Deadly Obsession

by Nigel May

  ‘Riley was a good man, a wonderful husband. He was honest and decent. He didn’t deserve to die. You came to his funeral. You liked him ... you were sad he’d died ... weren’t you?’ Amy could hear the uncertainty in her own voice. So much now seemed in doubt.

  ‘I had my reasons for being there. That’s all.’ He blew another thick plume of smoke into the air from his cigar and stubbed it out into an already-full ashtray on the office desk. A few stray flakes of ash dropped over the edge. ‘Now, I assume you’re not here to just take a trip down Memory Lane and reminisce happy days, so what the fuck do you really want, Amy? I’ve got a business to run. In fact I’ve got quite a few. Selling that factory was a nice little earner for me. It was about time Riley came up trumps.’

  ‘What do you mean, “came up trumps”? You worked with Riley at that factory. You talked plastics with him all the time. Dinner parties with you and Jemima were always a delight.’ Amy smothered the word with irony. ‘You and him would disappear off to discuss work and I’d be left with dull-as-ditchwater Jemima.’ Amy saw no point in mincing her words given the attitude Tommy was dishing out to her.

  Tommy leapt from his chair in anger. His frame, wide and foreboding, seemed to fill the room as he stared down threateningly at Amy. A curl of hair escaped downwards across his forehead as he spoke. It looked out of place on the normally immaculate Tommy. ‘You stupid girl, you truly believe your husband was merely a boss for some bleeding plastics factory? You brain must be as fucking hollow as the pipes Riley was supposedly selling. You never went to the factory, did you?’

  The comment floored Amy. It was true, she hadn’t. ‘Er ... no, why would I? It was Riley’s work, I had no need to ... never wanted to.’

  ‘Because if you had, you’d have seen that the whole thing was just a façade. A front. A cover. A sham. Your husband was no more a plastics salesman than you are a bloody University Challenge contestant. He was a fucking criminal with ideas above his station and a spending habit that sped way out of control. He’d have been dead long ago if I hadn’t helped him out on countless occasions.’

  Confusion gripped Amy. It was then that the first tear started to fall. Inhaling deeply, Amy wiped it away, determined not to crumble. She thought of Laura and how she would have coped with the situation she was in. She'd have been ballsy, strong, known what to say and how to react. Amy owed it to her to be the same.

  ‘Criminal? No, not my Riley. Not a chance. That factory was a family business. He cared about it. He took it over from his dad.’

  ‘Don’t you get it? There never was a business. That factory was the HQ for all of Riley’s underhand activity. You might think that Riley was whiter-than-white but tell that to some of the people he’d bumped off along the way. Your late hubby was one of the most feared underground gangland criminals in Manchester and much further afield too. As was his dad, Cazwell Hart, before him. Except his father was a true gent who earned his reputation and wasn’t idiotic enough to blow shitloads of cash and get into debt up to his eyeballs.’

  Gangland criminals? What Tommy was saying was alien to her. That was something she’d seen watching Tom Hardy playing the notorious Krays in Legend, in a violence-soaked Tarantino flick late at night when she’d been unable to sleep, or read about in one of her explosive novels. It was somebody else’s life, not hers. The lack of understanding floored her. She was silent.

  There was nothing Amy could say. It was true that she had never involved herself in Riley’s business. Never paid any major interest or really asked any deeply probing questions. She was not the questioning type, she’d always been told that. She’d enjoyed the riches of designer clothes, exotic holidays and expensive jewellery but had never asked where the money came from. She always thought she’d known. But the thought of Riley being a criminal ... a murderer ... no, not the man she knew. He couldn’t have been. Not the man who had made love to her countless times in such a tender and gentle fashion, sometimes in the very office where her world was now unravelling like a ball of wool in the clutches of a mischievous kitten. Amy could only helplessly listen as Tommy continued with his verbal shower of destruction.

  ‘That’s where I came in, Amy. Always happy to bail Riley out when he bit off more than he could chew. The overheads on the “factory”, the cost of this place when it was The Kitty Kat, the monies owed to others. Riley was a headstrong bloke who didn’t know when to stop. That’s why people went to him when they needed a job doing. He was fearless. But he was reckless too. He’d happily push some poor bastard into the Manchester Ship Canal wearing concrete boots for being a grass or shoot some lowlife scum between the eyes in a Parisian back alley but ask him to balance his books and he was a waste of bloody space. Your late hubby was a bad egg and I was his human cash point. And it turned out he was a pretty good investment as it happens ... or at least now he’s dead.’

  ‘So you think he is dead ...?’ Amy had spoken before she’d had time to think. The barrage of information ramming into her brain was pulverising her already destroyed senses. Her mind shot back to those evenings when Riley was busy 'at work', that night she'd been left alone in Paris, glances from shifty strangers in chi-chi bars he’d taken her to on nights out, excuses he had made to disappear from a romantic restaurant dinner table to ‘take an important call’. There were countless occasions and now they all seemed to stack in line with Tommy's ruinous accusations.

  Tommy’s reasons for wanting Riley out of the picture were clear – pure and simple monetary gain. Amy wasn’t sure that letting him even consider the possibility that she thought Riley could still be alive was a wise move. The man had just admitted to being a huge and heartless piece of Manchester’s crime scene, so violence was obviously part of his DNA. If he was behind Riley’s demise and was now considering the possibility of having failed in his quest to bump him off then he was evidently capable of sparking into brutality at any second. And as she was sitting across the desk from him, it was Amy who was the closest to potential harm. The thought froze inside her.

  ‘Of course he’s fucking dead. What kind of stupid fucking notion is that? He had his face shot off and you sat there, crying into your handbag, at his funeral. Your husband wasn’t a liked man. There were a lot of people around here who breathed a sigh of relief when he met his maker. He’s dead. What the fuck makes you think otherwise?’

  Tommy sounded convinced but he could be bluffing. Amy wasn’t sure. This was a Tommy she’d never seen before, more brutal than she’d ever realised. Unable to formulate what to say, her mind a riot of emotion, she remained silent. It seemed the best option.

  ‘Riley made countless enemies over the years. He was ruthless when it came to making people pay if they double-crossed him and he was able to charge a hefty price tag for snuffing someone out. His problem was spending too much cash on needless shit ... like this place before I got my hands on it. If he was still alive, doubtless he’d still be spunking heaps of cash into all sorts of useless ventures to try and make some dough. And doubtless I would still be bankrolling him. No, he’s six feet under, definitely. The police gave up on the case for good reason, they didn’t want to ruffle too many criminal feathers.’

  Amy’s bottom lip trembled as she spoke. She was beginning to realise why Riley had been so apologetic to her in his letter. What had he said? ‘I have to say sorry. A million times over. Sorry for the misery you’ve suffered, sorry for the confusion I’m about to cause, sorry for the heartache.’

  Yes, this was heartache all right. She’d headed back to Manchester from London thinking that her husband had been a good man to her in life, a true son to his father, someone who had just had his beautifully bright flame extinguished too soon. But now she was being told different. Tommy had spelt it out to her. Riley was a criminal, a hit man, someone who took lives like a beast would lick the last drop of water from the bottom of a trough – with an insatiable thirst and with no thought for those who were to follow. Including Amy. She’d been lied to all her life with
Riley. About his dad, about his business, about his relationship with Tommy ...

  She could feel her heart snapping in two. ‘So, you were Riley’s loan shark? The man who bled him dry and constantly made sure you had your pound of flesh to chew on. I thought you were his friend ...’ Her voice was branded with despair, the fight within her not so much ebbing out of her bones but now seemingly free flowing.

  ‘I loved Riley’s father.’ It was the first softening in Tommy’s voice. ‘Cazwell was a good man, a major player. I worked with him as his equal. He treated me well and made sure that I was always on my feet financially. When he was on his deathbed, one of his wishes was that I looked after Riley, made sure that his prized son came to no harm. But the boy was a fool. Nowhere near as clever as his father. As soon as he took over the business he had no idea about what it took to keep all of the plates spinning. He would try and finance everything by the seat of his pants. Do anything that that bumbling fuckwit, Winston Curtis, told him to. As soon as Riley employed him things went downhill quicker than a fucking ski jumper at the Sochi Olympics. Good job he copped it too. There was no point Riley ploughing money into clubs, flashy cars, houses and a stupid wife who was more than happy to spend his cash if he didn’t keep funding the pot. Riley could make a killing, no pun intended, with his work but if you earn less than you spend then you’re dead in the water. He was nowhere near the man his father was and he never would have been.'

  Tommy was enjoying his revelations. It was as if he had waited for the right moment to come along and suddenly the planets had aligned. The moment he could finally destroy Riley's perfect-husband image for good. Amy found his performance almost demonic in its drama.

  'Cazwell had old school values and knew the art of survival. I had happy times with him.’ Tommy lit another cigar. The deep pungent odour stung against Amy’s eyes as the smoke looped into the air.

  A pause. It allowed Amy to speak. ‘How can anyone who made a living killing people or feeding off others’ misery have any kind of values? And what makes you any better? You’re feeding off the carcass of my dead husband and sitting pretty on his hard-earned cash.’

  ‘Wrong again, Amy.’ Tommy’s voice rose to booming level, his anger mounting again. ‘Riley Hart was never profitable. I kept him afloat with money I’d earned with his dad. I did it for his dad. A few thousand here and there, it soon snowballed into seven figures. So I had him sign everything over to me, everything. I closed the business, no-one could hold a candle to Riley’s father so I was buggered if I was going to try. I didn’t want any further fucking damage to his reputation than had already been done by his cretin of a son. This is much more me.’ He circled his hands around the room to convey his meaning.

  A smile, heavy with spite, opened across Tommy's face. Whatever he was about to say, Amy knew that it would be pure venom. ‘Hate to say it, Amy, but Riley’s life with you was a complete sham. Remember any paperwork you signed for him? What did Riley say it was for – business deals, money making schemes? That was the contract signing away any rights you had to any of his interests.’

  A killer blow but a true one. One that hit hard. Tommy was right, Amy had signed countless forms during her time with Riley. She had never questioned any of them. No wonder it had all been so easy for Tommy to swipe everything away from her. It was all legal and binding. As tight as the ever fastening noose Amy felt wrapping itself around her neck. She’d heard more than she cared to. The truth was choking her.

  But what was the truth? Tommy was ruthless and calculating but was he a killer? Would he kill the son of the man he’d obviously adored? He was never a fan of either Riley or Winston, that was for sure, but could he be a cold-blooded murderer? The thought of sharing a room with him any longer repulsed Amy. For her own sanity, she needed to leave and structure her thoughts. Work out what to do next.

  She stood to go, tears threatening to fall again. As she turned to exit the office, the door opened and the stick-like frame of Jemima Hearn tottered in. Her skeletal cheeks were sunken and stained with rouge. Her entire face was caked in make-up. She stopped dead in her tracks on seeing Amy.

  ‘What in God’s name is she doing here, Tommy?’ Her lips, pinched and thin, hardly moved as she spoke.

  ‘She’s come to see if I really believe that waste of space husband of hers is pushing up the daisies because she’s not convinced,’ snapped Tommy. ‘But we’re done.’

  ‘She thinks he might be alive, then? What a ridiculous notion. No, he’s dead ... best place for him in my opinion. Can’t do any more harm. Now, why don’t you sling your hook?’

  Amy couldn’t take it any longer. She pushed past Jemima and ran out of the office, through the casino and into the biting Manchester air.

  11

  Then. 2009

  * * *

  ‘Well I can now add wild boar to the list of things that I absolutely adore,’ smiled Amy, wiping a chunk of bread around the rim of her bowl, mopping up the last meaty traces of the stew she had just devoured. ‘That was beyond gorgeous.’ She reached out and touched Riley’s hand across their restaurant table to show her appreciation.

  ‘On par with “Mucky” Maxwells, then? I thought their chips, cheese and gravy was the way to your heart. Don’t I bring you to the best places?’ asked Riley.

  Amy laughed at the reference to the tiny chip shop that she loved in the backstreets of Manchester’s gay Village. She couldn’t count the number of times she and Laura, or indeed she and Riley had ended up in there, ordering the calorific trio of treats at the end of a boozy night out. It could be the swankiest of clubs or the most celeb-filled of VIP areas but no night would be complete without a final visit to the best fish‘n’chip shop that Manchester had to offer.

  ‘I think the oldest restaurant in … where was it?’ She picked up the menu on the table and stared at the wording across the top of it. ‘… in Catalonia, is a cut above that, don’t you? This place is amazing. Wine, food, the sexiest husband on the planet. What more could a girl ask for? Except for a dessert of course. I’m thinking cinnamon ice cream may be on the cards although doubtless it will head straight to my hips. I might force you into working off those extra pounds for me later if you don’t mind.’ Amy’s voice was steeped in sexy suggestion, a fact not lost on Riley as he felt his cock stirring between his legs.

  ‘Not a problem, I’ll give you a workout that will see those pounds dropping off faster than the speed of a charging bull. Not that you have any to lose, you’re in perfect shape,’ winked Riley.

  ‘Right answer,’ said Amy, squeezing his hand once more.

  ‘So, coming to Barcelona with me is agreeing with you then?’

  ‘Si, Señor … me encanta.’ Amy’s pronunciation of the Spanish tongue for ‘I love it’ may not have been spot on but Riley didn’t seem to care.

  ‘Now that’s sexy. When did you start speaking Spanish?’

  ‘Ever since you left me alone all afternoon with a guide book on La Rambla and told me to amuse myself while you dealt with your business. I thought I’d better learn a few phrases in case a handsome passing Spaniard decided to ask what a beautiful young girl was doing by herself in one of the prettiest cities in Europe.’

  Riley punched his hand to his chest in jest and took a loud and deep intake of breath. ‘Dagger to the heart! Husband scolded and out of action. Mayday, mayday!’

  Amy couldn’t stop herself laughing at her husband’s display of mock injury. ‘Well, that’s what you deserve for leaving me on my lonesome. You missed a treat, though. The credit cards have taken a serious bruising and I made a visit to the Parque Güell, which you would have loved. It’s beautiful up there overlooking the city, you can see for miles.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry work duties got in the way. I would have loved to have seen it with you. Mum and Dad saved up to go there years ago, it was somewhere they had always wanted to go and one of their few foreign holidays, and I remember seeing photos of them in albums sat amongst the colourful broken sto
nes and the ceramic pots. Was it the architect Gaudi who influenced it all?’

  ‘Now who’s impressed?’ said Amy. ‘It sure was. You’re not just a chiselled face and a heaving six pack are you, Riley Hart? Under that matador façade there’s a pretty smart brain going on too isn’t there?’

  ‘One tries,’ mocked Riley. ‘I am sorry about leaving you though, but you knew this had to be a business trip. I just wanted you here with me. Work is always more pleasurable with you by my side.’

  ‘So how was the world of plastics compared to my visit to the broken tiles and mosaics? Riveting as ever?’

  ‘Deathly dull, but business is business and it looks like I might have won a lucrative contract. I just need to sign some papers and the gig is ours. Which reminds me …’

  Riley reached down into the black nubuck leather messenger bag that was placed alongside his feet at the restaurant table. ‘I need to have these witnessed and given back to my contact here before we fly back home in the morning. It’s just terms of business for the contract about supplying pipes and fittings for local hotels and shops here. Could you sign them for me?’

  Riley pushed two folded sheets of paper across the table towards Amy. The section showing had a few words visible and space for a signature. ‘Could you just sign it here?’ He pointed to one sheet before lifting it up and revealing another identical folded sheet. ‘And here.’ He pointed to the second.

  ‘Am I allowed to, being your wife? Shouldn’t it be an independent witness?’ Amy went to unfold the papers but Riley grabbed them before she could. The action was pretty forceful but after a few glasses of red wine Amy didn’t really pay much attention.