Robert (Fallen Angel Series Book 1)

by Tracie Podger

  I looked up from my papers as Travis stormed, once more, into my office, he practically fell into the chair opposite my desk.

  “Fucking bitch,” he said as he flung an envelope down on the desk, gesturing with his hand for me to take a look.

  I pulled out a photograph of Shelly sitting on a bar stool, her hand on the thigh of the guy facing her. That guy being someone other than Travis. I sighed, Mack had taken those photos. He had said he was going to deal with it, I hadn’t banked on it being right then.

  “Shit, bro. I’m sorry. What are you going to do?” I asked.

  “Finish it, obviously. She told me she had to cancel our lunch because she was working. She also told me she was the manager of the restaurant, she isn’t. We seem to have really lost our edge haven’t we? Can’t believe I fell for that bullshit.”

  “Bro, don’t beat yourself up over it, these things happen. We’ve all been there,” I said.

  He collected up the photographs, stuffed them back in the envelope and as he left the office, he deposited them in the bin. I felt so bad for him. Despite his words, I knew that had cut him deep. I also felt terrible that I hadn’t told him the truth. Judging by the photograph and where Shelly had her hand, she wasn’t thinking about Travis at all. I placed a call to Mack.

  “Talk about kick a man when he’s down,” I said.

  “Didn’t happen the way I planned, Rob, sorry. I left that envelope on the desk, he came in and picked it up thinking it was for him, I guess. I told him I’d just collected the post.”

  “Okay, but let’s keep an eye on him right now, he fell hard for that one.”

  “Where’s he gone?” Mack asked.

  “Don’t know, get a bit of air maybe. I’ll give him ten then call him. I fancy a workout, he can take it out on me.”

  “Good luck with that,” Mack said with a chuckle.

  Ten minutes later I called him.

  “Fancy a hit?” I asked.

  “Sure, meet you there.”

  I made my way down to the basement nodding at one or two people in the elevator as we travelled down in silence. No matter how crowded the elevator got, there was always a little space around me which I was thankful for. I smiled to myself at how uncomfortable some people felt in my presence. I didn’t court a friendship with staff, right or wrong, I kept my distance.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Stone, here for a work out?” I heard as the elevator doors opened and I stepped out.

  “Sure am, Jim. How are you today?” I asked.

  I had time for Jim. He was an old guy and had been with us for years. He had started off in security with Stan. I remembered how that came about. Stan had been homeless, he had slept in the doorway. Security never moved him on because in fact, he was like a little security guard himself. He was always gone by morning though. I had worked late into the night and on leaving had seen Jim give Stan some food. My thoughts were immediately taken back to the days when Evelyn used to come find me and Travis with a hot pie and coffee. I had watched for a little while as the two men chatted, overhearing snippets of their conversation. Stan had been in the army, after being injured he had been forced to leave, to live a life on the streets because he had nowhere else to go.

  Jim didn’t look much better himself. He wore a slightly torn coat, way too thin for the season. As I walked close, I saw Stan try to stand to move off the entrance way. I had told him not to, if he was comfortable there, he could stay. I would make sure security brought him out a coffee. And so it started, each night, these two older men would meet, have a coffee and if it coincided with me leaving, a chat.

  Jim was unemployed and it struck me that he was willing to give up part of his living allowance to feed Stan. Once I learnt that, I told them both to come and see me the following day. They started in maintenance until they got a little too old for that. Jim enjoyed working around the gym equipment so he stayed there and Stan sat at the security desk in the foyer, monitoring the coming and goings. Other than my guys, these two were the hardest workers in the whole organisation.

  “I’m good, Mr. Stone, you have a good workout,” he said.

  I made my way into my changing room and found in my locker my neatly pressed workout clothes. I always started my workout with a run and every running machine faced a bank of mirrors. I liked to scan the room and see what was going on, who was there without catching anyone’s eyes directly. I watched as Travis entered, heading for the machine next to mine.

  “You’re getting a bit loose there, bro,” he said.

  “Loose?” I answered.

  “Yeah, not as ripped as me anymore. Too much dining out, my friend,” he replied.

  I laughed. Travis would never be as ‘ripped’ as he called it, as me. We were two totally different builds. I was pleased to see him smile though, to be back to his usual sarcastic and competitive self. Of course he set his machine to run faster, longer than I did and, as normal, I let him win, until we got in the ring that was.

  Wrapping a towel around my neck, I headed over to the ring. Jim secured our gloves and we climbed under the ropes. The usual fan club were working out, always on machines that faced the ring so they could watch. I’d given up a long time ago worrying about them. We sparred for about half an hour, at which point, ‘ripped’ as I called him, was puffing like a train.

  We showered, changed back into our suits and headed upstairs. As we walked into my reception, Mack came out of his office with what looked like a photograph in his hand. He nodded his head towards my door.

  “Meet your brother,” he told Travis.

  The photograph was of an older man, dark hair, unshaven and looking like the drunken bum I was expecting, nothing like Travis at all.

  “You sure this is him?” I asked.

  “Got the same name, same build as the guy on the CCTV so we’re pretty confident. We will know for sure later today but, yes, I think so,” Mack answered.

  Travis stared at the photo for a while. “You know what, that could be my fucking father standing there. I’m looking forward to meeting him again.”

  ****

  “Dinner will be ready soon,” I heard as I climbed the stairs to the lounge.

  “Thanks, Ev. Smells good.”

  I took a seat at the breakfast bar.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, she had seen me run my hand through my hair, my stress signal

  “Travis got a note from his brother, wanting money,” I replied.

  She stopped stirring whatever was in the pan and looked sharply at me.

  “Oh, do you want to tell me?”

  “A note was left on the windscreen in the parking lot at work. His oldest brother, Padriac has decided it’s time Trav funds his drunken lifestyle. We know where he is, we’re going to have a little chat,” I said.

  She nodded but didn’t press any further on the ‘little chat’.

  “How is he holding up? He told me about Shelly earlier.”

  “He seems fine with the Padriac thing, but Shelly? I think he loved her and Padriac has come along at just the right time for him to vent a bit of anger.”

  “You will take care, won’t you? With Padriac, I mean.”

  Evelyn would never ask what my intentions were, she had been brought up in a lifestyle where not knowing everything was the best option. However, she would also understand that Padriac couldn’t be allowed to talk. Over the years there had been articles about me but nothing about Travis. It was one of the reasons he never attended events, even if the whole team were invited. As much as I was paranoid about my past catching up with me, Travis was about his family and now I knew why. I didn’t want Padriac shut up because of mine and Travis’s past, I wanted him shut up because of what he could say about Travis and Aileen. I had tried, since the previous night, to block any images from my brain, to no avail. I saw Travis in my mind but the feelings coursing through my body were the same as that day, outside the school, in the yard. The last day I ever saw Cara.

  “Ev, you know I will. You’
ve got nothing to worry about.”

  As I poured a glass of wine, she dished up a plate of pasta in a homemade sauce for me, plating some to take to Travis. In the beginning, when I had first moved into the house, Travis would come over and eat. As he got more comfortable living on his own, that started to stop. However, Evelyn just couldn’t stop her fussing and if she cooked for me, she always made sure there was enough for Travis.

  As I sat on the sofa, my cell started to ring.

  “Hi, Mack.” I said as I answered.

  “We have him. He’s staying in an apartment not far from the office. You know that one about ready for demolition? Tony reports that he also drinks in a bar next to it. Seems he hits the bar about lunchtime and staggers out when it closes,” Mack said.

  “That’s great. Have Tony visit the bar, buy him a couple of drinks and see whether it loosens his tongue a bit. You know the drill,” I said.

  “Sure, I’ll have him call me later tonight then.”

  After I finished the call to Mack, I called through to Travis.

  “Think we are on for tonight, bro. You up for this?” I asked.

  “Of course, looking forward to it,” he replied.

  I wasn’t sure ‘looking forward to it’ was the best response but I understood what he meant. Tony would spend some time with Padriac, ply him with whatever he was drinking and see if he could get him to talk. Once he was drunk enough, I had told Mack to get him to the 14th Street Bridge. There was a little spot, beside the river and underneath one of the piers that seemed to be a meeting place for down and outs. Mack would make sure the place was emptied of people before Tony and Padriac arrived.

  I sipped my wine, contemplating on what we were about to do. No matter how many times I thought we, as a family, had moved away from these kind of problems, they always seemed to find us. Perhaps I should accept the fact that we would never be the family I craved. Perhaps I should just accept this was my life, I couldn’t change it. Yet, this was one ‘meeting’ that would be totally justifiable.

  I received a call just after ten in the evening.

  “Hey, our man’s going to be moved on soon. He’s already upset the bar staff, grabbed one of the girl’s on the ass. Tony offered to take him home,” Mack said.

  “Okay, we’ll see you at 14th.”

  I texted over to Travis and headed down to the bedroom. Putting on a dark coloured pair of jeans and hooded sweatshirt, I made my way outside to climb in the already idling car. Travis was at the rear, attaching new plates. We didn’t want anyone to be able to identify the car and trace it back to us. Opening the glove compartment, I checked there were two pairs of gloves.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “As always,” Travis replied.

  I relayed the conversation I’d had with Mack as we made the journey to the bridge. Travis was quiet, his face rigid with tension with just the beat of a pulse at his temple. I understood what he was going through. When we had paid a visit to Father Peters and Cara’s family, the memories of that time hit me and were painful. It must be the same for Travis. I didn’t know everything that had happened to him, but it had been enough for his sister to want to get him away, to safety. To send him off to a city with no money in his pocket, with nowhere to live and hope that he had the courage and strength to survive, for me, meant his home life had to have been unbearable. I wondered why his sister didn’t run too. She was older than Travis, able to care for herself and him. Maybe he’d tell me, maybe not. It was his story and I wouldn’t ask, I wouldn’t force him to have a conversation if he wasn’t ready.

  We headed off the road onto a grassy area and stopped the car. With the lights off, the black Range Rover was difficult to see from either the road or by the traffic making its way over the bridge. Walking down the bank and towards the pier, I could make out two figures, one standing and one lying on the floor.

  “Robert. Travis, charming brother you have here,” Tony said as we neared.

  I chuckled. “What did you get from him?”

  “Well, he knows who both of you are and that you have money, Trav. He boasted that his brother owned a big company and that he got his money from crime. He didn’t go into detail and when I asked, he just tapped his nose. He certainly knows, or thinks he knows, something. I didn’t have enough time to get it out of him before he got kicked out.”

  “Did anyone around hear him talk?” Travis asked.

  “No, the bar was empty and to be honest, the staff pretty much kept away from him. Until he grabbed the waitress’s ass. They hauled him out and left him on the sidewalk.”

  “Okay, thanks, Tony. I’ll be in touch,” I said.

  That was his cue to leave, he nodded and made his way out. Travis crouched down, looking at the face of his mumbling brother. There was no family resemblance at all. The guy lying on the floor was overweight and stunk of alcohol and piss, the front of his pants stained.

  Putting on a pair of gloves, I rifled through the pockets of his jeans, emptying them of the few coins and bits of paper they contained. We rolled him over to check the back pockets for a wallet and his body for any jewellery that could identify him. Finding nothing, we rolled him towards the river. The sound of the traffic above drowned out the noise of him hitting the water and we waited for a while, watching his body float away, face down, from the bank. The cold water revived him though. We stood and watched as his head came up, he spluttered a little as the current started to take him downstream. His arms flailed as he tried to swim back to shore and it was clear swimming wasn’t something he had learnt to do. There was one moment when his face turned towards us. Whether he recognised Travis or not, I couldn’t tell, we were probably too far away and it was too dark. He certainly knew he hadn’t fell though.

  He made no attempt to call out, the shock of the cold water rendering him breathless I guess and it wasn’t long before his arms stop trying to drag him against the current. He started to sink beneath the dark water of the Potomac.

  We walked back to the car. Without lights, Travis backed the car towards the road, waiting for a clear in the traffic before we heading into town.

  “Okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, shame the fat fucker was so drunk. I would have loved for him to have seen my face,” Travis replied.

  “Let’s go see what he has in the apartment.”

  Pulling up in an alley next to a run-down block, Travis pulled a small pistol, fitted with a silencer from under the seat of the car and fired it at the only streetlight, plunging us and the car into darkness. I looked at him and shook my head.

  “You could have just thrown a fucking stone,” I said.

  “Not as much fun, bro,” he replied.

  We made our way to the front entrance. At this time of night the street was empty of people, this wasn’t a neighbourhood for taking a walk in. Gaining access was easy, the front door was so battered it couldn’t close. It looked like someone had used their boot to gain access recently. Tony had already informed Mack of the apartment number and we climbed the stairs to the top floor. Stepping over soiled diapers and used needles we reached the apartment door. Travis picked the lock and we silently entered. Although Tony had located the apartment we had no idea if Padriac was occupying it alone.

  Silently we walked through the rooms. The kitchen sink was full of empty take out containers and dirty dishes. The scuttling of something across the kitchen counter just about summed up the place. There was a mattress on the floor in the bedroom, a towel was nailed to the window to block out the light and overturned beer bottles littered the floor. I rummaged through a small pile of clothes, checking pockets and finding nothing. We then headed to the lounge. On a small wooden table we found a pad, the jagged edge showing where a page had been torn out. Travis put that in the small bag he had produced from his pocket. There was very little furniture just a sofa, a sideboard with empty drawers and the table without any chairs. The furniture looked like it had been abandoned by the previous tenant.

  �
�Sure knows how to live well, doesn’t he?” I whispered.

  Travis chuckled. “Reminds me of my childhood home.”

  “We moved from dump to dump when I was a kid. This looks like a luxury apartment compared to some of the places we called home. Mind you, mom would scrub the place from top to bottom every day,” he said.

  We found nothing of use at the apartment and after making sure the door was closed behind us, we made our way to the car, hoping it still had its wheels. Arriving home, we put back the correct plate on the Range Rover and headed into the house. Emptying the bag onto the breakfast bar we started to look through the contents.

  There was just over a couple of bucks in coins, a few receipts from the liquor store and a piece of paper, folded, that contained the office address. Flicking through the note pad however, was interesting. Padriac had made a list. He had the address of the office, the house, even details of the car and its license plate. Underlined were two words, Guiseppi Morietti. He had made the connection between Travis and Joe. It wasn’t a secret that we had known Joe. Many people would have, and it was still the case that some would spend a few minutes sharing their memories of him with us. However, these people were locals, older people that remembered, not someone from New York.

  “So he knew something,” Travis said.

  “Seems that way.”

  “Fucking shame we didn’t sober him up and ask.”

  “Not worth it, bro. He’s out of the way now, that’s all that matters,” I said.

  It had crossed my mind, the previous day, to find out exactly what he knew but the outcome would have been the same. I didn’t want for Travis to hear anything that came out of Padriac’s mouth. Although it was interesting to know Padriac had found out addresses and car details, there was very little else written down. Knowing how dumb it was for even that small amount of information to be recorded, I believed, whatever he knew, it would have been in that note book. We took all the papers, the note book and placed them in the hearth, setting fire to them and watching until there was nothing left but a small pile of ash.