Joe Victim: A Thriller

by Paul Cleave

  “Joe will—”

  “Fucking hell, you don’t get it, do you? Okay, we’ll do it your way.” He calls out into the hall for two men to come in. “Take him down to the station,” he says. “Sit him in an interrogation room and leave him there until—”

  “Good-bye,” Schroder says.

  Stevens stops talking. He looks at Schroder. His face is expressionless. He’s working away at a decision and Schroder stays still and silent as the superintendent makes it. He looks down for a few seconds. Then he looks back up. Stevens nods.

  “Belay that,” he says to the two men, and tells them to go back into the hall. “Not one more word,” he says, then crouches behind Schroder and undoes the cuffs. Now it’s Schroder’s turn to wince as he brings his broken arm back in front of his body. He says nothing. He nods at Stevens, who nods back.

  Schroder knows he needs to take the risk. He can’t imagine Stevens arresting him for his next request. But you never know.

  “Can I have the syringe back?”

  “No.”

  “Can I at least get a glass of water?”

  “Make it quick.”

  He moves to the sink. Pours a glass of water and gulps it down. He keeps his back to Stevens the entire time. He grabs the tea towel with the gun inside and makes a show of drying off his hand, his back still to Stevens. He slips the gun into the sling and tucks it between his arm and chest. If Stevens sees it he knows he’ll go straight into a holding cell. But Stevens doesn’t see it. Then he makes his way down the hall and outside. Sally is being treated by a couple of paramedics. Hutton is talking to another detective. He throws Schroder an angry glance. Schroder gives him an apologetic smile, which doesn’t work.

  The paramedic looking Sally over finishes up with her, and she’s escorted back into the house. “Let’s take a look at the arm,” the paramedic says. Schroder gives him a look. “Okay, climb in back and we’ll get you sorted.”

  So Schroder climbs into the back. The ambulance doors are shut. He stares out the window at Sally’s house. But he’s not seeing the house. Instead he’s seeing Joe and Melissa and he’s thinking about what Sally said, about the reward money, and that makes him think of the fifty thousand dollars Joe earned from Jonas Jones.

  The ambulance doesn’t start. The paramedic is outside chatting to somebody.

  Schroder reaches into his pocket. He finds the business card for Kevin Wellington. He drags out his cell phone and dials the number.

  Wellington answers.

  “It’s Carl Schroder,” he says. “I need your help.”

  “I’ve seen the news,” Wellington says. “So whatever you’re going to ask is covered by client-lawyer confidentially,” he says.

  “Goddamn—”

  “Hear me out,” he says. “Middleton is on the run and I didn’t become a lawyer to help bad people, I became one to stop bad things from happening. So I’ll answer anything you have to ask and in return you don’t tell anybody where you got your information from. I think that’s a pretty amazing deal under the circumstances. Agree?”

  “Completely,” Schroder says. “Do you know where he might go? Anything like that?”

  “No.”

  “The fifty thousand dollars, has it been transferred?”

  “Last night.”

  “Which bank does Joe use?”

  “The money didn’t go to him. It went into his mother’s account.”

  “His mother’s?”

  “Yeah. She’s a strange one, I’m telling you.”

  Schroder has met her and he agrees. You can’t get much stranger. So Joe’s mother has the money. That means Joe will go to her to get it. Hutton said before the police were at her house and there was no sign of her. Joe might have contacted her already. She might be at the bank.

  “What bank does she use? Which branch?” he asks, and the front door of the ambulance opens and closes and there’s a transference of weight and then the engine starts.

  “She’s already drawn it out,” Wellington says. “She said on the phone that the money was a wedding present, and she was going to go in first thing this morning and draw it out in cash.”

  “She just got married?” Schroder asks, and the ambulance is moving now. Sally’s house disappears, the cop cars appear, then some media vans and onlookers and then they break through. Hutton’s car appears. It’s parked where they left it with the doors still open. It must be Miracle Monday because it hasn’t been stolen.

  “Getting married,” he says. “In fact it’s happening today.”

  “Today?”

  “Yeah. Early this afternoon.”

  “You got a location?”

  “Ha,” he says, and gives a small laugh. “Actually I do. She rang me back and left a message on my phone. She invited me along. Hang on a second and let me get it for you.”

  Schroder hangs on and he looks out the back window as Hutton’s car get smaller, and then he thinks that Miracle Monday has come to an end for that car not being stolen, and he tells the ambulance driver to pull over.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  I’m not one for churches. They have their purpose, I guess, but their purpose could be to burn and keep the homeless warm and I’d be equally as fine with that reason as I would be for the real use they have. My parents were married in a church before I was born. My dad’s funeral was in a church and then he was taken away and cremated. That was the only day I’ve ever been in one.

  Rain clouds are looming on the horizon out toward the sea, but I can’t tell which direction they’re moving. We get out of the car and the temperature has dropped a few degrees and the wind has picked up a little and I don’t like the look of where things are heading. Christchurch has a way of starting out sunny and ending very differently. The parking lot out front has five cars, ours becoming the sixth.

  The church is made up of stone blocks and looks like it’s about a hundred years old, and looks like it’s going to be cold inside. The cemetery behind it rolls into the distance, fresh gravestones and old gravestones mixing up the view.

  Melissa has the gun in her pocket. She’s taken the silencer off so it fits. We climb the stairs up to the church doors and push the right one open. At first sight it’s easy to think the church is empty, but it’s not, it’s just a very small crowd confined to the first two pews. My mom is standing at the front with Walt. Walt is wearing a brown suit with a wide brown tie that looks like something some insurance salesman would have been buried in forty years ago. My mom is wearing a flowing white dress that is made from satin or silk and hugs her body in all the places Walt has been hugging her body lately, but in this case these places only make her look fat. They are facing each other. Standing behind them is a priest, and he’s the only one to notice me and Melissa walking into the room. He doesn’t pause, but carries on with the ceremony and the audience of—I count them—eight people.

  We sit down in the back. We have to, because if we go too close and my mom or Walt sees us, they’ll talk to me, then the priest will figure out who we are, and then Melissa will have to shoot him to stop him from calling the police, and though we haven’t talked about it I get the idea that Melissa is on the same wavelength when it comes to shooting priests—it just seems like an unlucky thing to do. Though, a year ago the priest who used to run this church had his skull beaten in with a hammer. That’s kind of an unlucky thing to do too—more so for him.

  The priest carries on, and even though it hasn’t felt like a risk coming here, suddenly it does. Being stationary seems dangerous. Being on the move felt safe. I’m guessing Melissa feels that too because she keeps jiggling her legs.

  “How long is this going to take?” she whispers to me, and we’re too far away for anybody to hear us.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her. “I’ve never been to a wedding.”

  “I don’t like this,” she says. “I think coming here was the wrong thing to do.”

  “Let’s give it five more minutes,” I say.

&n
bsp; “Three,” she says, and I don’t renegotiate.

  My mother looks happy. Walt looks happy. I feel tense. The priest asks if anybody here has a reason why these two shouldn’t get married. I have a bunch of reasons. My mom and Walt look out into the church, but their eyes only go as far as the front two rows. Nobody says anything. Then the priest asks my mother a bunch of questions about taking Walt as her husband. The three minutes go by. We agree to stay three more. Then Walt gets the same kind of questions.

  Then they kiss.

  My stomach turns over and this morning’s storm is coming back. The priest and Walt shake hands. Then everybody gets up and people are hugging, and then my mother and Walt move over to a table and sign something. One of the crowd steps forward and starts snapping off photographs. Then the happy couple walk down the aisle toward the church doors, and they walk right past us without even noticing. The priest opens the doors for them, the people that came along for the wedding follow them out, and suddenly we’re alone with the priest.

  I get up. Melissa gets up too.

  “You’re her son, aren’t you,” the priest says.

  “No,” I tell him.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he says, “but there’s no sanctuary in a church. The police will arrest you in here just as they will arrest you anywhere.”

  “I’m not here for sanctuary.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  I don’t answer him. I walk past him and Melissa points the gun at him and he doesn’t say anything, and then she smiles at him and hits him on the head about the same place she hit The Sally on her head. He goes down about the same way, and makes the same kind of pile on the floor, only his pile doesn’t take up as much room as Sally’s pile.

  Then my mom comes back into the church before we can go out after her. The door closes behind her. She sees the priest on the floor first, and she says “Oh my,” before she sees Melissa and then me. “Joe,” she says, and she steps over the priest and embraces me. “I’m so glad you came! But you’re late,” she says, and she pulls back from me and gives me a slap on the face, nothing too hard, but enough to show her disappointment. “And who is this?” she asks.

  “This is my girlfriend.”

  “No, no,” she says, “this isn’t your girlfriend. I’ve met your girlfriend. What’s going on here, Joe?”

  “Joe’s here to get the money given to him last night,” Melissa says, and her voice is cold, her voice has a Don’t fuck with me quality that my mom doesn’t seem to hear.

  My mom gives a small laugh, and a small nod. “That was so wonderful,” she says, “and I can’t believe you did that for us.”

  “Did what?” I ask, but I’m afraid I already know.

  “The money,” she says. “It’s a wonderful wedding present. I never, ever thought I’d fly first class anywhere. I could never have afforded it. And I never thought I’d go to Paris! Paris!” she says, then shakes her head. “All because of you. It’s going to be a wonderful trip,” she says, but I don’t see how it can be, not with her in a body bag and Walt in a body bag too, because that’s how they’re going to be making their next trip.

  “You spent it all?” I ask.

  “No, no, of course not,” she says. “Don’t be so stupid. What’s wrong with him?” she asks, looking down at the priest.

  “He’s tired,” Melissa says.

  “He looks it,” Mom says. “No, no, we still have a few thousand dollars left for spending money.”

  “So you spent most of it,” I say.

  “Most of it, yes. It was so generous of you. Will you come to the airport to see us off? Or do you have to go back to jail now?”

  “So you spent most of it,” I say, and I realize I’ve just said it, but then I say it again. “So you spent most of it.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Joe? You’re like a broken record. I already told you we have some left.”

  “We need to go,” Melissa says.

  “Who are you again?” my mom asks. “Have we met?”

  “Come on, Joe,” Melissa says, and she tugs at my sleeve. “We should never have come here.”

  We step around the unconscious priest and my mom stares at us with an angry look on her face, as if spending all of my money has really annoyed her. “Good-bye, Mom,” I say, knowing this will be the last time I will ever see her. I should feel relieved by that, but strangely I don’t. No matter what, I’m going to miss her.

  We step outside. Walt is out there talking to a couple the same age as him, and then he spots me and starts to come in my direction, but whatever he has to say I don’t really want to hear. We’re halfway down the stairs when Detective Inspector Schroder pulls into the parking lot.

  Chapter Eighty

  Driving is a bitch, but thankfully the car is an automatic, which makes it possible. Hutton isn’t taking his calls. When Schroder calls him, it rings a few times and then switches over to voicemail. He’s not sure whether the detective is busy, or whether he’s deliberately dodging him. He has a pretty good idea which it is.

  He knows Hutton’s number from memory, but not any of the others, and because the screen on his cell phone is busted he can’t look anybody else up. He could call the police emergency number and ask to be put through to Stevens, but he knows Stevens would yell at him and hang up without hearing what he has to say. He drives to the church, not expecting to find Joe there, but ready to call the emergency number if he does. If it leads nowhere, then he’ll drive to the hospital.

  He’s not expecting to see Joe standing on the steps of the church when he pulls into the parking lot. In fact he has to do a double take, and even then he’s not sure because Joe is wearing a hat, but the woman behind him is definitely the same woman from the prison, the same woman who shot Jack, the same woman who blew up Raphael and tried to blow him up too.

  So there’s no point in messing around. He stops the car and leaves the engine running and reaches into the sling for the gun, then has to put the gun down so he can open the door. He gets it open and the gun back into his hand and he doesn’t bother yelling out, he just draws a bead on Joe, but doesn’t pull the trigger because some old guy wanders up to Joe and blocks the view.

  A second later Melissa steps out from behind Joe to the right of that same old guy and fires a shot at Schroder. Schroder ducks down behind the door onto the ground as bullets come thumping through the car door. Something tugs at his broken arm, and he looks down to see a dime-sized spot of blood that starts to rapidly grow on the front of the sling.

  Melissa stops firing. People are running in all sorts of directions.

  He peers around the edge of the door and back up at the church just in time to see Joe and Melissa disappear inside. The old man who was trying to talk to Joe is still standing on the stairs. He looks unsure of what to do. Schroder knows the feeling.

  He tucks the gun under his arm and reaches for his cell phone. He dials one-one-one. “This is Carl Schroder,” he says. “I’m currently under fire from two suspects—Joe Middleton and Melissa X. Send backup,” he says, then gives the name of the church and hangs up.

  He drops the phone back into his pocket. He still hasn’t called his wife. Why the hell did he keep putting that off? If this were an episode of The Cleaner, then that’d mean he’s about to get shot. That’s how TV works—you start talking about a cop who has a family, and two minutes later that guy’s starfished on the ground with blood running out of him. He points the gun ahead and makes his way out from behind his car. He has a promise that he has to keep.

  Chapter Eighty-One

  She knew this was a mistake. Should never have come here. Hell, for that matter she should never have helped Joe escape. She could have gone anywhere, just her and Abigail. Only now she’s backed into a church and no doubt the police will be on their way. She has about twelve bullets left and nothing else.

  “Let’s go back out the front,” she says.

  “He’ll shoot us,” Joe says.


  “No. He’ll just try to shoot us.”

  “What’s going on?” Joe’s mother asks, and Melissa thinks she could spare a bullet on her. If it came down to it, she could probably spare two or three—one into the head, then two more into the head just for the hell of it.

  “He’ll do more than try,” Joe says.

  “Others will be on the way. We have to do this fast. We have to go back out there and we have to shoot him and then we have to leave. We can drive a few blocks and ditch the car and steal another. Or take one of the others that’s already here. Damn it, we could have been home by now. This was a waste of time because your stupid fucking mother spent—”

  “How dare you,” Joe’s mother says, and Melissa points the gun at her.

  “Don’t,” Joe says.

  “Why?” Melissa asks.

  He opens his mouth to answer and comes up with nothing. “We can use her as a shield,” he says.

  Melissa pulls him toward her and kisses him hard but briefly on the lips, then pushes him away. “You’re going to make a great father,” she says.

  She grabs Joe’s mother, who resists for a few seconds, and then Joe grabs her too. They push her ahead of them toward the church doors. Melissa holds a gun to the woman’s head and Joe opens the door and then they step back outside.

  Schroder has made his way to the bottom of the steps. He’s wearing a sling because his arm is broken or wounded or something. He points the gun up at them, but he has no clear shot. It’s Joe’s mom, then Melissa, then Joe—all in a straight line.

  “Let her go,” Schroder says.

  “Put your gun down or—” she says, and that’s when Joe’s mom stumbles, trips, then suddenly she’s rolling down the stairs toward Schroder. Joe moves to the side to try and reach her, but is too late.

  For a moment both of them are exposed to Schroder.

  And then two things happen at the same time. Walt steps in between them to try and reach Joe’s mom. And Schroder and Melissa open fire.