Dead Men

by Derek Haines

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  Still laughing, she sat down next to David. She sat very close to him so he could see what she was starting to write on the note pad. On a fresh page in the note pad she wrote the name of the Attorney General. His office address, private office phone number, home phone number, and the address of where he stayed when he was in Canberra. She continued to giggle as she wrote his wife’s name and his children’s names.

  ‘Do I get a job as a PI?’ she laughed.

  ‘How the fuck do you know all that?’

  ‘I’ll have the info on the other one for you tomorrow.’

  ‘How did you know all that?’ David asked again.

  ‘He’s my boss. And he’s a fucking creep.’

  ‘Figures. You did say you hated everyone.’

  ‘I’m not working tomorrow night. Come here around six thirty and I’ll have the other one for you. If you’re lucky, I might cook you dinner. I’ve always fantasised about poisoning someone,’ Karen said with a smile.

  David left just after midnight. They had again satiated each other individually. As he walked back, he wondered if Karen was going to open her mouth to anyone about his fixation on getting the information he required on two of the country’s most powerful men. It was too late now. He’d told her more than she needed to suspect him. There was a comfort he felt about Karen. Maybe she was just insane enough to be of assistance to him.

  The following morning, ostracism was the work for the day. Once again he prepared his messages in childlike printed words, and personalised them with newspaper lettering. This message read:

  ‘Dear………,

  How does it feel to be so unimportant? You are a no one and a nobody and will now be forgotten by the whole world.’

  Again he addressed and stamped the envelopes. One by one he made the entries of receipt in his journal. Counted them. Twenty. And banded them. He drove the short distance to the small township of Bungendore to post his letters. On his way back, he stopped at a butcher’s shop and made his selections carefully. Two lamb’s kidneys, one lamb’s brain and half an ox liver. When he arrived back at his motel he placed his purchases in the room’s small refrigerator.

  ‘Another successful day,’ he announced to himself. ‘Tomorrow, fear and uncertainty begins.’ Looking at his watch, it was five thirty. He went and had a shower and changed for his dinner date.

  Karen opened the door for David and he stood in disbelief at what he saw. It was a woman who looked somewhat like Karen, but with her hair up, dressed in a dark blue business suit, white blouse, stockings and black low heeled court shoes, this woman couldn’t be the Karen he knew. Even the pink rimmed spectacles had changed to severe black. From a small gold necklace, hung a single pearl.

  ‘Who are you?’ was all he could say.

  ‘Are you going to come in or stand on my doorstep all night?’ she widely smiled.

  David even noticed a change in her voice. It was softer and definitely more polite. Walking in, she guided him to the dining table. Set with blue and white china, crystal wine goblets, silver cutlery and a centre piece floral arrangement.

  ‘Would you like a drink before dinner?’

  ‘Err, yes. Yes thank you,’ David stammered.

  ‘Scotch?’

  ‘Fine. Thanks.’

  Karen served a perfect dinner. Soup, sorbet, pork medallions and vegetables followed by a cheese and fruit platter with coffee and port. She was the perfect hostess. Polite, witty and charming. Their conversation over dinner ranged from politics, ecology, education to cricket, horses and country living. David responded to Karen, and they both conducted themselves with manners, good grace and a friendly warmth. As they both enjoyed a cigarette with their coffee, David asked.

  ‘Who are you? Which Karen is the real you?’

  ‘I could ask the same of you David. My personalities are outward. Visible. Yours though, are just as many. Just as contrasting, but you hide them. As if you’re afraid of them. I’m all you see. They’re all part of the one Karen. Me. I’ve been hurt, just as you have. And I’ve sought retribution and vengeance, but all I’ve really wanted was love. I just haven’t known how to find it.’

  ‘So what do you think I’m hiding within me? A pathological serial killer?’

  ‘Do you really want me to tell you what I see?’ Karen asked softly.

  ‘If you like,’ David agreed.

  ‘A strong man. One who never ever shows his true feelings and never shows hurt or pain. One who protects. A weak man who can cry in an instant, but only in his own company. He craves protection. A proud man who wears his achievements with pride. An angry man who’d kill to avenge. A man of truth and lies. A gentle man who cares deeply. A loving man who wants to love for life. A bitter man who never wants to love again. An unpredictable man who can surprise and amaze.’ Karen placed her hand on David’s in a genuine sign of affection and continued. ‘You are just a man David. But you are the sum of many parts.’

  ‘You missed one part.’

  ‘Oh, and what part’s that?’ she asked with a warm smile.

  ‘The runaway.’

  ‘Ahhh. Now that’s an effect, not a part,’ she started. ‘But that’s what you’re doing now, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. And seeking vengeance and retribution,’ David agreed.

  Karen rose from her seat, moved to be standing next to David, and motioned for him to stand up. When he stood, she put her arms around his neck and kissed his ever so gently and sweetly. She then looked into his eyes and said, ‘Would you stop running if I told you I loved you?’

  ‘Do you need an immediate answer?’ David asked sensitively.

  ‘You’ll answer me when you’re ready,’ Karen whispered as she led him to her bedroom.

  The morning sunlight streamed through Karen’s bedroom window and bathed her and David in its warm golden rays. Both asleep, entwined in each other’s arms. David woke, and kissed her gently on her forehead. After a few moments, her eyes opened. David kissed her. ‘Yes, I would like to stop running.’

  View from the Precipice

  Standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the dry valley floor a thousand feet below, your eyes and mind lure your body into a swaying balance. Like a pendulum, you feel your body swaying back and forth. From safety, to the temptation of a fall to oblivion.

  David Holdsworth was swaying at the top of a cliff. His life and the events of it, had led him to this point. Karen stood behind him. Was she there to fall as with him? Waiting for him to fall, so she could follow? Was she there to push him? Or was she there to show him the way down from the top of the cliff. A slow treacherous walk down. They had both suffered the unending pain on the climb to the top of the cliff. In front of them was certain oblivion. Instant destruction of one, and maybe two lives. Death. Behind them, a chance. Life.

  David woke, startled from his dream. For a moment he couldn’t gather his thoughts as to where he was. It took him a few moments to recognise Karen, asleep next to him. Her face, angelic in the peace of the early morning light. As his mind cleared, and the fear of the cliff in his dream left him, he remembered how sensually they had made love. Karen had told him, she had not made love for four years. Not since her husband had left her. She never wanted the warmth of a man again. Until last night. She woke, for the second time this morning and smiled. She closed her eyes again and cuddled closer to him. David felt a peace he had not felt in many years.

  ‘Do you have to go to work?’ David whispered as he noticed it was nearly eight thirty.

  ‘No. It’s my day off, we can stay here all day.’ She closed her eyes.

  David suddenly thought of his own work for the day. He needed anger and bitterness to complete his day’s work. It wasn’t in him today. Having been a constant in his life for so long, David worried at its failure to manifest this morning. He always woke angry and bitter. And alone. Was this the difference? Simply not being alone when he woke. Or was it that this woman, an enigma, a puzzle, a labyri
nth of personae, this schizoid had broken down his defences and found the small remote scrap of David Holdsworth that could, and wanted to love. And be loved. Was she his liberation from a future of bitterness, hate and destruction?

  While David showered, Karen prepared breakfast. He found her making fruit salad when he walked into the kitchen wearing a white linen gown with ‘Karen’ embroidered in pink.

  ‘It suits you,’ she smiled. ‘Very becoming.’

  ‘Thank you,’ David said with an embarrassed smile.

  ‘You didn’t ask me for the information you wanted.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be needing it,’ he admitted. ‘But, thanks anyway.’

  They sat down to breakfast. Silence. Until Karen said, ‘David, would you help me to live again? To love again? To be free from anger and spite. If I help you to stop looking back?’

  ‘Karen, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure,’

  ‘Who made us angry? Who made us hate? Who made you savage? Who created our suffering? Who’s fault was it?’ David asked.

  ‘Nobody David. It was nobody’s fault. It’s just life.’

  One Last Call

  ‘Hello Vince, it’s David Holdsworth. I’m sorry about the car.’

  ‘Hello David. Why, what happened?’

  ‘Oh, the car is fine. I just lost myself for a while. I just rang to say I’ll drop the car back tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s fine David. Thanks for letting me know. Just drop it off at the used car area.’

  ‘Ok. Will do Vince.

  David put down the phone, packed his suitcase and was ready to check out of his motel room. The surprise he had bought from the butcher the day before to post to his wife stayed in the refrigerator for the maid to find. His campaign of punishment was over. There was no certainty in a future with Karen. It may last days, weeks, or a lifetime. For now, she soothed the anger within him. As he did for her. Together they might accompany each other back to normality. What ever that was?

  When he met her, just a few days before, she had disgusted him. She had frightened him, yet enticed him. Had he been as open with her that same night about what he himself was doing, would she have been similarly disgusted? They were both wanting revenge on a world that had hurt them. Between them, they simply agreed to stop seeking retribution, and start seeking happiness.

  He looked at the waste paper bin. His journal’s pages torn into small pieces and cast into the past. The past that was nobody’s fault.

  David knew he wasn’t in love, yet. But he knew he was ready to run away……….yet again. That excited him.

  THE END

  About The Author

  Derek Haines is an author of fiction, historical fiction, essays and poetry and writes his books from a view of what fascinates him and not from a formula based on one theme or genre. Starting with poetry before moving into essays and novels, his writing is varied but is always written in a style that communicates with and engages his readers.

  Most of all, the stories told by Derek Haines are about people, their feelings, regrets, hopes and struggles with life. Ordinary people, often a loser, but with extraordinary qualities that makes their story worth telling. While some stories reflect his own thoughts and beliefs, others are told from the view of characters who are sometimes dark and complex or childishly open. With splashes of allegory, black humour or simple satire, his stories can develop from the simplistic to the complicated and back again leaving the reader to decide if it is time to laugh or cry. Or both.

  Born in Australia, but now living in Switzerland with his wife and his dog, his stories cross a wide geographical range but often draw from elements of his life and experiences in the two countries he calls home. From the rugged, dry and hot desert country of Australia and its crowded cities to the cafés of Europe and the peaks of the Swiss Alps. The hustle and bustle of Sydney to the quiet life of the Swiss country side.

  In addition to writing, he is also a songwriter, singer and musician with a number of albums to his credit.

  Writing now full time, there are always manuscripts in varying stages of development, but one always has top priority and occupies the current project page of his website.

  Derek Haines Links:

  http://www.derekhaines.ch

  http://dereksvandalblog.blogspot.com/

  Twitter @Derek_Haines

  Other Books written by Derek Haines

  HAL

  Millions of years before February The Fifth, Gloth was making a nice little profit from the planet Erde, with the help of some cunning Popes and the very, very secret Star Chamber.

  Being disowned by his father and booted out of his family manor in England, then transported off to the distant sun drenched shores of Australia didn’t sound like such a bad punishment for Hal. All things considered. Sydney however, didn’t prove to be his cup of tea, but a quick move to Brisbane leads Hal to a wonderful new life full of friends, back yards, barbecues, beer, surfing, The Breakfast Creek Hotel and Narelle.

  The idyllic life.

  For a short time unfortunately, as so often happens just when you think things are beautifully perfect, someone or something comes along to throw a spanner in the works. In Hal’s case, his idyllic life gets hit my a number of airborne wrenches. Then when he thinks things are are about as bad as they can get, they of course get a whole lot worse.

  Afflicted by an allergic reaction to dust and scary things, Hal does a lot of sneezing as he goes about trying to make the whole lot worse a whole lot better.

  ISBN/EAN13: 146110565X / 978-1461105657

  Paperback: 238 pages

  Kindle, Paperback and E-Book versions available.

  February The Fifth

  A young fool becomes king and quickly discovers he has some very nasty enemies. Particularly the ones who are shooting at him.

  In a remarkable turn of events, a young man with a lot definitely not going for him, somehow manages to come to terms with a startling reality. He has to grow up. Being handicapped by not only having rather nasty acne and an odd eye impediment, he also has to suffer the fact that his name is February. Or at best, Feb to his very limited number of friends.

  While not at all wishing to rush into this startling new reality, circumstances and a few elbow nudges from his very protective elder sister ensure that his ‘not at all wishing’ turns out to be a complete waste of time. Thrust totally and altogether unwillingly into a position of authority by early afternoon, February finds himself with a new appendage tacked on to the end his name.

  The Fifth. The new and very authoritative part of his name.

  Of course, as is the case in all such rapid and thrusting types of promotion to positions of power, there will be those who are not happy about it. In February’s case however, he finds that in fact these those amount to just about everyone apart from his three sisters.

  Undaunted by this reality, Feb accepts his new responsibility and by early evening sets about getting himself into a real tangle. His only true achievement being that he discovers that quite a few of these those who weren’t so happy, are in fact really very upset about the whole Fifth appendage deal. By bedtime, he thinks he is in trouble.

  Before lunchtime the next day, he is sure.

  ISBN/EAN13: 1456344374 / 978-1456344375

  Paperback: 238 pages

  Kindle, Paperback and E-Book versions available.

  Milo Moon

  It all ended after World War Two. Or so it was thought. While medical and physiological experimentation on humans was repugnant and against all sensibilities, it remained valuable and above all highly profitable. Just simply believing something had gone away was good enough for most.

  Not for Milo Moon and Mary Seaton, who became proof of an international conspiracy to hide the truth. Simple and childish they may have been, but they held a history in their beings that was a threat to international political stability. For the Swiss government faced with such a discovery on their soil, the art of politics necess
itated compromise and calculation to find a solution. A viable outcome that gained maximum political benefit of course; which is the habit of seasoned politicians.

  However, above all this had to remain a secret and be buried again behind the walls of political cloak and dagger, secret services and a need to protect the sensitivities that we call modern history. Therefore, it never happened.

  ISBN/EAN13: 1451553471 / 9781451553475

  Paperback: 276 pages

  Kindle, Paperback and E-Book versions available.

  Louis

  No one wants to be a spy. Circumstances create spies. For a young innocent boy, there was no choice. He was born to be a spy. This is the story of Teremun who begins life in Cairo and becomes my friend Louis in a small country town in Australia sixty years later.

  It is a story I have been wanting to tell for more than forty years. A story of a man who lived, and then disappeared from all memory. I felt this was unworthy of a man who had sacrificed his life for what he believed to be right. Not that he always was, but in his heart he lived a life true to his morals and an understanding of a side of life we will never know.

  Two world wars shaped his life as they did for many others. However Louis moved through them, between them and after them as a chameleon. Ever changing and ever re-inventing himself. He was a man of secrets. Both in his work and in his life. He was a man who had few friends, but a plethora of faceless enemies. Above all he was a human who lived an extraordinary life. A life that should not be forgotten.

  ISBN/EAN13: 1450535526 / 9781450535526

  Paperback: 258 pages

  Kindle, Paperback and E-Book versions available.