The Devil's Blue Eyes

by Chris Sanders

  “Two grand? Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I counted it out myself before I came here. What a question! Don’t you trust your best friend?”

  “Two grand! Two grand!” Benny began to cry, throwing the money high up into the air and doing a little Irish jig about his flat. He then continued, “Two beautiful grand! My life is saved! I can live again!”

  Luke began to collect up all the falling notes and place them back into the envelope. Benny walked over and gave him a tight bear hug which nearly squeezed all the breath out of him. Luke managed to break free and resumed his seat at the dining table. He then said, “You’ll be in trouble again if you continue to throw it all around like confetti.”

  “Where did you get it? I thought you were broke too.”

  “You were right the first time. The girl came through,” Luke replied.

  “You’re a star! You know that, Luke? You’re a legend! I knew you’d come through for me. I just knew it. Hey! You want to go to the local bar for a few drinks? My treat,” Benny rambled on, his excitement still at fever pitch. He was already fumbling behind his couch in search of a shirt to wear. Luke was standing now. He hadn’t bothered to take off his jacket as he hadn’t planned on staying that long. He said, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last comment, Benny. I want you to go straight to the Gallagher brothers and pay them what you owe. Do you understand?”

  “Sure. Of course. I just wanted to thank you, that’s all. That’s the first thing I’m going to do once I find a shirt. I’ll go straight to them and pay off the debt.”

  “Is that a promise? I don’t want to hear you blew everything I gave you in the local bookmakers.”

  “It’s a promise Luke. I swear on my Mother’s life. I won’t let you down.”

  Luke could always tell when his friend was being genuine. He could sense that Benny was telling the truth.

  “Very well. I’ll leave you to it then. I have to be on my way now.”

  “You going already? You’re not even going to stay for a cup of tea? I bought a fresh pint of milk this morning. The least I can do is treat you to a fresh pint of milk,” Benny pleaded scuttling into the kitchen and filling the kettle. Luke followed him into the kitchen. He then said, “I have some other business to attend to, Benny. I really can’t stay too long.”

  Benny smiled, reaching into his cupboard and pulling out two large tea mugs.

  “You off to the dogs later, you old swine, eh? Looking to follow up on that lucky streak you walked into? I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you can double that two grand, right?”

  Luke leant himself in the kitchen doorway. He then said, “Something like that I guess, Benny. Something like that, old friend. I’ll be a good deal richer if I handle this piece of business well. I’ll say that much.”

  The kettle boiled; Benny grabbed a handful of teabags from their jar and dropped them into the mugs.

  “Oh, you don’t have to tell me what you’re up to. I’m sure it’ll work out just fine. You want two sugars?”

  “Two will be dandy.”

  Benny began to pour the milk into the mugs. He was looking out the kitchen window and into the estate below as he did.

  “You came just at the right time. A day later and I think I would have been horse meat.”

  “It wouldn’t have come to that.”

  “I’m glad you’re so sure about it all.”

  “I think from now on, Benny, you should just stick to playing poker with friends. A lot better for your health,” Luke quipped. Benny poured the hot water into their mugs and then placed them carefully onto the kitchen table. Both men sat down.

  “So, are you going to tell me where you’re rushing off to?”

  “I thought you said I could keep it all to myself?”

  Luke knew Benny would keep asking. He figured he’d tell him the basics and then fill him in on the details once he got back.

  “Ah, come on now, Luke. You know you can’t keep secrets from your best friend. Has it anything to do with that young lass you bought into the bar the other day? You sly old dog. I bet it has. I can see it in those crafty eyes of yours. Come on. Spill the beans. We have all afternoon.”

  Luke began to sip on his tea. It was strong. Just how he liked it. Benny had a lot of faults, but he made a damn good cup of tea. Luke had to give him credit for that. His friend sat opposite him now, his expression fixed on him, impatient for an answer.

  “Do I have to beat it out of you?” Benny then spoke.

  “You could try,” Luke replied, fishing about in his jacket pocket once again. He brought out the envelope for the second time and laid it flat across the kitchen table. He then opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of notepaper. Benny could see an address written in black ink across the notepaper’s top line.

  “Is that where you’re going?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s far. Is it for some sort of commission? A writing gig?”

  Luke took another sip from his tea. He savoured the taste, enjoying the sugar as it hit the back of his mouth. Leaning forward, he then spoke softly, “Let’s just say I’ve sort of switched careers. I’ll be doing a spot of private detective work.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Luke had intended to sleep that evening. Instead, having returned to his flat in Gypsy Hill, he’d found himself too restless and too excited for bed. His flat was nothing more than a large studio. He had a bed separated from the rest of the room by a tall partition he’d bought in London Bridge. He had a kitchenette in the far left-hand corner and a walk-in wardrobe across the back wall. There was a separate bathroom with shower and a door which led into a large space that he’d always used for laundry and storage. That was Luke’s studio. There was room for one bookshelf, a few feet from the kitchenette, that he’d stacked with old, dog-eared thrillers and horrors, each one purchased from second-hand book shops across the Capital. There was a desk too which lived beneath the studio’s solitary bay window. Luke had pinned a map of London across the wall next to the bay window.

  He’d sat at his desk for over an hour reading the note that Lena had left him again. She’d written down precise instructions. He was to travel to Warwickshire the following day. He was to stay near a village named Chatterton in the south of that county. He would be provided with accommodation. The note gave him the address where he’d be staying along with the number of a local cab firm once he’d arrived. Lena had also written down two other locations. They were: Chatterton Hall and the Isis home for children. There was a name he was advised to contact too. He was to speak with an Alexander Simmonds. Mr Simmonds would be found at the children’s home. There was nothing more written in the note. There was no explanation given as to why he should contact Mr Simmonds, or if Mr Simmonds even wanted to be contacted. Luke had toyed with the idea of phoning Lena but resisted. This was her goose chase and if she wanted to talk then she’d have to make the first move. He flipped off his desk lamp five minutes after midnight. He’d crawled into bed ten minutes later.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Travelling far?” the gentleman opposite asked unexpectedly an hour into their train journey. Luke had taken the train from Gypsy Hill directly to Victoria. From Victoria he’d then taken a cab to Marylebone station. He’d arrived in time to catch the two-twenty to Leamington Spa.

  The journey would take him a further hour. From Leamington Spa he would have to catch a second train to the village of Chatterton. This would take forty minutes.

  “I take it you’re going all the way to Leamington Spa too?”

  “That’s right,” Luke replied, not really in the mood for conversation.

  The gentleman opposite had a thick brown moustache. He was dressed in a dark suit with black shoes and matching leather gloves. He sat perfectly upright and spoke with a soft midlands accent. His hair was grey except for brown tufts behind his small ears.

  “Do forgive me. My name is Maxwell. Mr Maxwell Williams. I’m visiting family in Leamington S
pa. Such a beautiful town, isn’t it?”

  “It’s my first time,” Luke replied, trying not to encourage his new friend.

  “Oh, really? Well, you’re in for a treat, I can assure you. You won’t find a more beautiful town in the whole of Warwickshire. Infamous too, may I add.”

  “Infamous?”

  “The birthplace of Alistair Crawley.”

  “Alistair who?”

  “I see you’re not up to speed on your knowledge of the occult?” Mr Williams continued smiling broadly.

  “I must have fallen asleep during that lecture.”

  “Ha. Very good. It’s important to keep a sense of humour. A good sense of humour can help you through the most difficult of times. Are you visiting friends?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I see. Well, I hope they take the time to show you around the town. You’ll have such a pleasant experience.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure I will.”

  Luke turned to look out the train window. He hoped his new friend would get the message and leave him in peace. Mr Williams leant forward and tapped Luke on his knee with his forefinger. He said, “You know, I can give you the address of a friend of mine. She owns a wonderful restaurant in the old part of town. You would love it. She does a wonderful Italian!”

  “Well, I wasn’t planning on going out much to be honest Mr Williams. I’m here on work related matters you see. But I appreciate the offer.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I’ll give you her card anyway. If you happen to change your mind you should pay her restaurant a visit. You’ll simply love the food,” Mr Williams continued, taking out a card from his shirt pocket and handing it to Luke. Reluctantly, Luke took the card.

  “I’ll keep the card. I’ll not be staying long in Leamington if I’m being honest. I’m headed for a small village close by. A village named Chatterton.”

  Mr Williams sat back slowly. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long white handkerchief which he then used to dab his forehead. Replacing the handkerchief, he leant himself forward once again.

  “Chatterton? Interesting choice of location. Not much to see or do in Chatterton, my friend. Chatterton is a very old village indeed. It was mentioned in the Doomsday Text. She was around long before the Romans arrived too. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a larger town? A young man like yourself could get terribly bored in a village like Chatterton.”

  Luke grinned. He then said, “Like I told you, Mr Williams, I’m here on work related matters.”

  “Yes. Of course. You did mention that.”

  “If it’s all the same, Mr Williams, I have to go use the little boy’s room now. If you’ll excuse me,” Luke went on, tired of his new companion and wanting to be left alone.

  “Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, young man. I hope you enjoy your stay in our part of the world. Who knows? We may very well bump into each other again before your stay is finished.”

  “You never know,” Luke replied, gathering up his jacket. Mr Williams pulled his luggage case closer to his legs so as to allow Luke an easier passage. As he began to stand, Luke noticed a small piece of cloth sticking out from inside the case. The fabric was purple in colour. It looked like the beginning of a long robe or nightgown. Mr Williams noticed Luke’s observation and quickly pushed the case beneath his seat.

  “Have a good stay. It was good meeting with you,” he then replied, second guessing Luke would change seats. Luke nodded and made his way down the train’s narrow isle. He’d try and find an empty compartment further down. He didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment. He wanted solitude and the chance to think through his next moves. Pushing open his third compartment door, row after row of empty seats confronted him. Forcing his bag into the tight space above, he sat next to the window. An hour had passed since the train had pulled clear of Marylebone. It was approaching five. Already the light was beginning to fade outside. The landscape had changed beyond recognition too. Where before there had been apartment blocks and graffiti strewn walls, Luke now found himself watching fields, hedgerow and distant coppices passing by. It suddenly occurred to him that this had been his first foray out of London in four years. Perhaps the country air would do him some good? It certainly wouldn’t do him any harm. Having spent so many years in London his lungs were probably already half polluted. He kept his eyes on the passing scenery watching the sun’s slow descent behind distant woodland. A slither of bright red then sped across the night sky as the sun had finally submerged. Luke fell asleep with this image, with the side of his face pressed awkwardly up against the window. He didn’t wake again until they had reached Leamington. One of the more observant conductors had noticed their stowaway just in time. Luke had jumped sharply from his sleep as the conductor had tapped him on the shoulder. He’d thanked the conductor once he’d regained his bearings and alighted a minute later.

  It was cold that evening. He managed to locate the platform that would take him on towards Chatterton. He found a large, empty waiting room a few yards from the platform and sat himself inside. He had twenty minutes to kill before his second train would arrive. He tried to find something of interest to read inside the waiting room but without any luck. Like its interior, the room’s walls boasted nothing in the way of posters or information. There were no leftover newspapers to be read either. Luke cursed himself for not remembering to bring a book. Instead, he sat in silence recalling his first meeting with Lena in the hotel and smiling to himself. He’d call her once he’d settled himself in.

  The train arrived six minutes early. There were seven stops in total before Chatterton. He was about to leave the beaten track and the thought excited him. This would be his first experience of rural England. Luke stepped carefully from the platform. The train’s carriages were empty except for an elderly couple who sat at the very front of the first carriage. They nodded politely towards him as he passed by. He sat himself at the back of this carriage, directly behind the couple, and challenged himself to keep awake. He knew there would be no friendly conductor this time to wake him if he were to fall asleep. It was late and he didn’t fancy the idea of waking up in the middle of nowhere. The train’s engine soon flickered into life, the carriage lights momentarily flashing too as they then slowly began to pull away.

  Luke fell asleep five minutes into the journey. He slept soundly for a further twenty minutes before the elderly couple had tapped him on the shoulder. As luck would have it they were due to get off at the stop before Chatterton and had wanted to check on Luke. Feeling more than a little embarrassed, Luke had thanked them. Ten minutes after the couple had departed, the train had arrived at the Chatterton station.

  Luke stepped onto the cold platform. It was midnight. The station was empty. He waited for the train to pull away before walking towards the exit gates. The road he found outside was narrow and lined by thick hedgerow either side. A thin fog hung in the air that evening. Beyond the hedgerow, through this fog, Luke could see the distant houselights of Chatterton VIllage. He pulled out his mobile phone determined to ring the cab firm number Lena had written down for him only to find that his battery had died. He cursed his poor preparation and started to follow the narrow road instead. Lena had written down specific directions. He held the tattered notepaper in his free hand and began to read out the street names as he walked. Lena had promised him a cottage. As the freezing night air bit into his bones, he prayed she’d been telling him the truth. In all his years living in London he’d not experienced cold like this. Already his fingers and toes were beginning to turn numb. Soon, he reasoned, his hands would lose their entire feeling. Pushing these thoughts to the very back of his mind, he picked up his pace. Quite soon, the narrow road began to narrow even more, the distant houselights becoming even more distant. After further twenty minutes of walking Luke stopped. It seemed he was getting further away from the village and a mild panic began to set in. To make matters even worse, he had no way of contacting anyone. The station would be just as
cold too.

  Nervously, he scanned the hedgerow and fields which fell away on either side of him, his eyes quickly fixing on a distant copse of woodland. A few feet from these trees he spotted a barn and his spirits lifted. He could take a breather inside the barn and think up a new plan of action. If he could break in, it would certainly offer him more warmth than he was getting outside. He grabbed his bag and began to push his way through a gap in the hedgerow. The branches, each one tipped with smaller, sharper branches, ripped through the thin cloth of his jacket. His arms were cut in several places as he managed to reach the fields beyond. He looked towards the distant barn once again and could see that one of its doors was open.

  Not wanting to waste any more time, he began to jog across the field. He was exhausted by now and had to stop on two separate occasions to catch his breath. Halfway across the field he caught his foot in the mud and crashed into the soil, his head smashing against a cluster of small rocks which had been left exposed. For several seconds he lay motionless. The pain was intense. He could feel the familiar warm trickle of blood beginning to stream down the side of his cheek. Instinctively, he put a hand to his cheek and felt for the wound. The left side of his skull had been split open. He could feel the cut and it was deep. Somehow he forced himself to stand and tried to take a step. It was no use. His legs had gone. His head was beginning to spin quite badly too. It was at that moment, as he frantically scoured the field for any sign of help, that he noticed a pair of oval lights approaching him from the far end of the field. He squinted his eyes as the lights neared him, the sound of an engine growing more and more distinct.

  He fell to his knees in the mud, blood now pouring into his shirt collar and down across his waist. Something else then caught his attention. Something strange and eerily out of place with the rest of his surroundings. Just as he was about to pass out, as the pain in his head had become unbearable, he spotted a tiny doll in the mud next to him. The doll itself wasn’t unusual. The fact that she had been placed at the centre of what looked like a large chalk pentagon sent a sudden chill through Luke’s battered body. The unexpected sight unnerved him. He tried to climb to his feet but with no success. His legs merely buckled at the attempt. Soon, the lights were everywhere. There were muffled voices too and quite soon large shapes were appearing from behind these lights and walking towards him. He made one last effort to reach out his hands, to welcome his saviours but collapsed before he could even raise one of his hands. He fell into the cold mud, the blood from his wound seeping into his eyes. The doll was looking straight at him now. He could see its tiny face and enigmatic smile. Luke smiled back at the doll. Then everything went dark.