by Ryan Casey
Then, he pulled himself back into the room and turned the shower on. He bit his lip as he reached for the handle of the bathroom door, the sound of the shower cutting through the otherwise quiet atmosphere. This had to work. It had to.
He slipped the door open gently, trying not to make it creak, and crouched along the landing towards Brian and Cindy’s bedroom, where he’d opened the door earlier. He took a final glance down the staircase: no one in sight. He clenched his fists and sneaked into the room, gently closing the door so it was just about ajar.
Brian and Cindy’s bedroom was airy and spacious, much like the rest of the house. The purple linen sheets of the bed were perfectly uncreased, like stills from a showroom photograph. Pictures of the two of them hung against the cream wallpaper. There were wooden cabinets either side of the bed. He tiptoed over to the cabinet on the left and opened it: Nothing but purple thongs and other underwear. Wrong drawer, unless Brian had a long standing secret. When one becomes accustomed to the intricacies of a man’s life, a pair of thongs wasn’t as uncommon as one might expect.
What was common was men’s consistent predictability when they were trying to hide things. ‘Hidden in plain sight’ is a cliché for a reason. Jared opened the top drawer and noticed watches, envelopes presumably stuffed with notes, and expensive jewellery.
Smash.
Something dropped towards the floor downstairs. Cindy’s voice grew more comprehensible. Shit. She could be right at the bottom of the stairs. She could walk in any time now. His heart pumped against his chest as he froze like a pigeon in the crosshairs.
Then, a door slammed shut. Cindy’s voice was muffled again.
Jared’s knees buckled. ‘Fuck,’ he whispered. That was too close. He scratched his fingers against his bare chest and shut Brian’s top drawer before reaching into the second drawer. In there were a combination of dark boxers and socks.
Hidden in plain sight.
Jared fumbled around inside the boxers before a cold metallic anomaly nipped his fingers. He tugged the item out from the button area of the boxers: four keys on a chain. So predictable. Hide your keys in the women’s underwear drawer and they’ll be found. Hide them in the expensive goods drawer and they’ll be found.
Hide them in the ballsack region and nobody will even bother looking.
Always the same.
When he turned round to walk back to the bathroom, he heard the creaking of the wooden steps and Cindy humming. His eyes were static and his heart raced. Think. Think. There has to be something. It could all be over, right now.
He wasn’t ready for it to be over yet.
Cindy took a sharp breath and jumped back when she saw a topless Jared fumbling through her washing basket. Jared swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up at her.
‘I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘But there were no towels in the bathroom.’
Cindy’s eyes were still wide with shock as she stared at Jared. Fuck. Stupid excuse. He’d been and done jobs in Egypt and Belarus and he couldn’t even sort a towel incident out. He’d have to strangle her, right here. Batter her and hold the rest of them captive until—
She giggled and waved her hair from out of her eyes. ‘You’ve got a cracking body,’ she said. ‘Sorry, you startled me. There should be some towels over here.’
Jared’s throat blocked up before he had the chance to speak. His heart began to return to normal pace as his muscles eased off. Good excuse. Good excuse.
Cindy handed him a blue towel. ‘I could’ve sworn there was one in there. Sorry about that.’
Jared smiled and disappeared back inside the bathroom, Cindy looking on at his bare chest, red-cheeked.
‘Wait.’
Jared froze. He turned round to face Cindy. Had she seen something? Had she figured him out? He was going to have to deal with her, sort her out.
Jared smiled at her quizzically.
She rubbed her hands against her arms. ‘I don’t… I don’t know why I’m saying this to you, but Brian, you… What he’s involved with. His files. Is… no, it’s okay. Sorry, I’m being stupid. I shouldn’t be saying…’
Jared shook his head. She seemed uncertain, her shell of confidence cracking. ‘You can talk if you want to. I mean—’
‘The people Brian’s involved with,’ Cindy said. ‘I just… I guess I wanted to know whether you’ve… y’know, seen anything in his study? I know, I know—I shouldn’t be asking you. You’re just doing your job. Forgive me, it’s just… I just don’t like all his secrecy. And some of the people he’s had round here, I dunno. Sorry, I’ll leave you to… yeah.’ She half-smiled and brushed past Jared, heading back down the stairs.
‘Cindy,’ Jared said.
She turned back round to look at him.
‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’
She nodded and continued down the stairs. ‘Sorry for being a pain,’ she said.
Jared clutched the keys in his hand.
Seedy contacts, secrecy… He wanted to see what was inside that filing cabinet more than ever.
When Jared returned downstairs after taking a shower, he noticed the place was quiet. There was a note on the table wedged underneath a coffee cup: ‘Nipped out to take Carl to docs. x’ Perhaps he could use Carl being ill to his advantage. It wasn’t nice, but he could pretend they’d all caught whatever it was. He was sure there would be a way of fixing things so it looked like that was the case. Meningitis. Tropical disease. Whatever he’d used in Egypt on Federico and Olive.
When Jared returned to the study, he filed a few documents before reaching into his pocket for the set of keys from Brian’s drawer. He reached up for the filing cabinet and shoved the key into place. Come on, come on… After some shuffling, a satisfying click emitted from the lock. He was in.
A niggling part of his brain didn’t want to find anything as he rummaged through the filing cabinet. Maybe Raymond was wrong about Brian and Callum Thomson on this occasion. He’d been wrong before. He thumbed through the green cardstock folders. Kaan. Karen.
People made mistakes and got people wrong all the time. Maybe this was just all one big misunderstanding and he could finish the filing job and go home.
Kawasaki.
The folder was different to the rest. Jared bent the card at the corner: still firm, ink lines prominent. Probably weeks old, at most. Across the front of the folder, ‘CONFIDENTIAL’.
He opened the bulky folder and was surprised to find only one sheet of paper in there, the rest of the bulk nothing but bubble-wrap. Jared held his breath as he pulled the neat sheet of paper out of the folder.
Jared’s stomach grew heavy as he read the words: nothing in there, of any suspicious note.
He turned the page over: the rear was covered in smallprint, but again, nothing of any concern. Kawasaki wasn’t involved, or at least there was no evidence of involvement here.
He slipped the piece of paper back in the folder. A part of him was hopeful – maybe Raymond was wrong about the extent of Brian’s involvement. He was wrong about the Kawasakis, so he could be wrong about that too. There was no evidence of any involvement with Callum Thomson, the opposition mayor. There was no mention of Dwight Goodstein.
Nothing.
He put the folder back into position and thumbed through the rest to check for a repeat Kawasaki folder, but it was the only one.
Kleine. Karter. H.M.G.
Jared stopped.
H.M.G. Why would it be in the locked ‘K-L’ section? He turned to look at the study door: he was still alone, but he’d have to hurry. Cindy could be back at any moment; perhaps even Brian could finish early. He held his breath as he pulled out the H.M.G. folder.
His stomach sank when he read the document.
Mr. B McDone to exchange a sum of $50,000 to Mr. C. Thomson on behalf of H.M.G. Group.
Jared scrubbed his thumb against his eyes. Brian was involved in this. It wasn’t just an accident: he was actually transferring money to the mayorial candid
ate. Working directly for Dwight Goodstein, whether he was aware of it or not. H.M.G. were the traitors. He’d heard Raymond mention them a few times. Big business was apparently selling him out.
It would make things easier. He would be easier to kill, now. It was always easier when you know why you were killing somebody.
He closed the folder and slipped the document into his pocket. No, foolish: Brian could come checking up. He pulled it back from underneath his armpit and aligned his phone above it before taking a shot of the paper. Then, he slipped the paper back into the folder and locked the filing cabinet.
After filing another row of folders, he took the keys back up to Brian’s bedroom, slipping them back in the button area of his black boxer shorts. Keeping keys in the boxer drawer. Foolish. He was clearly new to this confidentiality business. Either that, or he just didn’t realise how serious these matters were.
Regardless, Brian was involved, and therefore he needed to be killed.
As he left the room, he caught a glimpse of the family photo and felt a weight growing at the bottom of his stomach. Brian’s hand on Carl’s shoulders, all of them smiling. A snotty little tissue lay on the bed next to Cindy’s makeup bag.
He shifted his gaze from the bed and disappeared out of the room.
‘What are you doing in there?’
Jared jumped as he turned to look down the landing area. A high-pitched voice, probably female. She’d caught him. She’d come home and she’d caught him.
He saw Carl standing in front of him, a toy car in his hand. He looked up at Jared inquisitively as the snot dribbled down his chin. ‘I’m telling Mummy Cindy.’
‘I was just doing something for your dad,’ Jared interrupted, walking over to Carl. ‘It—it’s top secret. Anyway, if you do mention it to Mummy Cindy, maybe I’ll have to have a think about giving someone else that gift I got for you.’
Carl’s eyes widened. ‘You got me a gift? What is it? Can I see?’
Jared smiled and nodded as he walked past Carl. ‘If… if you and me can keep this little secret to ourselves, then I’ll have a think about it.’ He walked down the stairs and back towards the kitchen, heart pounding, as Carl ran into his room, sniffing away at the snot wedged in his nose. Hopefully he’d done enough to convince him to keep his mouth shut.
Jared walked through the kitchen. He could hear Cindy on the phone in the lounge. It sounded as if she was crying.
‘I just… no, I don’t know. No, I know it’ll be over soon but I just don’t understand why it has to be you who—darling, you know I’m happy about your work. I just… I just want our old life back…’
Jared walked out of the back door.
It was time to deliver Raymond a progress report.
Chapter Eight
Raymond already had a glass of red wine in his hand when Jared arrived that afternoon.
A quarter of a bottle sat on the kitchen worktop, a sign that he’d probably been knocking glasses back for a while now. He rose to his feet and threw his newspaper aside as Jared stepped through the doorway, laughing and clapping his hands together. ‘Jared! Nice of you to drop by. How’s things?’ He smacked Jared on the back before stumbling over to the worktop and grabbing an apple. His breath reeked of alcohol as his creased white shirt scuffed out above his jeans.
‘Things are alright,’ Jared said.
Raymond grinned and laughed again as he crunched into the apple. ‘That’s good. Real good. Of course things are good. Wouldn’t expect anything less of you, my boy. Now, what have you got for me?’
Jared sat down opposite Raymond at the coffee table and reached into his inside pocket for the copy of the H.M.G. document he’d just had printed.
Raymond moved to the edge of his seat like an excited dog waiting to be fed. He pawed the page, nodding as he scanned through. ‘H.M.G. Always thought those fuckers were dodgy. I’ll cut them loose as soon as we win this election. They can flog their fucking dead horse Thomson.’ He wiped the wine-stained corners of his mouth, a piece of apple skin was wedged between his teeth. ‘Right. You’ve done good. This is enough—all we need. Good work. Now, find where Brian’s keeping the money—my money—then do it.’
Jared paused. ‘Do what?’
Raymond scoffed as he stuck his fingernail between his teeth, fishing for the rogue piece of apple skin. ‘Kill them,’ he said, staring at Jared. ‘What d’you think?’
‘But, it’s just Brian who—’
‘No, kid—you need to cut this chick out of your life too.’ He spoke with a calm sincerity, smiling through every word. ‘I’ve seen what you’re like when you get bogged down in this fantasy of yours. The truth is, it’s me and you, J. Always has been, always will be. We’re running this town and we can’t let anything get in our way.’
Jared looked down at the floor. He had to say something, but he couldn’t find the words.
‘That’s just the way it is,’ Raymond said. ‘I have faith in you. I know you can go through with this.’ He shot a smile in his direction, his eyes glittering as they met each other briefly.
Jared turned away. He thought of his family—his mum and dad—back when he was younger. He’d probably have been better off without them. Maybe that was the case for Carl too. Maybe he’d grow up in a better world.
‘What about the kid?’ Jared asked, scratching the back of his hands.
Raymond sighed and stretched his shoulders along the back of his chair. He plucked the suspect piece of apple skin from his teeth before resting it on the tip of his tongue. ‘Deal with him in whichever means necessary. Sometimes, in this world, you need to be cruel to be kind, J. You know what I’m saying?’
The room started to spin. Cheeks warming. Arms shaking.
The screams.
He needed fresh air. He needed to think.
‘But after Burma—’ was all he could say.
Raymond reached for Jared and patted him on the arm. ‘Burma was a mistake, Jared. Hey, look at me, look at me: Everyone makes honest mistakes, right? You couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t your fault, okay?’
Jared took in a deep breath through his nostrils, the buzzing in his hands receding. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
In.
Out.
In.
‘So, now we know about the cash, you’ll spend a bit more time with them and find me that $50,000, right? And when you’ve got it, you’ll do what’s necessary?’
Jared stared above Raymond. He couldn’t shift his gaze. The words from Raymond’s mouth dripped into his ears. The windows creaked in the heat of the sun.
‘Okay,’ Jared said.
‘Good lad,’ Raymond said, clapping his hands together. He stood up and escorted Jared to the door with his hand around his shoulders. ‘I always know I can rely on you. Now, ideally I want this done by Thursday. Two days is enough, right? That okay with you?’
Jared’s edged towards the door, his thoughts numb and distant. He’d done this a thousand times. He shouldn’t feel this way. Maybe some jobs were just harder than others, but he needed to get it done. He needed Raymond. Raymond looked out for him—he always had, even when he was at his lowest. The least he could do for him was repay that faith. And he wouldn’t be doing it forever. It was just something to help him get by.
Nothing permanent.
‘Okay,’ Jared said, attempting a half-smile as he walked out of Raymond’s office. ‘I’ll see to it.’
Raymond nodded as he shut the door in Jared’s face. Jared slumped his shoulders and shuffled towards the lift.
All he could think about was getting back to the flat and sleeping for days.
The following morning, Jared sat in a cafeteria. It was in the middle of town, so the everyday buzz of people and clattering of cups and plates detracted from any suspicious activities.
Brian had asked Jared to join them for drinks again that evening. He was only supposed to be working this afternoon, so it gave him enough chance to search for more infor
mation on the money before things got violent.
And he could file another shelf for good measure.
He would put them to sleep and get it done with. It’d be like drifting off into a long, endless dream. He looked down at the shopping bag at his feet, a bottle of red wine poking up from within. At least it was a nice bottle. Not quite Castle Margaux, but it would suffice.
In his right pocket, the cold metal of his pistol pushed against his thigh. He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it. Maybe if things got messy it would be a way of making it easier for them.
The bells on the door twinkled as she walked in, looking around the cafeteria to try and spot him. A man in the corner wearing a hat and long coat wolf-whistled before tucking into his enormous donut.
She spotted Jared and walked over, limping slightly, with her handbag wrapped over her arm.
‘Hey,’ she said, brushing the chair and sitting down. ‘I got over as quickly as I could. You okay?’
Jared twirled his spoon around the coffee. It had stopped steaming after being sat there for a while now.
No big loss; he didn’t even like coffee anyway.
‘Jared? Oy,’ Faith said, clicking her fingers in front of his eyes.
Jared sighed. ‘Not really, sis, no,’ he said, curling his head into his hands.
Faith opened her mouth and reached over for Jared’s arms. The coldness of her palms made him start a little, but he let them rest there.
‘What’s wrong, J?’ she asked. ‘I’m—I’m worried about you. This isn’t like you, big bro.’
Jared widened his mouth and leaned back into the chair. ‘Work stress.’
‘Oh,’ Faith said, her eyes moving around the room reluctantly as the sound of her voice turned into a whisper. She narrowed her shoulders and cleared her throat.
