Day 176 - Upside Down- Chapter 24 - (1869 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 24

After

“Tell me about this argument you had?”
“What argument?”
“The one you had with Ivan.”
James looked at him quizzically, he didn’t quite understand what he was referring to. He would be very careful what he said here, after all the bulk of the conversations he had with Ivan were private. And as Ivan was dead, what was left was not much that people would know about. Was this Sherry guy being vague to try and catch him out.
“I’m not sure what you are talking about?”
“Come on now, you had a loud argument with him.”
“When?” He was careful to sound confused not challenging, of course he had no proof of anything but why indicate that proof was obtainable in any way.
“Come now, are you telling me that you don’t remember arguing with Ivan a day or so before you put a bullet in his head in… self defence?”
Of course he did, he remembered plenty of arguments with Ivan in those days after the van and before the…
Before.
Again he had no intention of offering any information to the detective that would provide any more of a picture than he already had.
“You don’t remember Ivan threatening to kill you over something, something you had of his?”
That made his blood run cold.
How did he know about that? Had Sam said something? No if Sam had said something, then there would be more than a fishing expedition, it’d be backed by a trap of facts. So did someone overhear at his house? At the warehouse? At Ivan’s house? At…
Oh wait. The driveway. The neighbours, they must have heard Ivan that day. That day he held the knife, the day he went to hide in the hotel.
That was so very loud.
James said nothing and looked at the table left and right, as if scanning his memory.
“I … well…”
“Come on son, you’ll feel better once you let it out.”
That was not true at all, James would be imprisoned for all sorts of crimes if he let it out, but that was not his intention at all. It was to frame Ivan for what he was.
Scary.
“No, you don’t understand.” The best lies contain the truth, they conceal it inside of itself.
“Well explain it to me.”
“It’s not that, you think there’s a big conspiracy here, but there isn’t. Ivan was a damaged guy and he had a bit of a temper. I didn’t take that too seriously until … well until he had the gun and he hit Sams sister. That’s when it all fell in place. You see?”
Detective Sherry could smell the truth, wafting through the explanation, traces of it in the air.
“Tell me about the argument.”
“He wanted money. He thought I owed him money.”
“How much, and why?”
James shrugged. “He was just that way, he needed money and he thought he could bully it out of me.” He knows this won’t be believed, but they are haggling for the truth. The real truth was not for sale, but the man had to feel like he had bargained to find the real truth. Otherwise if it was too easy, then it was not.
“Really? He just randomly picked on you to take money?”
“Yes, I mean no. I mean he was like that, you know that he had money problems right? There was a thing, a machine he owed money on and it was a problem for him. He wasn’t getting the work.”
“And so like some schoolyard bully he decided to steal your lunch money, is that it?”
“Yeah.” Unconvincing and unconvinced.
“So why did you say that he thought you owed him money?”
“I just told you, he..”
Sherry held up a finger and looked at the notes he had in front of himself.
“No. You said that he thought you OWED him money. Owed it to him, you OWED it.”
“I… don’t follow?” James let himself be led, this was not unexpected, but then again you expect to lead a lamb to the slaughter, it’s unsettling to see one volunteer.
“Owed implies that he had a reason for believing that you had a debt with him. That you and he had some business, whether real or percieved that implies he is in receipt of some kind of marker from you. Something that is worth money, which you obviously disagreed with.”
“Yes.”
“So he thought he could cash that in and then demanded the money from you, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You refused for whatever reason, that’s not really relevant, so he turned up the heat on you?”
“Yes.”
“So the threat was more a bargaining tool?”
“Yes, that’s right yes a bargaining tool. Negotiation.” James sounded relieved. From here he was home free. If Sherry accepted this then it ends here, if he doesn’t then the premise has been set.
Sherry, did not accept instead he was looking to spring a trap.
“So what was the debt?”
“Oh it was nothing. He just wanted the money, the why is not really important.”
BANG! A loud slap interrupted James casual dismissal as Sheery palmed the surface of the interrogation table.
“How about I decide what’s important to this murder inquiry then shall I?” He eyeballed James with his most iron like stare until he looked away. “Now what was the debt? What had Ivan done for you that meant you owed him money.”
“I didn’t owe…”
BANG! Another slap.
“What did he do for you?”
“He told me about a game. And I … look it’s not.”
BANG!
“Okay, okay, Jesus! Stop doing that! Please?”
“Just tell me the truth James, why did Ivan Maxwell threaten to kill you over money? How much money? Why James? Why?”
James hid his head in his hands.
“What if it’s illegal? I should … I can’t incriminate … is this off the record?” He looked at Sherry with pleading eyes.
“Son, you put a bullet in a man’s brain. No one disputes that there were extenuating circumstances, no one disputes that lives were on the line. But you are not telling me the while truth, and as long as you lie to me, to the police, to the courts to whoever sees those lies, that’s all they’re going to see. A liar. Tell me the truth.”
“I don’t want more trouble.”
“More trouble than murder? How bad can it be?”
The truth was worse than murder of course, it was much bigger than that but that was not the buried treasure that James would uncover, that was buried deeper. Below real feelings, real regret and immense shame and risk. That was not coming up easily.
“We conned some guys out of some money.”
“What do you mean?” Sherry could feel it coming up the line, jiggling reluctanly but reeling in nome the less.
“There was this game. A poker game and we had these signals. Well he had these signals. And we used them to take these guys for about 2 grand.”
“Where’s that money now?”
“It’s gone. I spent it.”
“How?”
This is the circle completing, the evidence to back it up. If Ivan’s money, his half of this scam was gone – it didn’t matter.
“I hid out that night, I … think maybe someone saw him, because he kind of stopped after he threatened me, went quiet as if someone was listening. The knife just vanished, I didn’t even see where it went. He knew how to use it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It appeared from nowhere and cut the skin on my throat, just nicked it a little – made me know it was there.” He lifted his chin, unaware if Sherry could see the evidence or not. It didn’t matter as much as the gesture proved that he believed it to be there. “And then it was gone, invisible like it was never there.” James shook his head. “He never looked at it, he did it all by feel.”
The best lies contain all the truth, conceal it inside other truths.
“So he…”
“He wanted more, a bigger payoff than his half.”
“Why didn’t you just give it to him? Whaetever he had left?”
“I was scared, very scared. I didn’t have it on me of course, and then when I left I needed to hide out – he knew where I lived. I got home and found the door in my place had been kicked in. He’d been in my house.”
It had been kicked out, but that detail was not that relevant in the scheme of things, no one assumed James was a forensics specialist.
“So?”
“So I went to a hotel, the nicest one I could find. And I spent most of the money on the room, dinner and some drinks.” James smiled, selling the satisfied look of a man who had found a loophole perhaps. His face changed as did his tone. “When I sobered up I realised how stupid that was.”
“What happened next?”
“I called Sam and told him bits and pieces of it. Just the highlights really, and he wanted to confront Ivan and sort him out.”
“Sort him out how?” Did the brother have some role here? Not just an innocent bystander.
“Well he was going to tell his sister and shame Ivan into leaving me alone. He figured if Manisha found out Ivan’s problems would be much worse, he did love her very much after all. It just sounded…”
“Like trouble?”
James nodded. Sherry knew what happened next.
“So you went to Ivan before Sam could come in with Manisha, that was the next night?”
“No, it was a night later. We had to work. And Ivan was on a thing with Maisha, something about th baby. I had a day extra to think about it. To work up to it. To be sensible, and well just take what was going to happen like a man.”
“You were going to let him kill you?”
“I didn’t think he was going to really, he might fuck me up a … can I say that?” James looked at the microphone self consciously, thinking of the record for posterity.
“Son, this room has heard much worse.” Sherry chuckled.
“Yeah, you should have heard my old boss. He could be a right prick sometimes, the mouth on hi…” James stopped talking.
Where did that come from? Holy shit. No, no, no. Don’t look up, don’t look at the detective, don’t look guilty.
Sherry saw that look, the one James was trying not to have on his face, but could not stop.
He misread it.
“Yes, you’ve had a bit of a run this month haven’t you?”

James nodded and said nothing more.

Day 175 - Upside Down- Chapter 23 - (1390 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 23

After

Ivan watched the driveway carefully. He was across the street and behind a tree casually waiting as if to be picked up near the corner. He could see the driveway that lead to James flat.
He had watched from a car he had in the shop for repairs. It was unknown and very plain to look at, not old or new or standing out in any way.
He felt like a spy. A man who knew more and saw more than everyone else in the room.
He waited for James to leave for work, and then waited another thirty minutes for the twilight to creep further in. The security contracts still had to be maintained, even though the drivers and hoppers were one by one being approached by rival companies who wanted to buy them, their knowledge and Greg’s remaining contracts from his widow who was managing the business with an efficient despair. She did not want this, the insurance would take a while to clear and until then it was all about keeping the money flowing. She already had talks with other companies to take the contracts, sell them out. She was not going lightly, she knew their worth from Greg’s books and his own estimations for his business. Those estimations paid for her house, her car and the private schooling for a daughter who was no longer talking to her.
Keep the contracts a few more days or weeks and then sell them out, sell them on at proper price and move on. The insurance money, substantial as expected and contract cashing in, the collapsing of the business and the final reckoning on it all would provide for them easily. She would never work, her daughter would be fine until adulthood. If she invested as wisely as Gail’s father was advising them too, property and holdings in commercial entities with solid tack records and futures. That was an income for life once Jennifer had decided what that life would be. She could choose, she could blossom and she could outgrow her fathers life. That’s what Gail had always wanted.
So no bargain basement sales on the contracts, and when negotiations slowed the vultures circled thinking that making her life hard, making her work to keep it running while they haggled and delayed would only work in their favour.
It didn’t. Greg’s customers stood behind her, when she wanted to sell they wanted to. Until then no one dared piss profits on a dead mans legacy. It was just wrong and too soon. It could not last forever, but it would last long enough for his widow and child to get what they needed, what they deserved.
James and Sam worked doubly hard, driven to do more and support Gail and Jennifer more and more. Gail saw this, misunderstood the motivation and exploited it regardless. It did not matter if she understood or did not. Either of them could have easily stepped up and repeatedly did for the sake of an orphan and a widow.
Ivan had seen them wracked and in pain over the death of their former boss. A man by their descriptions, Ivan had never met the man, was deserving of everything he got. Intentional or accidental, it made no difference now he was dead. It was pointless going back over old ground, it would lead you nowehere but back to where you are.
Pointless.
Ivan wanted his money. This self sacrificing act of theirs, they looked like saints but it would not do if they let that get carried away. There was real money at stake. More than that their safety was on the line, even if they did not recognise this and risked all with their over helpfulness. What if it went too far? What if they decide that time and effort is not enough? What if money is put in play.
They cannot give any money away. The cash is not in play. It can’t be.
They would not be so stupid as to dip into his third, he knew that – but it was their two thirds he was worried about. Two thirds was too much, they had not taken even risk and had not taken even action. They deserved a cut, yes. But two thirds? Why should they get twice what he did?
If they gave even a tiny portion away, what then? Who would come looking for the source of the money. Their behaviour risked them losing it all. It risked exposing the cause of the fire, it risked exposing Ivan and it risked exposing Manisha and their baby’s future. What would that do to the accidental death of Greg Nixon? What would it be then, would anyone know? His widow and his daughter, how would they feel if the cause of that fire was suddenly in a man’s hands. Not in fates and not in any god’s. How would that do them any good?
That cannot happen.
I need to take control of it away from them. For their own sake as much as mine. For the widow and the child, the baby on the way. Many, many reasons. More than a mere million reasons.
The sun had dipped far enough and the filtering half light cast enough of pervasive shadow to make him unrecognisable. He took care when walking down the driveway, staying close to the bushes and below the side window line of the neighbours facing that way. His baseball cap completed the look of a man avoiding being seen.
The front door was out of sight of the neighbours and the road. The path was strewn with stray pebbles from the rock garden in front of his flat, rented of course. It had a brick and tile look that said pensioner not single man with a shifting job.
Ivan turned slightly on a pebble, a rock bigger than the rest. The resulting jab through his thin and noiseless shoes annoyed and irritated him, he kicked at it in anger. The resulting clatter was much louder than he thought and he skipped quickly to the shelter of the door, hiding unecessarily from sight but driven by his own embarrassment.
No one was watching, no one heard.
He tried the door, locked of course.
He worked the lock for a few seconds with the tools of his trade, locks had been a barrier for maybe a week when he started doing jobs on the side. It came with practice an art more than a skill and one he was adept at.
The door handle free he set to work on the deadbolt above. Harder yes, impossible no. Within a minute he was in and he moved very, very slowly until he could see there was not an alarm system to worry about.
Dude works for a secured service and he does not secure his house?
Looking around he saw little to guard, the television and games console sure, but no china, not any art and nothing that said ‘steal me’ except of course the 1.1 million dollars.
It would not be small, so get to work.
He had hours, and he used them all. The place was a tip when he was done and he made no effort to conceal his tracks the angrier he got. The further the money was from his grasp, the more he took it out on Jame’s empty life.
He finally understood that they had guessed he would do this. The shame did not outweigh the indigation in his mind and it added more fuel to a fire inside him.
He closed the door carefully – with him on the inside.
Suddenly and brutally he slammed into the door, next to the jamb with the heel of his foot. The door handle lock popped like a cork. He had not been so stupid as to engage the deadlock.
The splintering wood around the door locked like a hollywood prop from a break in and it felt good to damage James in this way. He left the door ajar, turned off all the lights and waited for hours until he heard them coming down the driveway, laughing about something.
Motherfuckers.
You won’t be laughing soon.
Spy became assassin, lying in wait hands in pincer grip waiting for the throat to walk into it.