Darkhouse jl-1

by Alex Barclay

  He watched her as she sat back in the seat. ‘Thanks so much for stopping, sir, thank you,’ she said. Her face was flushed and slick with sweat. Her breathing was heavy. She pushed back her hair and tried to smooth it down, catching a wiry strand in one of three tiny gold hoop earrings.

  ‘What happened?’ said Joe.

  ‘Some maniac attacked me! I was going for a walk and he just came out of nowhere.’ She stared at him with wide eyes. ‘I think he was going to rape me,’ she added. Joe took in her bulk. The seats of the Jeep were wide, but she was filling hers and almost spilling over. Only a very large man would try to tackle her down. Maybe that’s why she’d got away.

  ‘I need to get to a hospital. He stabbed me. With a knife.’ She looked amazed. Then a strange flash of anger passed across her face as if she was about to finish with, ‘The asshole.’

  ‘Show me,’ said Joe, nodding at her arm. She hesitated. ‘I’m a police officer,’ he said.

  She pulled back the sweater wrapped around her arm and he saw a deep slash stretching diagonally across her fleshy forearm. It was a clean slice, delivered – Joe imagined – with quick downward force as she was raising her arm to deflect it. He started the engine and turned to her.

  ‘You’re gonna be just fine,’ he said. ‘But I can’t take you to the hospital. I have a meeting—’

  ‘A meeting? You’re a policeman!’ she said. ‘You can’t just—’

  ‘I’m off duty,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. What I will do is leave you at the garda station and the sergeant in there, Frank Deegan or the guard, Richie Bates, will take you to the hospital. Tell them Joe Lucchesi left you off.’ He glanced down at the clock. He was already three minutes late as he turned onto the main street and pulled up outside Danaher’s.

  ‘It’s over there,’ he pointed. She didn’t get out of the car. He couldn’t ask her to, so he climbed out and ran around to her side, opening the door and guiding her gently by her left arm.

  ‘Everything’s gonna be OK,’ he said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you. I’m sorry I have to leave you here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re very…kind.’ She looked like she was going to cry. He hopped back into the Jeep, did a swift U-turn and headed for the cliff. Four minutes late. Adrenaline surged through him. His hands started to shake. He stepped out of the Jeep and looked at the empty space around him.

  D.I. O’Connor sat at his desk with a row of files open in front of him. Everything he read was irritating him. There were six members in the Drug Squad and it was clear that nothing they had done over the previous year had amounted to anything. He knew this already, but reading it now – in one sitting – for the first time in months made him wonder. Since he had left them, where did it all go wrong?

  ‘Uh-ohhh,’ said Duke. ‘Who’s showed up late for the party?’ Joe’s heart sank.

  The call didn’t sound like it was being made outdoors. Joe looked around, but the car park was empty – no cars, no people.

  ‘You can’t just—’

  ‘I can do what I like, buddy,’ said Duke. ‘I’m the one with the little froggie here. She’s cute too. Ribbit. Ribbit.’

  Joe was at a loss. ‘I…c’mon, man. I’ll give you whatever you want.’ He paced up and down in front of the car.

  ‘I wanted you to be here at three-thirty.’

  ‘It’s just three-thirty-five.’

  ‘Uh-huh, which is why I’m telling you YOU ARE LATE FOR THE PARTY. You shouldn’t have stopped for the girl, you fuckin’ sucker.’ He hung up.

  Joe tried hard to slow his breathing. He focused on the view. From high on the cliff above the harbour he could see just a small part of the village. And the road to Shore’s Rock was invisible after the first curve it took out of town. Joe frowned. From where he stood, it was impossible to see the place where he had stopped for the girl. All Rawlins could have seen was Joe’s car driving toward Danaher’s, but he wouldn’t have been able to make out a passenger. Unless Duke had never intended to bring Anna here and was watching him from an entirely different location. Joe jumped into the Jeep and drove out of the village, stopping at intervals along the route he had taken. He ran along the trees that bordered the road, looking for any sign that Duke Rawlins had been there. He didn’t want to think that Anna could have been metres away from him all this time. But he couldn’t see how. He took the turn into Shore’s Rock and drove cautiously up the lane. When he got into the house, he dialled the station.

  ‘Hi, Frank? It’s Joe. I was just checking in with you, wondering if that young girl got to the hospital all right.’

  Silence.

  ‘Frank?’

  ‘What girl?’

  ‘The one I left outside Danaher’s. With the stab wound. I told her to go into you. She, she needed an ambulance. I had to – Jesus, I hope she didn’t collapse…’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joe. I’ve been here all morning, no-one has been in and no-one has collapsed outside Danaher’s. I think I’d have heard about it. Are you OK? Joe?’

  Joe pictured the girl lying on the pavement bleeding out. Then he imagined Frank standing at the counter in the station thinking he was out of his mind. And then it hit him.

  ‘Gotta go,’ said Joe.

  He ran to the den, grabbed the Harris’ Hawk book, scanned the index, then flipped to the page he was looking for. His finger moved under the words as he read; ‘hunt collaboratively’, ‘working in pairs’, ‘observing from a height’, ‘one flushing out, the other attacking’. He picked up the phone and put another call into Frank.

  ‘Sorry about earlier,’ said Joe. ‘Total confusion. Just wondering…you know your missing girl from Tipperary? She’s on your bulletin board? Big girl?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Frank. ‘Uh, Siobhán Fallon.’

  ‘That’s the one. Can you check the photo and give me the distinguishing features bit?’

  ‘Well, we have large mole on left shoulder, pierced navel, three gold hoops in right ear.’

  Joe felt a surge of heat to his face. Nausea swept over him. Then anger. Then rage.

  He managed to thank Frank and hang up before he asked any questions.

  Frank turned to Richie. ‘I’ve just had the strangest phone call. Joe Lucchesi wanting to know the distinguishing features on that Fallon girl.’ He pointed to the missing person poster. He frowned. ‘Can you explain that?’

  Shaun came home for lunch and didn’t want to go back to school. He was hoping Anna would be there but the house was empty and cold. He sat in the kitchen, too numb to fix something to eat. He looked up when the doorbell rang. There was no way he could answer it. He was under orders. It rang again. Then someone knocked loudly on the door.

  ‘Mrs Lucchesi?’ He spoke in a thick Dublin accent and was pronouncing the name Le Chessy. Shaun moved towards the voice, debating what to do. He could see a man standing at the glass by the front door. He was waving a clipboard and pointing at it. Shaun almost laughed. There was no way this chubby delivery man was anything other than harmless.

  Shaun slid open the door. ‘I’m here with your balloons,’ said the man.

  Shaun looked shocked.

  ‘Jaysus,’ said the man, looking at his clipboard. ‘You’re not the bloke the surprise is for, are you?’ He read his sheet. ‘Oh no, you’re not.’ He glanced at Shaun. ‘You definitely don’t look forty to me.’ He laughed.

  ‘Uh yeah, it’s my dad. They’re for him.’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to look that miserable when you’re giving them to him.’ The man laughed and Shaun thought again how strange it was that life for everyone else goes on, no matter what is happening in yours.

  ‘Are these paid for?’ he managed to ask.

  ‘Luckily for you they are,’ said the man, ‘judging by the panic on your face there. Don’t worry, your mother covered it.’

  ‘Is she here?’ asked Shaun, excited. He craned his neck around the porch to look down the lane.
>
  The man frowned. ‘Eh, no. It was by credit card, over the phone.’

  ‘Today?’ asked Shaun, his eyes wide.

  ‘No,’ said the man. ‘Last week.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Shaun.

  ‘You must be very close,’ said the man, frowning. He nodded to the van. ‘Where do you want them?’

  Shaun looked around as if he’d find his answer in the trees.

  ‘The lighthouse over there,’ he pointed.

  The man contemplated the walk. ‘Eh, I think you can handle it yourself, bud. There aren’t that many.’ He went out to the van and grabbed three clear plastic covers, tied in a knot at the bottom, each one covering a bunch of five helium balloons. They were weighted down with a small navy balloon filled with sand. Happy 40th was written across them.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Shaun.

  ‘Hey?’ said the guy as he walked away. ‘Cheer up!’

  ‘Your wife lied to me,’ said Duke. Joe could hear a loud slap down the phone line. ‘So I taught her a lesson.’ Slap. ‘Your wife tried to tell me she was leaving you, so’s I wouldn’t hurt little Shaun.’ Slap. ‘Your wife insulted my intelligence.’ A final slap.

  Joe’s tone plunged ice-cold. ‘Enough about my wife, Rawlins. Let’s talk about yours.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1991

  ‘You look mighty pretty,’ said Vincent Farraday. ‘Let me take your hand.’ Wanda Rawlins was wearing a lilac suit with a pencil skirt to her knee, white stockings and white court shoes. She bent low as she stepped out of the car, holding her lilac hat against the breeze.

  She looked around at the small clapboard church and the arch of white roses at the entrance.

  ‘It’s so beautiful, Vince,’ she said, patting the corners of her eyes with a lace handkerchief. ‘It’s like I’m seeing things I’ve never seen before.’

  ‘Hush now, little lady,’ said Vincent. ‘You just enjoy this day. Forget about all the bad stuff.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said.

  Reverend Ellis stepped through the arch into the sun, shielding his eyes with a mass booklet. He waved it at Wanda and walked down towards her.

  ‘Wanda Rawlins, it must be two years. Welcome home,’ he said, gripping her hand. ‘I am so glad to see you looking so well.’ His smile was warm and sincere. ‘I hope this isn’t just a fleeting visit.’

  ‘’Fraid so, Reverend. We’re livin’ in Denison now.’

  ‘This must be the lucky man,’ he said, pumping Vince’s hand.

  ‘Yessir. Vincent Farraday’s my name. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘You’re very welcome to Stinger’s Creek. Now, please excuse me as I go find the groom.’

  Duke sat hunched outside the back of the church, smoking a cigarette.

  ‘Mr Rawlins, how’re you doin’ on this happy day?’

  ‘Fine thank you, Reverend,’ said Duke, standing up. ‘My suit’s a half-size too small,’ he added, touching the tight navy velvet. He noticed flecks of ash on his ruffled shirt front and flicked them into the breeze.

  ‘I’m sure Samantha won’t notice,’ said the Reverend.

  ‘No-one’ll be lookin’ at me,’ smiled Duke. ‘This day is for Sammi.’

  Reverend Ellis led Duke through the back door of the church and out onto the altar. Duke inhaled sharply when he saw his mother in the front pew. She gave him a small wave and a nervous smile. He walked over to her.

  ‘Mama,’ he said. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Sammi’s mama’s sister’s in my church in Denison…’

  ‘You go to church?’

  Wanda blushed.

  ‘You live in Denison?’ he said.

  ‘This is my husband, Vincent,’ said Wanda. ‘He helped me through my, you know—’

  Duke could see the guilt and fear in her eyes, the brittle smile on her filled-out face and wondered without drugs, how she could live every day knowing what she knew. He smiled and shook Vincent’s hand. The man gave him a broad grin.

  ‘Pleasure, son, happy to be here today.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Duke and he took his place at the altar. He checked his watch and looked around. Reverend Ellis walked over to him. ‘I’m afraid I just got a call from Donald,’ he said. ‘He’s stuck behind an accident on the interstate. He won’t be able to make it. He did say you had the rings, though, and to go ahead without him. He should make it to the reception.’

  Duke shook his head. He looked around the church for a replacement. The guests were mainly from Sammi’s side of the family. The only person he could ask was Vincent. He gestured him over.

  Suddenly, the music started and the double doors at the back of the church opened. Sammi’s father walked in with Sammi to his right, her small hand on his forearm. Her brown hair was permed and glossy, falling below her shoulders, swept high in front and held with a clip from her long veil. Her gown sparkled with tiny beads. Her father passed her over to Duke and shook his hand. His smile was tight.

  When the service was over, the guests moved across the street to The Railroad Bar, a tongue-in-cheek name in a town that was bypassed by the railroad in the eighteen hundreds and hadn’t recovered since.

  The dance floor was small and couples pressed against each other to fit on the wooden circle. The women wore tight satin dresses edged in lace and stretched across full stomachs, their high heels tipping them to one side. The men were in narrow-legged suits or dressed-up cowboy shirts and starched denim. They drank beer, chased it with whisky and shouted at the band. Duke stood at the edge of the dance floor watching his new wife swaying her hips to the music, her head back, her eyes closed.

  ‘You OK?’ she said as she danced over to him, pinching his cheeks and kissing him on the lips.

  ‘Course I am,’ he said. ‘I guess I’m just a little sad Uncle Bill isn’t here today to see all this.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart. He sounds like he was the nicest man. I wish I coulda met him.’

  ‘I wish you coulda too,’ said Duke. ‘You know somethin’, Sammi, you are the prettiest bride in the whole world. And I promise to be faithful to you for the rest of my life. I know I’ve made some mistakes, but one thing I know, if someone means somethin’ to me as much as you do, loyalty’s what I give. I’m sure of that.’ His words were beginning to slur.

  ‘Don’t you get drunk on me tonight,’ she said.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ said Duke.

  ‘I want you standin’ to attention.’ She smiled and raised her eyebrows.

  Duke frowned.

  ‘Shut up, Sammi,’ he said.

  ‘Not today,’ she said. ‘Don’t speak to me like that today. We had a deal.’

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Just don’t go on at me.’

  ‘I won’t, long as you don’t get drunk. I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you and Donnie, whenever he shows up.’

  Wanda leaned against the sink, her face tilted to the light above the mirror.

  ‘That the kinda powder you’re into these days?’ came a voice beside her. Wanda said nothing.

  ‘I’m talkin’ to you!’

  ‘I’m not interested, Darla,’ said Wanda, putting her compact back in her bag.

  ‘Think you’re all respectable now in your fancy suit with your big husband?’

  ‘I said I’m not interested,’ said Wanda calmly.

  ‘You white trash whore.’

  Wanda spun around and grabbed Darla by the hair, pulling her up tall. Then she leaned back and spat in her startled face, watching the saliva drip from her eyelids.

  ‘Don’t,’ said Wanda, pointing a finger at her. ‘This is my son’s wedding.’ She threw Darla’s head back against the door, washed her hands and left the bathroom.

  ‘Like you give a good goddamn,’ Darla shouted after her.

  Donnie walked into the bar and raised his arms.

  ‘Well, look who it is!’ said Duke. ‘You missed my big moment!’ He smiled wide.

  ‘Congratulations,’
said Donnie, shaking Duke’s hand and patting his back. ‘Did I miss much?’

  ‘Where in the hell did you get to?’ hissed Duke, grabbing his elbow, leaning in close to his ear.

  ‘Officially? In back of a line of cars,’ said Donnie. ‘Unofficially? Had that bit of business to take care of…you know, hide and seek in the woods.’ He winked. ‘Gave an extra little whoosh with the shovel too. Oh, I remember – Tally was her name.’

  Duke looked at him like he didn’t care.

  Sammi came up and tapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Hey, Donnie,’ she said.

  ‘Little Mrs Rawlins,’ he said, swinging her around. ‘Married at nineteen, pregnant at twenty?’

  ‘Don’t even joke about that,’ said Sammi, skipping over to her bridesmaids.

  ‘Bring one back for me,’ he called after her. She waved back. He went to the bar.

  ‘I had to choose,’ said Wanda, coming up behind Duke. ‘And it broke my heart.’

  Duke turned and stared at her.

  ‘Choose between you and Vincent,’ she explained. ‘It was the hardest thing a mother’s ever had to do. I guess I figured you’d be all growed up and you wouldn’t need your mama no more.’

  ‘You’re right about that,’ said Duke. ‘But you’re wrong about one thing. You didn’t choose Vincent, Mama. All you ever chose was you.’

  Donnie grabbed the bridesmaid’s waist and swung her around him as he made his way back over to Duke.

  ‘She wanted me,’ he said.

  ‘Sure,’ said Duke. ‘And thanks for lookin’ after everythin’. I shouldn’t have been mad…’

  ‘Hey,’ said Donnie. ‘Who’s that in the blue shirt and the cowboy hat? Ain’t that Vincent Farraday, the singer? Who’s the lady with him in the purple suit?’

  ‘Pretty fuckin’ Woman,’ said Duke.

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘Rumour has it that Sammi Rawlins has been having a few jobs done around the house…’