Evil in Hockley

by William Buckel

  “No but she would have heard it.”

  They were silent for a moment then Delphi said,

  “I’ve been a gossip all my life. I know what people do and how they think. For instance: why wouldn’t anyone know where Jarrod went when he drove to Shelburne?”

  “You got me? I’ve been trying to figure that one out myself.”

  “Because he went where no one could see him. Like a place in the country.”

  “You might have something there. What about using your deductive reasoning to give me a location.”

  “Hah, I’m not that good.”

  “Thanks again Delphi. I’d better go home and check on the girls.”

  Harry drove home with more information to sort through. He’d have to draw a map to sort it all out. He decided that’s exactly what he would do. Lay out a big sheet of cardboard and pencil in the details and a timeline.

  Both women were doing what women do when they’re depressed; clean the house. They both flipped when Harry brought in the giant cardboard box he picked up at the local convenience store. He told them what it was for so they cleaned a spot in his office for it. He leaned it on a table then taped it to the wall.

  In pencil he marked the first event Jarrod’s accident. The next sequence: Fight in bar, Drowning attempt at reservoir, Lenea and John Dean, Shelley and Tony as victims, and so on down the line to Shelley’s murder. The cardboard was full of pencilled in squares that seemed more complicated than the actual events. If one followed it through it did give one a timeline of events and questions that needed answers. No matter which way you approached the problem number one was where was Jarrod going in Shelburne and number two was who did Shelley see?

  Harry stood back and looked at the events searching for a clue, something he missed. Sandy and Karma could you go out and get me a bottle of Morning Mist perfume.

  “I’ll go,” said Karma.

  “No Karma, you and Sandy stay together from now on.”

  “What’s up,” asked Sandy.

  “Something Shelley said earlier on. That Jarrod smelled of Morning Mist perfume.”

  Sandy raised her brow.

  “You know, perfume smells different on every woman and then add on the factor that she leaves a scent on a guy, well you get the idea.”

  “I know but at least I’ll be able to tell it from Aqua Ocean or something like that.”

  They left so Harry sat down and stared at the chart. He got up poured himself a drink, and another until he had a light glow on. He wanted to know if he would see things differently, drunk the way some writers claim they do. It wasn’t as coherent to him as when he was sober so he let his mind wander.

  He imagined Joe Sharky’s expansion as Delphi had told him. He pictured Joe moving his operation south and running into biker territory. He bought some drugs off bikers but there’d be a fight to the death if he ever sold in their territory. That left east to Alliston and maybe Barrie, north to Collingwood, and west to Shelburne.

  Ding Dong. Another piece of the puzzle so he marked it on the chart. Did Jarrod get in the way of drug trafficking? Was he seeing someone close to the trade? No, nothing he came up with made sense. Nothing but dead ends drunk or sober. Tomorrow, after he got the scent of Morning Mist, he’d go to Shelburne and sniff every female he could find.

  He was content with his ignorance and glowing like a firefly when his cell buzzed.

  “Harry here.”

  “You sound sloshed. You’d better sober up because a man’s coming all the way from Los Angeles to help you sleep. Forever.”

  It was Lenea. He found her a mild annoyance at times but today she was an intrusion.

  “So. Bring him on. We’ll meet on main street at high noon.”

  “You’ll never get there. He’ll gas you with cyanide before then.”

  “A gas guy?”

  “Harry, pay attention. He’s a pro.”

  “Like the last three you took out?”

  “No, this guy’s the best. Top dog. Word’s out he’s in so no one else will come after you.”

  “Great I’ll tame him, put him in the shed and I’ll be in the clear. Nobody will bother me while I have the best in my shed.”

  “Harry, you’re missing the big picture again.”

  “Which is?”

  “Your net worth. If you take out this guy then you’re in the big leagues. Who knows what you’ll be worth.”

  “The highest mob nuisance value ever recorded, right?”

  “Now you get the idea.”

  “Lenea, I admit I’m a bit under the weather but all I see is me taking the chances by being a target while you get the benefit. Am I missing something?”

  “Who saved your butt last time. Where would you be if not for me?”

  Harry said,

  “Joe killed Shelley.”

  There was a silence.

  “I hadn’t heard. I’m sorry, I know you were all close.”

  Harry asked.

  “Do you know when Top Dog is coming?”

  “Yah, I’m to meet him at the airport tonight and bring him up to speed. I get fifty thousand just for that. Chump change compared to the four hundred thou he’ll get for killing a drunk.”

  “Bye Lenea.”

  “I’ll call after I pick him up.”

  “Okay, whatever.”

  Harry was just starting to get somewhere and now another game of cat and mouse.

  Chapter 36

  Lenea waited at the arrival gate for flight 923 from Los Angeles arriving at nine that night. She was told he had her description and he’d find her in the visitors’ area.

  The flight arrival was announced so she stood and scanned the incoming passengers. One by one they went through the metal detector and were cleared. The last passenger was cleared yet no one approached her. She all of a sudden got it. The so called best wouldn’t be where he was expected to be. He wouldn’t be the best if he did that, would he? She stood where she was for another ten minutes. To men she was just another dumb broad so why not act like one.

  She left the airport and walked out to her car knowing he’d be somewhere out here. She felt as though she were being watched. A tourist bus stopped at the curb and the passengers exited and came her way. As a man brushed by she felt the pin prick of a needle enter her arm. She backed away but immediately felt dizzy. Arms held her tight before she fell and walked her toward a parked car. She was groggy and couldn’t put thoughts together or coordinate her muscles to a degree where she could escape.

  Lenea saw car and street lights zoom by as she sat on the passenger side of a sedan. She eyed the driver but couldn’t quite make out his face. She realized her fate wasn’t in her hands.

  Lenea woke in a musty basement lit by a single bulb. The walls were cement and there were no windows. The total area was about twenty feet square. She was tied to a metal chair, hands and feet. There was no gag over her mouth so she knew she couldn’t be heard if she shouted. She wouldn’t at any rate.

  An hour passed and a slim man entered, a smile on his face.

  “Good day young lady. You’re Lenea, right?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You’ve found out by now that I never meet anyone and am never where I’m supposed to be when I’m supposed to be there. Never. I’ve never been identified as the perpetrator of a crime simply because no one’s seen me near the scene and those who have…”

  He paced and stared at her.

  “You’re to be my only contact and you’ll help me with my task. Is that clear?”

  Again Lenea didn’t answer. She felt a searing pain at the base of her spine. It almost made her pass out but she judged that the intensity was short of doing that. Otherwise what would be the point of torture if a person slipped into never land when the heat was turned on.

  “I asked if that was clear?”

  Again she didn’t answer and she saw the hand held device that triggered her suffering. It looked like a gismo she used to change channels on h
er TV. She felt the same pain but double the intensity for a shorter duration. More pain less time. Of course he couldn’t do both or she’d pass out.

  “I can and will increase both the intensity and duration until the trauma shuts down your organs. You’re of no use to me if you won’t communicate.”

  “That makes sense,” she said.

  “There now that wasn’t too difficult, was it?”

  “Like falling off a log. What do you want exactly?”

  “To know where Harry Tanner is?”

  “That’s easy. Call Joe and he’ll give you his address. Shit it’s probably listed in the phone book.”

  She felt the searing pain again.

  “No sarcasm please. I took the contract without direct contact. I know nothing but the victim’s name. You were to inform me of his whereabouts.”

  “All I know is that it’s on Airport Road, not the address. I can show you but other than that you’re on your own.”

  The searing pain again.

  She said,

  “Look I can make up a house number if you want but I really don’t fucking know. Why would I protect a mark?”

  “I think it odd from the short outline I was given and what I’ve heard about Tanner that he could escape death so many times. I believe he has help on the inside and since you’re always there it’s probably you.”

  “You think I couldn’t use four hundred thou?”

  “Lenea, you just said you knew where he lived so why not collect it?”

  “The guy’s lucky as shit and he’s good. He’s an assassin knocking out terrorists in the Middle East. You go up against him and you’ll have two bullets in your head before you can draw your gun.”

  She felt the searing pain again. This time with a higher intensity and the same duration.

  “What was that for?”

  “I wanted to see you squirm.”

  Lenea had nothing of his so casting any kind of curse wouldn’t work. She judged the forward motion of her head and knew she had about four inches of play. Not much.

  “If you’re going to kill me anyway why would I help you?”

  Another shot of pain.

  “Does he have anyone close to him, a lover?”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Another high intensity, high duration shot of pain.

  “I asked does he have a lover?”

  “And I told you I’m dead meat anyway so why should I help?”

  Another higher intensity shot of pain, same duration. It was almost unbearable.

  “It’s how you die that matters at this point.”

  “I think you’re a sadistic son-of-a-bitch and I’ll be tortured either way.”

  This pain level made the contraction of her muscles lift the chair off the ground. She was barely conscious.

  She couldn’t do more than whisper as her head lay over the back of her chair.

  She whispered.

  “He has Sandy.”

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear.”

  Another monster shot of pain.

  Again she tried to speak but it came out as a whisper.

  “He has Sandy.”

  He came closer.

  “Say again.”

  Again she could only whisper.

  “He has Sandy.”

  He came closer. Ear toward her.

  She flung her body and head forward putting the chair up on its two front legs. She bit off the lower part of his ear, and swallowed it. She had something of his so chanted as he pressed the killer pain button. Lenea screamed her curse. He pressed the button and she screamed seven words over and over again. He dropped to his knees and the controller fell out of his hands. He was hers now. She was barely conscious but uttered the words.

  “Untie me.”

  He stood, took a pen knife from his pocket, and cut her bonds.

  She couldn’t stand so sat until she regained enough strength to move. When she finally stood she noted that at the back of the chair, low and long enough to penetrate her skin, was a sharpened probe attached to an electrical device behind the chair.

  She limped out of the basement and up a set of stairs. The night air was fresh so she took a deep breath. He’d taken her car and parked it near this abandoned farm house. She went back inside and retrieved her slave, told him to get into the car, and drove to a road where car lights were abundant. She pressed the GPS buttons that would take her to Harry’s house. If the best, number one hit man in the world, had turned on her GPS he’d have seen “Harry’s House” labelled on the start up page.

  Lenea was beginning to realize that her scheme for raising the price on Harry’s head had some flaws. The higher the price the more intense the competition became. She was systematically putting herself out of the running. It was time to reflect on her retirement strategy.

  Chapter 37

  It was almost morning when Harry heard the knocking on his door and the doorbell ring. He slipped on his clothes and stuck his Beretta in his waistband, in the back. He approached the door and opened it slowly with one hand on his gun. It was Lenea sipping a Tim’s coffee escorted by a strange man. His eyes were non blinking and his manner almost metallic.

  “This is the guy I told you about,” she said.

  Harry looked her up and down.

  “Don’t you ever wash?”

  “Harry, aren’t you going to invite me in. I’ve been up all night trying to save your butt.”

  “Come in Lenea.”

  She dragged on the metallic man’s shirt and he followed, walking as though his knees couldn’t bend.

  “You can put him in your shed if you want. Do whatever you decide is best.”

  “What about the big picture?”

  “Ah, you know. A dream’s a dream. Maybe I should leave it as such.”

  That didn’t sound like the Lenea he knew.

  “What’s the gig Lenea?”

  “I think we need to take out Joe Sharky. He’s done enough damage to both sides, yours and mine.”

  Karma walked into the living room, claws out.

  “And what’s in it for you?”

  “Hi sis, long time no see. You’re looking good for your age.”

  “I asked what’s in it for you?”

  “Well you got me there Karma. Joe Sharky’s got a floor safe in his house. Whether it be a dollar or a hundred thousand I walk away with the contents of the safe. You get Joe and I get the dough. Deal?”

  Harry laughed.

  “You get Joe and I get the dough?”

  Harry laughed again.

  Lenea had a smile on her face but Karma had a judgemental frown on hers.

  “Lighten up Karma, you’ll get worry lines.”

  Sandy walked into the room and stood beside Karma. They both stared daggers into Lenea.

  “Well, I don’t want to wear out my welcome so bye for now. Call me Harry. Let me know what you want to do.”

  She left dragging the metallic guy behind her.

  Harry couldn’t believe life at times and Lenea never.

  Harry had a bath and breakfast.

  He finally found the time to sniff the bottle of Morning Mist perfume.

  “Put some on Sandy, and you too Karma. I want to see what it smells like on people.”

  They reluctantly applied a small amount. He sniffed them both.

  “Happy?”

  “Yah Sandy, like an old hound dog I’ve got the scent.”

  Harry threw his Hemi Cuda into gear and drove down Highway 9 then took 10 north to Shelburne. He had no idea whatsoever what he was going to do when he got to his destination. He had the bottle of Morning Mist on the front seat but couldn’t rationalize why he’d decided to bring it along. He’d drive around town until he conjured up a scheme.

  He decided to drop by Dave Harper’s garage and pay him a visit. When he arrived the closed sign was still in the front window and his car wasn’t there. A couple of old 60’s relics sat in the yard alongside a rusted out pickup truck. He reas
oned Dave was still at home so drove to his farm. His car wasn’t there either but his wife, Iris, stood in the door beckoning Harry to come inside.

  “Dave’s not home but come in and sit a spell. You want a coffee?”

  Harry had nothing but time on his hands and hadn’t come to a conclusion as to what he was going to do for the rest of the day.

  “Sure I’ll have a cup. Dave’s not at the shop. I dropped by ten minutes ago.”

  “He’s out on business today.”

  He smelled it when she bent setting his coffee on the table. Morning Mist perfume.

  His mind went blank for a few seconds as he tried to decide whether to fill the void with anger, rage, or understanding. It all fit. Jarrod was seeing a woman in Shelburne in a secluded place. The farmhouse was not only off Highway 89 but on a side road off a line.

  Harry uttered Sandy’s favourite word,

  “Fuck.”

  “What’s wrong, coffee too hot?”

  He stared at Iris.

  “Jarrod was seeing you the weeks before he died.”

  She froze, breathless, standing like a statue.

  It seemed to Harry as though minutes went by.

  “He was buying cocaine for you, wasn’t he?”

  She was unmoving, silent, frozen in time.

  “Did you kill him?”

  That brought her to life. She almost collapsed but grabbed a chair and sat at the table.

  Minutes went by but to Harry it seemed like hours.

  “No, Harry. I loved Jarrod. I’d never kill him.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I don’t know. Joe Sharky or one of his men maybe?”

  Harry was glad his Beretta was in its metal container under his car. A man like him should never have a gun in his possession at the best of times much less now.

  “How did you get hooked on the stuff, way out here with a kid to raise?”

  “Boredom, loneliness, depression: take a pick.”

  “But you said you loved Jarrod? Wasn’t that enough?”

  “I got hooked before Jarrod and I…”

  Harry knew from his chart on the wall at home he needed not only events but a timeline.

  “Who gave you the cocaine before Jarrod?”