Unfinished Sentence (The Charlie Davies Mysteries Book 2) Page 7

  “Nor do I,” Sheila agreed.

  “So you want my company to look into it?”

  “Yes, and I’d also like you to take over the security contract.”

  I groaned internally. Was I going to have to sit through contract negotiations?

  “Charlie, why don’t you go and look around the site?” Adam said. “See if you can spot anything that might help us.”

  Ooh, yay! I was going to do some investigating! I suspected it had more to do with the fact that Adam wanted me out of the office while he conducted the serious business than it had to do with my prowess as an investigator, but I threw myself into the task nonetheless.

  Exiting the office, I surveyed the construction site – or rather, destruction site. The natural valley formed around the river was filled with smoke from the earlier fires, and the acrid smell of ash and burnt rubber hung in the air. The site was quite close to the bank of the Tanner, and as I got closer to the river’s edge I could see a hole in the chain link fence, presumably made with bolt-cutters. I guessed that was where the perpetrators had gotten in.

  I ducked down and stepped through the hole, fitting easily. I walked down the bank a little to where the jetty protruded out into the water. The ‘jetty’ was a relic from the time before Gerongate had a town pool, and this was the place every came to go swimming. Everything was less commercially developed back then and, presumably, the water was much cleaner.

  The jetty was an old makeshift pier that had been used as a diving board. It had seen better days, but still looked reasonably sturdy. The ladder to the top of the pier had some weathered rungs, but I climbed it fairly easily, although I had to go slowly to accommodate my sore knees. From atop the jetty I had a much better vantage point from which to survey the building site.

  The thing that caught my eye from this angle was out of the way of the rest of the site. There were no cops or fire fighters here. Just a big hole filled with concrete. The hole was clearly not professionally filled as it hadn’t been smoothed on top – it was rough and uneven, and I could see something sticking out of it. Even with my glasses on, I was too far away to see what the protruding object was, so I climbed down off the jetty and began to walk back towards the site.

  The closer I got to the pile of concrete, the more my stomach churned. I stopped about a metre back from the edge of the concrete and stared at the lump for a while before walking back to the site office and knocking on the door. I also grabbed the chief investigating officer before leading him, Adam and Sheila back to the concrete pile, but Sheila and the cop seemed significantly less concerned than me.

  The toe of a boot stuck out the top of the concrete.

  “A lot of people leave their work clothes here, or at least have spares on site. I’m sure the vandals just put it there as a joke.”

  The policeman laughed at me.

  “Seems like you’ve got a bit of an overactive imagination, gorgeous,” he said, turning and walking away.

  “Shall we get back to the contract?” Sheila asked Adam. He wasn’t listening, though. He’d grabbed a wide plank of wood from nearby and lain it on the still-soft concrete, forming a bridge across it to where the boot lay. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and lay across the plank, keeping his weight evenly distributed on it so as to not sink down. Using his shirt-covered hand, he gripped the boot and pulled.

  The boot slid out of the concrete.

  The foot that it had previously encased remained, protruding from the surface.

  This time when I called the policeman over, he did not laugh at me. He just turned kind of green and walked away to make some calls.

  Chapter Six

  “Well-spotted,” Adam said while we sat back and watched the scene-of-crime officers do their thing. They were having to work quickly to extract the body before the concrete hardened too much.

  “How come you didn’t laugh it off like the others?”

  “I don’t laugh,” he said, straight-faced.

  I snorted slightly in response and he cracked a half-smile. OK, so finding dead bodies was another way to bring out Adam’s sense of humour. Good to know.

  “Honestly, though? Because I was pretty sure you were right. Laying the concrete is a lot of effort to go to just to mess the place up. I figured that they must have had a reason.”

  “And?”

  I had the feeling he hadn’t told me everything. He looked me in the eye.

  “And that’s the kind of thing Volkov did in the past,” said Adam. He noticed my blank look and rolled his eyes. “Volkov, as I told you last night, is the name of the escaped convict. The one that might now be going under the name of Lonny Lionel.”

  “Oh, shit. That’s why you brought me here. Because it’s connected to Lionel.”

  “I don’t know,” said Adam. “Maybe someone wants us to think it’s connected to him. Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You think this is a coincidence?”

  “We need conclusive proof either way. Besides, why would Lionel attack this place? What threat does this pose to his business?”

  Adam was right. This place, as far as I knew, had nothing to do with Lionel. He owned a nightclub downtown. This was some sort of new factory on the outskirts of Gerongate. There didn’t seem to be anything linking them. Except, you know, the dead dude in the concrete.

  “I guess we’ll know more when we find out the identity of the corpse,” said Adam.

  After we spoke to the police for a little longer, Adam dropped me back at work, reminding me to leave early in order to work on my other case. In all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten that I was meant to follow a schoolchild home.

  What a fun day today was shaping up to be.

  It was eight by this time, so I got changed into my normal clothes in the bathroom without showering, not wanting to get my dressings wet (and also just because I was lazy).

  I spotted Tim in the cafeteria, freshly showered and loading his plate up with breakfast. My morning had given me quite an appetite, what with all the injuries and dead bodies, so my budget went out the window and I grabbed rye toast with avocado, grilled mushrooms, and tofu scramble, along with a side of celery, kale and apple juice, plus a small bowl of fruit salad and coconut yoghurt.

  Yeah, OK, I was hungry.

  Tim and I grabbed a table together.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  “Construction site,” I said. “Found a body.”

  “You serious?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was mostly buried in concrete, but there was a boot sticking out. No one else thought it was a body until Adam pulled the shoe off and there was a foot there.”

  Tim was silent for a moment.

  “Wow,” he said finally. “Eventful morning. Are you OK?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, although I wasn’t sure that was true. “How about you? What did you get up to?”

  He shrugged and said lamely, “Leg day.”

  Back in my office, I went through the usual routine of opening the mail, answering calls, answering the door, filing things, researching, filing, answering the phone, and filing some more. The work was monotonous, but I was grateful for it today. I didn’t think I’d be able to concentrate on anything more complex. I’d never seen a dead body before. Not that I’d really seen one this morning. So I’d never seen a dead foot before. Whatever. It was stressful.

  I wrapped up my work after lunch and headed out the front door, walking as quickly as I could on my aching legs in order to get to the school punctually. Arriving just in time, I caught Jared (the kid I was spying on) leaving the school – except he seemed to be heading in the wrong direction. I was in the process of following when a chubby form stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

  “Charlie Davies?” said the voice. The balding man standing in front of me, not much taller than I was, who was inexplicably dressed in a suit despite the 35 degree heat, was instantly recognisable. Mr Fanta, my old English teacher.
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  “Hi, Mr –” I stopped. Mr Fanta had been a nickname, which had seemed really clever when I was at school (though I wasn’t sure why – I couldn’t even remember the backstory), but now meant that I couldn’t remember his real name. “Uh, sir,” I finished lamely.

  “Please, just call me Boris.” Boris? Really? That was his name? Someone actually called their child Boris and thought they would turn out normal and well adjusted?

  “Right, uh, Boris. Sorry, I really can’t talk now – I’m in a bit of a hurry.” I tried to step around him, but he blocked me easily with his wide body. Boris was taller when he lay down, if you catch my drift. A human chode.

  “What, not even any time to have a chat to your favourite old English teacher?”

  I noticed a couple of kids nearby, watching us. Great, now I had an audience. But maybe I could use that to my advantage…

  “You tried to fail me,” I reminded him loudly. “The only reason you didn’t is because I threatened to tell your wife that – ”

  “Alright, then, if you have to go, you have to go,” he said. He waddled away, muttering to himself, while the teenage spectators stood by, trying to speculate what kind of horrible thing their English teach had done that I had blackmailed him with.

  The truth was, all I’d ever threatened was ‘to tell his wife’. I didn’t know what I was supposed to know that she didn’t, but it was as effective as any real threat. Mr Fanta didn’t try to fail me after that. It was an especially good trick, seeing as I didn’t know his real name and had no way of contacting his wife.

  I scanned the crowd of school children, looking for Jared, and spotted him a couple of hundred metres ahead. I tried to look inconspicuous following him, but I was limping quite badly, and it was worse now that I was trying to gather speed. Jared rounded a corner up ahead, and I broke into a stilted jog, trying to catch up.

  I turned the corner, and –

  Came face-to-face with Jared.

  “Why are you following me?” he asked.

  Wow, I was really bad at this.

  “Wow, I’m really bad at this.”

  “Yeah, you are,” he agreed.

  “I’m kind of new to it.”

  “I gathered.”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you why I’m following you.”

  “My mum hired you, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. Hey, my cover was blown. He pretty much already knew who’d put me up to this.

  “What does she think I’m doing?”

  “Drugs, I think.”

  “Jesus,” he said, shaking my head. “I should never have bought her that Breaking Bad box set.”

  I stifled a laugh.

  “Hey, hold on,” he said. “I know you, right?”

  “You do?”

  “You used to go here, didn’t you? To Gerongate High.”

  “Yes…” I said slowly.

  “You were that emo kid who attacked James McKenzie with a baseball bat!”

  (In school, I’d dyed my hair black and straightened it every morning, hence the ‘emo’ label. I was pretty dark back then. These days I was more Vanilla Ice – don’t know what I’m doing, ruining something great, no business being as well known as I am, etc.)

  “Well, technically it was a hockey stick, but –”

  “When did you get out of rehab?”

  I frowned. “I wasn’t in rehab.”

  “Oh, OK. I just kind of assumed, seeing as you like… Well, you were kind of crazy.”

  I decided to ignore him.

  “Do you want to tell me what you’ve been up to in the afternoons? I need to tell your mum something.”

  “Really? Because I was kind of thinking I’d tell her that I caught you following me. Maybe guilt her into buying me a car.”

  My heart rate quickened. If he did that, I’d lose my job.

  “You can’t!” I said.

  “Yes, I can,” he answered, turning to walk away.

  “I found a dead body this morning!” I blurted. “You can’t tell your mum because she’ll tell my boss and I’ll lose my job and also I tripped over and also I – I have a lot of debt from rehab!”

  Well, when life gives you rehab…

  “Wow, OK, I’m sorry,” he said, turning back to me. “It’s OK. Please don’t cry.”

  Hah, I thought.

  I began to wail.

  “I’m terrible at my job!”

  “No, you’re not, really. I only saw you by chance. Normally I wouldn’t have noticed! It’s just because you were limping.”

  “I know! I’m limping so much! My joints ache!” I sobbed.

  “It’s OK,” said Jared, desperate to shut me up. “Please, stop crying. Look, I won’t tell mum. I’ll even show you where I’m going. You just have to promise not to tell, OK?”

  I sniffled a little. “I guess that would be OK. As long as you’re not doing anything dangerous.”

  “I’m not, I promise,” he said. “It’s just – it’s a secret.”

  “I won’t tell,” I said. I may have crossed my fingers behind my back while I said it, though.

  Chapter Seven

  I have to admit, a clandestine Dungeons and Dragons meeting was not where I had expected to end up that afternoon.

  “You could just tell your mum,” I whispered to Jared while the Dungeon Overlord or whatever he was called was meting out punishment to someone for choosing to attack the cultists when he should have run. Jared glared at me. “What? It’s not that bad. She’s your mum. It’s not like she can disown you.”

  Jared looked me dead in the eye and said, “Unconditional love doesn’t exist.”

  Using my empathy training from my high school anger management classes, I put myself in Jared’s shoes. What would I do in his position? My mother practised tough love. By that I mean that she found it tough to love me, even at the best of times. This would send her over the edge.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I wouldn’t own up to this either.”

  “So you see my problem.”

  I nodded resignedly. What was I meant to do now? I couldn’t dob Jared in to his crazy mother. If I told Adam, he’d tell the mother without hesitation. I suspected Tim would tell Adam. None of my other friends would be any help whatsoever – I could already hear their responses.

  “You followed a child out of school?” – Lea

  “What do you mean you played dragons? You know they’re not real, right?” – Stacey

  “How young? Is he legal?” – Jo

  At times like this, it would be really good if McKenzie hadn’t decided to make himself my mortal enemy again. He had a much more developed moral compass than me. Or at least that’s what I’d thought previously – lately I wasn’t so sure. I mean, seriously? “Grow up”? From the guy who threw a tantrum whenever someone mentioned his brother because of a tiny misunderstanding 5 years ago? Celia had definitely outdone Will in the ‘being a terrible person’ thing.

  Wait! Will! The good McKenzie! He could help me. I decided to head over to his house that evening and ask him what he thought I should do about Jared. Maybe he would give me a meal! (Hey, you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got.)

  We ended the game of D&D on something of a cliff-hanger – being followed through the forest by unknown assailants – and Jared told me that I was welcome to attend the next gathering. Worryingly, I considered it. No one tell my mother.

  After walking home and getting my car, I drove to Will’s place. It was after six now, so provided he wasn’t working the night shift I figured he should be home. Will lived in a dodgy apartment in a reasonable area of town. It was an old red brick building, and there was no lock on the door to the building so I let myself up (holding my breath so as to not inhale the stench of urine in the stairwell) and knocked on the door of his apartment. He answered with a smile.

  “And here I’d thought you’d forgotten about me. Come in.” He stepped aside, holding the door open for me. I walked inside and plonked myself d
own on his couch.

  “I’m in a quandary.”

  “A quandary? Sounds dramatic.”

  I explained the situation with Jared.

  “That’s an interesting spy tactic. Openly introducing yourself to the person you’re following.”

  “William, focus. I need your advice.”

  “Am I really the person you go to for moral guidance these days?”

  “Who else do I have?”

  “You’re right – an ex-junkie is the perfect go-to person.”

  “You smoked some weed as a teenager. That’s hardly junkie material.”

  “Well, there was that small incident of the overdose.”

  “Yeah, but like, you only did heroin once. Hardly does one injection a junkie make.” And it wasn’t even an accidental overdose, I wanted to say, but I stopped myself. Will and I hadn’t really had the chance to talk since he disclosed that particular piece of information, and it seemed like a potentially touchy subject.

  “My police officer brother is still probably a better option for this. From what I’ve heard, you two are kind of friendly these days,” he said, wiggling his brows. Fishing for information about his brother, as usual.

  “Well, your information is out of date.”

  “Oh?”

  I sighed. “We were almost friends, then Celia showed up and ruined everything.”

  “Classic Celia.”

  There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Yes, classic Celia. Why does she always have to show up and wreck my life?”

  “Not being friends with my brother is ‘wrecking your life’? Wow, just marry him already.”

  I involuntarily thought back to my alcohol-fuelled bowling and Pokémon adventures with James. When I noticed Will studying my face, I stopped thinking about James immediately. (Well, you know. I tried.)

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “OK, then I’ll rephrase: tell me, or I’m going to send anonymous notes disclosing embarrassing facts about you to your place of work.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”