Deleilah

by Bowes, K T

  To her misery, Seline shook her head and raised her chin in defiance. “No.”

  Michael’s lips parted as he turned at the sound and he hefted the gun back into his hand so his index finger covered the trigger. His thumb clicked the rear cylinder latch again and his body stiffened as he watched Seline’s futile ministrations. “Leave her,” he ordered and waved the pistol.

  Seline shook her head, the set of her jaw making Leilah’s heart ache as she recognised the traits of someone she once loved more than life itself.

  “Don’t take it out on her,” Leilah said, hearing the slur in her speech.

  “Get your phone out.” Michael pointed the gun at Leilah and she heard Seline’s squeal of dismay next to her.

  Leilah moved her left arm across her body, unable to reach her phone in the right-hand pocket of her jeans. She stretched and it wrought a groan from her stomach which tailed off into a sigh.

  “You do it.” Michael switched his aim to somewhere between Seline’s chin and her waist. His hand trembled and his eyes looked starry and wild.

  “Not high, Michael?” Leilah asked with a gasp, the disappointment evident in the curl of her lips. “Like hell you’re not.”

  “Get the phone out and shut her up!” Michael punctuated the words with an alarming jab of the pistol.

  Seline grappled in Leilah’s jeans, sobbing apology as the movement rocked her mother’s shoulder. Leilah shook her head in dismissal and once the phone was in Seline’s shaking fingers, used the grip of her boots on the floorboards to shove her bottom back against the wall. The boots caught her eye, a scuff across the toe of the left one. A dead woman’s boots. A dead woman wearing a dead woman’s boots. Maybe the boots were unlucky. The thought took her mind away from the pain but the subsequent smirk enraged her crazy ex. “Find it funny, do you?” he said, kicking out at her foot. The jolt to her shoulder replaced the smirk with a grimace.

  “You’re such an asshole,” Leilah gasped. “You always were. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to see it.”

  “Never good enough,” he spat, as though coaching her words and Leilah played along.

  “No, Michael. You stopped being good enough the minute you started striving for it. Then you just became a wannabe.” She grunted at the end of the sentence, seeing another line of blood add itself to the chequered square and spill over into the next one. Leilah concentrated on slowing her heart rate by creating different images in her head; happier times snatched from an unhappy life. She closed her eyes and her body obliged, her aorta reducing the endless pounding of blood through the hole in her shoulder.

  His beautiful face drifted into view, shadowed by the sunlight behind him as he held out a slender bony hand towards her. ‘Down here,’ he whispered, excitement and hope in his voice. ‘I’ve found somewhere for us to go. You’ll love it.’

  She did love it. She loved it so much they went back over and over again. It wasn’t the place but him and everything about him. Leilah felt a terrible click in her soul at the realisation she’d never get to reassure him. He was her first, her only and he didn’t know.

  “Mum?” Seline’s panic disturbed Leilah’s concentration and she opened her eyes and turned. Her daughter’s face looked ashen as though some unseen hand had pulled the plug on her healthy complexion. “Mum?” she repeated, a wobble in her voice. She held the phone to face Leilah and asked her a question her mother spent almost twenty years avoiding. “Which is it?”

  “No.” Leilah shook her head and rested her crown against the wall behind. The ponytail had slipped forward, the end of her brown hair dipped in the blood like a tawny brush. “No,” she repeated, her head lolling as she squeezed her eyes to retain the ready tears.

  “Give it here!” Michael snatched the phone from Seline’s hand and peered at the screen. He scrolled one handed, keeping the gun trained on Leilah. The reward showed in the upturn of his lips. “Silly girl, Dee,” he crooned. “You changed your sim card but forgot to carry your contacts over. Seeing as you’re in this awful town where it happened, I’m picking that one of these is him.”

  Leilah’s heart sank as she struggled to keep her face neutral. Michael celebrated with a bone chilling laugh. “Who shall I call, Leilah? Which one will come running?” He scrolled through the names, disregarding the women and focussing only on the males. “Is it dear old Derek?” he said, his voice like nails on a blackboard. “Unlikely but you’re such a whore; who knows.” He flicked through more numbers. “Claus, Tai? No. They don’t sound familiar. But these do.” His eyes flashed like dark orbs in his face. “Dante? Or Tane? Which one, Leilah?” His eyes grew hard. “Which one?”

  Leilah’s eyes remained impassive as anger burned hot within. Michael studied her and then jumped to his own well-informed conclusions. “Dante’s been hanging around us for the last twenty years, so you can call him. And Tane, let’s get him a ringside seat too. I’ve heard his name before.”

  Leilah inhaled, her breath a whine on the way out and she shook her head and turned away. Seline’s voice sounded urgent in her ear. “What does he mean, Mum? Why is he doing this?”

  Leilah attempted a shrug which ignited the pain in her shoulder and she shied away with a groan. Michael thrust the phone back into Seline’s hand and jerked the gun towards her. “Ring Dante,” he ordered. “Make your mum tell him she needs him.”

  With fingers which behaved like soft spaghetti, Seline pressed the call button above Tane’s name and watched the green icon send out its pulsing signal across the screen. “It’s not working,” she sobbed. “Nothing’s happening.”

  Michael seized it in hard fingers and stared at the screen in disgust. He reached into his back pocket and palmed the expensive phone which formed the IT hub of his business. He dialled Tane’s number into it and handed it back to Seline with a warning. “Get him up here,” he said. He dipped his body, so the pistol rested against Leilah’s forehead. “Give him reason to suspect and one second later, your precious mother will be dead.” Nothing in his eyes suggested he was bluffing and Seline activated the call.

  Dante answered, greeting Seline with enthusiasm as she identified herself behind the unrecognised number. He grew silent as she made her plea. “Mum needs you.” Her voice wobbled. “Can you come to Grandpa Hector’s old house?” When he agreed, she hung up and handed the phone back to Michael. He redialled, checked the number against Leilah’s useless handset and handed his back.

  “Now that one,” he said.

  Seline made three more calls. She left a voice message for Claus and Tai but spoke to Tane, who sounded suspicious. “I’m at work,” he said, his voice echoing through the speaker. “I’ll come later though.”

  “She said now,” Seline blurted, her voice sounding distressed even to the stranger. Leilah watched from the side as her daughter formed her soul mate’s full lips into a frightened pout and pleaded with the cop. “It’s urgent. This is her daughter, Seline.”

  Michael kept the pistol trained on Leilah’s forehead but used his other hand to run a shaking finger across his throat. Seline ended the call without saying goodbye.

  Chapter 50

  A Mislaid Apology

  Tane arrived first, his squad car raking up dust along the two kilometre driveway. Michael turned into a psychedelic banshee of fear, waving the pistol at Seline and accusing her of calling the cops. His cheeks flamed the whole gamut from puce to purple.

  “You called Tane,” Leilah rasped. “He’s a cop. You destroyed your own plan.” She coughed and the wound in her shoulder ached despite Seline’s tearful pressure with the cardigan. From her seated position on the floor, Leilah didn’t see Tane saunter casually up the driveway and skip his bulk up the porch steps, but she recognised his familiar tap on the front door. She squirmed and opened her mouth, delighting Michael who turned the gun nozzle to face Seline. The teenager gave a small cry and put her flat hand over her mouth, muting the rest of the sound.

  Receiving no answer, Tane put his hand on
the front door handle and pushed, feeling the French door move inward under the pressure. His eyes widened at the sight before him; Leilah bleeding on the lounge floor and a red haired girl knelt next to her, sobbing into her hand and pressing on a bloodstained item of clothing. The cop in Tane assessed the threat with immediacy and he put his hand on his tool belt, snatching at the Taser tucked into a pocket.

  “Don’t bother.” Michael waved the nozzle of the pistol towards him at the same time as backing away, putting enough space between himself and the big man to avoid an immediate end to his scheme. “Take the gear off.”

  Tane glanced towards Leilah and saw her struggle with consciousness as pain invaded her soul. He raised his hand, palms upwards. “Ok, ok,” he said. It took time to detach the belt and release himself from the stab vest, a sweat stain appearing under his armpits and forming a stripe down the centre of his back.

  “Now get over there!” Michael snapped, waving the gun towards the women.

  Leilah watched as Tane weighed up his options and moved into a better position. “Don’t, Tane,” she begged. “He’ll do it.”

  Tane eyed Michael as though he was a rabid hound, sidestepping across to the far wall and squatting next to Leilah. “Lei,” he breathed, his eyes searching her face with frantic eye movements. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad!” Seline sobbed, removing the cardigan and revealing the blood-soaked shirt. She jabbed a wavering finger at Michael. “He shot his own wife!”

  “Ssshh, Seline, ssshhh,” Leilah hissed, eyeing the gun toting maniac.

  Tane fixed his stern gaze on Michael and balled his fists. “You’re Michael Hanover?” he spat. Tane stood, every inch the authoritative cop. “You bastard!”

  “Sit down!” Michael shouted, waving the gun.

  Tane took a step forward and pulled his lips back in a snarl. “You won’t pull the trigger ass-wipe! I bet the last one was an accident.” He advanced further and Michael pulled the trigger.

  The room resounded with the sound of the blast and the wall behind Tane exploded into a hail of shards. Instinct overrode courage and the policeman ducked, wood spraying the back of his shirt. Tane swore at Michael but halted his advance, allowing the gun to direct him over to the women. He squatted next to Leilah and cupped her cheek in his hand. “It’s ok, Lei,” he whispered. “We’ll get out of this, babe.”

  “You think so?” Michael waved the gun around near his own face. “One of you won’t.”

  “What the hell?” Tane began, stopped by Leilah’s tug on his sleeve.

  “Please stop,” she begged. “Just hold me.”

  Michael’s eyes flared with fury as Tane pressed his back against the wall and slipped his arm around Leilah. He avoided her sore shoulder, cupping her head in his large palm and massaging her scalp. “Maybe we don’t need the others to come,” Michael said, satisfaction in his voice. He jerked his head towards Seline. “See, sweetheart, do you get it now?” His eyes bugged and the reddened hue of fury remained in his cheeks.

  Seline shook her head and wiped her bloodstained palms over her eyes. “No, Daddy, I understand none of this. Put the gun down; can’t you see how ridiculous this is?”

  “Don’t call me that!” Michael spat, the label seeming to burn in his chest. “I’m not your dad.”

  Seline turned to face Leilah, gripping her hand and causing her mother to moan in pain. “Mum, what’s happening?” she whispered, avoiding Michael’s eyes. “Why’s he doing this?”

  They heard the rumble of another vehicle and Leilah’s heart clenched in her chest, stress raising her blood pressure and causing more blood to slide from the wound and seep into the shirt. Five stained squares covered her collarbone and chest as the flow busied itself with colouring in a sixth. Tane dragged the cardigan from Seline’s lap and placed it back over the wound. “Who’s coming?” he asked Leilah in a low voice and she groaned.

  “Everyone,” she said, a catch in her throat. “He’s called everyone who matters to me and then he’ll make me tell him and kill whoever I name.”

  Tane’s radio crackled on his stab vest, the curly cable abandoned on the floorboards with the earpiece. Michael jumped and almost discharged the gun again, stopping himself at the last second. Tane leaned his ear close to Leilah’s, his question whispered. “How many rounds has he discharged?”

  “Shut up!” Michael hissed as the car door slammed outside. Leilah held up two fingers before clasping them through Seline’s shaking digits and giving them a squeeze.

  Dante didn’t bother knocking. He let himself in through the French door, slamming it behind him as he always did. He froze at the sight of Michael wielding the gun, but didn’t fully register the serious of the situation, his brain lying to his ego. “Hey, buddy,” he said, running his hand through his blonde hair. “What’s going on?”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed and he jabbed the gun in the air. “Get over there, with them,” he said, his voice a snarl. “All these years you’ve hung around my wife like a bad smell. I suppose I should’ve worked it out before now.” He glanced at the small gathering in the corner of the room. “Perhaps all this is academic, after all.”

  “Dunno what you’re on about, mate,” Dante said, his casual air deceiving. His lips parted at the sight of Leilah laying in her blood and his eyes flashed back to Michael, frightening intensity in his glare. “Did you not hurt her enough during your farce of a marriage?” Dante hissed, cranking up into a higher gear. He took a step forward. “Everyone knew what an asshole you were, Michael. Or didn’t you realise? Do you honestly think they fawned over you because you were the latest hot thing? They laughed behind your back, man. You were the butt of everyone’s jokes but they made you pay for it, didn’t they? Hey, Mike, the drinks were always on you, weren’t they? You didn’t just fill your own nose with Cocaine; you supplied half of Auckland’s well-to-do. Grow up, man. Smell the coffee, you loser.”

  Michael reeled from the revelation, his jaw clenching and the bone showing through his skin as a taut line. He shook his head and his hands shook as the gun became a dangerous extension of his arm. “Really? Really, Dante? You turn up to all the best parties in your flash suits and bow ties and the women float around you like flies around shit! But underneath you’re just a small town farm boy with no money and a debt that’ll strangle you one day soon. You’ve placed one bad bet too many and they’re closing in my friend; you’ve nowhere left to run.”

  Michael waved the gun around his head and Seline ducked with a squeak of terror and covered her ears. “You backed a donkey!” he shouted into Dante’s face, sounding like an excited lunatic. “You needed both tracts of land for the development and you don’t have a hope of getting them. There’s no funds for you, my friend. Your backers are done with you!”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Dante said, his voice level. “I’ve made some dumb mistakes in my life, Michael, but you had it all; a beautiful wife, a family and a business with the potential to take you somewhere.” He fixed his eyes on Leilah and his face softened. “You lost it all, man. You’re a fool.”

  Michael’s eyes flashed danger and he took a step towards Dante. “I knew it!” he screamed into the other man’s face. “I knew it was you!” He spoke through gritted teeth and Dante’s face remained unchanged. “Say goodbye to your daughter, asshole!” Michael said, his face twitching with latent wrath which spewed over into his body, taking control and rendering him a slave to the inner fury.

  Dante turned to Leilah, his blue eyes sad as he watched her struggle for breath. “Sorry for everything,” he said and blew her a kiss. Michael pressed the gun into Dante’s chest and depressed the trigger, sending the .44 Remington Magnum round deep into his heart. Dante dropped like a stone and Leilah let out a wail of dismay, contorting her body and drawing up her knees. Tane seemed lost for words, cradling her head and kissing her hair, horror forcing his eyes closed.

  Satisfied, Michael’s demeanour changed. He calmed, opening the cylinder on the pistol and
checking the chamber. He leaned back against the wall with a casual air, blowing out in a slow exhale through pursed lips and recovering his equilibrium with surprising ease.

  “I need to check Dante,” Tane said, rising, his voice stilted. “I need to see if he’s...”

  “See if he’s ok?” Michael sounded sardonic. “He’s dead. Just like you’ll be if you take one more step forward.” He jerked the gun towards Leilah. “Sit down and I’ll consider letting you live.”

  Leilah sobbed as the blood pooled beneath Dante, spreading out in a wide, ugly circle like spilled paint. Overwhelmed, Seline pressed her face into her mother’s lap and her shoulders heaved in a silent plea for clemency.

  Michael jerked his head towards Tane. “Shut them up,” he ordered. “I mean it.”

  Tane pulled Leilah into his chest, hearing the catch in her lungs at the agony burning in her shoulder. He noticed another chequered square filled in on her shirt and bit his lip. Stretching out a hand towards Seline, he stroked the girl’s hair, offering comfort from one captive to another, wishing he’d got to know her and reeling from the shock of Michael’s assumption. He caught Leilah’s glassy stare as she looked up at him and she shook her head in a frantic motion at the confusion on his face. Leave it, her eyes implored.

  “The others aren’t coming but it doesn’t matter now.” Michael stared at the gun in his hand, pleased with the outcome of his dramatic visit. “I got what I came for.”

  “And what was that?” Tane asked, his tone bitter.

  “Retribution.” Michael cocked his head as though it was the most natural thing; to visit his ex-wife and shoot her friends. “I brought up his kid, fed her, clothed her, paid her expensive school fees and stood by while he hung around my wife like a parasite.” Michael shook his head at Dante’s statuesque body. He kicked the polished black shoe and it bounced away and back again.