behind the curtain, leaning on the wall for support. As he stepped under the shower head, with one arm resting on the wall, he watched the water run down his chest and stomach, over the bruises and down his leg to the swollen, bloody skin. The water flow became almost hypnotic; as he watched it he had flashes of what has already happened and what he has been told. Are Mary and Gina really still alive? If so, what is he going to do next? Joe continued to shower, scrubbing every inch of his body to remove as much dirt and dried blood as possible before stepping out slowly and drying himself down. He stopped and realised that he had put his clothes to be washed and had nothing to wear. Slowly turning the handle of the door, he went to see if his clothes were still there, only for Francis to thrust her arm through the gap in the door holding a bath robe.
‘Would this be ok for you?’ she said from behind the door.
‘Yes, thank you.’ replied Joe as he took it from her hand. Her arm disappeared and she shouted as she walked downstairs with his clothes.
‘Not long until supper. I hope you’re hungry.’ Joe closed the bathroom door as he finished patting himself down with the towel and put on the robe. It was a pristine white robe with black, silk piping around the trim and a shield embroidered on the left. It was such a clean bathrobe, Joe was afraid to get any blood on it from his wounds.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Joe opened the bathroom door and was instantly hit by an alluring scent of home cooked food which made him want to run down the stairs and start eating, if only his leg would allow it. Instead of running, as he wishes he could, Joe hopped over to the bannister and carefully led himself, arm over arm to the top of the stairs. He slid his foot down each step, keeping his left leg raised as high as possible, being cautious not to catch it on the stairs. After going past halfway, his frail body started to buckle under the weight as the pressure built up on his one good leg. Just a few steps remained before he was back on level ground; Joe took each movement carefully, resting between each one to gain his breath and balance once more. Eventually made it to the bottom, Joe was so exhausted, he felt as though he had climbed the Empire State Building without using the stairs or elevator. Regaining his stance, Joe stood as well as he could on one leg and could see the living room, the main room at the front of the house with wood panelled walls from floor to ceiling and matching colour floorboards, waxed and polished to perfection. He gently hobbled towards the entrance of the room and admired everything he saw from the two large sofas either side of a large coffee table to the roaring fire set in a grand, elaborate surround.
‘Nice shower?’ said Francis, walking in through another door carrying a tray with two plates of food.
‘Yes, thanks.’ Said Joe limping towards one of the sofas, ‘That smells good.’ Francis placed the tray on the coffee table between the sofas and rearranged the cushions for Joe to sit down. She held Joe by the arm and ushered him carefully to the sofa, helping him to gently lower himself down and lifting his leg onto a cushion at the other end of the seat. As he shuffled his leg to get comfortable Joe’s robe slipped open causing Francis to quickly avert her eyes.
‘Sorry.’ She said embarrassed.
‘It’s okay,’ said Joe, rearranging his gown to cover his modesty, ‘I should have thought about that. But then again, you’ve seen it all before.’
‘I know.’ said Francis smiling as she sat down on the sofa opposite, ‘I am a professional with what I do, but it’s mostly broken arms and head stitches. Most men would be embarrassed and would learn to suffer if they had any issues in that area.’
Francis lifted one of the plates from the tray, placed it in front of her on the coffee table and took the tray around to Joe and lay it carefully across his knee.
‘I bet you’re hungry,’ she said, placing the cutlery in his hand, ‘this food is good to keep you warm and give you energy, that and it tastes delicious.’ Joe leant over his plate and took in a big breathe.
‘Aaah!’ he said as he took in the aroma, ‘This does smell and look delicious.’ His plate was a mass of pasta with a variety of different meats chopped into small, bite sized pieces, mixed together in a tomato sauce and topped with a few salad leaves. Piling up his fork, Joe gathered up a bit of everything from the plate and chewed it down with delight, ‘This is fantastic.’ He said as he dipped in his fork for more.
‘Thank you,’ Francis said, pouring two glasses of water from a jug on the table, ‘I never really know what I want to eat so I put together everything I fancy and see what happens.’
‘Well, you did it and it was good.’ Joe smiled.
‘You’re lucky it’s a good one. You weren’t here for the disastrous ham and chocolate pie.’ Joe laughed as he appeared to swallow his food without chewing, like a duck would eat bread.
With no more pasta or meat on his plate, Joe placed the fork on the tray and ran his fingers through the sauce, lapping up every last drop.
‘That was amazing.’ he said with his fingers still in his mouth, ‘You have no idea how long I have craved a good meal.’ Still only about half way through her meal, Francis smiled at Joe.
‘I’m glad you like it. But don’t get used to it, you can’t stay here forever. If anyone knew I’d even met you I’d be locked up, never mind inviting you into my home for a shower and dinner.’ Joe slid the tray off his knee and gently leant forward as he placed it onto the coffee table.
‘I’m sorry I came to you,’ he said as he picked up his glass of water, ‘but I had no idea where else to go. The first thing I need to figure out is where that bastard Gordy is keeping Gina and Mary and then I will go after them.’ Francis swallowed her last mouthful of food and placed knife and fork on the empty plate.
‘You’re wrong, Joe. The first thing we need to do is get you better. Your leg is ready to fall off, you have more bruised skin than healthy and god only knows what’s happening with your stomach. Please let me call Doctor Gable and he can help.’
‘No!’ Joe snapped quickly, raising his hand, ‘Nobody can know that I’m here, I don’t care how much you trust them. I’m sorry, but nobody can know. Francis leant forward, grabbed the plated from Joe’s tray and placed it on top of hers.
‘I will try to help you, Joe.’ She said as she picked up the plates and trays, ‘But I’m not sure what use I can be.’ Joe drank the last bit of water from his glass and placed it on the coffee tabl
e.
‘I want you to follow Gordy and see where he’s keeping Mary and Gina. I need to do everything I can to get them away and teach him a lesson.’ Francis stood up and took the plates and trays into the next room as Joe continued to talk, ‘Tomorrow, I need you to get a car and wait for him outside his shop. When he leaves, follow him to wherever he goes and hopefully he’ll lead you to them.’ Francis walked back into the room and leant her shoulder against the door frame,
‘I’m not a spy, Joe. And besides, this sounds dangerous. I am in enough trouble as it is because The Warden thinks I helped you escape.’ Joe placed his hands over his face and rubbed his forehead.
‘I only want you to follow him and as long as you keep out of sight you’ll be fine. Just come back here, let me know where he’s keeping them and I will do the rest, you won’t need to get involved.’ Francis walked back over to the sofa where she was sitting before and looked Joe in eye.
‘I’m already involved, Joe. I was involved from the moment we met in the infirmary. I got myself involved deeper when I agreed to listen to you. I will do what I have to.’ Joe gave a small smile, pleased with what she was saying, ‘But if I don’t like anything, Joe, I am going to do what I have to. Do you understand that?’ Joe nodded; he understood all too well what Francis was telling him.
Francis grabbed a large wooden box from underneath the coffee table and placed it on top. She walked around and sat next to Joe, ‘This will hurt,’ she said lifting Joe’s wounded leg gently across her lap. She opened the box and took out several rolls of bandage and gauze along with a bottle of antiseptic. Taking a small amount of cotton wool, she softly dabbed the open wound, causing Joe to wince in pain.
‘Sorry.’ She said as she tried to clean away the hardened blood. The pain was almost unbearable for Joe, but this didn’t stop Francis from carrying on. After cleaning it up better, she wrapped Joe’s leg with gauze and bandage. To him it felt tight but more supporting than anything he had done previously.
