Beyond Angel Avenue

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  The front door slams at 3.35p.m. and Joe walks in. “Most embarrassing day ever!”

  He strides straight into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. I shout from where I am in the living room, “What happened?”

  “She kept calling me Joseph!”

  “That is your name!” God, this TV is smeared, the bloody thing!

  “It was the way she kept saying it, like I’m… I don’t know.”

  I laugh. “She probably just feels awkward.”

  “She wasn’t the only bloody one! I might switch schools to avoid my mates commenting on her fine ass.”

  “Send ’em to me, I’ll duff ’em up for you, the little sods!”

  “Well, I’m gonna get changed then I’m meeting some mates for disco skating at the ice arena.”

  “Fine, as long as you’re back by nine.”

  He groans but knows that’s our rule if he wants to stay under our roof and not his granddad’s.

  I give up on the dusting and try to vacuum all the little yellow bits off but it’s only making things worse. I might have to try distracting her when she comes home.

  The door crashes shut again at 4.05 and she’s home with the twins.

  “Is he pissed off?” she asks, laughing.

  “I would say so.”

  She laughs harder. I can hear her in the hall, unbuckling the babies from their seats. “The little sod told his mates I can dance and they all came into class wearing paper tutus, the little shits.”

  “Oh my god!”

  She laughs. “Funny, really. Wasn’t gonna let him get away with it though.”

  “Least they have a sense of humour. Shows intelligence, doesn’t it.”

  She walks into the living room and catches me wearing a pinny and holding a feather duster. She looks around the room and grimaces. “Are you ill or something? I told you before never to dust. You’re useless at it.”

  My heart sinks. “Oh, thanks. And I suppose me getting you a takeaway tonight is a bad idea, too?”

  A flirtatious smile passes over her lips. “What’s that on your wrist, you ninny? What have you done to yourself?”

  I had forgotten all about it. “Don’t ask.”

  She frowns. “What the hell have you done.”

  She walks toward me, and I take Charlie, giving him a kiss and then Harry. They’re both munching on teether toys, their last teeth coming through. It’s Drool Central at the minute. With Harry on her hip, she lifts my wrist up to her eyes for inspection and demands, “Is that a bloody tattoo?”

  I huff, rolling my eyes. “Gawd, okay, yes. I don’t know… I don’t know how it happened. Amy’s guy was offering and I don’t know, I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking but it seemed like a good way to waste some time today.”

  She examines my face and I try to think about socks and pyjamas, not her body in that jumpsuit and how I want to pull it off.

  “Show me, right now. I think you’ve lost the plot. Warrick Jones getting a tattoo?”

  “Fine.” I lift the bandage and show her. She looks surprised.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  “He did a good job. Now we’re matching eh?” She smirks, plopping a kiss on my nose. In her heels, she’s slightly taller than me.

  I chuckle. “You like it? I’ll always have something to remind me of you, now, whenever times are hard or whatever.”

  “Why would times be hard?”

  I stare at her, willing myself not to reveal anything, even though it’s difficult.

  Joe enters the room. “Now then… oh. What the pig has he done?”

  My son laughs as he joins us, the babies staring around, wondering why everyone’s looking at Daddy’s silly wrist. “He got a tattoo?”

  Charlie laughs and Harry joins in.

  “I can’t do anything, can I? I don’t have freedom even in my own house?” I stand, annoyed with them all. They’re all laughing now. I replace the bandage and warn Joe with my eyes to do as he’s told, “Take the twins to the kitchen while I talk with Jules.”

  He nods, still laughing. When it’s just me and Jules, I pull her close and tip her over, kissing her hard. She clutches my shoulders for stability and I ram my tongue in her mouth and seize her bum in my hands.

  In her ear, I whisper, “I love you so much. Don’t ask me what I did today and why. Just let me and Kim do our jobs.”

  She covers her mouth with one hand as I pull her to stand with me. Smiling, she asks quietly, “She’s alive.”

  “Yes. She is. Please, don’t ask me to talk about this. Just let me do my job, Jules. Also, I think I got that over-painted secretary to move the sale of the farm along. We’ll have to wait and see, though. I gave her a bribe in the form of a cheque…”

  “…which will bounce!”

  I snicker. “I know!”

  She cuddles me to her, wrapping my hair around her fingers. “I’ll let you do what you must. I trust you. I trust you completely. Now, give me another kiss.”

  I don’t need to be asked. I pull her close and rub my mouth against hers slowly, our eyes fixed on each other. She reads my slight sadness though and she strokes my face, knowing without words there is danger and despair – and I’ll gladly face it alone for the sake of her safety and that of our children.

  ***

  The next morning, Kim calls me.

  “I had a thought,” she says, “we need to meet.”

  “It’s too dangerous, surely?”

  “Wear a hooded sweatshirt with a spare one of a different colour underneath. Jog up to the university and when you hit a crowd, lose the one you’re wearing and pull the hood up. Continue on to the sports fields and I’ll find you. I’ll be jogging too.”

  “Okay. Shall I bring this phone?”

  “Yep, leave your normal one behind, or switch it off.”

  “Okay.”

  I hang up and do as she says, immediately changing from jeans and t-shirt into my running gear. I put some headphones in my ears, set the house alarm and lock up.

  Half an hour later, I’m crossing the fields, running circuits around the perimeter. I’ve done around three circuits already and I’m worried she’s not going to show.

  Out of the blue, I feel a presence by my side and she warns, “You’ll burn out running this pace. Slow down.”

  I chuckle. “I’m like this when I’m on edge, I can’t slow down.”

  “Well, I can’t run like a loon, not at my age. Sorry I was late anyway,” she tells me, looking around, “just had to be sure you weren’t followed.”

  She’s wearing slim wraparound shades, her normal black hair pulled up and no make-up, so I can barely even tell it’s her, let alone anyone else.

  “So, what’s on your mind?”

  She jogs leisurely alongside me and we smile at other joggers doing circuits of the field. “I was wondering about the Uncle Jakey case. Did you receive monetary reward for it?”

  I nod. “I did.”

  “How?”

  “Bank transfer.”

  She breathes a sigh of relief. “I need to know the date, your account number and his. I need it, Rick.”

  “Sure, but will it be enough?”

  “We have to hope it will be something. Otherwise it’s just my word against his.”

  “And you’re just an investigator and he’s head of the organised crime division?”

  “Yep. And he’s got friends in high places.”

  I grunt. “I can’t believe I ever trusted him.”

  “Rick,” she chastises me, “we know how pencil-thin that line is. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. You know our people… we’re worked like dogs. The key is to snap the main link and break the chain, freeing everyone else. We get people like him for what we can. They never change. If they don’t get caught first time, they will do on another occasion. We need one of the weak links to crumble. Just one, but nobody is going to come forward. He’s too suited up.”

  “I’ll get the bank details to you
right away. What are you going to do?”

  “I need remote access to his laptop, both at home and at work. It’ll take a few days, but I’ll get the IPs for both. I have a friend who can help me, a friend I trust. From the numbers you give me, hopefully I’ll be able to determine which bank he uses for moving his money around. If I can trace the money back to known criminals or associates, we have him.”

  “It sounds bloody dodgy and dangerous. What if he finds out I gave you the account number? And how will you guess his password?”

  “I’ll just have to hope he’s stupid and doesn’t log out of his banking window.”

  “Kim, I’m just not sure.”

  “I know how you feel, but it’s not like we have any choice.”

  “He gave me drugs money for nailing a kiddie fiddler?”

  She nods. “I’m afraid so. Uncle Jakey knew about Ronnie. He was probably blackmailing him. There was no better hacker than Jakey which is what I could do with right now, but I’ll have to survive off my own merit.”

  “I feel like I wasted half my life and I don’t know myself anymore.”

  “He really had you convinced didn’t he?”

  I look at her seriously. “Why would I have suspected him? I thought all coppers were striving for the same thing? I thought–”

  “You thought a super who sent drug-addicted, depressed cops out into the narcotics field was striving to actually crack a case, did you?”

  I stare at her with cold disdain.

  She nods. “I looked up your medical records. You think the evil of this world did that to you? It didn’t, Rick. It was Fitzgerald, it was always him. He’s responsible for what you became. People like me should have our knees under the desk by the time we’re fifty. I’ve been put here because I’m the only one capable of bringing him down and everybody I worked with knew it. I’m good at this so you’ll have to trust me. I’ll do what I can.”

  “I wish I could do something to help.”

  She clears her throat, sweat starting to shine on her forehead. “You could…”

  “Yeah?” I sound eager.

  “Ask him for a drink. See how he behaves, see if he seems suspicious. If he’s feeling the pressure, he might actually turn to you, claiming he’s being set up. You never know.”

  “I don’t think–”

  “He might not know you know about his sideline. If you’ve been clever, he won’t know anything. After all, you’ve done everything he told you to do in the past. Why would you suddenly turn on him now? He probably has no idea you know.”

  “I’ll have to think of a cover, as to why I’m suddenly being pally after so long.”

  She folds her lips inside her mouth, deciding, “Say you’ve got marital issues. In fact, in doing that, he might loosen up on who his latest bitch is.” We run a bit more and she says, “Why’d you quit social work anyway?”

  “I wasn’t getting anywhere. It’s just one case after another and I can’t help people in the way I want to, not pushing them between institutions and counsellors and social workers.”

  “Admit you miss it, come on? Admit it.”

  She has me and I stiffen, which hurts my shins as I run. “I miss it. I just got so… empty, I suppose. So listless.”

  “So, you’re questioning why we’re going after this man… even when you know he didn’t take care of you when you were on the job, practically ripping your marriage apart and tearing away the career you loved when he could have saved you.”

  I don’t have a response, but I know she’s right.

  “We’re trained to know, Warrick. We all are. He would’ve seen you sinking despite you trying to hide it and yet, he let you carry on, didn’t he?”

  “I thought,” I touch my hair, “that’s what it was all about. The risk. I thought it was accepted, expected, I thought… I wanted… the challenge, the sense I was doing something good for people. The only work that ever gave me satisfaction was my community work.”

  “Hmm.” She slows and I sense she’s tired of running, so we begin walking fast instead to warm down. “When this is all over, you should work for me as a civilian case worker. Ad hoc basis. I could really do with you.”

  I grin. “You’re a contractor, then?”

  “I’m contracted and my department doesn’t even exist. When it comes to those who police the police, we’re shadows, ghosts.”

  “You remind me so much of Jules. Such tough cookies.”

  “No, I’m not,” she argues, grinning so her face wrinkles deeply, “Lorraine was though. She was two years older than me but we were in the same school year. That year I got moved up into year nine was the year she almost died of toxic shock syndrome. She forgot to remove a tampon after her period finished and it was inside her for almost a week before she got infected. I watched her writhe in agony, like the worst flu of your life. We thought she was going to die. I watched her fight, I watched my big sister battle, and I knew that I wanted to be like her and that if I had a brain, I should use it. By god, she loved dancing but that really set her back and she never really got over that illness. She never was as strong again. Maybe that’s why she took up drugs, to forget the physical strength she lost… the talent she had that was burdened by her weak body. She would’ve easily been a prima ballerina somewhere but she never regained her core strength. She never got over it but when Julianne came along, I know that was when she knew what her calling in life was. She knew with so much certainty, Rick.”

  I wipe my sleeve across my eyes and add, “I wish I could tell her all this.”

  “I advise you never do. Jules needs to let go, like we all do. That’s all she needs. So for now, you have to stay strong. You know, you’ve seen it all, Rick. You know what we have to do. You’ve not forgotten who you were, have you?”

  “No.”

  “So call him up. Let me know if you get results as will I.”

  “Okay.”

  With that, she breaks off and runs ahead of me, leaving me walking on my own.

  I run home with the wind whipping tears from my eyelashes, wishing for nothing but Jules in my arms.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Warrick

  “Jules, I have to go out…” I stand peeling spuds, rehearsing what I will say to her when she asks why. The house empty, I’m preparing dinner. “…why? Because, I’m off to meet an old mate for a drink.” She’ll tell me I don’t drink and then she’ll look at me suspiciously and I’ll look guilty and I’ll be forced to tell her I’m meeting Ronnie. So, I might as well just be upfront, hadn’t I?

  “Jules, I’m meeting Ronnie for a drink and I know you’ll be worried and you think it’s a bad idea and all that, but I just have to see if he might say something.”

  I don’t know what I’m even doing meeting up with him. I’m a useless liar these days. He’ll know something is dodgy right away.

  What the heck am I doing?

  I’m being idiotic. I’m never going to solve this unless I get myself together

  I need to remember who I am.

  Jules cannot know where I’m going.

  I have to lie through my teeth to everyone if I am to complete this task. I have to go against everything I am.

  I put the potato peeler down and call Ronnie.

  “Hey up mate,” he answers.

  “You alright?”

  “Yep, what’s up with you?”

  I clear my throat. “I need to let off some steam. What’s on your agenda tonight?”

  He laughs, then cuts himself off, realising how insensitive he sounds. He’s so false and I never realised until now.

  “Nothing that can’t wait. What’s the plan?”

  “Drinks and Purple Door?”

  “My kind of plan.”

  “Great, I’ll meet you at Pave at eight?”

  “I can do that. Catch you later.”

  “See ya.”

  Easy as that, it’s arranged. I remind myself why I’m doing this and decide to tell Jules I’m meeting Kim in
a secret location, to find out what else she knows. Jules doesn’t know I’ve already done that.

  I might as well text Kim to let her know my plans: Tonight. Pave. 8pm. Onto Purple Door. He doesn’t seem to suspect anything.

  KIM: Thanks for the update. Be careful.

  It’s settled then. I’m lying to my wife again and putting myself in danger in the process.

  Everything will be fine, surely?

  ***

  Jules accepted my explanation and now I’m approaching Pave in a taxi, wondering if I can hold it all together. If Ronnie tries to get me drunk, the plan will fuck up. I’m an absolute lightweight and even my wife can drink me under the table.

  Sure enough as I pay the cab driver, I see through the expansive windows of the trendy bar, Ronnie’s already stood with a round, waiting for me. I take a deep breath and head towards him, tipping my head to the bouncers as I make my way inside. I haven’t drunk or hung around here in years so I don’t recognise them and they don’t seem to know me but they may be familiar with Ronnie, unless his network really is so tight that he has enough people to hide behind.

  I’m wearing jeans and a standard shirt but Ronnie’s wearing a suit with no tie. The man with a Big Boss complex. As I stride towards him, I see a lot of women checking him out. They don’t give me a second glance. I have shaggy hair. I don’t wear expensive watches and I like Converse. Ronnie is only ever seen in winkle pickers.

  “Rick, how are you?” He shakes my hand, a firm shake, but I can match it. We’re not friendly enough for a man-hug or slapping each other’s backs. We might do that later when we’re drunk but right now, no.

  “A bit lost,” I tell him.

  He gestures at the drink waiting for me on the bar and motions we leave the bar rail for a seat at the window.

  Sitting opposite one another, we clink glasses and I thank him, “Cheers.”

  “So, what’s with the missus? Is she having another sprog or what?”

  I groan, hand on my forehead. Tonight, I’m a man with marital issues and he has to buy it.

  “Jules is all over the place. She’s struggled since her dad died and it’s her periods being random and the anxiety and stuff. We thought she was but it’s other stuff.”