by Matt Shaw
2.
“Where have you been?”
Frank. My partner in crime. A six foot four mountain of a man with a temper to match.
“Park and McDonalds!” yelled Tom who was still buzzing from his first taste of a burger and his first slurp of a fizzy drink. In hindsight the fizzy drink probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas just before his bedtime. Well - I guess eight thirty is a good bedtime for someone his age? What do I know? I should have checked with his mother.
“The park and McDonalds?” Frank repeated. His eyes were fixed on me - as though Tom weren’t even with us in the hallway of my house. There was a coldness in his eyes I’d seen too many times to ignore. I was seeing this look more and more often now and didn’t like it. I should put a stop to it before it gets out of hand and is no longer controllable.
I turned to Tom and said, “Why don’t you go and get ready for bed? Let Uncle Frank and I have a chat...” Tom ran past Frank and up the stairs towards his bedroom. His bedroom? Can’t afford to think like that. It’ll only make it harder when the time comes to let him go home. It’s not as though he is a permanent fixture in this household. I can’t get used to him.
“We discussed this,” Frank hissed.
“He wore the mask,” I said as I held up the werewolf mask.
“I don’t give a fuck if he wore a Casper the friendly fucking ghost costume! Are you really that fucking stupid? his voice was getting louder.
“Watch your language.” I need to nip this in the bud. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.” Frank went to reply but stayed silent when I shot him a stern look. These past couple of days he has changed from the man I knew. The more I look at him the more I think I’d made a mistake. At first I thought he’d be Mr Reliable. Now I just see him as trouble.
“It’s a bad idea,” he said eventually.
“It’s fine.”
“You took him to McDonalds.”
“He wore a mask. It’s fine. We’re home. He’s happy. He had his first Happy Meal today.”
“What?”
“He had his first burger.”
“I’m thrilled for him.”
“And his first toy with a meal...”
“I’m glad he’s having such a nice fucking time. A toy and a fucking burger.”
“Don’t push me. He’s had a burger. He’s had a toy. Even had a fizzy drink. It’s a day of firsts for the lad and look how happy he is. Think about it. He’s happy - he is no trouble. He’s miserable and he’s a handful...” Frank didn’t say anything. He could no doubt sense the dark cloud suddenly shrouding my once cheerful mood. “He wore the mask and we went through the drive-through. Everything is fine.” There was more silence. Frank had a strange look on his face - one that I didn’t recognise. Almost sheepish. “What is it?” I asked.
“I fucked up,” he replied.
* * * * *
I felt the coldness of the garage as I stepped in, after Frank, from the kitchen. Better to talk in here, out of Tom’s ear shot. I didn’t wait for Frank to look at me before I continued. “Explain. What do you mean you fucked up?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He turned to me. A look of panic set in his eyes. All the years I had known Frank, I had never seen him look as he did now. It actually made me feel uneasy - not that I’d let him know this. He went to say something but I raised a finger to silence him.
“No bullshit. Explain what you mean.” The look of fear, from my reaction no doubt, on his face was both good and bad. On the one hand it showed that he still feared me. And rightly so. It helped keep me control of him. On the other hand - just how bad had he messed up? “What have you done?”
“I’m sorry about earlier too...It’s just...I’m panicking and...”
“Frank! Get to the point!” He’s panicking? He was starting to panic me now. Since Tom arrived here - in fact since I had known him - this was the first time I had actually seen him act so out of character. Normally he was hard. Nothing fazed him. You told him to do something and he’d do it. He wouldn’t ask questions. He wouldn’t argue with you. He’d just do it. He’d even do it without thinking, or worrying, about the morals which the more normal members of society struggle with. One step up the evolution chain from ‘monkey’. The angry Frank, whom I had walked in on, he’s the Frank I’m used to; albeit not normally aimed at me. This Frank is new to me. And he’s worrying. “From the start - slowly - what happened? Tonight should have been easy.” Tonight should have been easy; something a monkey could have done...Which is why I had sent Frank in the first place.
“There were CCTV cameras everywhere.”
“So?” All Frank had to do was go to the park. A discreet phone box tucked out of sight from any of the main paths - one of the last public phones in this area. It took me ages to find it but I knew it was perfect for what we needed it for. He just needed to make a quick phone call. Remind the people what’s happening. Remind them we’re still in charge and give them their brief instructions of where to take the money. If they put up an argument - ask them if they want to see their son alive again. It should have been easy.
“I made the phone call.”
“Spit it out, Frank!” I felt my patience continue to dwindle.
“The police were already there.”
“Where?”
“They were there. They came onto the line. I spoke to them.”
“We knew that was going to happen.”
“They kept talking on the phone, trying to get details out of me. They wanted my name. They walked to talk to the boy. They said they had to hear he was alive. I told them nothing but they kept asking questions...”
“Frank - if you don’t get to the point I promise, whatever it is, will be the least of your problems compared to what I’m going to do. Now for the last time - spit it out!”
“I heard someone in the background. Someone shouted that they had me.”
“They had you? How long were you on the phone for, Frank?” He didn’t say anything. Clearly he was on the phone for too long. “They traced you?!” Again - he didn’t say anything. “Frank - talk to me!”
He nodded. “I think so. That’s when I dropped the phone and looked up. That’s when I noticed the camera watching the park. They’ll see me! I’ve got priors. You know that. You knew that when we planned this. They’ll know who I am!” I didn’t say anything. Frank was right. This was bad. If they get to him then there was a good chance that they’d be able to place him with me. After all - we met in the joint. Both released around the same time. Both hung around together before we planned this. This is bad. “What should we do?” he asked. I turned away from him and leant against the white van which we had used when we picked Tom up from his school. I felt sick to my stomach. I told him not to stay on the phone too long. I warned him that the police would be there - even if they didn’t speak to him on the telephone. Of course the police would have been there. Jesus Christ, he had clear instructions. Had he listened to them - me - everything would have been fine and we’d be one step closer to a substantial bit of cash. This van - we’re going to have to get rid of this van too. Easier said than done considering it was already the subject of a hunt - firstly because of the person who reported it as stolen and secondly because of the witnesses who reported it outside of the school that afternoon. “John...What should we do?” I walked over to the garage workstation and leant on it for as long as need be to allow this feeling of nausea to wash through me. I heard Frank approach me from behind, “I’m sorry - it was a stupid mistake.” It was. It was a stupid mistake. One which could have cost us the money and - more importantly - the freedom we have so long waited for. “John, did you hear me? I said I’m sorry.”
“No. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. I should have gone. I should have done it myself. As you said, it was a mistake. A silly mistake.”
I heard Frank audibly breathe a sigh of relief. “So what happens now? Is that it? I mean - we can’t just hand him over or let him out. He’s
seen our faces...I don’t want to go back to prison, man.”
“It’s okay,” I said, “we’re not going back to prison.”
“You have a plan?”
“Yes.”
“Care to fucking share it? I’m kind of freaking out here!”
“Okay...”
Without any further words I spun around and hit Frank on the side of the temple with the hammer I had quietly taken hold of whilst leaning on the workstation. I knew it had to be a good, hard hit to ensure he went down. Having seen him fighting, on many occasions, in the prison yard I knew that I wouldn’t stand a chance one on one - not in a fair fist fight anyway. As planned he dropped to the floor like a sack of shit; a funny noise escaping from his mouth. I raised the hammer again...
3.
... and brought it back down on his head. A satisfying crack as his skull gave way under the blow. I didn’t stop there though. I kept raising the hammer and bringing it down on the same spot again and again - even when his eyes looked as though they were lifeless, even when the twitching of his leg had stopped, I just kept hitting him. I needed to make sure he was dead. I needed to be sure there’d be no possible fight left in him. Only when I was one hundred percent sure did I drop the hammer and fall to my knees, next to where his blood pooled underneath him. A dazed state of mind. The guy was an idiot but, at the same time, he was my friend. I kneeled there, for a moment, wondering what to do next. I knew it was over before it had properly begun. Thinking about it, it was actually over as soon as Tom had pulled the werewolf mask off my head when I carried him into the van. A scared little boy reaching out caused me to think on my feet and pretend his parents had been involved in an accident and that I was one of his distant uncles, the only person available to look after him whilst his parents got better. A far fetched tale that most would laugh at - not a child though. Especially a child who was scared. Frank had wanted to finish it all there and then. He said we should abort our plans and just kill the kid but I couldn’t go through with it. And I didn’t want to either. Not a child. I’m bad but I’m not that bad. That’s why I stayed with the kid whilst Frank made the call back to his home. Had the boy not seen my face, I wouldn’t have had to make a lie up. I would have just tied and gagged him, leaving him in his make-shift bedroom upstairs until his parents paid the ransom. That was the idea. The lie and Frank’s reaction meant I had to stay with him though - to ensure no harm came to him. I had to stay with him and Frank had to make the phone call to his parents leading to this mess. It was over before it had begun.
I staggered to my feet and looked around unsure of what my next move was to be. I couldn’t stay here. The police would have already been at the park, scouring the area. The police would already be keen on getting hold of the CCTV footage. They’d see Frank’s face and, in a few hours at most, they’d know who he was and who his known associates were. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be knocking at my door - maybe even with a warrant to search the premises. Shit. I can’t stay here. The van, the body, the blood - even Frank’s car outside, in the driveway. Never mind the fact that Tom is upstairs. Shit! Tom! I hurried from the garage, into the kitchen and through to the hallway.
“Tom?”
“Can I come downstairs yet?” he asked. His voice came from up the stairs, in the direction of his bedroom. There I go again calling it his bedroom. Jesus. What’s wrong with me. He’s not my son. He’s not my relative. He is nothing more than a bargaining chip. One with no value, at that.
“How’d you like to go on a little holiday for a couple of days? Get out of this place and go exploring in the country?” He appeared at the top of the stairs, his tired face looking down at me, “What do you say?”
“What? Now?” he asked.
I nodded.
“With Frank?”
“Frank’s sleeping in the garage,” I lied, “but he wants us to go and have fun.” The fact it would just be the two of us would appeal more to the boy as he was scared of Frank. He hadn’t said as much but you could tell by his face whenever he was around him for too long. I had a feeling, had he known Frank was actually dead in the garage as opposed to sleeping, he’d have been happy about it. Not that I wanted to test my feeling out to see if I was right or not. At the end of the day a corpse is a corpse and it doesn’t matter whether you liked the person or not - it would still scare you. Especially when you were seven, or eight. “What do you say?” I pressed him for an answer even though he didn’t have a choice in the matter. I just knew it would be easier to have him agree to coming away with me. Less resistance. Less argument.
“Just the two of us?” he asked.
I nodded. “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? Go and put some clothes together and I’ll be up in a minute with a bag.” Tom didn’t need asking twice. He ran through to the room I had set up for him, out of sight, no doubt wondering whether he’d be getting more treats like trips to the parks and McDonalds. No sense telling him that trips outside of whatever country hotel we end up in are going to be extremely limited until we know whether the police are onto me or not. I hurried through to the kitchen, knowing time was against me, and fetched a carrier bag from one of the drawers. The evening I had snatched Tom from his school, I had bought a handful of outfits from the local supermarket. Nothing fancy, just cheap clothes that he could wear so as to be comfortable and relaxed. Because of the circumstances, I didn’t even think to buy a little bag for him! It was a spur of the moment plan of action. I mean, if it weren’t for the lie I had to make and the fact I needed him to believe he was staying with us for a while at the request of his parents, I would have originally left him in his school uniform. The thing is, when I purchased the clothes along with a few toys to keep him quiet, I didn’t mind because I knew I’d be making the cash back with the ransom. Now I know that’s highly unlikely I resented all that I had spent. Hell, I even resented the McDonalds!
I ran up the stairs, two at a time, and bounded into the room where Tom was pulling his clothes from the drawers. I threw the carrier bag onto the floor, next to his pile, and told him to use it to pack whilst I went and prepared my own clothes. He didn’t argue - too excited about where we were going to go on our sudden trip.
In my own room I didn’t even know where to begin. It was hard to say what I was going to need and what wasn’t required. Obviously, being cold outside on the run-up to Christmas Day, I’d need warmer clothes so that ruled out t-shirts but - how long would I be away for? And would I ever be coming home? If the police do put Frank and I together and come round here - to have a chat, if only to see if I know the whereabouts of my old friend - then I doubt very much that I’d be coming home. I’d have to run for as long as I possibly could - and that would mean I could end up needing t-shirts. It’s not as though I have the cash available to pop to the shops and buy a new wardrobe after I set myself up somewhere, with a new identity. If I had that sort of money...Well, I wouldn’t be in the mess that I currently find myself in. And if I do have to set myself up in a new life - how am I supposed to look after Tom when I can’t even look after myself. Although, I guess, at that late stage of the game, I could always let him go home again. I shook the thoughts from my mind. Now isn’t the time to be pondering such things. Now is the time to be getting the suitcase from my cupboard and filling it with as much as I possibly could. I opened the cupboard door and pulled the case down from the top shelf. A tatty case which had seen better days. Moth-eaten. A mental note to myself not to fill it with too much stuff for fear of the handle breaking and the contents spilling out. I threw it onto the bed and opened it up before reaching back into the cupboard and lifting out as many clothes as I could lift in one go - which I then dropped into the bag. Admittedly I could probably fit more in, had I folded them properly, but I was out of time and out of patience.
Tom called from the other room, “Finished!” A reminder that time was against me.
“I’m nearly done,” I called back to him. “Why don’t you pop downstairs and watch a bit
of television whilst I get the remainder of the bits together?” He never needed asking twice when it came to watching the television. I heard his footsteps as he ran down the stairs in what sounded like the fastest time he had ever gone down them. I sat on the edge of the bed and reached underneath for a tin safe that I kept there. With it firmly in my grasp I pulled it out and placed it on my lap; a stack of cash inside. Certainly not mega money but enough to last us for a week, or two. With the cash in my pocket I threw the empty tin back under the bed and scoured the room to see if there was anything else that I was missing. Nothing was standing out as important. I don’t have a passport to try and escape the country, I don’t have any more money laying around the house...I can get some food from the cupboards downstairs and throw it into the boot of the car to save a little money but definitely nothing upstairs that I’m missing. I froze. A thought had popped into my head. With my mind being pulled in so many directions - possibly knee-jerk reaction from a guilty mind - it was hard to tell if the thought was important or not but I figured it was worth taking a minute to decide whether it was worth listening to. A thought which told me to get rid of the body.
