Day 165 - Upside Down- Chapter 13 - (1534 words)

©Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Wayne Webb and constantwriting.blogspot.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

UPSIDE DOWN, BACK TO FRONT

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 13

After

“I looked you up you know.”
“You wouldn’t be doing your job if you hadn’t now would you?” James arms still folded, not wanting to be here, not wanting to go along.
“No, I guess not. Do you want to tell me about it?” The question was understanding and open, as if an invitation to unburden himself.
It was fishing for clues.
“Not really no.”
“Why? Do you have something to hide? Is your past somehow relevant to your present situation?”
“My present situation is that I am probably unemployed, my boss is dead, I listened to him die for fucks sake and you want to dredge up something that happened to me when I was 17 for fucks sake!”
Press a little harder, the truth may fall out. People fall into natural behaviours when you press them hard enough, often enough.
“You made a mistake, nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Actually yes, yes it is. I was an idiot and I let people push me into something I didn’t want to do. And look where it got me? A criminal record, the only job I could get was this one, Greg gave me a chance when no one else would. And now … now he’s dead.”
“Do you feel responsible for that?”
“No? Why should I – look I’ve been down this road before. Last time you fuckers tried to stitch me up too, and I didn’t argue and it … well it put me here. Unemployable and instant suspect number one.”
“You haven’t been arrested. We just have some questions.”
“About an accident? This is just pick on the kid with the record again.”
“You’re hardly a kid anymore.”
“Yeah. Great fucking life up till this point.”
James is ready to snap.
“Is there something you need to tell me?”
“Why didn’t he get out of the truck?” He started to well up, the sound of a dead man’s dreadful screams boring into his silent skull. “Why the fuck did he not get out?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t fucking know. I listened to him fucking die man. He should have got out of the truck! What the fuck would make you stay in there when the places is on fire, when you are on fire? Jesus, he fucking burned to death in there. You don’t know! You can’t fucking know.” Open weeping now.
There’s no confession here. Maybe this is an accident, that hinky feeling in the back of his mind, what is that? Prejudice, the coincidence that an ex-con, low level inside man type with form for stupid decisions is on hand? After all it should have been him that was driving the truck.
“The door was fused in the fire. We think it started there.”
“What do you mean?” James blinked away the tears and looked at him as he spoke.
“From what we can see the fire started in the wiring from the cage to the cab, the door frame was up against that and the intense heat fused part of the door before he realised and tried to open it.”
The detective watched James face as the full horror of the situation slammed home.
Was this guilt? Why would he do this if this was a crime? There was no proof after all, just a feeling that this was not all there was.
Life gets complicated. Not always illegal.
“Thank you for helping us with our inquiries.”
“What?”
“You’re free to go.” Paper shuffled and a manila folder coddled them away to what would be classed as an accident report soon enough.
“But?”
“Look, we’re being thorough. There was a million dollars or more in that truck today, we … well we have to do our jobs too.” The detective had already moved on, his suspicion had evaporated so quickly he wondered what he was even thinking.
This man was flotsam and jetsam. He was not a player, a leader or anything but a man who did what he was told to do. Didn’t really think for himself too much. Did exactly what was expected of him, but initiative? It seemed less likely every passing second.
“It was my run, he took it over.”
“Yes, you were lucky.”
“Lucky? I could have died, he could have killed me.”
“He?”
“Greg, he could have killed me if he hadn’t taken the run off me. I would have been in that cab. I’d be dead now.”
With little warning other than a catch in his voice and a lurch in his throat James threw up violently over the table, narrowly missing the microphone that the detective nimbly snatched away. The spashing noise and pungent bleach smell made him gag again and more fluid left him, he was drained and dry.
A man who had heard his own death.
Poor bastard.

Before.

Another interview, another boring interview.
He was sick to death of these interviews, he just wanted to get on with it and go home. These guys all had a stick up their ass on money. This was a doddle of a job, get in the truck and driver, it wasn’t hard or skilled work. Just turn up, do you job on time and go home.
“Send the next one in.”
“Mr Nixon?”
Greg grunted at the applicant, his patience already at a minimum.
The guy, little more than a kid sat down and waited patiently for Greg to speak.
“Why should I hire you? I have seen people all day who want too much money, all the things they can get from me and not one of them says one single thing about what they can do for me. Your generation is a selfish, self centred bunch of pricks son. Who gives a fuck about my business but me? No one! So why the fuck should I hire you?”
The applicant was stunned, this was not what he expected.
“Honestly?”
“Oh for christs sake is anyone capable of honesty in a job interview?”
“Yes. Honestly you probably shouldn’t hire me. I wouldn’t.”
“Trying reverse psychology? How stupid do you think I am?”
“I’m serious. I have a criminal record. I got involved in a stupid thing with some people who I should have avoided and made the biggest mistake of my life. I spent a few months in jail, got diversion eventually and have this black mark against my name I can’t get away from. I can’t get the welfare to get off my back about getting a job, and it’s just one person after another looking at me like I’m scum. I made a huge mistake and I’ll pay for it forever because that’s all anybody sees now.”
“You’re not exactly selling yourself here.”
Except he kind of was, the part of Greg that liked the underdog, the battler and the people who had to work hard was attracted to the brutality of this kid.
“I’m selling the only thing I have. I will work my ass off because I want to work. I don’t care about the pay, I don’t care about what I have to do. I’m sick to death of not being able to start again, I just want to start. I’ll sweep your floors, clean the toliets, take whatever you throw at me all day every day and I’ll keep coming to work, to work.”
“You know diversion is not the same as criminal record right?”
“Do you have one?”
“No.”
“I tried not talking about it and then they call my only reference and it’s all over. It’s better to be honest. Hell it’s easier to be honest, at least you can see the end coming quickly.”
Greg Nixon laughed heartily to himself. This kid was all right, and would be cheap and would work hard. Loyalty man, loyalty you can’t buy.
“You need to commit, fully.”
“What do you mean?”
“You do what you are told when you are told how you are told. You do that and you and I will get along fine.”
“Are you saying?”
“For fucks sake, yes you can start Monday.”
James Hansen was stunned, it had been a hard month of interviews, rejections and blank stares of disgust and this abusive, troll like man had just become his greatest hero.
“Look, I can be a bit… rough … at times. You need to get that it’s just me. It’s all about the job, I don’t give a fuck about your feelings or what you think is right or what the fucking law says. I just want you, everyone really, to do the job I pay the money I earn out for.”
He wasn’t looking for an agreement, just a confirmation.
This kid was a little weedy, not the usual hulks he’d hire, but there was something in it, something under the surface, something honest and honurable maybe? Hard to tell.
Weedy though, he’d definitely have to go with Sam, the others would eat him alive and he’d be somebody’s bitch by the end of day one.
“Go out to Andrea and get your papwerwork done … James is it? And then you can meet Sam.”
“Ok, Andrea?”
“My office manager.”
“And Sam?”

“Yeah your new best friend.”