The Hardest Part (A James Bishop Short Story)

by Jason Dean

  Calvin turned back to me and nodded slowly, giving me his patented glare again. I think I was supposed to be acting nervous at this point, but I’m not that good an actor. I had no idea if he believed my story, but I didn’t really care. I raised my bottle and took a long slug of beer, then said, ‘So, anything else I can help you with? I’ve got nothing but time.’

  ‘You also got a smart mouth.’

  ‘And a brain to go with it, unlike your friend back there. What is he, your bodyguard?’

  ‘Whassat?’ Bobby tilted his head at me, as though sizing me up for a box.

  Calvin smiled at me. ‘Not wise to piss Bobby off, man. It really isn’t. Take it from me. Limbs can get broken, and have done.’

  ‘I’ll try and remember that.’

  ‘Make sure you do. And maybe you should stay out of other people’s business while you’re at it, you follow me?’

  ‘I understand your words.’

  ‘That’s good. Who knows, maybe I’ll see you later on.’

  I shrugged. ‘Anything’s possible, I guess.’

  He then turned away and stepped over to the other pool tables and spoke a few more words to his colleagues. Probably advising them to keep their theories to themselves from now on. Bobby glared at me while he waited. Kim glanced at me quickly, gave me an apologetic shrug, and then looked away. Finally, Calvin re-joined his girl and his buddy and all three trooped back to the bar area.

  I smiled to myself and took another sip of my beer. I was glad I’d come now. Because while I still had nothing concrete to go on, it was patently obvious that Calvin knew a lot more about that old robbery than he was letting on. Why else would he care what people said in a public bar? And if I was right and he’d actually been involved in the robbery itself, then it followed that he knew something about Lenny’s disappearance too.

  And I planned to find out what that something was.

  VIII

  I hung around and played a few more games, but the conversations that had flowed freely before Calvin’s interruption now felt stilted and forced. Even so I just remained in character and pretended not to notice as I offered to get everybody another round of drinks.

  While I was at the bar giving my order to Dreadlocks, I noticed Calvin and Kim sitting in one of the booths by the far wall. Kim was arguing with him about something, moving her hands around a lot. Calvin just sat there looking pissed, occasionally shaking his head and saying something back. Then Kim got up in a fit of anger and stormed out of the bar. Calvin got up too, then looked around until he saw Bobby sitting at one of the tables alone. The bigger man was holding a new pitcher of beer and pouring part of its contents into a large glass.

  Manoeuvring his way through the crowd, Calvin went over to his table and leaned down and said something to his friend. Bobby nodded a couple of times, then Calvin left the bar, presumably to go after Kim. Meanwhile Bobby slowly scanned the room until his eyes landed on me. He gave a faint smile before turning back to his beer.

  So he’d been told by Calvin to keep an eye on me, or maybe more than just an eye. Either way, I felt things might get interesting in the not too distant future. I hoped so.

  I went back to the pool tables, hoping that with Calvin’s departure the general conversation might loosen up. But work was never discussed again and it was around eleven that I decided to call it a night. I’d been keeping my own eye on Bobby as he sat drinking beer after beer and watching me, but when I looked around the room now I couldn’t see any sign of him. And he wasn’t somebody you could miss easily, so I assumed he’d gotten bored and left already, which was disappointing. I’d been hoping to have a little talk with him later, but in life it was rare for events to go the way you wanted them to.

  After bidding goodnight to my transitory drinking pals, I made my way through the rest of the crowd and left the way I’d come in. Outside, the night was cool and the sky still overcast. There was no traffic and the only signs of life were coming from the bar behind me. I scanned the area, but couldn’t see anybody lying in wait for me. I guessed not even Bobby would be dumb enough to stand right out in the open.

  Shrugging, I zipped up my windbreaker and began walking west, back towards Cartright’s place. There were no other pedestrians. As I passed the numerous darkened stores on my left, I went over everything I’d learned today about Leonard Williamson, and tried to plan my next step. I already had one or two theories regarding Lenny’s disappearance, but theories weren’t good enough. I needed to know where Lenny was, beyond all doubt, and I wasn’t expecting to find him hiding out somewhere under another alias either. In fact, I had a feeling he wasn’t a million miles away from my current location.

  And Calvin Wilcox was the key, I was sure of it.

  So my next step was to find out where he lived and go pay him a visit. If he wasn’t there, which was likely if he’d made up with Kim and spent the night with her, then I’d just have to be satisfied with a search of his living quarters instead. But I’d searched enough apartments in my time to know people left all kinds of incriminating crap lying around, so I felt confident I’d find something that could point me in the right direction.

  I’d just passed the last of the shuttered-up stores before a large vacant lot when I heard a sharp rustle a few feet to my left, and I turned to see something large speeding towards my head. Instinctively I ducked and something like a freight train immediately connected with the back of my neck. There was a flash of pain and my vision blurred and I fell forward, having just enough sense to put out my hand to stop my head hitting the sidewalk first. Before I could move, I felt something grab the back of my jacket collar and then I was being dragged along the ground towards the rear of the building to my left.

  I forced myself go limp. Let my assailant do all the hard work dragging my dead weight. Instead, I fought against the grogginess and tried to clear my head. I knew it was Bobby dragging me. That much was obvious. I imagined Calvin had told his large pal to pound me into hamburger, then make it look like an average mugging by lifting my wallet and whatever valuables he could find on my body. Beat me badly enough to put me in hospital, possibly, and scare me off the scent.

  Afraid it’s not going to be that easy, friend.

  The streetlights were sporadic in this part of town, but my night vision was still pretty good and I could make out a chain link fence ahead of us. Bobby paused, kicked the gate open and dragged me into an enclosed rear yard with a dumpster at one end, next to a brick wall. There were no lights back there, but I could see it was only a small space. About fifteen feet square, maybe, so fairly close to the dimensions of a boxing ring. I could see crap all over the ground and the rear of the building was completely boarded up with thick plywood. The place looked as though it had been condemned years ago.

  Bobby dumped me on the ground and I saw him drawing his leg back to kick me when I quickly rolled my body out of his reach, stopping only when I collided with a wooden crate a short distance away. I jumped to my feet and turned to see Bobby still in the same spot, watching me with both knees bent, left arm leading, right fist at cheek level. He was in no rush. There was the boarded-up building behind me, a brick wall and the dumpster to my left, another brick wall straight ahead and the chain link fence to my right. Even a dimwit like Bobby could see there was only way out. Through him.

  Despite the stale odour of rat shit all around me, I could also clearly smell beer coming from the direction of Bobby. And he was swaying a little too, which wasn’t surprising. He’d been drinking pitcher after pitcher all night so he’d be far from his best, and while I still felt a little groggy from the punch I was almost completely sober now.

  ‘Thought it was you, brainiac,’ I said ‘You stink of beer, by the way. I can smell you all the way over here.’

  ‘Get ready, asshole,’ he said, and stepped towards me, fists still raised. ‘Gonna teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.’

  ‘You? Only thing you could teach me is how to breathe through my mouth.’r />
  I was expecting him to keep shuffling towards me at the same steady pace, but he surprised me by suddenly sprinting forward and before I could get myself out of the way, he launched a haymaker at my head and I ducked, but I was too slow and I felt his right fist clip my left cheek, snapping my head round. I fell back over the crate from the force of the blow and landed on my back, winded.

  Immediately rolling my body to the side again, I saw Bobby kick the crate away as he landed on the spot I’d just vacated. As I got to my feet I rubbed at my cheek and saw him turn in my direction, preparing himself for another shot. Then he rushed towards me again, all out like before and with his right fist already raised, telegraphing his next move for me like the idiot that he was. But this time I was ready. When he was less than two feet from me, I pulled my body back from the fist easily, and crooked my left arm and thrust the tip of my elbow into his face.

  I felt bone connect with bone and Bobby grunted in pain and stumbled backwards. I went with him and used all my weight to deliver another elbow punch to his ample stomach. He gave a hoarse grunt and this time he rolled away from me. I let him.

  ‘You’re even dumber than I thought, Bobby,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘Which I didn’t think was even possible. What else you got for me?’

  Rubbing his stomach, Bobby also got to his feet and said in a slurred voice, ‘Make it easy on yourself, asshole. Tell me why you’re here and maybe I won’t bust you up too much.’

  I smiled. I’d been hoping to test out my theories on this lummox and see how he reacted, and now he’d handed me the opening I wanted. ‘That’s easy,’ I said. ‘I’m here because of that robbery at the factory two years ago. And you know all about that particular robbery, don’t you, Bobby? You and Calvin both.’

  ‘Dunno what you’re talking about,’ Bobby said, and launched himself at me again, but I’d already seen the move ahead of time and evaded it just as easily as before. As he lumbered past me I gave the back of his head a tap with my knuckles and he crashed against the chain link fence and growled. Meanwhile, I was checking the ground for anything I might be able to use to end this, and saw an old beer bottle by the large dumpster to my left. Good enough. As Bobby turned back to me, I edged closer to the dumpster.

  ‘Like I said, dumb.’ I shook my head and smiled. ‘Even Calvin says so. I was talking to Kim at the store today, and she told me he’s always making fun of you whenever you’re not around. Now I can see why. She told me he says you’re stupider than a box of spanners, and that he’s only kept you around in case of any heavy work that needs doing. Which makes sense, at least. After all, it was probably you who also took care of Lenny two years ago, right? I imagine that would have been fairly heavy work.’

  Bobby said nothing, but I watched his eyes become slits as he clenched his jaw tight. It was all the response I needed. I was clearly in the right area. But I still had other problems, like getting out of this cage in one piece. I could already see Bobby tensing himself for another attack. I edged closer still to the dumpster until my left foot was touching the beer bottle. Bobby lunged towards me again, and I ducked down and picked the bottle up by the shaft, then dived to the right.

  I quickly jumped to my feet as Bobby raced by me and, with everything I had, swung the bottle at the back of his skull. I heard a good, solid clunk as the hard glass base connected with bone and Bobby immediately collapsed to the ground as though the batteries had died.

  Crouching, I felt the carotid artery in his neck. I didn’t want to kill the guy, at least not yet. But the man’s pulse was still strong and it was clear he was simply out for the count. He’d probably stay out for a good while too.

  Hopefully long enough for me to do what was needed.

  IX

  A search of Bobby’s jeans pockets presented me with a worn leather wallet, a Samsung smart phone, an old comb, an even older pocket knife, and a set of keys, one of which had a large black fob with a Ford logo on it. I decided Bobby was just the type of idiot who’d drink and drive. And if he’d purposely picked out this place to ambush me, and had been waiting a fair while, maybe he’d parked his vehicle nearby too. I hoped so. In the wallet, I found a battered driving licence that listed his address as 4 Willoughby Avenue, Sagamore.

  Getting to my feet, I left the unconscious man and walked across the vacant lot towards the sidewalk. I looked in both directions and saw a few vehicles parked on the other side of the road. One was a pick-up. I crossed over and as I got closer, I saw it was a dark-coloured twenty-year-old Ford. Not expecting anything one way or the other, I tried the key in the driver’s side door and was pleasantly surprised when I heard a satisfying click in response. I got in. Inside it was a mess, with fast food wrappers and cardboard Coke containers fighting for space on the floor. Not that I cared. I turned the key in the ignition and there was a throaty roar as the diesel engine started on the first try. I turned off the interior light, shut the door and pulled out onto the road.

  Keeping the headlights turned off, I parked by the kerb next to the vacant lot and unlocked the passenger door. Then I jogged back to where I’d left Bobby. Although an inch shorter than me, the guy was clearly fifty pounds heavier. No way was I carrying him. Instead, I grabbed him under his armpits and dragged him all the way back across the grassy lot. I watched his face for any sign that he might be regaining consciousness, but his eyes never flickered once. I’d either cracked him a good one on the back of the head, or the beer was doing its job. Probably a combination of both. When I reached the sidewalk I looked both ways, but there was still nobody about. I held him up, dragged him to the open passenger door and hefted him up and dumped him into the seat.

  I got in the other side. Now I had to figure out where Willoughby Avenue was located. I pulled Bobby’s cell from my jacket pocket, switched it on and brushed a finger across the screen until I found something that looked like a browser and pressed it. It opened to the main Yahoo page, and I went to the Maps section and typed in the address. Almost immediately a map came up showing a cul-de-sac on the southern outskirts of town, about a mile and a half from my current location. I memorized the simple directions and drove there in under three minutes.

  Willoughby Avenue was a short, curved spur with seven well-spaced, one-storey clapboard houses on the left and some more woods directly opposite. The houses looked fairly old and ramshackle and only one of them had lights on inside. There were no streetlights around here either, which was all to the good.

  I found the mailbox for number four and steered into the short dirt driveway, then parked next to the house and switched off the engine. Getting out of the vehicle, I checked the immediate area, but all was quiet. And even if anybody was looking, I was just bringing my very drunk friend back home safely. Nothing suspicious about that.

  The main door was at the side of the house. Using Bobby’s keys, I entered and turned on the light switch. I was in a messy living area with a small kitchenette on the right. Straight ahead was an open doorway leading to the bedroom. I turned on the lights in there, noted the double bed was unmade, and drew the drapes across. Then I went back and pulled Bobby out of the car and hauled him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I took him into the bedroom and placed him on the bed. He was still completely out cold.

  The room was a mess, with unwashed clothes and empty beer bottles scattered all over the floor, along with assorted skin magazines. The walls were covered with old posters of barely dressed or completely naked models. There were also a few boxing ones up there, too, including that classic from 1965 of Ali standing over a fallen Sonny Liston.

  Two large cupboards stood against one wall. I opened the first one and saw clothes on hangers and pairs of sneakers arranged on the floor. The second cupboard held more clothes, but no sneakers. Instead, the floor was taken up by a five-tray hip-roof tackle box jam-packed with fishing paraphernalia, and a cyan-coloured padded roll-up case containing two rods, which tied in with the fishing trips that Hawkins had told me about.

/>   As I was closing the cupboard door, the intro to an old Van Halen track blared out from the depths of my jacket pocket. I pulled out Bobby’s cell phone and glanced at the figure on the bed, but Bobby wasn’t stirring at all. The phone’s display showed the word Cal. He was probably mildly curious as to how badly Bobby had beaten me. I counted eight rings until the phone switched to voicemail, then I continued my search.

  Stacked against the wall next to the cupboards were five cardboard boxes of various sizes. Two had the Amazon logo printed along the sides, and I checked the address labels and saw Bobby’s name and address printed on them. Inside the boxes were more skin mags. At least Bobby was consistent in his interests, limited though they were. Next was a manufacturer’s box for a Sony DVD player, which looked quite old and was completely empty. But when I checked the address label on the side of this box, I saw the name Calvin Wilcox and an address at 17 Culbreath Lane, Sagamore.

  I smiled. I’d been hoping to find some reference to Calvin in the house, and now I had the guy’s address as well. Calvin had probably bought himself a new player at some point and instead of throwing away his old machine he’d let Bobby have it.

  Searching the rest of the house didn’t take long, but I found nothing else that interested me. Certainly nothing related to Lenny anyway, nor anything to indicate that Bobby had come into a large amount of money at some point in the recent past. I was fairly confident he and Calvin had been behind the robbery at the peanut factory two years before, though. Yet if that was the case, where was the money? As far as I could see, Bobby sure hadn’t spent any of it on himself.

  Which meant my next step was to locate this Culbreath Lane and see what I could find at Calvin’s place.

  X

  Number seventeen was another single-storey house, but a little larger than Bobby’s and situated in a slightly more residential neighbourhood, closer to town. Culbreath Lane even had the benefit of streetlights. The house was dark and the carport at the end of the gravel driveway was empty, both of which I took as positive signs.