A Well-Timed Death (Booker Shield Book 1)

by Karl Bourdiec

  Once he bumped her head once this was when he began trying not to again.

  Rich sat Sara down, placed her hands on her lap and tried to straighten her head as well as he could. There was a pause, Rich watcher her for a few seconds in the hope that life would feed into her instantly. It did not. Rich did a short sigh and pulled at the little door on the inside of the car.

  Inside the glove box, there were no gloves, nobody truly carried gloves in there. Instead sat a pack of cigarettes.

  He’d had a habit of carrying cheap cigarettes in his car since he split from Booker. Booker had carried them in his glove compartment, not that he smoked in front of others, Booker claimed they’d been for those in shock, something he believed helped because of an overactive imagination and a love for noir films. Rich used to count them, Booker did smoke them, the numbers made that clear.

  This was the time for Rich to sneak a quick cigarette.

  He rested his rear on the bonnet of his car, it dipped a little under his weight. Tapping the bottom of the little silver box a small white stick fell out and into he had. Fingering around on the inside Rich pulled a clear orange lighter, a little liquid moved around on the inside. He flicked the flint and the lighter sparked, lighting the cigarette, glowing orange light into the creases in Rich’s face.

  ‘You got one of those for me.’ Sara asked she’d pulled herself back together. Her eyes had pupils and she was living. Well as much as she lived before. Rich shook the little box over Sara’s hand until an identical tube to his own fell into her hand. All the machine rolled ones looked like clones of each other. ‘Thanks.’ She said, sitting next to him. Sara popped the little stick into her mouth, orange end first. Rich passed his lighter. He wasn’t taught to light a women's cigarette for her. Sara flicked the little lighter and failed to draw in some fire. ‘No breath. Can’t light it.’ Sara passed the cigarette back. Rich shook his head and put her stick into his mouth and lit it with his own, handing it back after. ‘You’re quiet.’ Pointed out Sara, putting her newly lit cigarette into her mouth.

  ‘Nothing to say really.’ Rich sat and thought.

  ‘Oh.’ Sara held her cigarette like a starlet.

  ‘Didn’t think you were coming back for a second there.’ Rich said blowing little rings.

  ‘Didn’t want to. Something grabbed me by the foot, pulled me back.’

  ‘That sounds chilling.’ Rich commented.

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t even when the thing grabbed me I was calm.’ Sara handed back the burnt cigarette, it had gone out. ‘No breath, I can’t even enjoy it.’ And the two watched clouds bob over the sun while Rich smoked two cigarettes like a sketch show character.

  The silence was beautiful.

  Even more beautiful than the world Sara had just seen, but she was excited to go back there. Which was when Rich’s phone rang.

  21

  ‘Rich, Rich, we’re on our way.’ Booker screeched down the phone. He jogged oddly like a new-born foul. His legs out of sync with the rest of his body. Rob kept up, even with his weirdly short legs, he carried a small box, it was long and flat.

  ‘Slow down.’ Rob yelled. Booker ignored him, choosing to pay more attention to his phone.

  ‘Keep up, and don’t drop that box.’ Booker yelled back moving his face away from the phone to yell at Rob, so he didn’t deafen Rich. ‘We got a box from a very nice science guy. I would tell you his name but it’s too funny to repeat.’ There was silence for a second, Rich was obviously talking to Booker. ‘You’ll find out when we see you. Where are you.’ The silence fell again. ‘I don’t think you’re allowed to park there, even if there's a hard shoulder. I guess you are a cop but that's for emergency reasons only. I guess having a dead girl in your car is an emergency, yeah.’ Booker had slowed down a little, mainly to listen more intently to the phone call he was having. There was a pause. Complete silence from both ends.

  ‘Are you smoking?’ Booker yelled down the phone, he heard the little cracks and pops of a cigarette. This gave Rob enough time to catch up, he hugged the little red case tight in his arms. Rob tried to push some words through his mouth but was stopped by Booker's hand. ‘I can hear you smoking. Do not pull that shit with me. I don’t care if Adam is asleep, I asked are you smoking?’

  Rob sighed, he looked down at the box to make sure he wasn’t holding it too tight or worse, too loose.

  The box was made of a black plastic which had been shaped and moulded to look as if it were leather, but even from a mile off you could tell it was cheap and plastic.

  A small flick latch had been attached to the front to stop it from opening. It looked like it would carry a fold up pool cue, the type a pool shark would carry. He undid the little lock and within a split-second, Booker had closed and knocked down the little clasp without moving his head.

  ‘I don’t care, those are for people in shock.’ They weren’t. ‘Right we’re coming to you, if you’re still smoking when I get there I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I have time to think and a hell of an imagination.’ Booker put the phone down and threw it on the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘They’re parked up on the side of the M twenty-five.’ Booker walked on to the car.

  ‘I don’t think you’re allowed to park up there.’ Rob kept pace with Booker.

  ‘I know. I said that.’ Booker got into the car on the passenger side. Rob handed over the small box he’d been carrying, Booker put it on his lap, gave it a turn until the latch faced him and popped the little lock and opened it.

  A red glow ignited his face in a small light, red was a harsh colour to be lit by and showed the creases in Bookers face. Ageing him by about ten years.

  ‘Can I look?’ Rob asked like a child trying to peek at his Christmas presents.

  ‘No, you can’t.’ Booker slammed the door closed, pressing the latch down. The defiant adult in this. Rob looked down, watched the key as his hand turned it in the ignition and drove off. There was a silence the two shared as Rob thought about what could be in the box.

  ‘What’s the box?’ the words finally broke out of him. He knew what was in the box kind of, he knew it was bracelets.

  ‘You know what’s in here.’ The radio mumbled under Booker.

  ‘Yeah, but why does it glow red?’

  ‘If you saw it would that be any clearer?’ Booker asked.

  ‘I guess not.’ Rob gave in and just did what he was meant to do, which at this point was to just drive.

  ‘You know what the doctor said, it’s just a quick fix. Nothing permanent. The tiny light goes out so does one of them.’ The glow was bright right now, it pushed itself through the cracks of the box, tickling Booker’s legs with the small light powerful enough to escape.

  He put his hand between the light and his leg, I cut a perfect line of red across his hand like thick rope burn from playing tug of war.

  There was an odd beauty in the light, Booker couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He’d watched it for so long he’d not noticed his sickness from the movement of the car, which let Rob to really floor it, put the pedal to the metal and get a move on.

  The mumbling music from the radio seemed to sync up with the movement of the light. Booker looked at the little red flashes coming from the right hand of the box, they had a rhythm to them.

  He looked at the other expecting to see the same rhythm, but they seemed a little out as if one beat slower than the other.

  ‘You saw this?’ Asked Booker, pointing at the little strip of light on his leg.

  ‘I’m driving.’ Rob pointed out.

  ‘No, just look at the light.’ Booker pointed at the box aggressively now.

  ‘I really can’t I have to focus on the road.’

  ‘Pull over.’ Booker was sounding more and more desperate.

  ‘There’s nowhere to pull up.’

  ‘The hard shoulder, pull into the hard shoulder.’

  ‘I’m not allowed, I’m only allowed to pull into the hard shoulder if it’s an emergency.’
/>
  ‘This is.’ The irony wasn’t lost on Booker, he’d just told Rich he wasn’t allowed to pull up into a hard shoulder, and here he was telling somebody else to do so.

  The car was stopped, there were a few minutes of pause as cars passed. Blowing wind through the car, making those small whooshes cars made when they passed you with speed.

  ‘What's up?’ Rob asked finally looking up. Booker tossed the small red box onto the black plastic of the car's dashboard.

  Red lights flashed both sides of the box, leaking through the cracks where the box opened. Rob looked at Booker as if to ask, “so what?” Booker replied by nodding at the box, they both watched the little case together.

  This time the right light shot out the crack followed a second later by the left, then the right again, this time two seconds past and the left light flashed.

  ‘They aren’t in sync.?’ Rob was perplexed. ‘What does that mean?’ He watched the right side gave its flash, he counted to three this time in his head and the left flashed.

  ‘I have no idea. I don’t even know if it’s important. But I’m sure it was in sync when we left the university.’

  ‘I don’t even remember.’ Rob did, he knew they were in sync, they flashed in time this time. But after the right flashed again they were out a sync by a second again.

  ‘Is it important?’ Booker asked.

  ‘I don’t know, you’re the one who is the wrong place wrong guy, guy. You tell me, does it feel like it’s important?’ Rob had very few answers and as normal, he waited for Booker to tell him that he’d ask the questions, it never came. Booker was too transfixed by the light.

  ‘I don’t know.’ There was a moment of pause while Booker inspected the light. ‘Right let's be off.’ Booker seemed to chirp up, he lent back in his chair and closed his eyes. ‘I’m ready, we haven’t got all day.’

  Rob didn’t like this, Booker was too calm. He was almost always frantic and now he seemed to become relaxed and soft. Rob started his car. Booker knew something, something new that he didn’t know before. Rob almost didn’t want to find out what it was.

  He drove on, the box slid from its ledge, but Booker caught it with his eyes still closed.

  ‘I told you to be careful with this.’ And Booker carefully placed it gently on his lap as Rob tried to merge back in with the traffic.

  22

  Rob pulled up. There was a screech as the car came to a sudden stop, this wasn’t the kind of place you could stop a car. Rob had to look around three or four times before he was happy to drive in, now he was there and parked he had no idea how he was going to get back out again.

  Rich and Sara still sat on the bonnet of Rich’s car. With a flick of the wrist, the lit cigarette was gone.

  Rich hoped it had extinguished as it flew through the air. They normally did, but Rich was a cop, he’d seen too many house fires and bin burnings to not think about it.

  A little smoke plumed from a small patch of grass just to his left, with a short sprint Rich was stomping on the little singes of greenery.

  ‘Have you been smoking?’ Booker asked as he pushed himself up the little hill Rich had parked his car on just off from the hard shoulder.

  ‘No.’ Rich disagreed, the smell still thick in the air.

  ‘It was me.’ Sara jumped to his rescue.

  ‘You’re not even breathing.’ Booker pointed out, Sara fell into a short silence. This was when Rob made it to the top of the bank. It had taken a little longer to park his car than normal, Booker had jumped out as soon as he felt the car come to a stop.

  ‘I like the smell.’ Pounced Sara.

  ‘That might be true, but to be honest, I don’t even know if you can smell, and I wouldn’t put my money on it to be fair.’ Booker placed the small red box on the bonnet of the cop’s personal car. Its little red light glinted off the shine of the bonnet, which had obviously been polished regularly. ‘Put these on.’

  ‘Why detective Booker, I barely know you.’ Sarcastically said Sara, she wasn’t sure if that cigarette was just tobacco.

  ‘He’s not a real detective.’ Rich corrected.

  ‘Ha ha, put the cuffs on.’ Mocked Booker.

  ‘I’ve just taken them off.’ Sara wined.

  ‘Eh, what? Not Rich’s these ones.’ Booker tapped on the little red box, with his thumb he popped the seal and pulled open the lid. Inside was two matching bangles. They looked hurried together and both had a small red vile in the centre. The vile glowed pulsing out of sync. ‘Is Adam asleep?’ Asked Booker picking up the slower of the two flashing bracelets.

  ‘Yeah, don’t wake him.’ Rich got up and followed Booker who’d made it halfway around the car.

  ‘I don’t plan too, I plan to put this on him.’ Booker held up the little ring of metal its light flashing through the gaps between his fingers.

  ‘Can I help put yours on?’ Rob asked Sara.

  ‘I think I’m alright.’ Replied Sara eyeing the bangle up. She looked at Rob who looked a little helpless. ‘You can help me fasten it if you like, never been good at using my other hand to do bracelets.’

  Rob bounded over a little excited. He tried to play a little cool but struggled to keep his head.

  ‘You and Booker seem really close.’ Sara said as Rob fiddled with her wrist.

  ‘We only met this morning, it seems to have been a really long day.’ Rob agreed to sort of, he wasn’t really paying too much attention as he sorted out the bangle on Sara's arm. This was the best time to ask anyone questions when they weren’t one hundred percent there.

  ‘You're telling me.’ Giggled Sara, Rob gave her a little grin for half a second, looking her in the face before he recalled what he said, his grin fell into a sober locked lip face.

  ‘Death has got to be hard.’ It had to be, more so when you were the one dying over and over.

  ‘The dying parts easy, it’s the coming back bit, I’m not fond of. I thought I’d go through the grief thing, maybe not for me but at least for Alan. But nothing, I’m emotionally dry, I don’t know if that’s because I’m dead or I just don’t care, and I never did.’ Sara ignored the fact that it had taken about ten minutes to fasten a bracelet.

  ‘I’m sure it’s just the rush of everything at once. Done.’ There was a snap and Rob pulled away. Sara held her hand up to the sky to look at the monster of a bracelet she now wore. It glinted to a beat of off red which seemed to fill her with new pride.

  ‘I’m wet. I’m wet.’ Something screamed in the back of the car, it sounded like Adam.

  ‘Hold him down.’ Another voice screamed.

  ‘I’m trying to.’ That voice belonged to Rich, Sara knew that.

  ‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ The first voice yelled again, this was Booker. The swearing and the slight slur told Rob that. A man in the car kicked around, it was Adam, it band flicking back and forward on his wrist. ‘Can you fucking hold him still, the clasp hasn’t locked.’

  ‘Just take it off him and we’ll try again.’ Rich suggested in the throes of Adam.

  ‘We can’t we had one try if he takes it off he dies.’ Yelled Booker over Adams mumbled screaming.

  ‘Em, what?’ Sara yelled above the three of them. Rob decided to stay hush and keep out of it.

  ‘I thought you’d have told her.’ Booker pulled Rob into the conversation, Adam seemed to have gotten a little tired now.

  ‘It didn’t really come up.’ Screeched Rover the ding of the four others fighting.

  ‘I’m wet.’ Adam yelled.

  ‘You’re not wet. Do you feel wet? No, because you’re not.’ Booker held Adam’s face in place, the shock of having somebody shout so close to your face made Adam’s head almost pull into his neck like a turtle.

  ‘Jesus Booker.’ Rich said clicking the bracelet closed, the little red glow was flashing uncontrollably. Booker pulled himself away from Adam finally letting him retract his head from his shirt.

  ‘It had to be done, people screaming they were wet was starting to get o
n my nerves.’ Booker straightened himself up, dusted his jacket off and pretended nothing had happened.

  ‘Okay, Sara you’re coming with and Rob, we’re going to find this kid. This.’ Booker snapped his finger at Sara summoning her to speak his name.

  ‘Michael, Michael Bark.’ Answered Sara in confusion.

  ‘Stupid name, we find this Bark kid. Bring him to Rich and Adam and get an ID?’

  ‘Woah, Woah, Woah, I’m not a babysitter, and I don’t think Adam could even recognise this kid even if you brought him.’ Rich pointed out.

  ‘I could.’ Adam pointed out.

  ‘I can ID him, he’s my ex-lover.’ Sara jumped in, she was a little annoyed she wasn’t consulted about Michael.

  ‘You’re not allowed to ID.’ Corrected Rich.

  ‘Why not?’ Sara asked.

  ‘Because you were fucking him.’ Pointed out Booker in his bluntest tone.

  ‘I can ID him.’ Adam tried to join in again. This caught Rob’s eye.

  ‘I don’t see how that’s a problem.’ Sara had started to speak with a little more volume.

  ‘At this point, you’re more of an accomplice than a victim.’ Rich told the facts.

  ‘I’m still a victim.’

  ‘You were fucking him, you’re not victim in the eyes of the law. If anything, you’re an accomplice or a motive.’ Rich continued to stay calm, explaining with nice soft and short words. They still cut Sara up inside.

  ‘An accomplice?’ Sara asked it wasn’t really a question. It didn’t need to be answered nor did she really want it to be. She just wanted it to settle in her head.

  ‘I can ID him.’ Adam spoke up again, this time a little louder than before.

  ‘Okay, we heard you.’ Said Booker to Adam.

  ‘Wait you can?’ Asked Rich, now letting it sink into his head.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Just you couldn’t fasten your shoelaces earlier.’ Rich pointed at the tattered lace which Adam had pulled a little hard and snapped.