Veteran Avenue

by Mark Pepper

  Resigned to it, Laura nodded. ‘You better go, quick.’

  ‘Tell Gilchrist what you know about Larry. He’ll have enough to pick him up. He can have a written statement from me later.’ Joey snatched Gilchrist’s car keys from the table. ‘May as well add theft to the list.’

  ‘You’re taking his car?’ Laura asked incredulously.

  ‘Just the keys. Tell him they’re under his seat.’

  ‘What do you need them for?’

  ‘Babe, I don’t have time to explain.’

  Joey kissed his wife and son and popped his head into the corridor. Gilchrist wasn’t there. Joey ran.

  Down in the lot, Joey reached Gilchrist’s black unmarked Caprice. He let himself in the driver’s side, settled in the seat, put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the engine. Instead he activated the onboard police computer. He took from his pocket the scrap of paper on which he’d jotted the Grand Cherokee’s license plate and quickly input the information.

  ‘Dodge Lincoln Chester,’ he read from the details that flashed up. Address of Angelo Drive, Beverly Glen. He committed it to memory and switched off the machine. He left the keys under the seat and ran for his van across the lot.

  John was in the living room remotely scanning through the multitude of TV channels, completely disinterested. He didn’t want to be with Hayley in the kitchen and didn’t think Virginia wanted him upstairs with her. Until Hayley let him in on her big secret he was in limbo, his love-life on hold.

  He had been there for fifteen minutes when Virginia came down to see him. She closed the door and squatted in front of him, took his hands and kissed him. John was pleasantly shocked but his smile was not returned. She looked up at him seriously and he could sense a proposition looming.

  ‘I can’t stand this,’ she said. ‘I love you and I can’t stand this. I want you to take my car and take that woman wherever she wants to go. Find out what’s going on with her.’

  ‘She wants to wait until Dodge gets back with her mum.’

  ‘I won’t have her dictating to us, John. Not in my own home. Tell her you’ll go with her now or not at all. I’m going crazy waiting. I need to know that we’re together.’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Okay, I need to know that she knows it.’

  ‘She’s really got under your skin, hasn’t she?’

  Virginia shook her head. ‘All she’s done is piss me off. I’m worried she’s got under your skin.’

  ‘No, I’m inquisitive, that’s all.’

  ‘But you’d still walk away? If I asked you to?’

  He nodded and Virginia kissed him again. ‘Then go with her. Now.’

  ‘Okay,’ John said. ‘You know, she might make me feel awkward but I don’t want her feeling no one cares. She’s vulnerable. What a life. A dead father, a mother who turned a blind eye to an abusive stepfather, a violent husband who ruined her big acting break, then she’s reunited with her mother only to find out she’s dying. It’s hardly surprising she’s clutching at straws, looking at me and putting my presence here down to ... fate … destiny. You did it yourself back in Oregon. You thought maybe it was all to do with healing your father.’

  ‘I was only thinking out loud,’ Virginia said defensively.

  ‘I know, but like I said: Hayley’s vulnerable, which makes it more than just an idle thought. She really believes Chuck gave me her photo so I could come back and save her from Larry. I think it’s bull, but some people have these thoughts when they’re down. It’s like turning to religion in your hour of need.’

  ‘And are we right to encourage her? I mean, where the hell does she want you to go?’

  The door opened slowly to reveal a blandly calm expression on Hayley’s face. Something in the momentary silence before she spoke announced that she had been eavesdropping.

  ‘Thank you, Virginia, I will take you up on the kind offer of your car. There’s no need to wait for our parents. I expect we’ll find them in Westwood.’

  ‘Westwood?’ John said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll be outside.’

  They watched Hayley turn in the doorway, walk down the hall and leave the house. The front door was left ajar, waiting for John. He looked at Virginia, squatting before him. They were still holding hands, and John felt an intense reluctance to break their contact. For a man who pooh-poohed the occult, some strange fears were tickling his hackles. It was the second time that day. The first had been at the hospital as Marie left on her own in a cab. Now, he had palpitations at the thought of leaving Virginia on her own.

  ‘I’m not going,’ he decided.

  ‘I said it’s okay.’

  ‘I know; I don’t want to.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He shook his head, shrugged.

  ‘John, go. Personally, I can’t see the point. Then again, I can’t see any harm.’

  ‘Come with us,’ he said.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to even if the Audi had a third seat.’

  He laughed and felt some tension release.

  ‘The keys are in the cutlery drawer,’ she said. ‘Remember the alarm.’

  ‘The cutlery drawer’s alarmed?’

  She rose to her feet. ‘Ah, English humor. Ho ho.’

  The flippancy helped, but John couldn’t shake his free-floating dread. He got up and went to the drawer, but not the one containing the cutlery. This one was in a sideboard in the dining room. The .357 he had borrowed earlier was in there, and Larry’s .45. He chose the Tanfoglio. He checked the semi-auto’s clip was full and that a round was chambered, then tucked it into his trousers under his shirt. He returned to the living room and handed the snub-nosed revolver to Virginia.

  ‘You know how to use it,’ he said. ‘Keep it in your hand until I get back.’

  She placed it on the arm of the sofa. John picked it up and gave it back to her.

  ‘No, in your hand.’

  Mildly amused, Virginia kept hold of it. ‘Why? You think Larry’s coming here? He doesn’t know this address. How could he?’

  ‘Call me paranoid.’

  ‘You’re paranoid.’

  ‘Fine, now humor me and keep it in your hand while I’m gone.’

  ‘You’ll only be an hour. Westwood’s only just down the hill.’

  ‘Ginny ...’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ she said, ushering him into the kitchen where she gave him the keys.

  ‘That didn’t go off,’ he said, pointing at the cutlery drawer.

  ‘Don’t make me rethink our relationship, John.’

  He smiled and she kissed him.

  ‘Drive carefully; that’s a new car.’

  Virginia had barely sat down with her sketch pad when she heard the Jeep arrive outside. She recognized its engine noise and was shocked by how relieved she felt; John’s fears had infiltrated more than she had known. She chucked her work on the bed, on top of the .357 she had disobediently discarded, and flew down the stairs. Her face was set with a grin and when she reached the hall and heard the latch key turn, she nearly shrieked her hello.

  The first thing through the door was the barrel of a silencer. Virginia stumbled to a halt. She felt the adrenaline sluice through her, leaving nausea in its wake. If a color could be felt, she thought she had turned grey.

  ‘Larry,’ she mouthed soundlessly.

  He backed up against the door to close it, holding a finger to his lips.

  ‘That’s good,’ he whispered. ‘Keep it that volume. Now, you have me at a disadvantage ...’

  With a gun pointed straight at her, Virginia doubted that.

  ‘You obviously know me,’ he said, ‘but I …’

  Virginia waited for him to finish his truncated sentence.

  ‘Or do I?’ he said suspiciously.

  ‘Where’s my father?’ she asked, finding a voice. ‘If you’ve hurt him ...’

  Larry nodded. ‘Yeah, we’ve met – after a fashion. Virginia, isn’t it? I heard Marie mention your name. You know, I really don’t apprec
iate what you did to me. That was a lot of fucking volts.’

  ‘A million. But I’d settle for two thousand AC through a chair.’

  He responded by slapping her with the back of his hand so she fell against the stairs.

  ‘Where’s my wife?’ he snarled.

  ‘Where’s my dad?’

  ‘You tell me, I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘I guess that must be a Chester family motto. Your late father said the exact same thing.’

  A pitiful, gasping sob escaped her and Virginia hated that she couldn’t stop it; Larry would only feed off her pain. She nearly lost control and rushed him then, but was amazed when some voice inside her blocked the impulse before it could become a suicidal action. It was almost as though her father had barked a military order for a tactical retreat.

  ‘Okay,’ Larry said, ‘as a goodwill gesture, I’ll go first. Your father is turning the sand red up the coast because I stuck a big knife in his guts. Now where’s my wife?’

  She tried not to react, keeping her venomous gaze locked on him, but she could feel the skin pinch around her eyes and the heat of imminent tears come into them. She would have sold her soul to Satan to feel the .357 in her hand at that moment. Bloodlust had made her not care any more. She tried to contemplate life without her father, but the concept was too huge, too alien.

  ‘Don’t start sniveling,’ he warned. ‘Just tell me where Hayley is and I’ll leave you alone. That’s all I want.’

  ‘And when you find her?’

  ‘I’m the one with the gun, bitch. I don’t have to explain anything to you. And what’s it to you, anyhow?’

  ‘I care about her as much as you do,’ Virginia said, testing the depth of his delusion with irony.

  ‘So help me make it up with her.’

  ‘Why? So she can visit you on Death Row? You killed my father. You don’t get to live happily ever after.’

  The reality check bowed his head briefly and the gun dropped with his focus. Virginia seized the moment. She kicked him backwards, turned and scrambled away, pulled by the lure of the .357 on her bed. Halfway up, the stairs zagged back above Larry’s head. If she could just get past that point, his line of fire would be obscured, and when his blind rage made him stupidly follow after her, she would be waiting with a jacketed hollow-point or two.

  She gained the bend and began up the second flight. It seemed like a miracle and she squeaked with terrified glee as Larry disappeared from her peripheral vision. She imagined it was her father keeping her safe, granting her winged feet while paralyzing the bastard who’d taken his life.

  Then the stair carpet began spitting fibers. It was like a surreal movie set with some special effects man detonating harmless squibs at her feet. But these tiny explosions were not staying a step behind like they always did with Jason Statham. Virginia felt her hair flick as a round skimmed her scalp and embedded itself in the ceiling. Then her trailing calf took a hit that tripped her and sprawled her flat, elbows on the very last stair. She let out a guttural scream, more in fury and shock than pain, and knew the next shot would find an easy target – a whole torso. Larry would know he had stopped her progress, and the thump above him would have drawn his aim.

  She heard him climbing the stairs. Maybe he wanted to place the shot more accurately; see the fear in her eyes. It was not something she could mask. She lay still and waited. Her leg was white hot, although she didn’t expect the discomfort to last for more than a few seconds. She could sense him now standing behind her. What was he doing? Prolonging her mental agony? Or was his sick mind working through the pros and cons of finishing the job?

  ‘You’ll live,’ he said. ‘A through-and-through, as we call them.’

  She rolled to face him, then looked at the darkening denim below her right knee and experienced the first shard of pain.

  ‘What’s up there?’ Larry asked.

  ‘The upstairs part of the house.’

  ‘Don’t be fucking obtuse. You know what I mean. I saw his cap. Your father owns – sorry, owned – a gun range. Are you telling me there are no guns in this house?’

  She said nothing, which answered his question.

  ‘And you weren’t going for one?’ he asked.

  She wondered which would rile him the most: an obvious lie, or a brash truth that might be taken for defiance.

  ‘I’d shoot you this second if I could.’

  He smiled and nodded. ‘Good. Honesty is good. You may yet need only one stick to get around. Now, we must be alone because you’d have woken the dead screaming like that. So, I’ll ask just one more time. Where ... is ... Hayley?’

  ‘Please, let me get something to tie round my leg to stop the bleeding, then I’ll tell you what I know. There’s a scarf in my bedroom.’

  ‘This had better not be some trick.’

  ‘It’s not.’

  He debated for a moment. ‘Okay, go ahead.’

  Favoring her left leg, Virginia slowly stood up. She gripped the banister rails, turned round and made it up to the landing.

  ‘Nice ass,’ he said, following. ‘Very nice. Maybe if we have a little time later ...’

  She glared back over her shoulder, eyes as fiery as the hole through her calf.

  ‘You better be into necrophilia, pal, because that’s the only way you’re getting into my knickers.’

  ‘Oh, don’t fucking flatter yourself. Just move.’

  Virginia continued staring for a few seconds then carried on limping towards her bedroom, leaving red splatters along the carpet. A satisfied smile crept unseen onto her face; however short-lived and token, she had just empowered herself. She halted at the open door. On the bed was her sketch pad, hiding the Magnum – empowerment that made a real difference.

  ‘Okay if I go in?’ she checked.

  ‘Hey, it’s your funeral if you try anything.’

  She hobbled towards a chest of drawers opposite the foot of the bed, but she had no desire to reach it.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Larry said, unwittingly answering her prayer.

  Virginia stopped, wobbled, and hopped her left foot to find balance.

  ‘Which drawer contains the gun?’ he asked knowingly.

  ‘None. See for yourself. Listen, I need to sit down, I feel faint.’ She flopped back onto the bed without waiting for his permission, instantly leaning back on her hands. She estimated the gun to be inches from her grasp.

  Larry never took his eyes off her as he felt for the handle of the top drawer. He pulled until it came completely out of the chest and spilled its contents on the carpet. Still holding the handle, he threw the empty drawer to one side. He did the same with the three beneath, then kicked and trod his feet through the heap of clothes; nothing weighty had hit the floor but he wasn’t taking any chances. Satisfied there was no weapon among them, he stepped to the window and indicated with a nod that Virginia could now search for a tourniquet.

  Her fingers were so close to the revolver that she didn’t want to move, but she had no choice. It was only luck that she wasn’t dead already. With no staircase between them now, Larry would not miss. Reluctantly, she pushed herself to the edge of the bed and looked at the floor. She noticed her right sneaker was drenched, and either the sight of it or the actual volume of blood lost began to make her feel genuinely faint. She sifted hastily through the clothes, digging out a silk scarf no longer a ploy.

  ‘I see you’re a costume designer,’ Larry said conversationally, approaching the bed.

  Virginia gasped and held her breath, realizing he had spotted the sketches. Her search became frantic. If Larry discovered the gun underneath, she guessed her leg wound would not be her worst, but if he did let her live she did not want to bleed to death for the lack of basic first aid.

  ‘Found it,’ she said, and quickly tied the ends of the scarf together. She pulled the looped silk over her foot to above the knee, grabbed a hairbrush off the floor, slipped it inside the scarf and began to twist until th
e silk went tight, constricting her veins.

  ‘Of course, it’s not exactly my field of expertise,’ Larry said, ‘but I’d say you got a real talent.’ He reached to pick up the pad. ‘Yeah, these are – fuck!’

  Virginia froze then something hard cracked the crown of her skull and pitched her onto the floor with a yelp. She scrambled away to the farthest wall and looked back at him, cowering.

  ‘You were gonna fucking kill me!’ he shouted crazily, shaking the Magnum in his fist. ‘Bitch!’

  Virginia thought his indignation was somewhat hypocritical but kept her opinion to herself as a worrying calm descended on him and he aimed the old service pistol at her head.

  ‘Kill me now and the trail goes cold,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hayley’s not staying here. If you kill me, that’s it. You won’t find her before the cops find you.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Which would suit you just fine, huh?’

  She risked a laugh, full of irony. ‘You really think I’d die for Hayley? Much like you, I don’t give a flying fuck about your wife. I’ve lost my father because of her and taken a bullet and I really fucking resent her for that. If I could turn the clock back – give her to you and save my father – I would. Before this morning I’d never even met the woman. You want to kill your wife, that’s your business.’

  Larry appeared thoroughly confused. ‘So tell me where she is, for fuck’s sake. I’ll walk out of here, leave you alone. I’m not a bad person. Your father was going to shoot me; I was only acting in self-defense. And I had nothing to do with Marie’s death.’

  Virginia stared at him. ‘Marie? Marie’s dead?’

  ‘Fucking framed me – shot herself in the fucking head.’ Suddenly drained, he wilted against the empty chest of drawers, both guns pointing harmlessly down. ‘Please, just tell me where Hayley is. Why’s that so difficult if you don’t even like her? Come on ...’

  Because Hayley wasn’t alone, and Virginia knew that John would not simply stand aside when Larry requested he do so.

  ‘I don’t know where they’ve gone.’

  ‘They? You mean the English guy? The Limey’s with her? Shit, I knew it; I knew she was fucking around.’