River: A Bad Boy Romance (19 page)

Sally hands over the bag of sugary treats. “I put an extra one in there for good measure”, she says and winks at her, “but I'll only charge you for ten.”

Maddy smiles, reaches into her pocket for the bundle of cash, and hands over a fifty dollar bill. She waits patiently while Sally counts up her change. When she's done, she looks at Maddy again, screws up her face and can't help but ask.

“You know, you don't work up at the school do you, with Bobby?” she says. “It's just I could have sworn I recognised your face.”

Maddy shakes her head and smiles. “Who's Bobby?”

“It doesn't matter”, Sally says. “I must be mixing you up. It happens to me from time to time. More as I get older.”

“Thank you for your help”, Maddy says, holding up the bag. “I'm going to enjoy these.”

“Make sure you come again”, she says, and waves at Maddy as she heads back out to the street. A split second after Maddy has disappeared out of the door, the persistent Sally, desperate for a bit of gossip, presses her nose up to the glass to watch where she goes. She sees her walk the short distance back to her car, climb into the driver's side and put the French pastries on the seat next to her.

In an attempt to get the license plate number before the car drives away, the over zealous cake shop owner manages to put her hand into a lemon meringue pie, while trying to twist her body into the required viewing position. With her cheek squashed against the window, her hand covered in a sticky lemony sauce, and her leg cramping up from the tip-toed position it has been stretched into, she watches Maddy pull away. Just before the position becomes too much, and she finally unbalances herself from overstretching, ending up on the cold floor below her, dull thwack of bum on stone, the number plate comes clearly and majestically into view.

T
he first thing he notices, is that the space in the bed next to him is empty. He doesn't panic straight away, because it's always been like this for him, wherever he's found himself. Waking up in a bed alone in itself, was not something that was all that unusual for River. A moment later however, when the deep sleep that has kept him under so sufficiently begins to lift, a name and an image, and eventually a whole world slowly comes back to him, like thick mist lifting from a skyline to reveal a mountain. Maddy.

Even then however, for the briefest of moments, he doesn't panic. She's not there where he wants her to be, but that doesn't mean she can't be standing at the end of the bed, watching him, getting dressed or taking a shower. All of these things are possible, until River turns to see, and feels the unmistakeable metal bite of security guard handcuffs, dig sharply into his wrist.

An initial flush of incomprehension slowly develops into disbelief, that caps out at something approaching embarrassment, when River realises he's been well and truly had. Looking about the room, he sees that not only has Maddy gone, she's also had the audacity to take her new clothes and wig with her.

He adjusts himself in such a way that allows him to get off the bed entirely, gets on his knees as much as the restraint will allow him, and thrusts his free hand between the bed frame and the mattress, heart beating about as wildly as it was only a few hours before. After sliding it back and forth and finding nothing but dust, he stretches as far inside as he can, twisting his shoulder painfully and pushing his cheek into the sharp edge of the thick, stone-like mattress in front of him. Unable to stretch any further, he begins to panic, when he still can't find the money bag. Thinking again, he pulls his arm back out from underneath the bed, and stands up as best he can. He grips the mattress with his free hand, and using all the strength he can muster, which nearly involves tearing his shoulder out of the socket, he rips the mattress of the bed.

There, staring back up at him like a lost pair of pyjamas, is the slightly squashed, but otherwise untouched, light cotton money bag. River climbs back onto the now mattress-less bed, and, unable to reach the bag with his arms, deftly pulls it towards himself with his feet. Maddy may have gone, but at least he has the money, at least she didn't take that, right?

With it finally in his hands, he gives it a quick feel from the outside, before dumping the contents between his legs, eager to make sure that it's all there. When he quickly realises that it's been left untouched, he leans back against the bed breathing heavily, feeling a lot less happy than he thought he would. If anything, having the money in his hands has made him feel worse, because it's made him realise that there's something else he'd prefer to have with him here instead, something much more important to him, and perhaps the only thing that he really needs in this world.

He puts the money back in the bag and casts it to the other side of the bed, as though someone has just told him that it's worthless, that instead of having a value, it's no more than fancy looking paper that does nothing but make your life even less valuable than it already is. On the chair in front of him, Maddy's torn black dress seems to be mocking him from afar, and after a while he has to stop looking at it.

He has no idea when she went, and consequently has no idea how much time he has left to escape. The police could already be on their way for all he knows. It's something he doesn't want to think about. He would prefer to remember the Maddy from the night before, rather than the Maddy that woke up before him this morning.

The bed has been bolted down to the floor, presumably to stop it from being stolen, as has the metal bed head to the wall, to which one of River's arms has now been attached. It would take a truck to pull the structure loose, and even then, you'd have to chip away at it with a sledge hammer, probably for a number of hours, to finally get the thing free. In fact the bed is so well integrated into the fabric of the building, it looks like they were constructed together as one special 'motel issue' unit. There is no way River can pull himself away from it, nor move the bed towards the door, which leaves him with two options. Either he breaks the handcuff, or he screams for help, and screaming just isn't his style.

River opens the drawers of the bedside cabinet hoping he's had the presence of mind to stow away his pistol, but finds nothing there but a bible. Out of sheer frustration, he launches it against the far wall, where it hits the solid brick with a satisfying thud, before dropping to the ground with its pages splayed like a dead bird. He tries to twist the metal against itself and when that proves futile, he tries to twist the metal against the iron curls of the bed frame, which does nothing but make his wrist hurt even more. He leans backwards, holding the metal chain in both hands, and climbs up the wall as high as he can, so he's completely off the bed at full stretch, hoping to put pressure on the link, but has to quit after a while because all he seems to be succeeding in doing is cutting the metal deeper into his wrists.

He searches for something he can use to pick the lock, spending half an hour trying to get a screw out of the side of the bed, before attacking the mattress to try and get at the springs, and eventually spotting a hair pin, hidden between the wall and the bedside cabinet. Considering this his best hope of escape, he spends a while getting himself into the perfect position, like a dog turning around ten times while it readies itself for sleep, only to find his optimism immediately soured, when the hair pin breaks inside the lock on his first attempt.

After that, he gives up. The only other thing left in reach is the TV remote control, and he can't help but laugh when he sees it, knowing Maddy would have left it there for him as a final 'fuck you'. Perhaps he shouldn't have let his guard down with her, and perhaps he shouldn't have trusted her at all, although ten thousand nights in prison, he reasons, if that's what it has to be, will be a small price to pay for the night he has already had with her.

River clicks the TV on, makes himself as comfortable as he can, and waits for the police to show up.

Sally carefully places a slice of lemon meringue pie into a bag, and hands it over to her wide eyed customer.

“Popular this morning I see”, the woman says, nodding at the single slice that remains in the tray. “I'm lucky I came when I did.”

“Oh yes”, Sally says, “It always goes quickly that one”, and then laughs and wipes her hands on her tea towel, remembering the sticky incident that took place earlier that morning.

“You know, I hope he pays up”, the woman says, handing over the money for her early morning, sugary pick me up, but this time nodding in a completely different direction. “He's got money after all.”

Sally looks at the TV behind her, unsure at first what the woman is referring to.

“He still hasn't made a statement either, at least not an official one”, she continues. “Poor girl. I mean, she may be a bit of a witch, but that doesn't mean we have to burn her to see if she is, if you know what I mean.”

Sally has gone silent. Maddy stares back at her from the corner of the TV screen, while a studio audience discuss the ransom note that they received in an email that morning. “That's Madeleine Parker”, Sally says after a while. “She doesn't teach Bobby, she's Madeleine Parker.”

“That's who it is indeed”, the woman says, still waiting for Sally to process the transaction. But Sally is off in a completely different world, transfixed by Maddy's image, and the realisation that's just dawned on her. “But if she's being held hostage-?” Sally says, to no-one in particular.

“That's right”, the woman says, misunderstanding slightly what Sally has said. “You must have seen it already, it's been on the news channels non-stop. They reckon he might have brought her this way too, can you imagine that? Right here on our doorstep.”

“Right here on our doorstep”, Sally says, repeating what the woman has said like a mimicking parrot, all the while staring motionlessly up at the image of Maddy. “She's changed her hair.”

“She ought to change it”, the woman says. “I wouldn't be seen dead like that. Although perhaps she will be.”

Sally continues to stare, dumbfounded, trying to understand how the woman of the moment was in her shop this morning buying enough cakes for a football team.

“Right”, the woman says. “I better be on my way. I've got a hundred and one things to do this morning, and not one of them is going to wait for me.”

“Ok”, Sally says, still not taking her eyes off the screen.

“As soon as I get my change, I'll be on my way”, the woman says, nodding towards the money still clasped in Sally's hands, even though nobody else can see the gesture.

Without taking her eyes off the screen, Sally rings up the transaction, puts the note in the correct till bed, takes out the correct change, pulls off the receipt and puts them both into the woman's outstretched hand.

“I guess you haven't had a chance to catch up yet”, the woman says, and chuckles. “I'll leave you to it.”

She's back out on the street, lemon meringue pie carefully tucked into the hip pocket of her thick coat, when Sally stretches out her arm, lifts the telephone handset from the holder and dials a number she's memorised by heart.

“Cannon”, the voice on the other end of the line says.

“Hank, it's Sally”, Sally says gravely.

“Oh dear”, officer Cannon says, taking his boots off the table, “what's happened now?”

“Are you watching the news?” Sally says. “The hostage and ransom case?”

“Don't tell me”, Cannon says, “the robber came into your shop this morning, held a gun to your head and escaped with a handful of jelly donuts.” Cannon laughs, and mouths Sally to his younger colleague, while pointing to the telephone with a pencil. Thurston smiles, feeling obliged to humour his superior.

“Not the robber”, Sally says. “Maddy.”

“Maddy. The hostage?” Cannon says. “How can a hostage come into your shop?”

“You tell me, officer. All I know, is that she came in here this morning, bought ten pastries and drove away in a Lexus.”

“Is this a joke, Sal?” officer Cannon says. “You know I can charge you for wasting police time?”

“You'd charge your own sister?” Sally says.

“If I had to I would, yes”, Cannon says.

“What else are you doing?” Sally says.

“Very important police work”, officer Cannon says, leafing through a stack of unimportant files and pushing them to a different part of his desk. “We're snowed under here. Absolutely snowed under.” He looks up at the whiteboard, on which a shopping list has been written underneath a section marked 'pending to solve'.

“If I give you the licence plate number of the car she was driving, will you check it?” Sally says.

“You know I can get into trouble for abusing the system”, Cannon says.

“I'm telling you, Hank, the woman that came into my store this morning was Madeleine Parker, I'm one hundred percent sure of it.”

“Like the time you thought you saw Michael Jackson in Walmart?”

Thurston can't help but giggle, remembering the incident well.

“That was different, Hank”, Sally says.

“What did she look like?” Hank says, tapping his pencil on the desk.

“Just run the check will you? If I'm right, think about how famous you'll be. The cop that caught the killer and freed the hostage.”

“He didn't kill anyone”, Cannon says.

“Not that we know of”, Sally says.

“Look, just one question Sal that might not have occurred to you. What the hell was she doing on her own?”

“I have no idea”, Sally says, “but she certainly didn't act as if anything was wrong. Perhaps he made her come inside my shop, and told her he'd kill her if she didn't, or if she gave the game away somehow. Look, motive is your department. I make cakes, you solve crimes. That's what you are supposed to be good at.”

“If a crime has been committed. It sounds like you saw someone who looked like Madeleine Parker come into your shop and you've got all excited about it.”

“Just run the search, Hank, do it for me”, she says. “I know you've got nothing else on up there. If you had, you wouldn't still be talking to me.”

“Go on then”, Hank says, finally giving in to his big sister. “What's the number?”