Face Book: A disturbing novel full of shocking twists

by Paul Johnson-Jovanovic

  'Anything wrong?' Chris asked. 'You all right?'

  Derek got out of the car. Sprinted towards the entrance.

  Chris followed, yelling, 'What's up? What's going on, bro?'

  Reaching the entrance, Derek saw that the door was wide open. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he went inside with Chris backing him up.

  'Should I get the guns?' Chris asked.

  'No. I hope I'm wrong, but I think it's too late for that.'

  Derek was right. Unlike last time, however, there was no sign of a struggle. The place seemed as they had left it.

  Except ...

  Derek noticed something on the floor. Sticking out behind a snooker table. The room was in darkness, so he couldn't make out who it was. He edged closer. Realised it was a leg. Recognised the Nike Air trainer attached to it.

  'Fuck!' he said, rounding the table and kneeling beside Jevon. 'Oh no, man, no!'

  Chris flipped a switch, bathing the area in light.

  He went to Derek. Knelt down with him.

  'Shit,' Chris said, staring at his friend's blood-covered face, at the gaping hole between his eyes where the bullet had entered. Chris tried to speak again, but could only manage a whimper.

  'Those bastards!' Derek said. 'Utter bastards!'

  Jevon's eyes were open, so Chris closed them with the palm of his hand. 'Sleep well, my brother,' he managed to say. He stood up. 'We need to find the others. Nelson! Willis! Where are you?' He took off through the hall, towards the back of the room. 'Nelson! Willis! We're here! It's all right, you can come out if you're hiding.'

  Derek couldn't visualize Willis hiding. Nelson, perhaps, but not Willis. It wasn't his style.

  Checking in-between the tables, Derek and Chris knew it was only a matter of time before they found another body.

  Derek called out, ‘Nellllson! Wiillllliiiss! Where are you? Come on, you pair, please be okay. You’ve gotta be okay ..,’ Hearing a thud from above, he looked towards his brother. ‘Maybe we do need those guns.’ Derek gulped. But, before he could move, a voice shouted down from upstairs.

  ‘Nelson,’ Chris said.

  Moving towards the stairs that led to the living area, Chris tripped over something and fell sprawling onto his hands and knees. Glancing back, he saw an arm sticking out from behind a table. Tentatively, he got to his feet and went to see who the arm belonged to.

  ‘Willis,’ Chris said, his voice barely a whisper.

  Letting out an agonized scream, Derek covered his face with his hands. Couldn’t bring himself to look.

  They heard descending footfalls on the stairs. Then Nelson was coming towards them, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  ‘They’re both dead, aren’t they?’ he ranted. ‘They’re both dead and it’s all my fault. I hid in the attic so those fuckers wouldn’t find me. Can you believe that? I hid in the attic while they shot them. I’m a coward and now … now my brothers are dead and it’s my fault! I wish I was dead as well. I deserve to be. I de …’

  Derek grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Stop rambling,’ he said. ‘Get a hold of yourself.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Chris said, ‘get a hold of yourself.’

  Collapsing to his knees, Nelson took Willis’s hand and cried, ‘Oh God, look at him! Look at what they’ve done to him!' He began to pray. ‘Lord, forgive me for my cowardice. Forgive me for what I’ve done. Forgive me for …’

  Derek grabbed hold of him. Yanked him to his feet. ‘Since when did you become religious?’ he said, leading him away from the body. ‘You need to stop crying and get a grip. What happened here, Nelson? Tell me everything.’ He could see what’d happened, but he wanted to know every detail. Even though it would hurt to hear it.

  Breathing deeply, Nelson stepped back. Took a few seconds to compose himself, then said, ‘It was the ginger one and his cronies. They came again. Only this time they had guns instead of baseball bats and knives. I was upstairs. Heard a big crash, which must’ave been 'em coming through the door. We couldn't find anything to use as a barricade, so we just jammed some cues behind it – some good it did us. Jev and Willis were playing snooker. I heard shouting. Then it went silent. By the time I got downstairs, it was too late. I could only see the cronies. There was no sign of my bro’s, so I knew what’d happened. That’s when I legged it upstairs. I opened the loft hatch, pulled the ladder down. Once I was up and the hatch was shut, I hid over the back. I heard them beneath me, tearing the place apart. I should be dead as well. Deserve to die for running like that.’

  ‘I would have done the same,’ Derek said.

  ‘So would I,’ Chris said. ‘There was nothing you could have done.’

  ‘Didn’t anyone hear the shots?’ Derek asked Nelson.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘They must’ave used silencers.’

  Chris said, ‘We should have asked Spence for guns with silencers.’

  'I tried to ring you, but I've run out of credit!' Nelson said.

  ‘It’s too late to worry about that now,’ Derek said. ‘All we need to concentrate on from here on in is getting revenge.’ He took Nelson by the arm. ‘I’m sorry for involving you and your brothers in this mess. If it wasn’t for me and Chris, they’d still be alive. So if anybody should be feeling guilty right now, it’s us. Ain’t that right, bro?’

  Chris nodded. ‘We’re gonna make ‘em pay for this.’

  ‘Too right we are,’ Nelson said shooting a tortured look towards Willis’s lifeless body. ‘We’re gonna make ‘em SUFFER! Where’s Jevon? I want to see Jevon!’ He searched around, trying to find his other brother.

  Derek attempted to get him by the arm again, but Nelson shrugged him off. Continued searching.

  ‘You don’t want to see him,’ Chris said. ‘It’s not a pretty sight.’

  ‘We can’t have him tagging along,’ Derek said. ‘After what’s happened, he'll only get in the way and I don’t want more blood on my hands. Not his blood, anyway.’

  ‘I heard that,’ Nelson said. ‘And I’m coming with you, so you can just shut the …’ He collapsed to his knees by Jevon. Let out such a scream that made Derek and Chris wince.

  ####

  Jack was parked outside Byron’s mansion. He had been here for thirty minutes. Not near the entrance. That would have been too obvious. Anybody monitoring the gate camera would pick him out straight away, which was why he’d pulled up farther down the road. Not so far that he couldn’t see someone coming or going and – hopefully – not close enough to be noticed. He’d driven around the property’s exterior and there was only one way in. So far no one had entered or left. This didn’t bother Jack. All he needed to do, he figured, was bide his time. Sooner or later something would happen. A blip would appear on his radar.

  Reclining his seat back slightly, Jack turned the radio on. Flicked through the channels. He found a song he liked – Ready for War, by 50 Cent – and thought it appropriate. Tempted as he was to crank the volume up, he resisted. He needed to hear as well as see what was going on around him. Plus, he didn’t want to attract attention.

  He sang along with 50 Cent, who was rapping about pistols.

  Wish I had a gun, Jack thought. Think I’m going to need one.

  ####

  Salter Avenue looked right, seemed promising. Lined with properties that Ward estimated to be in the three to four hundred thousand pound ball park, it was on just the sort of middle class estate where a detective inspector might live. But …

  Strike one. The Shelshars of Langthorpe were not the Shelshars Ward was looking for. Sitting in his Zafira, he watched from across the street as a woman and man exited through the front door. They made their way down the drive, holding hands. All dressed up. Her in a figure-hugging blue skirt. Him in a grey suit. Obviously off out for a night on the town. A meal at a restaurant? Or a pub? Maybe they’d been invited to a do? Ward didn’t give a shit. He watched as a young girl (the babysitter? Daughter?) waved them off from the front door, then he drove away. No point hanging around. Not in an area
where police were liable to patrol regularly.

  Next destination: Black Hill.

  ####

  At 147, upstairs in the living area, Derek and Chris were discussing what to do next.

  ‘I really think it’s time we involved the police,’ Chris said. ‘Before things get even worse.’

  ‘How can things get worse?’ Derek said. ‘We’ve discussed about the police; it’s not an option.’ There was a purple rug on the floor. He bent down. Grabbed one end. ‘Here, make yourself useful and help me roll this up.’

  ‘That isn’t long enough to put Willis or Jev in.’

  ‘What do you suggest, then?’ Derek said, tossing the rug down. ‘We can’t leave those bodies here. What if someone visits? I don’t know how long it takes for a corpse to start humming and I don’t wanna find out. We have to get rid.’

  ‘That’s our friends you’re talking about. They died for us.’

  ‘I’m sorry, bro; I didn’t mean to disrespect ‘em. I loved ‘em just as much as you. But if this situation was reversed, they’d be doing the same – trying to get rid.’

  ‘I don’t think they would. They’d call the fuzz and tell ‘em we came back and found ‘em like this. Why put our necks on the line by disposing of the bodies? You’re not thinking straight. When they ask us who might have done this, we say we don’t know. I mean, it’s not like involving the law is gonna escalate things with Byron, is it?’

  ‘Fair point. And you’re right: all this is getting to me. What about Nelson? We’ll have to say he was with us. Let’s hope he can hold it together when they’re questioning him; otherwise he could drop us in it, big time. You’ve seen how bad he is. He’s in bits down there.’

  ‘He’ll do what needs doing.’

  ‘I pray you’re right.’

  ‘I feel so bad for him. He’s lost his brothers. I don’t wanna lose mine. How have we managed to get things so wrong? Why is this happening to us?’

  It had been many years since Derek had seen his brother cry. The last time had been at school. A playground bully punched Chris in the face, for no reason, blacking his eye. So Derek had blacked both the bully’s eyes the following day. Derek had made everything okay for Chris back then and many times since. He wished he could make everything okay now, but felt powerless to do so.

  Hugging Chris, he said, ‘I need you to be strong for me, little bro. There’ll be plenty of time for mourning after this is finished. Let’s focus on what needs doing. There’s some bad people that need running over by the Karma Train and I intend to be driving it.’

  ‘Okay,’ Chris said, wiping his eyes and pushing back from Derek. ‘I’ll make the call.’

  ####

  Byron’s mansion had a pool room. This was where his henchmen spent most of their time when they weren’t terrorizing people. The rule was “winner stays on”, which suited McCarthy fine as he rarely lost. He came up with the rule. Bending over the table, with a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth, he lined up a shot. The room was filled with smoke. It hung in the air like industrial smog.

  ‘I could beat those niggers at snooker,’ McCarthy said, making a pot into the centre bag. ‘Snooker’s for pussies. Eight-ball is for real men.’

  `‘Two nig-nogs down,’ Gerard said, chalking his cue, ‘three to go.’

  Quinn was sitting on the window sill, watching. ‘Are you two going to get a shift on?’ he said. ‘We’ve got a lot to do tonight and I want to get gone.’ He grimaced as he massaged the lump on his head. 'Damn, that coon hit me hard with that chair.'

  ‘Who shall we hit first?’ McCarthy said, admiring the bling on his fingers. ‘I think we should go back and finish the blacks off.’ He took a shot. Made another ball disappear. ‘Kah-boom! God I love my job. I get to play pool and beat people up. It really doesn’t get any better than this.’ He threw his cue on the table. ‘Come on, it's time to have some fun.’

  ####

  Dawn had never been so relieved to be home. The day had been long and fruitless. One she wanted to forget. After the previous night’s escapades, she needed to catch up on her sleep, so a hot bath and early turn-in beckoned. Only problem was, she knew Philip would be at her with questions as soon as she was in the house.

  And, low and behold, there he was. Standing in the doorway. Watching her as she got out of the Freelander and walked up the drive. Dawn wasn’t sure which Philip would greet her: the sulky, worried one of the last few days, or would he be his usual, chirpy self. From the look on his face, it was the latter.

  ‘How was your day?’ he asked, shepherding her in.

  ‘Could have been better.’

  Sticking his head out the door, Philip looked left and right. Then, seeming satisfied, he locked up. Removed the key. Pocketed it.

  ‘Always safe to be secure,’ he said.

  ‘Of course, always,’ Dawn said. ‘What time did Abbie turn in?’

  ‘About seven. I read her a story and she nodded off in no time.’

  Philip took Dawn’s coat as she let it fall from her shoulders. ‘You get yourself changed and I’ll make you a hot chocolate.’

  When they were settled in, cosied up on the settee, watching TV, Philip steered the conversation in the inevitable direction: ‘How are things going with Armstrong? Are you any closer to bringing him in?’

  ‘Chief Reinbeck assigned me to the Ward case, ' Dawn said, 'so I guess we can all sleep a little easier tonight.' She failed to tell him that she was ignoring Reinbeck and investigating Armstrong anyway.

  She had never seen her husband look so relieved. Close to tears, he leaned in and pecked her on the cheek.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ Philip said. ‘You’re doing the right thing.’

  Dawn said nothing.

  ‘People like that always win,' he said. 'That’s the way of the world.’

  ‘I need a drink. I’m parched.’

  Getting up, Dawn went to the kitchen. Poured herself a glass of orange juice. She took a few sips, then set the glass aside. She pushed the curtains back. Peeked out. She heard Philip approaching behind her.

  ‘It’s getting nasty out there,’ she said. And I don’t just mean the weather.

  Philip pushed the curtains back. Coaxed her away.

  Placing his index finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head back. Kissed her on the lips. ‘I know what’s bothering you. The main thing is that we’ll be okay, because that’s all that counts, isn’t it?’

  You don’t know everything that’s bothering me, Dawn thought. But she said, ‘Yes, that’s all that counts.’

  ####

  ‘Gotcha!’ Ward said.

  The face at the curtains was hers. No doubt about that.

  Hidden in bushes, in someone’s front garden across the street, Ward folded his arms over his chest and relaxed. He watched the bitch’s house, waiting for the lights to go out. Waiting for her to fall asleep. All safe and sound in her posh suburban home. Except she wasn’t safe. The wolf was at her door and she didn’t even know it. This made Ward smile. Filled him with an inner warmth he hadn’t felt for a long time.

  He saw a shadow move behind one of the downstairs curtains and wondered who it could be. Her or perhaps her spouse? It didn’t matter. If there was a husband or boyfriend that needed taking care of, Ward would deal with him. Then he’d take care of her. Get the first face for his new book.

  ####

  The mansion’s gate opened, so Jack sat up. He leaned forwards. Saw a blue Mitsubishi Warrior pull into the road and drive off. Because it was dark and the vehicle had tinted windows, he couldn’t make out who was inside or how many. It didn’t matter. Following someone – anyone – beat the hell out of sitting around like a vegetable. Firing the Astra up, he sped away, after the Warrior, which took a left, a right, then another left. Jack was wary of getting too close, for fear of being noticed. He was worried about falling too far back as well, just in-case he lost his target. After a few minutes, Jack wasn’t surprised to find himself back on Maltshire Ro
ad. He wasn’t surprised, either, when the Warrior parked outside his house and the thugs who’d done him over got out. They were determined to finish him off, it seemed. Making sure he was a safe distance away, Jack killed the Astra’s engine and lights. He watched as they pushed the front door open.

  ‘Get out of my house,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  He imagined them inside, wrecking the place. Trying to take on all three would have been stupid, even with a knife. He’d have ended up on the losing end, like before. Except this time he’d be taken to the morgue instead of hospital. Better to wait until the odds were more favourable.

  A short while later, the thugs reappeared. Walked back to their ride. They stopped to discuss something. Seemed to be arguing, as far as Jack could see. The one with the gold on his fingers – McCarthy – wasn’t happy. He was having a go at Quinn, who was holding out his hands, palms up, in an I dunno gesture. Jack put his window down slightly to see if he could hear. He was too far away, though. For a second it looked like the two men would come to blows as they squared up. But the Gerard intervened, getting in-between them, pushing them apart.

  Jack smiled at this spectacle, this dissension in the ranks. He wondered what had caused it.

  ####

  ‘The Boss will put our balls in a nutcracker if we tell him we haven’t taken care of this prick,’ McCarthy said to Quinn. ‘And that’s if we’re lucky. If we’re not lucky, he’ll kill us.’

  ‘The guy’s not home,’ Quinn replied, ‘so how are we supposed to waste him?’

  ‘We’ll just tell Mr. B we did him,’ Gerard said, admiring his pecks. ‘He won’t know any different. We’ll come back tomorrow and finish this.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ McCarthy said. ‘If The Boss finds out we’ve lied to him, we will be dead. Bollocks!’ He thought things through, then added, ‘Look, let’s do the other jobs. We’ll try here again later. Like you said, Ger: he’s got to be in some time. And when he is …’ he kicked out at a street light, knocking the metal cover off, ‘… I’m going to make him pay extra for pissing us around.’