Lazy Blood: a powerful page-turning thriller

by Ross Greenwood

  Will stared hard at Darren who held his hands up in mock surrender. At the back of his mind he had the nagging feeling he was offering his soul in exchange for diabolical favours.

  42

  Every now and again turned out to be eight p.m. that same night.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Just drive towards Marholm.’

  ‘Are you taking me for a nice meal at that lovely restaurant with the striking topiary display?’

  ‘Just a little drop off.’

  Darren had insisted that Will drive his car, saying his insurance covered any driver, although Will noticed he smelled strongly of drink. When they arrived at the small village on the outskirts of Peterborough Darren directed them away from the centre.

  ‘Carry on up here.’

  ‘Left here.’ As they drove down a small country lane Darren checked his watch.

  ‘Stop here.’ The only light was from the moon and Will felt strangely isolated.

  ‘Twelve pound an hour is not going to get me dogging you know.’

  Darren didn’t respond as he had all of a sudden become very alert and serious. They waited for no more than thirty seconds and then Will saw a smart looking Audi saloon car turn into the lane and pull up directly behind them. Darren still didn’t say anything but pressed a button on the dashboard and Will felt the boot catch open up behind him.

  Using the wing mirror he watched a man in a suit and despite the hour sunglasses, climb out of the car and approach the rear of their vehicle. He opened the boot, there was a pause of a few seconds, then he closed it with a firm shove. He then returned to his car holding a chunky brown manila envelope. He got in, put his seat belt on, reversed and slowly drove away.

  ‘OK Will, we just need to pop to see an associate of mine.’

  ‘Jesus Darren, how dodgy was that. I thought you said nothing too illegal.’

  Darren paused for a good while as though he was weighing up what to tell him. His shoulders sagged slightly.

  ‘It’s only weed. It’s a little side business. Marijuana is the new cocaine. All the growers are inside at the moment so it’s all about supply and demand. I can shift the decent stuff for twenty-five pound an eighth. That’s good money.’

  ‘Excellent, maybe I can get Elaine to send me some of it when we are inside. Get some nice things for my cell.’

  ‘We won’t be going to jail for a little bit of possession.’

  ‘I’m not spending my time sweating in your loft and watering your illicit shrubberies.’

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. I don’t produce the stuff. There aren’t any scales here or at the pub. I’ve got some growing rooms around the city, nothing large scale. If they get caught, they go to court, they know better than to mention names and they also know they only have a small amount of plants so all they will get is a smack on the wrist. It’s only a class C drug now. It’s easy money Will and remember, you haven’t got any.’

  That took the wind out of Will’s sails and he let out a heavy breath. His mind was spinning as they pulled into an industrial estate in one of the rougher areas of the city. As they stopped outside a used car yard proudly calling itself ‘Polish Porsche’ Darren got out and beckoned for Will to follow.

  They both walked into the reception to be greeting by a blonde Slavic looking lady bending over a coffee machine with a pair of jeans so tight you could see the pattern of her underwear. She was also wearing a tiny cropped T-shirt asking you to visit Poland.

  ‘Is he in?’ was all Darren said.

  ‘Office,’ she deeply strangled in heavily accented English sounding like Ivan Drago from Rocky.

  Will dragged his eyes from the incredible sight and followed Darren as he left the reception area and walked round the side of the building. They went through a garage with a variety of vehicles that looked like their best days were behind them. There were a couple of heavy-set blokes in boiler suits idly standing around smoking. They gave them hard looks, but then seemed to recognise Darren and turned away. They looked as though the only time they would use spanners was if they needed to beat something, or someone.

  Darren knocked on a flimsy brown door and it was opened by a thick set man with a shaven head and a light blue tracksuit top and bottoms. He had a thick gold necklace and piercing blue eyes on an emotionless face. This odd ensemble was made more unusual by the fat cigar he was smoking. He shifted the cigar to his left hand and then his face broke into a wide grin.

  ‘Darren, always good to see you. Come in.’

  He shook Will’s hand in turn with a meaty shake and then followed them in.

  ‘Who is your friend Darren?’ His accent was evidently eastern European but was moderate compared to the bombshell at the reception desk.

  ‘This is Will. I told you about him. He is my business partner. I’ve known him since we were eleven. We are like brothers. Will, this is Radic.’ He pronounced it raddish and a look of annoyance swept over Radic’s face. He looked straight at Will.

  ‘It end’s with an itch, Radditch. I swear he does it to annoy me.’ His easy smile returned to his face. ‘Family eh? In our line of business it is best to keep it in the family.’ He spoke slowly as though he was enjoying the words. He gestured out to the garage area. ‘Ben has the money. You can get it now, everything is good. Let me get to know Will for a minute.’

  Darren looked for a minute like he was going to say something but reluctantly left.

  ‘Drink?’

  ‘Please.’

  He was expecting some kind of industrial measure of vodka as the man opened a small fridge behind him but he instead passed him a chilled bottle of Evian.

  ‘So William, you like cars?’

  ‘Yes, although I’ve had some bad experiences with them,’ Will replied.

  ‘Yes, I heard.’ Radic beamed at him. ‘Darren told me about your loyalty.’

  ‘I don’t see many Porsche out there.’

  ‘No, not many Porsche.’ Radic let out a big booming laugh. ‘I’m not Polish either.’

  Will found he was laughing too. He was a little imposing this character but he was quick to laugh and obviously enjoyed a joke.

  ‘You like working with Darren?’

  The question blindsided Will for a moment and he wasn’t immediately sure what to say. He stuck with the facts.

  ‘I’ve known him a long time. I trust him.’

  ‘Good, good. A little wild your friend I think. You, however, I believe I can trust. I like you William. You seem, umm, what’s the phrase, a decent bloke.’ He laughed to himself again. ‘You have a crazy language, very easy to up fuck.’ He gave Will a serious expression.

  ‘A man needs to be wary of men like your friend. Very dangerous.’ That dark look passed over his face again but he removed it as Darren returned.

  ‘But Darren is good for business no?’

  ‘Come on Will, see you again soon Raddish.’ Darren left.

  Will took a final swig of his drink and placed it on the table. He shook the man’s hand firmly.

  ‘Nice to meet you Radic.’ He made sure to pronounce it correctly.

  * * *

  Darren was in a foul mood when he got back in the car.

  ‘Goddamn Polacks. Ordering me to get the money, he should give it to me.’

  ‘He says he isn’t from Poland.’

  Darren shot Will a dirty look.

  ‘What were you two talking about?’

  ‘Cars,’ Will said after giving it a few moments thought.

  By the time they had pulled up at the pub Darren had cheered up considerably as they chatted about old times. As Darren got out he gave him an envelope.

  ‘Your first bonus.’

  He left Will in the car and went inside. Will took a deep breath and tried to absorb and process what had happened that evening. As he did so he idly opened the envelope. There was a small solid wodge of notes. His eyes opened as he counted it. Five hundred pounds in twenties. He let out that breath and knew this moment
was a pivotal one. He thought about his options. He could carry on doing rubbish jobs for terrible money or he could sell his soul to the devil, but probably have a good time doing so. He didn’t want to go back to prison but he trusted Darren when he said they wouldn’t get into trouble. He was pretty sure though that the government had re-categorized marijuana as a class B drug and therefore had stiffer penalties.

  He gave it a few more seconds consideration, then put the money in his pocket with a small smile. He walked into the Anne Boleyn to continue his new job.

  43

  11th April 2013

  A gentle thudding brought Will to his senses. He opened his eyes which seemed to take an extreme effort and immediately put his hand up to cover them from the bright light coming through the window directly onto his face. His mouth was bone dry and he must have passed out without closing the curtains.

  All of a sudden he remembered the importance of the morning and jerked himself upright. He was an idiot. He knew he shouldn’t have gone to the Anne Boleyn last night. He searched his brain for someone to blame and came up with Aiden. Why had he listened to him saying it would be days before anything happened? What the hell would that bell-end know about it?

  He reached to the table next to his bed where he always kept his mobile phone and found a congealing portion of takeaway chips in its place. He sobered up quickly as he searched for his phone thinking he may have missed the all-important call. He found his jeans on the landing and upended them. His phone and a strangely large amount of change dropped out and he found himself holding his breath as he turned the display on. ‘Please no missed call’ he whispered to himself. He stared hard as the light came on but the screen was illegibly smudged by some kind of dried brown liquid. Frowning he wiped it with his thumb but just proceeded to make what looked like dried curry sauce spread more. Panicking now, he began to lick the phone like a dog with a juicy bone, gagging at something that didn’t taste of curry sauce, then wiped it on the carpet. He looked and noted the lack of missed calls and breathed again. There was a God after all.

  He went into the bathroom to get some Rennie, Paracetamol and anything else that might help his fragile state and heard the banging noise again. It was coming from downstairs. He checked his watch to see it was only seven fifteen. That was way too early for the post nowadays, but it was becoming louder and more insistent. His muddled brain instantly put two and two together and came up with the police. In some ways he had been expecting it for months. Fighting back his paranoia he quickly surmised that if it was the police they would not be knocking. More likely they would have broken his door down at four a.m. and dragged him naked into the street.

  Gingerly stepping down the stairs to avoid tripping on his shoes and socks which lay strewn down them he realised the sound was coming from the kitchen door. With relief he remembered the dog and he would want to be let out. That was usually Elaine’s job first thing so no wonder he had forgotten. She had wanted to get the filthy brute, so she could look after it. It had been pure madness on her part to get the thing. He could hear her continuously saying ‘I’ve always wanted one, go on Will’. He saw the door throb as it was hit again and felt he was to blame too. He should have done some research into what a Newfoundland was.

  He eased open the door and was immediately accosted by the large furry head of an enormous Newfie. It was only a year old yet it was about the same size as a Rottweiler already. He had looked in shock when she had bought home a puppy that had bigger feet than your average bear but obviously it was too late by then. Still it was a sweet natured docile thing and he felt some sympathy for it being locked in for so long.

  That sympathy evaporated instantly as he entered the room and was assailed by a horrendous stench. The dog jumped up and put his massive wet paws on Will’s chest and tried to lick his face.

  ‘Down Pluto, down.’

  Pushing the dog down he was greeted with a scene from hell. The kitchen floor was covered in huge pools of dark brown mucous liquid. In these pools were large paw prints. He stepped into the room and he felt himself gag as the smell hit his nostrils. Forcing himself to breathe through his mouth he unsuccessfully tried to dodge through the carnage as he went and opened the back door and felt the cold clammy goo squeeze between his toes. The dog disappeared into the back garden and Will noted the detritus of a kebab on the floor. With a brief glimpse of the past he remembered putting said item on the work surface when he came in last night. Obviously a tad too close to the edge for Pluto and obviously a tad too spicy for his delicate constitution as well.

  As he wondered if they had a mop, and if they did where would it be kept, he heard his phone ringing. Realising he had left it at the top of the stairs he closed the kitchen door and quickly ran up them trying to remain calm.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Mr Reynolds?’

  ‘Yes, speaking.’

  ‘It’s Nurse Thomas here. Things have moved faster than we expected and we think you should come in now.’

  He found he was pacing the room all of a flutter but he could still smell the terrible aroma from downstairs. He looked at his shoulders and saw the liquid shit which had seeped into his shirt from Pluto’s feet.

  ‘Right now?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  ‘Erm, OK, see you soon.’

  She ended the call as Will looked down at his brown footprints on the cream carpet. Yes, there was a God, and he had a sick sense of humour.

  Paralysed with indecision he thought back to the conversation with the nurse. She had said right away but her voice hadn’t carried any urgency. Did she mean amble in or did she mean drive like the wind. He suspected she wouldn’t say the latter anyway as he might have driven like a lunatic and wiped out the school run.

  All things considered he decided a shower was a necessity and went and got straight in. One speed clean later, taking great time and care with the soles of his feet he continued with his routine at high speed. With teeth brushed, twice, face shaved, mouthwash used, aftershave applied and fresh clothes adorned, he scuttled downstairs spraying deodorant over his body length and selected some shoes. He picked up his car keys and put his coat on noting the bright yellow stain on the sleeve and made a mental note to sort that in the toilets when he got there. He then heard Pluto snuffling behind the kitchen door.

  His mind hummed with indecision. ‘Feed the dog? Feed the dog? Feed the dog?’ he murmured to himself. He recalled the scene of horror behind the door and decided ‘Fuck the dog’. Abstinence is always best when you have a poorly bottom.

  He jumped in his new car and then remembered he had left the back door open. ‘Fuck that too’ he thought. They didn’t have anything worth nicking anyway bar a fifty inch plasma TV and that was so big you would need to be King Kong to carry it away. So if someone wanted to fight their way through the kitchen of death, negotiate their way past a ten stone shitting machine and was strong enough to remove the daddy of the TV world, then they deserved it and a locked door would not have stopped them anyway.

  44

  He fired the Vauxhall Insignia up and got on his way. Suspecting he may well be drink driving he drove on the speed limit, resisting the urge to floor the accelerator. He pulled onto the parkway and followed the signs for the hospital. As he got nearer an ambulance, sirens blaring, steamed past and he prevented himself from racing after it. He pulled back into the traffic and resumed his journey. He tried not to think of the importance of what was about to happen. It would have repercussions for the rest of his life, he knew that much. Think of something else he reprimanded himself.

  He focussed on the smoothness of the drive. He had wanted a huge 4x4 but she had said they were too big for her. In the end they had got this. It was a good car at a great price, from her Uncle. Would he ever get the car he wanted? Annoying it was too, as with all the money he was making he could have had what he liked. Like that git Darren. He had rocked up a few weeks back in a brand new amazing looking black BMW X5. Worrying about thei
r ‘business’ he had argued with him about it and recalled himself shouting ‘You should have just got a number plate with ‘DRUGS HERE’ in the unlikely event that it isn’t completely obvious’.

  For the umpteenth time since he had worked for him he had been surprised that an ever more volatile Darren hadn’t hit him and he wondered now if he wasn’t just jealous as that was the motor he wanted. The pub was still doing a roaring trade but the control was beginning to fray at the edges. The special bonuses were getting bigger but Aiden was finding he was splitting up more and more fights and throwing more and more people out and some of them were very resistant. Darren though rarely barred people and by kicking out time the atmosphere was like that of a bath of petrol, waiting for someone to flick their fag end into it.

  Radic had somehow got Will’s phone number and was constantly trying to get him to work for him. It was getting so bad in the pub and with Darren’s increasingly bizarre behaviour he was considering it, but he knew he really would be in with the big boys then. In light of current events he did not want to risk going down for a huge stretch but he felt stuck, as he couldn’t face the minimum wage again.

  He had hoped Carl moving in upstairs would have helped Darren’s moods but the pair of them seemed to be off their faces most of the time. Carl had gone downhill since his girlfriend had left him for some bloke at her gym and the pair of them had got back on the class A’s big time. They were both racing so fast down the slippery slope of addiction that surely even they could see the wall coming to greet them. Although maybe that was the dichotomy of drug abuse and enjoying yourself, as he had to admit they did seem to be having a good time except when they were complaining about how ropey they felt the next day.

  It all seemed to be falling apart but today wasn’t the day for such thoughts and he pushed them away. He pulled up in a residential street behind the hospital. It was a five minute walk from here but he was buggered if he was going to pay ten pounds to park there for the day. He strode off and put his hands in his pockets finding his cigarettes. He debated smoking one, knowing he would feel like shit afterwards but lit one regardless. He arrived feeling nauseous and dry mouthed, cursing his stupidity for about the third time that morning.