Outside Chance

by Lyndon Stacey

  ‘How’d you get the bugger to do that? All I’ve ever got is the story about kids doing him over for drug money, and I presume that’s not the story he gave you.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. But he didn’t know I was taping him. So then I offered him a large sum of money and the chance to get back at our mutual friend if he’d put his name to it. I just wish he’d got away before Truman cottoned on. I’m sure he thinks I double-crossed him.’

  Logan shrugged. ‘Looks like he dumped you in it, anyway. So they came here looking for the tape, is that it? And did they find it?’

  Ben shook his head.

  Logan looked round at the chaos.

  ‘So where was it?’

  ‘In my jacket. There’s a mobile phone pocket, here – beside the zip. Just about the only place they didn’t look. I was out all afternoon – Truman invited me over to lunch – so they had plenty of time to turn the place over.’ He remembered the trainer asking him to call in before he left Castle Ridge, and suddenly it all made sense. ‘I suppose they reported back that they hadn’t found anything and Truman let them know when I was on my way.’

  Logan strode over to the phone, pushed a couple of buttons, then shook his head. ‘No. Nothing there. An 0845 number, eight-thirty-five last night.’

  ‘The internet. Broadband hasn’t made it to these parts yet.’

  ‘So what’s on the tape? Is it enough to make trouble for Truman? Is there anything we can work with?’

  ‘No, not really. I’d be surprised if it would give any defence counsellor worth his salt any sleepless nights.’

  ‘So why on earth get yourself beaten up over it? Why didn’t you just hand it over?’

  ‘Because Truman doesn’t know that, does he?’

  Logan looked at him long and hard, then shook his head slightly.

  ‘I always thought you were a crazy bastard,’ he said. ‘Your landlord said they put something over your head, so I suppose it’s no good asking for a description.’

  ‘Yeah, this.’ Ben showed him the cushion cover. ‘One of them called the other one Spence, if that’s any help, but Mike might have got a look at them.’

  ‘I’ll have a word. You know, we really ought to get CSI to go over this place. There might be something we can use.’

  ‘Oh, God, no. They’ll take for ever and, at the end of it – even if you nailed Spence and his pal – you can bet they’re not going to lead you to Truman.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’ Logan looked speculatively at him. ‘So what are you going to do with the tape now?’

  ‘Well, I was thinking maybe I’d ask you to take care of it.’

  ‘OK. Can I listen to it?’

  ‘I assumed you would anyway.’

  Logan grinned.

  ‘Probably, but I’d rather have your permission.’

  ‘Yeah, go ahead.’

  They heard the front door open and close and shortly after Mouse came trotting in, looking slightly apologetic, as she often did. Footsteps approached from the hall, and suddenly Lisa was there in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

  ‘Ben? What’s happened? Mike says – Oh, my God, Ben!’

  Ben held out his hand.

  ‘It’s OK. I’m all right. It’s all over now.’

  Lisa came closer and stood looking down at him.

  ‘You don’t look all right.’

  ‘She has a point,’ Logan murmured.

  They both ignored him.

  ‘What happened? Were we burgled?’

  Ben hesitated.

  ‘No. Actually, it’s a bit complicated.’

  Sitting on the ruined sofa beside him, Lisa gave the impression of one who was prepared to wait.

  ‘Try me,’ she said.

  Ben took one of her hands in his, looked into her clear blue eyes and had absolutely no idea what to say. Had it just been the two of them it would have been hard enough, but with Logan hovering, it was ten times more difficult.

  His gaze dropped to their loosely clasped hands and he caressed her soft fingers with his thumb. When he looked up it was to see resignation spreading slowly over her face. She removed her hand from his.

  ‘Lisa … ’

  She stood up. ‘No it’s all right. We said we wouldn’t interfere with one another. I’m sure you have things to talk about with your friend. I’ll go and make some tea – if I can find the tea bags.’

  ‘Lisa … ’

  She left the room without looking back, and Logan raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I know it’s none of my business, but you’ll lose that girl, you know.’

  ‘You’re right. It’s none of your business,’ Ben said sharply; then, as Logan raised his hands to signify withdrawal, ‘Sorry, Mark. I’m not feeling my best. Don’t pay any attention to me.’

  When Logan and Mike left, some three quarters of an hour later, the worst of the debris had been swept up and deposited in three black bin bags which now sat at the entrance to the courtyard, awaiting collection the following morning.

  Lisa had worked solidly to restore order to the kitchen and bedroom, whilst Mike had picked up the smashed remains of Ben’s stereo system and CDs and attempted to seal the slashed sofa cushions temporarily with brown parcel tape.

  The wood-burning stove had been stoked up and was billowing heat, which, in his aching, shaky condition, Ben found a great comfort. His token suggestion that he help clear up was given short shrift, for which he was immensely thankful, and so he spent the duration of the operation lying full-length on the ravaged leather, wishing he was the kind of journalist that covered village fêtes and hundredth birthday parties.

  Logan had lent a hand with the clear-up but he never stopped trying to prise more information from Ben. Eventually, because it was on his mind, Ben asked him if he had any contacts in Hungary.

  Logan had stopped, mid-sweep. ‘Might have; why?’

  Ben hesitated, already regretting the impulsive query.

  ‘Er … I want to find out about a fatal car crash that happened nearly twenty years ago but I’m not sure where to start looking. I looked online but there’s not a lot in English, and nothing at all going back that far.’

  ‘And this is to do with …?’

  ‘I can’t tell you at the moment. It’s just a hunch and it could get someone in a whole lot of trouble.’

  ‘Would this have anything to do with the horse circus you’re spending so much time with at the moment?’

  Ben glanced sharply at him and Logan raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Actually,’ he said evasively, ‘It has to do with a jockey who used to ride for Castle Ridge. Can you help?’

  ‘You know Ford will have looked into that already.’

  ‘Mm. But nevertheless …’

  Logan regarded him steadily for a little longer and Ben braced himself for further questions, but thankfully they didn’t come. Logan merely made a note of the details, said he’d see what he could do, and then apparently lost interest.

  Once they were alone Lisa ran Ben a hot bath, into which he creakily lowered himself, grimacing as the water touched the cuts and sore places. The bathroom mirror had, predictably, been a casualty of Spence and Co., only its antique frame remaining intact, but in his current state Ben felt that this was quite possibly a mercy.

  Lisa found clean sheets for the bed, joined Ben in the bath, and then, afterwards, gathered together enough salvaged ingredients to make a passable shepherd’s pie.

  Ben ate slowly and without much appetite, his swollen lip making it awkward and his mind replaying the events of the day, over and over. He tried to concentrate his thoughts on the unexpected appearance of Truman’s illegitimate grandson and how this might affect the overall picture, but his subconscious kept returning with uncomfortable clarity to the utter, terrifying powerlessness of his recent ordeal. Closing his eyes against waves of recurring panic, he took a couple of deep breaths and opened them again to find Lisa watching him through eyes that were swim
ming with tears.

  ‘I can’t do this any more, Ben,’ she whispered and inevitably, the tears spilled over.

  ‘Lisa …’ he began, helplessly.

  ‘This isn’t what I want. Sharing your house and your bed when our paths happen to cross. I can’t pretend that’s enough any more.’

  ‘But you said … I thought that was what you wanted – what we both wanted.’

  ‘No, Ben! That was never what I wanted. I thought it was – at least, I thought it was better than nothing at all, but it’s not. I can’t do it any more. It’s just too hard!’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘No, how could you know? We never talk; not really talk, I mean, about things that matter. About how we feel. I have no idea how you feel. Is this enough for you, Ben, what we have? You’re thirty-two. Are you happy with how things are? Don’t you ever want more?’

  ‘Lisa –’

  ‘No, of course you don’t – silly question – you’re a guy, you’ll always take the path of least resistance where relationships are concerned!’ She was in full flow now, releasing emotions that had clearly been building up over a considerable length of time.

  ‘Lisa, hold on a minute –’

  ‘Well it’s not enough for me. I need someone who I can share things with; not just everyday things but other stuff, emotional stuff, worries, you know … ’

  Ben rubbed his forehead. He’d had no idea this was all bubbling away under the surface, but he couldn’t help thinking she could have timed it better.

  ‘Lisa, I’m here for you, you know that. You can always talk to me, surely – I thought you knew that.’

  ‘Oh Ben!’ She slammed the tabletop with her hand in frustration, making him wince and the cutlery rattle. ‘You don’t get it do you? That’s just the point: I can talk to you, but it should be a two-way street and you never talk to me! I never feel needed. I never get a chance to help you. Look at you now: you’re hurting, I know you are, but you won’t tell me about it. I never know what you’re thinking, or even what you’re doing, half the time. Who were those men today? What did they want? Why was Logan here? You see? I’m completely in the dark.’

  Ben put a hand over one of hers. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you felt that way. I never meant you to.’

  ‘Yes, well, I do,’ she said unnecessarily, but she left her hand where it was. ‘You’re so bloody self-sufficient, it’s like admitting you need someone is some kind of failure.’

  ‘I suppose I thought I was protecting you. That if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t worry. I didn’t want to load all my troubles on you.’

  ‘But I want to be there for you! Not just when things are going well but all the time. It doesn’t all have to be flowers and chocolates and candlelit meals, we’re past that now. Don’t get me wrong – it’s nice to be spoilt once in a while – but what I’d really like is to feel like I’m a part of your life. All of it.’

  Ben smiled crookedly. ‘Not often you hear a girl asking to be taken for granted!’

  ‘Oh, you know that’s not what I mean!’ she said.

  His heart-rate stepping up a notch or two, Ben took a deep breath.

  ‘You mean, for better or worse?’

  To his surprise, Lisa snatched her hand out of his grasp and stood up, her stool scraping back over the flagstones.

  ‘God, Ben, you’ve got lousy timing!’ she exclaimed, taking his plate with its unfinished meal and stacking it on her own before removing them both to the sink.

  Ben watched her in bemused silence. The proposal had been completely unpremeditated but genuine, nevertheless, and whether it was something to do with the battering he’d had or not, he couldn’t really fathom why Lisa had reacted the way she had.

  ‘I’m sorry …’

  She shook her head without looking at him. ‘No. Let’s just forget it. My timing’s pretty crap, too. You don’t need this tonight. I’m going to bed, I’ll do the dishwasher in the morning.’

  Left alone and deep in thought, Ben stared at the open doorway until he found himself nodding off, at which point he levered himself to his feet by way of the tabletop. Switching off the lights he followed Lisa to the bedroom, his stomach muscles reminding him, with every step, of the abuse they’d suffered.

  Between his physical discomfort and his mental state, it looked like being a long old night.

  15

  LISA WANDERED INTO the living room at eight-thirty the next morning wearing an oversized ‘Save the Rainforest’ T-shirt and looking heavy-eyed.

  ‘How long have you been up?’ she asked, finding Ben there before her.

  ‘Couple of hours. Couldn’t sleep and I was afraid I’d wake you.’

  ‘Not much chance of that,’ she said, yawning. ‘How d’you feel?’

  ‘Marginally better than I look.’

  ‘That’s not saying a lot,’ she commented, surveying him frankly.

  ‘Well, I’m all right if I don’t move, laugh, cough or breathe deeply. Sneezing is definitely out. Apart from that …’

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘I’ve had one – but I’m sure I can manage another, thanks.’ He held out his empty mug.

  When she returned with the brew, Ben patted the sofa next to him and she sat close, folding her legs up and resting her head on his shoulder.

  ‘About last night …’ he began, but she interrupted him.

  ‘No, please. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I think it was just the shock of seeing you like that. Forget it.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘No. You were right. I haven’t been fair. I guess it’s got something to do with my family stuff – you know, my parents splitting up and what happened to Alan. I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s probably the reason. But anyway, I’m sorry, love. It’s time I grew up.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, I’m in this relationship long-term, and I mean as a proper relationship, not a ships-passing-in-the-night affair. I can’t promise that I’ll get it right first time, but I promise I’ll try.’

  Lisa snuggled closer, the top of her bent head under his chin.

  ‘You know you’re a bastard with words? You’ve made me feel like a worm!’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame, I think I ate the last one yesterday,’ said Ben, apologetically.

  With his recent pledge in mind Ben spent the best part of an hour, over and around breakfast, filling Lisa in on the Cajun King case and all its attendant twists.

  ‘And you really think your Hungarians might have the horse?’ she enquired, as he told her of the link between Truman and Jakob Varga. ‘Where on earth could they hide him?’

  ‘That’s just it. If I’m right, they haven’t hidden him. He’s been on full view the whole time if anyone had thought to look.’ He told her about the part the ‘wild’ horses played in the performance. ‘They all look alike: all roughly the same size, no markings – just a bunch of brown and bay thoroughbreds milling around. You don’t pay them much attention; it’s all about the white horse that’s controlling them.’

  ‘You say Cajun King has white markings, but I suppose those could be dyed out.’

  ‘Yeah, but the problem would be his mane and tail. All these horses have long manes and tails; his mane is trimmed short and his tail is quite frankly pathetic. Look.’ He took the print Truman had given him from his wallet.

  Lisa took it and studied it thoughtfully.

  ‘I suppose – this is going to sound daft – but I suppose you can’t do hair extensions on horses, can you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of that. I don’t see why not; it’s hair isn’t it? What’s the difference?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, but then I’m not a hairdresser.’

  ‘No,’ Ben said with rising excitement. ‘But Jeta is! Nico’s sister. And if he’s involved there’s no reason to think that she couldn’t be. Lisa, you’re a genius!’

  ‘Well, thank you. I try,’ she said, smiling. ‘But if they have got the horse, it must
be a million-to-one chance – I mean, you already doing an article on them and then Truman asking you to look into his disappearance.’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ Ben agreed. ‘And, actually, I’d far rather I wasn’t involved with the Csikós because the worst of it is, I like them a hell of a lot more than I like Red bloody Truman!’

  ‘I’m not surprised. But if you’re so sure he sent those men round here last night, can’t you tell the police?’

  ‘I did. I told Logan, but you see, I’ve got no proof.’

  ‘But you’ve got the tape. The one they were sent to find.’

  ‘Yeah, but I doubt it would hold up on its own, and I don’t think we can rely on Lenny Salter standing up in court to tell his story, not that I blame him. Besides, even if he did, it would only be his word against Truman’s; he’s got no more proof of what he said than I have. Probably the most we’d achieve is a bit of bad publicity for Truman, and a whole load of trouble for ourselves.’

  ‘So what happens next?’

  Ben sighed.

  ‘Next I have to find out for sure if my Hungarian friends really do have King and, if they do, try and persuade them to give him back.’

  ‘Just like that.’

  ‘Mmm. Well, something like that, anyway. It’s the only way I can see that they’ve got a hope of getting out of it. They’ve been lucky so far but it can’t last.’

  ‘You won’t go on your own?’ Lisa frowned. ‘Look what happened at that animal lib place.’

  ‘I’ll be all right. I can’t see Jakob turning nasty.’

  ‘But the others … You said yourself he couldn’t have done it on his own.’

  ‘No, he couldn’t have. In fact, Ian Rice said there were three of them when they pulled the lorry over. But Jakob is a kind of patriarch; they all respect him. It’ll be OK.’ As he spoke, Ben remembered something else. Ricey had reported that the hijackers had guns. He’d forgotten that, but, in spite of his promise of openness, he didn’t think it was something Lisa needed to know. There was a limit to sharing, after all.

  Lisa patently wasn’t happy but she let it go, asking instead what he meant to do about Truman.

  He shrugged. ‘Not much I can do, really. But it’ll be interesting to see his reaction when I turn up – all outraged innocence – with my tale of violent burglars.’