Acting Dead (Michael Quinn Thriller)

by John Moralee

  “Yes,” I said. “I think about him all the time.”.

  “Me, too,” she said, closing the door very quietly behind me. “Me, too.”

  It was cold outside. The rain had stopped, but the sky was dark. I protected the diary under my coat from the random raindrops. I didn’t open it until I was in my car with the doors locked. The small key fitted snugly into the diary’s lock and turned with a click. The gold clasps sprung open. I pried the diary open. It had delicate pink pages. Hanna’s handwriting was like art, the calligraphy precise and beautiful. She’d used a fountain pen with light blue ink. There were cute hearts drawn above the letters i and j.

  I started at the beginning, but soon skipped through the years until she was in high school. The writing was mostly about boys and sexual fantasies. She disguised most boys’ names with initials, unfortunately. It was raunchy material based on romantic idealism and teenage lust. There was nothing interesting until a diary entry six months before the crash.

  We did it today. In the back of his car. God! Finally, I’m not longer a virgin! It feels like I’ve been reborn. He was so tender and experienced I wept afterwards, and he said such sweet things. He loves me. And I know he’s Mr Right.

  I looked for his name, but I couldn’t find one. The date was well before she went out with my brother. There were various liaisons described in intimate detail. Then, pages later:

  Met D after school. He promised he would leave his wife – again. Again, I desperately want to believe him, but he’s said it so many, many times I wonder if he’s ever going to do it! There must be something I can do!

  Who was D?

  I read on.

  I saw B today. I know he has a thing for me. He’s a child compared to D, but I think he could be useful. If I can make D jealous then he’ll have to leave his wife. Tomorrow, I simply must ask B out. He must say yes.

  B. B for Billy. My poor brother.

  D saw me with B. Oh, he looked so angry. It was delightful! I saw him later and he said I had to stop dating B. I coyly asked him why ... He said he was going to tell his wife he was leaving her as soon as I graduate. I think he’s serious this time, but I will go to the prom with B. I kind of feel sorry for him. I’ll have to break it up, I guess.

  “So why didn’t you?” I said aloud.

  The prom is tonight. Still no word from D. The creep! I wish he could take me, but he won’t. He lied. He will never leave her unless I make him. I did something naughty earlier. I went to his house when he was out. I put a love letter in the mailbox. He’ll have a heart attack when he opens it! If he calls before the prom, I’ll not go. But if he doesn’t - if he ignores me - I’ll sleep with B just to show HIM who’s the boss.

  That was the last entry.

  The saddest thing was she had never loved my brother. She had used him. He had become embroiled in her complicated plans to seduce D. I looked for D’s full name, and I thought I wouldn’t find it. But then an entry seemed to stare out of the page.

  I couldn’t see him today. D said his daughter had a stupid dental appointment. I bet he had to hold her hand in the waiting room. God I hate her!!! I wish D didn’t have a daughter almost my age. Every time I see her with B’s little brother I feel sick.

  She was writing about Abby.

  Abby was D’s daughter.

  D was for Dick.

  Richard Shannow was the man sleeping with Hanna.

  I wanted to be sick.

  I remembered what I’d read in Scott’s appointments book, the meeting with Shannow in the afternoon that Shannow had said was about Heaven and Earth Enterprises. I only had his word for that. What if Scott had confronted him with the photograph of the car crash?

  It was obvious now. In Scott’s appointment book, Scott had written R. Shannow not D. Shannow.

  “’Friends call me Dick’,” I said.

  Enemies called him Richard.

  Chapter 49

  A knock on my window sent my heart racing. Someone shone a flashlight into the car.

  “What –” I said, but it was just a deputy checking the neighbourhood. His windbreaker was soaked black, his silver shield at eye level. He pointed the light on my face. I hated that. I couldn’t see a damn thing.

  He knocked again.

  “Sir, what are you doing here? I’ve noticed you’ve been sitting there twenty minutes, watching those houses. Please wind down your window and show me your licence.”

  Grumbling, I wound down the window. “Here’s my licence, officer.”

  “Please take it out of the wallet first, sir.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m actually glad to see you. You can save me some time. I have something – hey! What’s going on?”

  He had reached in for my licence, but instead of taking it to examine he had pricked my arm with something.

  I was bleeding from a dot-sized wound.

  “What the hell?”

  As his arm pulled away, I saw the empty syringe in his hand. And then I got my first proper look at his face.

  Richard Shannow looked good in a uniform. “I kept this cop uniform after my son in law made sheriff. He never missed it. Useful, yes?”

  I looked for the ignition key, wanting to start the car and GET AWAY. But my hand was suddenly disobeying.

  He was laughing.

  “Morphine,” he said, as the drug hit me with a rush of euphoria.

  The killer was Richard Shannow. Dressed as a deputy. Ha-ha. Fooled me. It was so funny but I couldn’t figure out why. And then I was too heavy to support my head. My head nodded. I slumped over, feeling warm all over, aware of the door opening and someone moving my body.

  Rrrrrrrrrichard Shannow. He was going to kill me. Me. Me. Meeeee.

  What? Where was I? Why couldn’t I think?

  Head pressing on the door. Very cold metal.

  Hmmm. Sleepy.

  Sooooo comfortable, just a little sleepy sleep sleep.

  NO! It’s the morphine, stupid. The morphine. Don’t sleep. Drugged. D for Dick. D for dead.

  I came to in the back of my car. It was in motion, rocking me side to side as it turned a corner. I opened my eyes, wincing at the pain in my head. My head was heavy, throbbing, and I couldn’t raise it. I felt groggy, disorientated, as if I’d been drinking all night. Then I remembered what drug had hit me and began to panic. How long had I been out? There was tape over my mouth, and my hands were tied behind my back. I was slumped against the door.

  Shannow was driving in silence. The green lights of the dashboard lit up his profile as he looked back at me. I closed my eyes, but not tightly. I could see through a tiny gap. Shannow was in darkness so impenetrable that it looked solid. He turned back to stop at a red light. Looking at me. I didn’t think he knew I was awake. He continued. I hitched myself up slightly, just so I could see out of the windows. We were a few blocks away from his house. I could hear a siren in the distance, but it faded away as we headed through the Garden District. Shannow looked troubled, his eyes darting left and right. I hoped someone had contacted the police and they were looking for me. But who? Nobody knew where I was. Shannow turned right at the next corner. We were heading out of town. The houses were becoming further and further apart. I concentrated on staying conscious. I wanted to sleep, but that was the morphine talking. I had to stay awake. But I drifted off a couple of times nevertheless. Now, the street lights were separated by areas of nothingness, then no street lights were ahead. Shannow turned onto the road to Emerald Point.

  “I know you’re awake,” he said.

  I didn’t respond.

  “No use faking it, Michael. I saw you open your eyes.”

  I still said nothing.

  “I gave you every chance in the world to give up,” he said. “Why couldn’t you just let it go? But no. You had to push me into this like they did. But at least I have her diary. Does he mention me? Not speaking? Well, that’s okay. Thanks for that – I didn’t know Hanna kept one. I think I’ll bury you with it. But I have to ask you some que
stions, Michael. The diary. Do the Devereauxs know what’s in it? Have they read it?”

  He slapped me. I flinched. I couldn’t help it. “Hah! You’re not such a good actor as everyone says.” Shannow looked back at me, reaching for the tape. He pulled it off. “You can scream if you like, but nobody’ll hear you now. I’m going to ask you again – who knows about this diary? Who have you talked to about Billy?”

  I gasped in air. I could feel bruises forming on my head where I’d fallen against the door.

  “You can talk,” he said. “Might be the last conversation you’ll ever have.”

  Might? I thought. “Are you saying you might let me go?”

  “I’m thinking about it. Without the diary you have nothing on me specifically. I do like you, Michael. I’ve been watching you for weeks. I had hoped you wouldn’t pursue things so far, but you couldn’t let things rest. Why couldn’t you just let things rest with Van Morgan? He could have taken the blame. He’s as guilty as sin. He’s a real criminal.” He shook his head. “I really wish you hadn’t found out, Michael. I never wanted to kill Scott, but he didn’t give me any choice.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to kill you either. I like you. You’re the guy my little girl should have married.”

  We were now passing the last sign before Emerald Point. There were no houses nearby. There were no people for a mile.

  I pulled at the ropes around my wrists, trying to loosen them.

  “Who else knows about the diary?”

  “Everyone,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Liar,” he said. “It’s only you. You wouldn’t put anyone else at risk.”

  “Believe that if you like.”

  “It’s got to end with you,” he said.

  The car passed the barricade.

  Shannow was crying as he continued.

  He parked the car in the clearing. I could see the dark hulks of derelict machinery. The bulldozers looked like monsters with long necks and sharp teeth. Shannow killed the engine. The headlights went off. He leaned over his seat, looking at me through tears. He continued in a low voice. “We’re at the end of the line, Michael. I’m sorry. You and the diary will have to disappear.”

  “There’s other evidence against you. You lost a button when you dumped Scott’s body over the cliff. Careless.”

  “Yes, on my jacket. How did you know that?”

  “I found it. I also found a matchbook of yours you dropped outside my house. You were watching me to see how much I would find out. It doesn’t matter now, I guess.” The construction site was deserted, but I was hoping someone would find us. “Don’t you think you’ve killed enough people, Dick? When does it stop?”

  Shannow sighed. “Tonight. It stops tonight. With you.” He switched on a flashlight. His hand was shaking. He shone the light in my eyes. It stung. He lowered it so the light was on my chest. “Your death will no doubt be blamed on Van Morgan as revenge for his downfall.”

  “This is madness,” I said.

  “I don’t want to do this,” he said, almost to himself.

  “Dick, you don’t have to.”

  “No?” His voice sounded thick and weary. “I can’t just let you go, can I? Scott was like you – he wanted me to tell the police. He thought it would be easier that way. I called him back later from a public phone, said I need to discuss it face to face. I picked the one near The Boat House because I wanted to throw suspicion elsewhere. It worked – later. So, I met Scott. I wanted to pay him off, but he didn’t want money. I could have paid him thousands. But he was too honest. So I had to do it. I suggested to Scott we meet outside the yacht club. I knew there would be nobody around. Honestly, I just wanted to persuade Scott to keep quiet. That was all. I was willing to pay him. I even brought money with me. But he said he couldn’t keep quiet. I was willing to give him anything. But he wasn’t interested. He had a responsibility to tell the truth, he said, regardless of the consequences. I couldn’t let that happen, Michael. When his back was turned, I injected him with some of the morphine I’d kept after my wife died. It knocked him out. I decided to make it look like a car accident, should anyone find his body. I drove his car out of town. I decided to make it look like a suicide if the body was ever found. I drove the car over the cliff – jumping out at the final moment. It should have ended there. But you ruined it. You came back asking questions.”

  He unlocked the doors and stepped outside. He came around to the rear, reaching for the one next to me. To open it, he had to put the flashlight under his arm. The gun was still in his hand, but for a moment the car was in darkness – and he couldn’t see me very well.

  What the hell, I thought, got to try something.

  Grunting, I kicked the door as hard as I could, using both feet.

  The door swung open. It knocked Shannow over and he lost the flashlight, but held onto the gun. He fired it as I wriggled out of the door, but he hit the door. I ran for the nearest bulldozer, pulling at my bonds. Cold air slapped my face. My legs wobbled. I could hear Shannow getting up, yelling.

  “STOP!”

  The gun went off, but the bullet didn’t hit me. It went somewhere into the night. Reaching the bulldozer before he fired a third bullet, I hid. His feet crunched on the ground as he approached. I looked around for somewhere better to hide. Felled trees were stacked up from here to the woods sixty feet away.

  Unfortunately, Shannow would see me if I went that way, for the moon chose that moment to clear the clouds, bathing the ground in an eerie silver light.

  I was trapped behind the bulldozer.

  And he was coming for me.

  I hitched myself up into the driver’s cab. From there, I could see Shannow coming this way, holding a gun in both hands. He couldn’t see me against the dark background. I looked around the cab, looking for something to use to undo my hands. My eyes could pick out several shapes, including shards of glass on the ground by my feet. I bent down and grabbed a large sliver in my fingers. I worked it on the ropes. They tore. My hands came free.

  Shannow was below me, moving cautiously. He walked around the bulldozer, listening.

  When he got closer, I would jump on him from behind.

  He was almost below me when it happened.

  My cellular phone rang.

  No. Not now.

  “Hah,” he said.

  He turned and fired – and I launched myself into space out the other side of the cab. The bullet zinged off the metal cabin.

  I landed on all-fours, springing up as Shannow ran around the bulldozer still shooting. I dropped the phone and I ran towards the car. It was the only thing between me and the trees.

  Shannow came around the bulldozer expecting me to be where the ringing was coming from. It gave me an extra ten seconds, then he saw me.

  I was out in the open – running.

  “Michael!” Shannow shouted. “Don’t make this harder on yourself! This is nothing personal! Just give me one clean shot!”

  I could feel his eyes on me as he aimed.

  There was no way I’d reach the car. I changed direction, ducking and swerving. A gunshot exploded. Somewhere close to me the bullet rushed past.

  “Michael!”

  He fired again. The bullet caught my leg. It felt on fire. Stumbling saved me from the volleys that followed. I scrambled up and limped up the embankment towards the creek. My leg was screaming. I put one hand on it, feeling the warm blood. I kept my hand pressed to it, reducing the flow. The pain … I had to ignore it. I could hear the water so I climbed towards the noise. Shannow was somewhere behind me. I got to the rocks above the creek and merged with the darkness.

  I could see Shannow in the moonlight. He was sneaking up the embankment, listening for me. I couldn’t stay where I was, so I edged down the rocks, my sound masked by the water. I crept along the water’s edge for another way back. Shannow was looking down. He could not see me, though. I did not move. When he went away, I guessed he was going back to g
et a flashlight so he could track my blood. Once he had one, I would be a sitting target. My best hope of surviving this nightmare was to sneak back to the road. I followed the creek for a short distance, then I climbed up the rocks. Climbing made my leg hurt so much I thought I would pass out. I rested, briefly. Then I continued. The road was maybe thirty yards away. There were some trees ahead and the fence put up by H&E Enterprises. The fence looked silver in the moonlight. I used the fence as a rough guide as I crept towards the road, forever looking out for Shannow.

  I stopped suddenly, crouching by a tree.

  I stopped breathing, holding it in.

  There was a second car parked among the trees beside the exit.

  Sneaking closer, I recognised the sheriff’s cruiser. All its lights were off and it was empty.

  He must have followed us – or being here already. Say to give Shannow a lift back into town after I was dead.

  I stopped moving.

  Where was the sheriff?

  What was that doing here? Whose side was he on?

  (Not mine, that was for sure.)

  I paused, looking for Boone. He had to be somewhere close. But I could not see him. The trees were a dark mass around the cruiser. I wished I were armed. Creeping forward, I bent down to lift a hefty branch from the ground. I could make out the soft sounds of someone walking as quietly as possible through the undergrowth. I hid behind a tree, peeking around the trunk at the police cruiser and the trees. I could see the unmistakable shape of Tom Boone creeping through the undergrowth. He had his .45 out. He had a flashlight, but it was turned off.

  In the distance, I saw a milky light sweep across the ground near the creek. That had to be Shannow searching for me. Boone turned to look at it. He set off in that direction. I seriously thought about waiting and escaping, but what if Boone wasn’t working with Shannow? He would be walking into trouble. While he was distracted, I crept up behind him. I didn’t want him to alert Shannow to my presence, so I hit him with the branch.

  “Umpfh,” he mumbled and went down, landing on his face. I dropped down on him, discarding the branch. Urgently, I grabbed his .45 and pressed it into the back of his head.