by Rob Ashman
Mechanic visited every other Thursday and sat with the family as they played cards and watched television. In reality Jenny-Jay played cards on behalf of Mary-Jay and her new-found friend. The women sat in identical wheelchairs while Jeb watched his favourite game shows, shouting answers at the TV.
Jenny-Jay conducted imaginary conversations between the two women. It was like the world’s worst ventriloquist act.
Mechanic stepped onto the front porch and peered around the curtain into the living room. The wheelchair women were parked in front of the TV while Jeb and his wife sat side by side on the sofa. She could barely make out the surreal conversation being conducted inside.
‘Jenny-Jay said she saw some rabbits today playing out in the field. I told her it was that time of year when the bucks and the does are courting ready to get hitched and have little ones. What’s that Jenny-Jay? You saw a hundred of them! Now don’t you go telling tall tales in front of our guest. You are a one, Mary-Jay, isn’t she Jeb?’ Jenny-Jay was in a talkative mood this evening.
‘Hell I knew that one! I said Duelling Banjos in the film Deliverance,’ shouted Jeb. ‘Didn’t I say that, girls, didn’t I just say that.’
The girls sat upright in their chairs. One was thin, her skin the colour of undercooked pastry. She wore a surgical skullcap and her eyes were open, her face completely expressionless. The other was fatter, with eyes partially closed and her mouth gaping open. Drool ran down her chin, which Jenny-Jay occasionally wiped away with a towel. A food tube ran into her open shirt, feeding tonight’s liquidised dinner directly into her stomach. Both were dressed in baggy jeans and identical checked shirts. One wore blue sneakers and the other wore yellow.
‘Now don’t you go ribbing your father, Mary-Jay. He did say Deliverance – you are sassy today, missy.’ She laughed and slapped Jeb’s leg.
‘Who fancies some homemade lemonade? Girls, are you having some? I made it special this afternoon.’ Jenny-Jay sang the last few words and went to the kitchen. She emerged carrying a wicker tray with four glasses and a jug of lemonade. She set a glass down in front of each person. ‘Made with fresh lemons,’ she announced and began pouring.
Mechanic tore her gaze away and walked back to the porch. She knocked on the front door.
Jenny-Jay answered it.
‘Hi Mrs Huxton, sorry I’m a little late,’ Mechanic said cheerily.
‘Well hi to you, honey child.’ She shook her hand. ‘Now if I told you once I told you a million times, you must call me Jenny-Jay. Come in, come in.’
Mechanic stepped inside to be met with the soft, warm aroma of fresh bread and pot roast.
Every time she came here it sliced Mechanic to the core, a graphic reminder that Lucas and Harper were still alive and they shouldn’t be.
‘Sit yourself down and I’ll get you some lemonade. Look Jo, your sister’s here.’
19
Silverton needed to relieve himself from the stresses of his business crisis. And for him that meant running around like a teenage boy in a whorehouse.
He was a man possessed, on a personal mission to visit the entire complement of casinos and bars that Vegas had to offer, intent on sucking each one of them dry of gambling pleasure. Making up for lost time didn’t quite describe it, he went berserk.
It also meant his alcohol consumption was in overdrive, along with his painfully friendly personality. The nicer side of Harry, brought on by being almost killed, had worn off and he was back to being rich, objectionable, pain-in-the-ass Harry James Silverton III.
The days blurred into one. Mechanic could barely keep up with him and had her work cut out for sure. She could no longer maintain a watching brief from a respectable distance, she was forced to stay close and shut down minor conflicts as they occurred. Of which there were many.
There was the guy who had his stack of chips knocked down every time Harry leaned forward to scatter his bet onto the table. Then there was the woman who was knocked sideways off her stool as Harry celebrated a spectacular win, which turned out to be a catastrophic loss, owing to him not having placed his bet correctly. And there was the waitress who had a full tray of drinks knocked flying from her hand, the result of another overly exuberant celebration.
Mechanic dealt with each situation with a deft hand and confident manner. The in-house security watched her and Harry like a hawk but she had it under control. Anyway Harry was splashing enough cash to make it worth the hotel turning a blind eye to his misdemeanours.
It usually resulted in Harry’s pot of money being depleted by gifts of compensatory chips or ‘sorry money’ as Mechanic christened them. She reckoned one particularly vigorous game of blackjack must have cost him over three hundred bucks. To Harry he was still everyone’s friend and extremely popular, but the truth was people were drawn to the social carnage which followed his every move. Harry was definitely a spectator sport but one to be enjoyed at a safe distance.
He occasionally had flashes of rational behaviour. ‘You heard from Walker?’ he asked several times. She always replied the same way. ‘Nope nothing,’ which seemed to suffice. Harry showed little concern for Walker’s vanishing act and carried on as normal. Well, normal for him anyway.
On one occasion during the three-day bender, Silverton was at the craps table at the MGM Grand and had drawn a bigger than usual crowd. His ‘drinks for everyone’ tab was totalling over three and fifty bucks and the in-house security was getting twitchy. Harry was completely over the top, throwing the dice down the table with massive shows of bravado. The women loved it. They crowded around him, each one trying to outdo the other in how far their breasts could fall out of their dresses before they were asked to leave.
A red-faced guy dressed in a rhinestone shirt took a real dislike to Harry. He was very agitated and hurled abuse at every opportunity but Harry ignored it. After a while it became clear to Mechanic why the man was so worked up. One of the women preventing Harry from throwing the dice by shoving her tits in the way was supposed to be with him. But for the time being she preferred to be with Harry. It also seemed that out of all the women around the table, Harry preferred her too.
Harry announced to his entourage he needed to take a leak and fought his way to the restroom, closely followed by rhinestone guy.
There are times when being a female minder has its disadvantages and a male restroom situation does pose an etiquette issue. Mechanic stood outside and listened. Raised voices soon resonated off the marble interior and one of them was Harry’s.
She entered the room to find rhinestone guy giving Harry the up-close-and-personal treatment, yelling in his face something about leaving his girl alone or else he would rip his head off. Probably a speech he’d be better off delivering to his girl, Mechanic thought as she walked past the line of men stood against the urinals.
She grabbed the man’s right hand, shoved it up behind his back and kicked his legs from under him. He crumpled face first to the floor with a thud, her knee jammed hard between his shoulder blades. She gripped his other hand to hold him stationary.
Harry was shouting, ‘What the hell are you doing, man? Have a good time and relax.’ Struggling on the floor the guy was a long way from being able to do either.
The security guards rushed in and Mechanic stood up leaving rhinestone prostrate on the floor.
‘Ma’am, you need to be out of here,’ one of them said, putting a firm hand on her shoulder.
She pulled free from his grasp. ‘I wouldn’t need to be here if you had your eyes open.’ She took Harry by the arm and led him out. A crowd had gathered outside. They whooped and hollered as Harry emerged, his hands held high above his head, doing a victory walk back to the table. Behind him the man dressed in his best party shirt was being led away still protesting.
Mechanic followed Harry to his spot at the table.
‘Make this your last throw, Mr Silverton, it’s time to move on.’ He threw the dice and spun around on his heels. The women crowded in again but this time Mech
anic wasn’t budging.
Harry lost. He reached down for the dice but she snapped them off the green cloth.
‘Come on, Mr Silverton, let’s cash up and go. How about The Sands?’
‘Hell yes, let’s go!’
The crowd booed and called for him to stay, but the cluster of security and management gathering nearby told Mechanic the time to leave was now.
The scene was pretty much replicated wherever Harry went, a rowdy collection of new friends happy to be bought with beers and liquor plus regular donations of sorry money.
At the end of day three, Mechanic was frazzled. Harry was dozing in the back of the car as she pulled into the drop-off zone outside the Hacienda hotel reception. She got out and threw the valet parking boy the keys. She opened the passenger door and shook Harry by the shoulder.
‘Sir, we’re here. Time to get some rest.’
He woke and jumped from the back seat stretching and yawning. Mechanic’s heart sank. Had the twenty-minute nap given him renewed energy for another foray onto the gambling floor?
‘Time for some shut-eye I reckon. What do you say?’ He straightened his Stetson.
‘Absolutely, sir.’ Mechanic breathed a sigh of relief.
They reached the hotel suite and she slid the card in the lock. There was a soft click and she opened the door for Harry to go inside.
‘Call me in the morning when you’re ready, sir.’
‘Why don’t you take a nightcap with me,’ Harry said. ‘You’ve been drinking tonic for three days straight, how about a real drink.’
Mechanic considered the invitation. ‘That would be nice, Mr Silverton, thank you I will.’
She settled into the big armchair and Harry went into the other room. She heard the distinctive clink of ice striking crystal and he soon appeared with two massive tumblers full of golden liquid. He handed one to Mechanic.
‘Cheers!’ Harry held up his glass.
‘An eventful few days,’ she said chinking his glass and taking a welcome slug of whisky.
‘You can say that again, it sure has been eventful.’ No sooner did his ass hit the sofa than he jumped up again. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He disappeared into the other room.
Mechanic nodded and swigged the fiery liquor, it tasted so good. It warmed its way down her body and she relaxed.
After a while Silverton returned. ‘Cheers!’ he said raising his glass.
‘Yes sir, cheers.’ Mechanic went to raise her arm to return the toast but it wouldn’t move. She heard a rushing sound in her head and her peripheral vision was closing in. She tried to speak but only managed to emit mumbled sounds. She tried to get out of the chair but nothing happened.
Harry leaned over and lifted the glass from her hand. Over his shoulder Mechanic could see another man entering the room, casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt several sizes too small. His muscles bulged and he had the complexion of someone who worked in the hot sun. A rippled scar ran from the side of his face down his right arm.
She tried to get up but couldn’t.
‘This is Ramirez,’ announced Harry. ‘He’s a business associate of mine who I use from time to time. He’s expensive but very good.’
Mechanic fought to maintain her view of the stranger as he slipped in and out of focus. The noise in her head grew louder and her limbs felt cold. Ramirez stood next to her and placed his fingers on her neck to take her pulse.
Harry put the glasses on the table and leaned across. ‘He thought, given your recent performance, using chemicals would be the safer option. You are quite the handful, Ms Hudson.’
Mechanic tilted her face to look at Harry but could no longer hold his stare. Her head slumped onto her chest and everything went black.
20
Lucas was beginning to think Harper wasn’t such a prick after all.
‘That was an amazing find.’ Lucas was impressed with his friend’s powers of deduction and knowledge of basic building mods.
‘I got lucky I suppose.’ Harper was being unusually coy – he was still playing the ‘unconditionally sorry’ role since admitting the origin of the sugar packets.
‘Bit more than luck.’ Lucas slapped him on the shoulder. He’d forgiven Harper for the deception but could not quite bring himself to tell him, perhaps because that would mean having to admit to himself that Harper was right. He had been spiralling downhill. The letter had given Lucas back his drive.
The discovery had been little short of miraculous. Lucas felt small twinges of guilt for not declaring to his boss what he thought the inventory in the room truly meant. The amount of used medical gear convinced Lucas and Harper that Jo must be alive, or at least she was while they were in hiding. Anyway his boss could damn well work it out for himself after he’d finished playing with the shit buckets.
They were back in Harper’s favourite café haunt, grimacing at the taste of the black liquid swilling around in the chipped mugs. The single topic of conversation for Harper and Lucas was answering the question, ‘What next?’
‘Why the hell do you come here?’ Lucas asked.
‘It’s good.’
‘In what way? It’s dirty, the coffee is awful and there isn’t even clean air to breathe.’
‘You don’t get it.’
‘Damn right I don’t.’ Lucas pushed the mug away from him admitting defeat. ‘Where would you go to lay low with a sister recovering from a gunshot wound to the head?’
‘Depends on how ill she was. That dictates how far you can travel.’
‘Let’s suppose it’s within a day’s drive.’ He spread a route map out on the table. ‘That takes us—’
‘Far away from here,’ snapped Harper not looking at the map. ‘Baton Rouge is a day’s drive, so is Charleston, Atlanta, Cincinnati and a ton of places in between.’
‘But not too many places have the facilities to care for someone with that type of trauma. Mechanic is not going to risk a hospital – all gunshot wounds are reported to the police. She would look for a respite or nursing home with clinical staff able to look after her. Throw in a bent owner and she has a safe place for Jo.’
Harper churned the scenario over in his head.
‘Yeah, a place where Mechanic could keep her sister off the grid but close enough for her to keep an eye on things.’
‘We might have a lot of territory to cover but there can’t be too many places which fit the profile.’
Harper looked doubtful. ‘How do we start looking?’
‘Let’s get a list of respite and convalescent homes on the outskirts of the six biggest cities within one day’s drive.’
‘That’s a long list.’
‘Probably as long as the number of cafés and bars in Baton Rouge.’ Lucas felt the need to twist the knife now and again to keep his friend focused. ‘Anyway, do you have a better idea?’
Harper shook his head and drew circles on the map with his fingers.
The bartender raised his hand. ‘Hey, Harper, your guy is on the blower.’
‘You have a guy?’ Lucas said.
‘Yes, I have several, but not like that.’ Harper screwed up his face.
‘Oh, but you do have a guy then?’
‘He feeds me information.’
‘How does he know you’re here?’
‘I’m always here, and when I’m not the bartender takes a message.’ Harper waved at the man. ‘Be there in a minute.’
‘The guy serving the drinks is your router? He’s your messenger boy?’
‘Yes that’s right.’
‘So that’s why we come here so damn often. Do you pay him?’
‘Sometimes I bung him cash when he’s a little short, but mostly I pay him by bringing new people to the café. He thinks it’s good for business and is happy with that. He’s a good guy.’ Harper rose from the table and went to the bar.
‘Shit,’ said Lucas, finally realising why his so-called friend forced him to endure the life-shortening effects of this dreadful place.
> Harper returned to the table and Lucas wasted no time.
‘Do you mean to tell me the only reason I have to sit here breathing in smog and drinking sump oil is because—’ Harper stopped him mid-flow.
‘That was a journalist I know who works for Reuters. They have a nasty story which is about to break big. They’ve uncovered the fresh remains of a torched body on the west coast.’
‘I don’t see what that has to do with us.’
‘The victim was set alight post-mortem. He was shot and stabbed multiple times. But none of that killed him. The cause of death was a broken neck. Snapped clean with a single twist.’
Lucas stopped talking and began to process the relevance of this new information.
‘Before he died someone cut his cock and balls off. They weren’t found at the scene.’
Lucas stared at Harper as the gravity of the details sank in.
‘I think she’s finally surfaced. Mechanic is in Las Vegas.’
21
Mechanic was coming round, the gentle tapping on her left cheek coaxing her to consciousness. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her head weighed a ton.
‘Come on, that’s it.’ She was aware of a voice in the background which kept drifting in and out. ‘Time to wake up.’
The tapping stopped and she felt rough hands on her face lifting her head up. Cold glass touched her lips, and water flowed into her mouth. She struggled to swallow and coughed it back out.
The hand under her chin guided her towards the rim of the glass again. She drank this time and the cool liquid flowed down her throat. The water unstuck her tongue. She opened her eyes. Everything moved in blurry pictures.
‘That’s it,’ said the detached voice. ‘Time to wake up.’
She was aware of a face in front of her but couldn’t make out the features. She floated back under.
‘No, no, no,’ said the rasping voice. ‘Come back to me.’ The water flowed again and she felt it splash cold against her skin.
