by Jack Lacey
‘Mechanic huh...’ she said, eyeing me suspiciously. ‘Your fingernails look far too clean for that...’
‘Look, I’ve known Olivia since she was young, okay. I know her friends, Ben and Izzy, back home too. You might have heard her speak of them?
‘No, I haven’t.’
Jessica sat down on the edge of some drawers and started to roll a cigarette, eyeing me warily as she did so.
‘I knew you weren’t some white-collar worker in town on business. You look far too streetwise and rugged for that...’
I ignored the compliment.
‘Look, if it helps, I think Olivia’s father is a bit of a dildo, and I don’t care if she never goes back to him, okay. I was more of a friend of his wife’s really.’
‘So why are you helping him out then?’
‘Because I can…and at this very moment, I’m not so sure if it is a good idea, as I had to fight off a gang of bikers last night on the outskirts of the city. They ended up torching the truck I was sleeping in this morning, along with the rest of my money and my clothes in it. Hence my garment situation…’
Her eyes widened with surprise.
‘Shit, I heard about that on the radio earlier. That was your truck?’
‘No, it kinda came into my possession…’
She laughed then offered me the newly-lit cigarette, which from its resinous smell I gathered wasn’t a regular one. I took a couple of quick drags to be polite then handed it back, wanting to keep a clear head.
‘You need to let you hair down, Blake, do you know that? You look so uptight...’
‘I like uptight?’ I said playfully.
‘And uptight could end up killing you through stress,’ she said, tweaking a smile.
‘I’m uptight because all I’ve got is seven dollars to my name, because I stupidly left my wallet in the truck, and because I was so wrapped up in taking some Somalian guy to hospital who’d got ruffed up by that same band of bikers.’
Jessica inhaled deeply looking concerned.
‘Did you see their colours?’
‘One had a jacket with a lightning bolt and a horse rearing up on it…I think.’
The girl shook her head slowly.
‘You were lucky they didn’t kill you, Blake. That was the Mustangs you were fucking with. They are notorious in this area. They deal in heavy drugs, guns, human trafficking…child prostitution. A friend of mine was left in a wheelchair by them nearly five years ago for trying to score from the wrong dealer, in the wrong neighbourhood. They’re fucking insane...’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
She raised a hand as if to stifle my sympathy at source.
‘Look, do you want to stay for some food? We’re having a benefit supper for the mountain activists tonight and there’s plenty to go around.’
I shook my head.
‘I’d love to, but I have to get on. More importantly I haven’t got any money to pay you guys.’
‘You won’t survive very long out there without any cash, Blake. This is America. You need a dime just to take a piss these days. But hey, you can eat for free here if you want. Anyone who is a friend of a friend is welcome in this house. You won’t be required to pay anything. That’s the way we work...’
‘Thanks, but I really need to get going. I don’t think a photo will be enough to pacify Olivia’s father.’
She looked at me quizzically then shrugged her shoulders.
‘Okay, He-Man, but if you want some money I can lend you some. I’ve got around thirty bucks on me now. It won’t get you very far, but it’s something. You can pay me back another time…or now if you like?’
There was an awkward silence for a second. It felt as loaded as the one in the tattoo shop...
‘Do you have a phone I could use?’ I said changing the subject, thinking about Lenny suddenly, and how he’d appreciate a call.
‘Not for phoning England, sorry.’
She turned and strolled over to the printer and picked up the photo from the tray.
‘So, you’ve got what you wanted, Blake from England. One photo of your missing girl...’
‘Yes I have.’ I said taking it from her outstretched hand. ‘Do you have internet here?’
‘Sorry it’s down at the moment.’
She stepped closer and eyed me intently again.
‘You’re an interesting guy, you know that, Blake? Someone with a lot of secrets I think...’
‘A-lot,’ I said, taking in her voluptuous brown eyes.
‘I mean, you know how to handle yourself, don’t you?’
‘When my sleep is being interrupted I get very upset, yes.’
She took the last few drags on the joint and blew it in my face. I tried not to blink then stared back at her blankly.
‘Well, are you going then?’ she said stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray slowly, a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of her generous lips, ‘or are you going to stay for a little bit longer and try and relax?’
I contemplated the offer for a moment then thought better of it. Minutes turned into hours and hours into days on a case like this, and time was beginning to slip away in the hunt for Olivia Deacon.
‘If you’re not going to give me any inkling of where she may have gone, then no…’ I said eventually.
‘You know I can’t do that...’
I tapped her foot playfully with mine, trying to work her some more.
‘What about roughly?’
She hesitated, as if deciding how much she was going to reveal.
‘Sorry.’
‘What about the state?’
‘They seemed quite happy when they left, yes,’ she said smirking.
I prodded her outstretched foot again.
‘Come on, seriously…’
‘Seriously, I can’t tell you as the poor girl wanted to be left alone. We’ve already had some private investigator snooping around, as well as a cop looking for his wife who decided she’d had enough of him…The only reason you got in the door was because you looked such a mess. The guys outside must have felt sorry for you, or thought you a genuine activist.’
‘Actually, they were quite helpful, even the Mohican man.’
She laughed then moistened her lower lip.
‘Well you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?’
‘Look, you can at least tell me the state she’s in, can’t you?’
‘I can’t actually, Blake, as I don’t know. And if I did, I still wouldn’t say.’
‘Okay…then I’ve another favour to ask. I was told Ethan lives here. Does he have a room I could check out?’
‘You mean snoop around in, to find out where he may have gone?’
‘Pretty much, but then it would save you breaking your code and telling me where he might have gone. No guilty conscience…’
‘Apart from the fact I was letting you do it, you mean.’
‘But what if I found it of my own accord, if you didn’t know anything about it?’
‘But I do. And I have a conscience. Are you familiar with that word, Blake?’
‘Can you pretend you didn’t?’ I said, running my foot up the back of her calf.
‘No…’ she snapped, anger flashing in her eyes, ‘and anyway, he doesn’t live here anymore, just stays here sometimes like everyone does occasionally.’
I felt deflated suddenly. Walter’s information was out of date, just like Henry Deacon’s photos had been.
‘Look, Ethan lives over on Cedar Avenue now, in one of the tower blocks with some drug nut called Spike. He’s a low-level hash dealer, but hangs out with some pretty scary people. That’s all I’m prepared to tell you. If you want to risk going over there and getting your head caved in, then that’s up to you.’
‘I’ve got one last question...’
She looked at me warily.
‘You want me to drive us both to some nice café so you can buy me lunch after all the help I’ve given you?’
I pulled ou
t my pocket inners and shrugged my shoulders.
‘If I had the money I’d buy you breakfast, lunch and dinner, Jess.’
She shook her head slowly in mock disgust.
‘So what else do you need?’
‘Can you take me to this dealer’s place, now?’ I said, standing up.
‘You’re the sort who’s always looking for a favour, aren’t you?’ she said sharply. ‘I mean, what do you do when you’re not fixing up cars?’ she said inching towards me again.
I eyed the faint outline of her labia pressing through her skin-tight leggings and felt a twinge of arousal.
‘Getting myself into trouble...’ I said, with a carefully crafted smile wanting to work the lift.
She pressed herself close, so that I could feel her heat against my thigh.
‘Now that is something worthwhile…’ she said softly.
I felt a tentative finger run its way up the seam of my jeans and hover at my hip.
‘You sure you want to go, now?’ she said, reaching for my belt buckle.
I offered a lingering kiss to her open mouth, then pulled back slowly so as to remain diplomatic.
‘Maybe we could spend some more time together after I’ve checked out this dealer’s place? I’d be far more relaxed then...’
‘If you come out of there alive, that is?’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘You’re one of those types who enjoys danger, aren’t you, Blake?’ she said running her hand over my shaved head.
‘Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire,’ I said eventually.
‘Only if there’s a devil inside of you...’
‘We all have demons,’ I replied, as her lips hovered close to mine again.
‘Yeah...and some people like having demons to fight.’
‘I reckon they do.’
‘Drink?’ she said pulling away to pick up a cheap bottle of vodka from a side table.
I stared at it for a second and fought the temptation. I’d forgotten about drink for a few days...
‘I’m okay thanks,’ I said after a painful few seconds of indecision.
She turned away and hovered in the doorway as if resigned that I couldn’t be cajoled into staying any longer.
‘Come on, I’ll drop you over there,’ she said heading for the door, keys swinging from an upturned finger. ‘I’ll put the vodka on ice.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, pleased at procuring a photo, more information on Ethan, and now transportation to the next lead as well. It was more than I’d hoped for, even if I had to turn down some heady fruits...
I followed her out to a rusting pink moped parked up in a side alley, then jumped on behind her and grabbed her waist tightly; wishing I’d had more time to get to know her better. She was a cool chick after all.
‘You know how to ride this thing in the snow, with the extra weight?’ I said hearing the suspension creak. ‘I don’t mind being the front man...’
She laughed and kick-started the old bike into life, then revved it hard, sending plumes of dark smoke into the air.
‘No one rides my fucking bike, Blake, especially not an alpha-male like you, okay?’
We pulled out of the backyard into the neighbourhood, the bracing Minnesotan air numbing my face instantly as we navigated our way slowly along the snow-lined streets, then through heavy traffic until hitting a poorer area not far from the hospital where I’d taken Moses the previous night.
Eventually we bumped up on a pavement and Jessica pointed a finger to a patchwork tower block nearby that looked as if it was ready to be dynamited.
‘Perfect,’ I said, hoping the dealer’s flat was on the first few floors.
‘Good luck with your search, Blake,’ she said looking ahead, as if she knew I wouldn’t be back.
‘Sure thing.’
She revved the engine making it whine, then dropped down off the curb onto the road and stopped for a second longer.
‘If you get stuck, you know where I live. There’s always a free sofa...Be careful, huh?’
‘Thanks,’ I said mutedly as she drove off, her purple-streaked hair flailing behind her.
As she melted into the distance, I wondered if her pride had taken a hit because I hadn’t taken her up on her invitation, then thought maybe I should have accepted it as I turned to face the high-rise flats again, which now looked as if the only thing they would offer up would be a cold metal blade in the guts, from their dark and shadowy stairwells...
Chapter Eleven
‘the body’
I walked towards the dilapidated tower block and clocked the two black guys hovering around the back of a bashed-up Buick Regal outside. I glanced at them casually again as I neared, checking if they were the sort to give a stranger hassle, then decided that they were too busy doing whatever they were doing to even care.
At the double doors I turned and eyed the nearest one as he looked up from the trunk suddenly. He was wearing a red woollen hat pulled tightly over some well-established dreadlocks and looked street-hardened and mean, but not overtly threatening. I walked towards him slowly.
‘Sorry to trouble you, man, but I’m looking for a guy called, Spike. He supposed to live in this block. Do you know him at all?’
The guy moved a tooth-pick around in his mouth and eyed me suspiciously.
‘If he’s such a good friend, English guy, why donts you know where he lives yourself?’
I met his gaze and offered a cheeky smile.
‘Cus we’ve only just met.’
‘Sheeit...they’ve only just met. That’s beautiful, man...’ he said, looking at the other guy for a reaction as he rose from the trunk to join him.
They both broke into laughter in unison. I scanned them each in turn and fought the irritation.
‘He said, that he’d tell me after the second date,’ I replied eventually, clawing back my humour.
They laughed again and I knew that I’d passed the test, shown them I hadn’t been intimidated. The other guy who was bigger, with square shoulders and his jacket collars pulled up to his thick side-burns took a step closer.
‘Some bad-assed honky bikers were asking the same thing around here less than half hour ago, but youz don’t look like you fit in with that crowd, man.’
‘Really?’
‘Reeal-ly,’ the one with the red hat added with emphasis. ‘If I was you, mister, I’d make your social call another time...’
‘Did they have some sort of horse motif on the back of their jackets by any chance?’ I pushed.
‘You know those Mustang mother-fuckers?’ the hat guy said, returning to the trunk.
‘I went out on a bad date with a couple of them recently, let’s put it like that.’
The laughter was quieter this time and slower coming.
‘You better be packing, man, that’s all I’m saying, because they looked like they meant business this time. But then again so do we, and that’s why they don’t bother us. We just don’t walk around playing mister big that’s all, like those jerks feel like they awta.’
‘Damn right,’ the larger guy added, picking up a heavy hold-all from the ground, the contents of which I didn’t want to inquire about.
The hat man turned and lifted his jacket a little to reveal a semi-automatic wedged in his pants.
‘I would hit the road jack, unless you got some hardware to back your honky ass up with. Seriously...’
‘I was wondering if I could borrow yours actually,’ I said, flashing a half-smile, pushing my luck a little bit further.
He looked at me in semi-amusement, an eyebrow raised.
‘Yeah, of course bro, and when you done ya killing, make sure you give my piece to the law so I can do your time for you. Sheeit…’
‘No harm in asking,’ I said whimsically, turning to make my way in.
Just as I reached the main doors again, the hat guy spoke for a final time.
‘Spike lives on the tenth floor. Flat one-one-fiv
e I think. But I’m telling you, man, I would hang back til them Neanderthals have done their thang if you value your balls. Word on the street is that the guy owes them some green.’
‘I’ll be okay. Thanks…’
I raised a hand of acknowledgment and made my way up, contemplating their advice as I eyed the stairs. From what I’d seen of the bikers, they were just scare merchants, the sort that liked to wave a gun rather than fire it when it came down to it. It was daylight too, and they would have been clocked by a whole host of potential witnesses if they were going to get heavy on someone.
I climbed the piss-smelling stairwell one tread at a time, feeling apprehensive, my hot breath cutting through the air before me. As I passed a broken window on the third floor I heard the two trunk guys talking down below.
‘The guy thinks he’s Charles Bronson or some-ting...and the fool’s not even packing...’
I cracked a smile and worked my way up a few more floors, glancing at the sky-scrapers in the distance as I got higher, their shiny blue glass and granite thrusting their way into the heavens like they were in some sort of snow-globe being constantly shaken. When I arrived at the tenth floor I drew a laboured breath then edged my way along the wall opposite and waited.
For a while I just listened to the noise of the city, then the sounds of the block, sensing the situation. A baby cried out in distress for a while. Then some guy started up closer, yelling at his kids on the floor above, until they were provoked into responding with equal venom. Then there was silence again. I peered around the wall and scanned the corridor. No activity. All appeared quiet.
I stepped out and walked casually to flat one-one-five and noticed the door ajar as I got closer. I debated my options quickly. Was it worth walking in there unarmed in the hope of picking up a half-decent lead only to get my head blown off? I wasn’t so sure…
I could always head back to the activist’s house too. Spend the night there. And lean on someone else for information. Or I could come back later when the bikers weren’t around, when it was altogether safer. I vacillated between options then cursed under my breath and nudged the door open. Fortune favoured the brave, didn’t it?
Inside the lights were on. The place felt warm too. I looked down and clocked the unopened post on the mat and noticed the majority were addressed to just one person. A Miss Sandra Raul…
