The Devil's Blue Eyes

by Chris Sanders

  “Would you like another drink, Luke?”

  “No thanks, Ronan.”

  Ronan began to wipe down Luke’s table. Ronan had put in a full twelve-hour shift that day and now his once pristine white shirt was covered in yellow beer stains. He looked a lot older as of late too. Luke had already noted the grey in his friend’s thick red hair. Ronan’s father had passed away two months previous. Ronan had always been close to his father and Luke figured he was still struggling with the loss. Flanagan’s had always been a popular Irish bar, but recently, custom had also fallen off. Ronan’s father, Patrick, had run the pub for forty years previous. The old-timers were his best and most loyal customers. Now that Patrick had passed away it seemed his friends had also drifted off.

  “I don’t want any trouble like the last time, Luke. You hear?”

  “Last time was a freak of nature, Ronan. Benny will behave. You’ll get a nice cut later. Don’t worry. We’ve always looked after you and your dad in the past, haven’t we?”

  “Just as long as you know, Luke.”

  Ronan was just as crooked as Patrick had been. He liked a good hustle as long as it didn’t get out of hand. He only ever took a small cut from the sharks who played his hall and always turned a blind eye to the late night card games which often began in the booths after midnight.

  “Just bring me a plate of your lovely peanuts Ronan. Okay?”

  “Okay. Coming up.”

  “And another cold beer.”

  “Sure. And you’ll be paying for this one too?”

  “Of course,” Luke replied with a cheeky grin.

  Ronan pottered back to the bar. Luke looked over to where Benny stood. He was looking nervous, which made Luke feel anxious. He tried to get Benny’s attention with a slight nod of his head, but Benny was back taking pot shots on the pool table and didn’t spot his friend’s gesture. Benny had never let him down in the past, but today his old friend wasn’t quite on the ball and Luke had started to think about leaving their hustle for another day. Confidence was everything in this game and right now Benny looked far from confident. Luke reached to pull his jacket back on, glancing towards the group of tourists who were still ordering their beers. He eyed the two women and their three male chaperones. The women were a lot younger. The guys were maybe in their late fifties. Luke knew from experience it was easier to hustle with this sort of group dynamic. The older guys invariably would want to show off in front of the young ladies and would often bet more than they could afford.

  “Damn it Benny,” Luke whispered. “Come on, son, get your head together.”

  Finally, Benny had turned from the pool table and noticed Luke staring at him. He gave Luke the thumbs up which didn’t convince either of them. By now the group of tourists were already making their way over to where Benny and the pool tables were situated. Decision time. Slowly, Luke gave Benny the thumbs up in return. Now it really was time to get into character. Benny would act drunk and challenge the tourists to a few games of pool. He’d offer a friendly bet of twenty if he lost and, as planned, would lose all his matches. That’s when Luke would amble over. He’d bet Benny two hundred he could beat him by three clear balls. Benny would be acting so inebriated by this point the other guys would typically match Luke’s stake. Luke would then throw the game. It was simple but also risky. Sometimes the marks didn’t want to pay and all hell would break loose. That’s why Luke always took his time to pick their marks carefully. This wasn’t a Hollywood movie and Benny was no action hero. Luke could handle himself, but he’d been out of shape for some time now. No, it was better to stay patient and select the right guys for the right hustle. Luke necked the final drops from his bottle and stood. He’d loiter by the bar for a few minutes and watch Benny at work. He’d keep a safe distance until a few games had been lost. Then he’d make his way over.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Luke had smelt the girl’s scent a fraction before she’d opened her mouth.

  “Well?”

  “Lena?”

  “I like a man who remembers the important things. I’d also like a seat right now.”

  “Sure…”

  “Thank you.”

  “But…No…Wait…”

  Luke glanced nervously back towards Benny.

  “Is there a problem, Mr McGowan?”

  Lena was seated now, her petite pale face in stark comparison against the dark green sofa head behind her. “Well? Are you not happy to see me? I came a long way to find you.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  Lena smiled. A thin smile.

  “I can always leave if it would please you, Mr McGowan. Just say the word…”

  Slowly, Luke sat back down opposite Lena.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Is it so important?”

  “I like to know how my stalkers operate.”

  She smiled again. This time with warmth.

  “I like you Mr McGowan. Do you know that?”

  “I’m beginning to think so.”

  “I made a lot of effort to find you. I hope you can appreciate that.”

  “Under different circumstances I would. Unfortunately, your timing is very bad.”

  “I can hold my drink too Luke. I won’t hold you back.”

  “I’m not here to drink Lena. I’m working right now.”

  “Working?”

  Luke glanced back towards Benny and the marks. It looked as though he’d already lost the first game. It wouldn’t be long before Luke would have to make an entrance.

  “That’s right Tinkerbelle. I’m working. Some of us have to. We’re not all born with a silver spoon in our pretty little mouths.”

  “Such a charming man.”

  “I try. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, are you going to tell me what’s going on? I’m dying of curiosity.”

  “I need help Mr McGowan. To put it simply.”

  “I’d say you needed help alright.”

  “Oh, I do like you Mr McGowan. Such a way with words.”

  “Just get to the point Lena. I’m through with all your riddles.”

  “Very well. I’ll put it simply. So you can understand.”

  Slowly, Lena began to slip off her white gloves. Her hands were tiny and delicate.

  “I did a little more research on you. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “I’ve never sat opposite a jailbird before.”

  “Ex jailbird, Lena. Ex.”

  “You boxed too. You could have turned pro.”

  “Could have. Should have. I got distracted. Fast women with expensive tastes. I lacked discipline.”

  “You need to sharpen up Mr McGowan. Play harder to get. A girl likes a challenge…”

  “Can you just get to the point, Lena? I’m beginning to lose the will to live.”

  “I ran a credit check on you too, Luke. Was that bad of me?”

  “Now I am starting to get mad. I’m not sure I’m liking all this attention.”

  Lena leant herself forward. With her elbows now resting across the table, she spoke, “I need your help. I need you to help me find someone.”

  “Someone?”

  “My little brother to be precise. I want you to help me find him.”

  Luke recalled the hotel dining room. Once again, he could see the photos lining the lounge wall. Lena’s little brother was quite clear in his mind’s eye.

  “Find him? I don’t follow Lena. What happened to your brother? When did he go missing?”

  She composed herself. “Yesterday.”

  “Well, did you contact the police?”

  “No police, Mr McGowan. That won’t be necessary.”

  “You’re losing me here Lena. I’m not a detective. Is this some sort of game you’re playing?”

  “No game Luke. I’m dead serious. My little brother was taken from our family home and I want you to get him back. You’re a journalist. You have the skills. I need someone I can trust. You’re prett
y handy with your fists too. You have what I’ve been looking for.”

  “Go to the police.”

  “No police. I told you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know who took him.”

  Luke hesitated. For a second he felt genuinely speechless.

  “Right. You know who took him? Then maybe you should go and get him?” he whispered back, glancing again towards Benny and the marks. Benny was looking straight at Luke now wondering why his friend still sat at the table and wasn’t helping him to hustle.

  “You know, I was hoping you would take my plea for help seriously, Mr McGowan. I can see now I was mistaken.”

  “Who’s taken your brother, Lena? Why? And why do you think this has anything to do with me?”

  “My Uncle took him. Spencer Chatterton. How can I put this? He had my kid brother and our mother removed.”

  “Removed? Why would your Uncle do such a thing?”

  “I can explain.”

  “I’m sure you can, but this really isn’t a good time for explanations.”

  “Isn’t the life of a young boy important to you?”

  Luke suddenly looked uncomfortable. She really had done her research.

  “Well?”

  “Just get to the point Lena.”

  “It all started two years ago. My Father passed two years ago this week. My step-father, I should say. My biological father died a year after my birth. Mother married Frank when I was ten.”

  “I’m sorry on both counts.”

  “Oh, don’t be. I never knew my real father. I disliked Frank. We were never close. We put up with one another. That’s the best way you could describe our relationship. We endured each other,” she continued dryly. “Nothing unique about that I suppose. I’m sure plenty of families go through the same drill.”

  “I guess.”

  “We were too much alike, you understand. Both of us liked to get our own way. Looking back I suppose we had a strange, twisted sort of respect for one another. There was no warmth between us however. Not like you’d want between a step-father and his adopted daughter. There was distance. We knew a lot of distance lay between us.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, when my little brother was born I was only eleven, you see. When Lee was born I suppose I didn’t much like the idea. I knew, even then, Frank would adore him. I was right, too. He did. From the very first moment he saw him. Lee was his favourite. I remember hating him. Lee that is. Isn’t that awful, Luke? How could anyone in their right mind hate a defenceless baby?”

  “It’s not so unusual, Lena. Sibling rivalry and all that. You were just a child. I’d give yourself a break.”

  “Perhaps. I’ve just always thought how cruel it was to have had such feelings. It’s terrible. I’m really not a mean person, Luke, you see. I don’t have a nasty bone in my body. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea of me.”

  Luke was readying himself for a reply when he felt a heavy hand upon his shoulder.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you here, Luke?”

  Benny was peering down at him now. He looked more than a little annoyed. Behind him, the marks were already leaving the bar. They were smiling. Luke reasoned they’d probably taken Benny for a couple of hundred or so.

  “I lost the games.”

  “Benny…”

  “You owe me now McGowan.”

  “Look. Can you give me just a sec here, Benny, please? I’m with an old friend.”

  Lena already stood to leave.

  “Lena?”

  “I can see you have things to discuss, Mr McGowan. It’s not a problem, really.”

  “Sit back down. We haven’t finished our chat yet.”

  From her tiny, black purse, Lena plucked out a business card and placed it across Luke’s beer mat.

  “If you need me, Mr McGowan, you’ll find me here. I was serious about my offer and I’ll be paying well. Have a think about it. I was telling the truth about that little credit check, so I know you need the cash right now. Let’s just say I’ve also taken a shine to you.”

  “Lena…”

  Luke thought about following her but instead picked up the card and simply watched her walk out the bar. Benny slumped himself opposite.

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “I told you. An old friend.”

  “Your old friend just cost us one hundred pounds. You should keep better friends.”

  “Thank you Benny,” Luke replied dropping the card into his jacket pocket.

  “She’s an attractive girl. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “Nothing important.”

  “Forgive me for being so observant, but I’m sure I heard something about money.”

  “You heard correct.”

  “Well, as we’re business partners and everything I was thinking that maybe you’d like to bring me in on the deal. I mean, we came here to make money and you went and screwed that one up.”

  Luke picked up his beer and took another drink.

  “We’ll make back our losses, Benny. Be patient. Go grab yourself a beer and stop fretting. You know you always hustle better when you’ve had a few beers.”

  “And the girl? Are you going to tell me what that was all about? I’m curious by nature, you see.”

  Luke grinned.

  “I told you. Go grab yourself a nice, cold beer.”

  3 - Pillow Talk

  Luke stood beside the tram’s door. The tram was full. He’d noticed one spare seat at the very back but hadn’t wanted to sit next to anybody that Sunday morning. He was feeling uncomfortable. It was a feeling he was used to. The short tram journey from East Croydon station to the Harrington Road stop always made him feel uncomfortable. He supposed it was entirely normal to feel that way whenever a person went to visit a loved one who’d passed away. It was, he reasoned, the graveyard’s job.

  “Ticket please, Sir.”

  Luke waved his all-day pass in front of the conductor. The old man barely registered the card, expert at spotting incorrect dates, and then simply shuffled down along the tram. Luke took the same tram route once every month. He’d kept up the routine for over ten years. He’d only ever missed one trip. In the beginning, in those early months after his brother’s death, he’d visited the graveyard perhaps only once every six months. It had been easier that way. He’d never been one to hide away from difficulty, quite the opposite, but the sudden death of his kid sibling had hit him very hard. More than that. Luke blamed himself for what had happened. That was the simple truth. Grief and guilt were the two emotions that slapped him whenever he stepped clear of the tram and stood facing the graveyard’s dilapidated iron gates. He could have done more to prevent what had happened and he would never shake that knowledge off.

  “Excuse me, mate.”

  One of the tram’s passengers pushed himself past Luke as the doors opened. Luke stood to one side. Harrington Road would be the next stop. The Graveyard, hidden and sprawling behind a thin line of coppiced trees, was but a few seconds walk from the tram stop. Luke held the tram’s railings tightly as they moved off. It never got easier. With each visit the same feelings would resurface. He’d become better at managing them over the years, but he knew they would never quite leave.

  “Awful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

  “Sorry?”

  Luke was still far away in thought as the old lady had spoken.

  “The clouds. Look at them. Grey and heavy. We’re in for a bad winter, love. I can feel it. We’ll have snow up to our knee caps.”

  Briefly, Luke studied the clouds. The old lady was spot on. He pulled out a small travel umbrella from his satchel and, forcing a smile, sauntered away.

  “All the best to you, love.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Luke knelt before the gravestone. His brother’s grave sat at the very back of the cemetery. It had taken Luke twenty minutes to reach the spot, so vast was the Harrington road graveyard. He carefully placed the flowers
he’d bought against the white marble. He then pulled out a thin plastic bag from his satchel and began to remove what remained of last month’s flowers. He picked up each stiffened petal leaf as if it were glass. He had observed the same careful ritual each month. It never got any easier. As the years had slipped by Luke had never been able to shake off the feelings of guilt and pain. If anything, these feelings had intensified over the years. Each morning Luke would wake with an uncomfortable knot in his stomach and a string of hazy memories flooding his mind. Each morning for ten years. Without fail.

  “I’m sorry little buddy,” he whispered, his fingertips feeling their careful way across his brother’s engraved name. “I’m sorry Elliot.”

  Elliot McGowan. His only sibling. His younger brother by sixteen years. The younger brother he’d always longed for while growing up. The younger brother he’d sworn to protect no matter what. His kid brother. The baby of the family. The child who would go on to University and land a respectable job in the city or become a doctor. That’s how Luke’s parents had envisaged their son’s progress. A far cry from their unruly first born. They didn’t want another failed boxer on their hands, that was for sure. Luke had failed them in that respect. He shuddered to think how much money his father had spent on his education. He could still see his father’s worn expression when he’d learnt of his son’s second expulsion from school. He could see his Mother’s tears too, such had been her disappointment. Her expression often stuck in Luke’s mind. He couldn’t shake his mother’s disappointed eyes either. He would make them proud one day. He just had to figure out how.

  “Rest easy little brother,” Luke whispered into the cold stone. “Rest easy.”

  It would be time to go soon. He never liked to stay too long at the graveyard. Luke was a man of habit and he liked to stick to his little routines. He would usually sit next to his brother’s grave for twenty minutes or so. It was long enough, he’d found, to experience again all the familiar feelings of guilt and anger which had plagued him down the years. It was, he’d come to reason, his penance. He sat for several minutes longer, watching as the early morning sun began to rise above the gravestones before. With a final touch with the tip of his finger against the cold stone, he stood and turned for the gates. He would be back, he reasoned, the following month.