Evil in Hockley

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At
WilliamBuckel.com

Evil in Hockley

Copyright 2014 William
Buckel

All rights reserved. No part of this
book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any
information storage retrieval system without the written permission
of the publisher or the author except in brief quotations embodied
in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, and
incidents, organizations, and dialogue are either products of the
author
’
s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Certain stock imagery copyright
Thinkstock.

Smashwords Edition

Chapter 1

Due drops on the leaves shone like
diamonds in the light of the morning sun. The fading moon glowed
behind transparent clouds. A slight breeze wafted through the
trees. A distant weather vane creaked in response to the motion of
the wind. A deer bounded thoughtlessly across the road then
disappeared into the cedar bush.

Forests lined both sides of the winding
road for its twelve mile length. In most places it was dense cedar
bush so thick it was impenetrable. It was a scenic section of land
that attracted tourists on weekends. To the dismay of cottagers and
year round residents living along the road it also attracted
bikers. The loud ones that barked and drowned out every other sound
in the valley. On a Sunday it was so noisy that residents had to
hang up the phone inside their houses unable to hear the other
party. Hence, the locals called it Thunder Alley.

It was just another lazy uneventful day
in the valley for Amos Tucker. He stretched and yawned then thought
about cutting the grass before the old lady gave him another chore.
Betty was the only stain in his almost perfect retirement scheme.
He’d worked hard all his life running his bakery in the city twelve
hours a day. A heart attack was his cue to end it all and settle
down in this nice quiet part of the world.

Not a cloud in the sky, he was shaken
by an abrupt clap of thunder. It looked to Amos like a heat
distortion forming above the road. Then another thunder clap
accompanied by a lightning bolt. A car formed in the distortion,
front end first, quickly moving forward. It hit the pavement, tires
screeching, like it was tossed there or flew. The roar of a big
block and the screaming of tires filled the air. Amos recognized it
immediately, a Hemi Cuda. It roared like a big angry beast as it
the ground and screeched to a halt. It was as though it came out of
nowhere. He’d never tell anyone what he’d seen… They’d all think
him crazy. As a matter of fact he didn’t believe it himself.
Something must have played a trick on his eyes or the scotch he’d
had last night was tainted.

The Cuda pulled to the side of the road
and a man stepped out. He was tall and lean wearing jeans and a
long sleeved shirt. He was young, about twenty-five or so with
searching eyes. He turned staring both ways down the road. He
looked lost. Then as though in recognition his eyes locked onto
something toward Airport Road. He climbed into the Cuda, started
it, and threw it into gear. Man and machine roared off then turned
south onto the highway.

There was talk about him at the local
doughnut shop, oh there was always talk. Amos had never seen him
but that must be Harry Tanner. How many yellow Hemi Cudas could
there be in one town? Harry’s parents long dead were joined by his
young brother, Jarrod, last week when the motorcycle he was riding
crashed into the woods not far from Amos’s cottage. They called it
an accident but rumour had it Harry thought it was murder. He was
coming home seeking revenge for his brother’s death. Or so they
said.

Amos had heard that the young man was
fighting in the desert on the other side of the world. He’d been
given leave so he could attend to his brother’s affairs. They said
he’d always been a wild one and his return would shatter the peace
and tranquility people were accustomed to, especially if he was
gunning for someone. Rumour had it, you didn’t mess with Harry
Tanner. Apparently there were a few terrorists in the Middle East
that had found that out as well.

Amos gave little regard to rumours but
if the young man was half of what he was alleged to be then trouble
was brewing. If his brother’s death was murder then there’d be
someone who committed the crime. That someone would want Harry in a
grave with the rest of the family. Funny thing he thought; Harry’s
the one fighting in a war and yet alive, but the rest of the family
was dead. Life’s not always fair.

What’s going to happen will happen
whether he thought about it or not so Amos eyed the grass and
decided it would last another day or two. He would drive to the
coffee shop and visit with friends. He had something to tell
everyone in any case. Harry Tanner was back in town.

Chapter 2

Harry popped the clutch then went
through the gears. He had a four speed Hurst shifter and another
lever for a dual speed rear end. He could chose between four eleven
gears or four fifty-six. The seventy Plymouth Cuda was his thunder
machine and the shifters his lightning rods. He was glad to be
driving it again but not happy about the reason he was home. The
only remaining member of his immediate family was killed last week.
Details given him by a family friend, Dave Harper, pointed to
murder. The bike crashed and landed on the right hand side but
there was also a dent on the left about bumper height. It looked to
Dave as though Jarrod had been run off the road.

He pulled into the laneway of the
family home eyeing it for some time. It had been a three year
absence. He tried his old key and it still fit. The house smelled
musty but was reasonably clean, having been looked after by his
brother. Jarrod lived in the city, Toronto, and motored north on
weekends staying at the old homestead. He loved his motorcycles and
hair raising escapades through Hockley roads. The coroner’s report
cited speeding and alcohol as the reasons that led to his death.
Jarrod never drank.

Harry and Jarrod had never been close
being too competitive to share family times. When his parents were
alive Harry was seldom home, mostly working and at times hunting
for loose women. That didn’t mean Harry had no love for his
brother. The opposite was true: Jarrod had always been so complete,
always knew what he wanted from life. Harry was a dreamer, and like
most dreamers, few came into being. Dreams can change quickly, like
the four winds.

Harry opened the windows to air out the
house then drove to the neighbourhood donut shop.

Soon as he entered he spotted two
familiar faces and was on his way to their table when he saw Sandy.
She glanced at him, eyes wide, and stiffened, dropping the tray she
was delivering to a couple. He approached while she scooped muffins
and broken chunks of coffee cups onto the tray.

“Look what you made me do,” she
said.

Harry sat on his heels to meet her
gaze.

“You’re still as clumsy as ever and
twice as pretty.”

There was no softness in her eyes when
she stared and asked,

“What do you want Harry?”

“Just a hello, Sandy. I missed
you.”

Her face was a picture of
rage.

“All right you said it, now go to the
counter and order something. I’ve got work to do.”

He’d definitely surprised her and she
hadn’t had time to work out a reaction. She was angry at herself
for being caught off guard, not him. He’d give her time to think
and talk to her later. Adding to her embarrassment was the fact
that Dave Harper and Jack Wesley were unable or unwilling to hold
back their laughter. Harry joined them at their table and nodded a
hello to both.

Dave shook his head.

“Can you not come and go like everyone
else, Harry? Does it always have to be fireworks with
you?”

Jack’s smile turned solemn.

“Sorry about your brother.”

Dave nodded then added,

“Jarrod was the best. I’ll miss
him.”

Harry had phoned and asked Dave to make
arrangements.

“So when and where did you arrange the
service to take place?”

“When the coroner was through I had his
remains checked out by Doc Wardlaw. He found nothing but trauma
associated with a bike crash. I had his remains cremated as you
asked and the service will be in three days at my house. The urn is
on the mantle.”

Dave’s eyes were wet. He and Jarrod
were close all through school and beyond.

Harry said,

“The alcohol content, Dave. Jarrod
never drank.”

“I know and the stomach contents were
low, but present. I had Doc Wardlaw check the blood level. It was
low but present as well.”

Harry wondered,

“Could it have been low enough… say he
toasted someone?”

“Doc says he had the equivalent of a
couple of drinks.”

Not much but more than his brother
would have had especially if he were to mount up on his
bike.

“Anything or anyone new in Jarrod’s
life?”

Dave thought for a minute then
asked,

“You knew about Shelley,
right?”

“No, who is she?”

“Oh, I assumed Jarrod would have
written about her. She’s a new girl at Sharky’s Bar and Grill.
Jarrod dropped in when he went north. He dated her occasionally. I
met her twice and she gave me an uneasy feeling.”

Right on Dave, thought Harry. Neither
of his two friends would know the extent of illicit activities that
went on behind the scene at that establishment. Nor would he
enlighten them: too much knowledge can sometimes be hazardous. Joe
Sharky sold drugs, illegal booze, women, and anything else one
could fix a price on. How did Jarrod get mixed up with someone from
that place?

Joe Sharky’s bar was north on Airport
Road between Hockley Valley and Collingwood. Harry used to spend
the occasional evening there with his old buddy Tony Moore. That
was until Tony fell in love with Karma, a local whore, who got guys
hooked on cocaine.

Joe Sharky never sold product or soiled
his hands in any way. Her hired hookers, bar tenders, and bouncers
to sell cocaine and other recreational drugs. If one of his people
was caught Joe would plead ignorance. In return for loyalty Joe
supplied the best legal representation for all his employees. For
betrayal he would unleash an enforcer and seek revenge.

Dave and Jack both married childhood
sweethearts and wouldn’t have gone near the place. It was a known
hangout for the young, fast crowd. Harry would have to pay a visit
to his old acquaintances and meet Shelley.

His brother’s service and old friends
came first. There would be lots of time for the killing game
afterwards.

Sandy came to the table, her hands
clasped in front of her waist. The look on her face was an
apologetic one.

“Sorry about Jarrod. Sorry about
earlier on. I wasn’t thinking. You were the one hurting more than
me.”

Sandy had always been that way: act
first think later.

“It’s okay Sandy. Actually I wasn’t
expecting you to be so nice.”

Dave and Jack laughed then so did
Sandy. Jarrod had written six months ago informing him that Sandy’s
latest love had been untrue and they’d split.