The dark side of my soul (13 page)

It was just before eight thirty and the unseasonably beautiful day was surrendering to the onset of night as I entered the old part of town. Few of the houses had garages, so most of the local people street parked and at this time of night with them almost all at home vacant spaces were hard to find. There was nowhere to stop outside Terry’s workshop but as I cruised by I noticed the light on in the office over the garage. He was inside, waiting for me. I came to the end of the street and made a left turn into the next road. I turned left again at the next corner and after about fifty yards found an empty space. I pulled in and switched off the engine.

All afternoon I had been wondering what this meeting could be about. I was certain that Terry could not have connected me to the demise of his sons or he would have already informed the police but then why had he called me. Although I could not envisage Terry as a threat, at least not in the same way as the travellers, Sandra had insisted that I bring the gun and in the end I had agreed, just to keep her happy. I had cleaned and reloaded it and Sandra had altered the pocket of the fleece so that the pistol slipped in and out easily without catching. It was the fleece that I was wearing now and I pulled up the hood to hide my face from any prying cameras before getting out of the car. I realised I was becoming paranoid but it was just as well to be careful, I didn’t want to be seen in this vicinity.

It was only a short walk to Terry’s workshop. The streetlights were on and a couple of kids were playing floodlit football in the road. Lights could be seen through the windows of most of the houses and with the living rooms being so close to the street I could make out the flashing images of the televisions that entertained the occupants. I made the couple of turns into Terry’s road and wondered once more what this could be about. There was definitely something weird about it, the sudden call and him being here this late didn’t seem right.

When I arrived outside the dilapidated door, the empty street, devoid of life, suddenly seemed strangely forbidding. I hesitated before pressing the bell. No youngsters played along this stretch and it was eerily quiet. For some reason the brooding silence unnerved me. Was I walking into some sort of trap? I couldn’t imagine it but I had my mobile with me, even at this late stage I could call and cancel.

My imagination was running wild. What the hell was I thinking, there was probably some innocent explanation for Terry calling me, maybe he wanted me to deal with some financial problem or even sort out his dead sons financial affairs, wouldn’t that be ironic. The more I thought about it the more it made me smile. It was quite possible, even probable that Terry wanted me to deal with some money problem that his sons had left him.

With me thinking that I had no reason to worry I went ahead and pressed the bell. After a short while someone could be heard coming down the stairs and a second later the door opened but it wasn’t Terry Bovey who opened the door.

“Harry Conrad?” said the large imposing black man in a deep dry tone that was just the opposite of Terry’s.

I was taken by surprise and for a moment didn’t speak. When eventually my voice returned the answer was a weak “Yes.”

“Come up and close the door,” The stranger said and led the way up the worn wooden stairs.

My mood changed dramatically as I watched the black man climb the staircase towards the solitary low voltage lamp that swung lethargically from side to side at the top. I was sorely tempted to turn and go, walk away, that would have been the sensible thing to do but curiosity was starting to eat away at me. Terry Bovey was not alone. Who else was in his office? This little gathering was not about financial matters, something much more sinister was afoot and I knew deep down that it had to do with the shooting in the forest and my part in it. Terry knew something and I had to find out what it was. Although my first inclination had been to leave, I stepped inside and closed the door.

As I laboriously climbed each rough unpainted stair disquiet ascended with me. What other surprises awaited up in that little room? The dirty lightbulb swung lazily on its chord, moved by some unknown draught and the sound of my footsteps echoed in the confined space. The marked and damaged walls seemed to close in on either side and I had the distinct feeling that I was climbing into a trap but I kept going, I needed to find out what Terry knew. I pulled off the hood that was covering my head and returned my hands to the pockets of the jacket, finding some comfort in the feel of the pistol. Perhaps Sandra’s insight about me bringing the gun had been wise after all.

In Terry’s office, straight ahead across the room, the black man had already taken up position on the windowsill of the only window, his large frame blocking any light that may have found its way in. He was perched on the edge of the sill, hands either side of him, with a bored look on his face. He was smartly dressed in an expensive lightweight blue suit with a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar. My first thought was that perhaps he was a lawyer.

Terry Bovey was in his usual seat behind the metal desk which had been cleared of all the papers, folders, catalogues and junk. The only item now on the desk was a laptop computer which was placed in the centre of the empty grey surface with the screen up and facing Terry. I was unable to see what was on it. The rest of the office was its usual chaos with all manner of items strewn on the floor, in the corners and along the walls. Opposite Terry was the solitary plastic chair that I recognised from my previous visit. No one else was present.

“Sit down,” Terry said in his squeaky voice, pointing to the vacant seat. “Thanks for coming.”

I did as requested keeping my hands in my pockets. “Who’s your friend?” I asked looking towards the man by the window. It was the first chance I had to see his face and he struck me as being quite handsome. His features were not unlike those of Idris Elba the actor. He must also have been six feet tall and was a solid slab of muscle. I decided that he wasn’t a lawyer.

“This is Bone Jackson; everyone calls him the Bone or just Bone, he’s come down from London to help me with a couple a things.” Terry’s high pitched voice grated on the ears. He leaned forward and pulled open the large draw on his right and lifted out a nearly full bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

“Before we get started let’s have a drink.” He squeaked.

“I’m driving,” I said.

“Don’t give me that crap, have a drink with me.” He wasn’t giving me an option as he unscrewed the cap and poured out two large measures. Sliding one of the glasses towards me he said. “I haven’t heard a word from Julie, my daughter, since the boys died. Last time you were here you said you knew the bloke she married. Have you seen her? Is she all right?”

I removed my left hand from my pocket and took the drink. “I haven’t seen her recently but I’ve spoken to David, her husband, and yes she’s okay. I’m sorry she’s not been in touch.”

I felt genuinely sad for the poor old boy and wondered if that was what this little chat was all about. Julie must have heard about her brother’s murder and would surely realise that her father needed her, yet she had not even contacted him. Presumably she had not bothered to go to the funeral either. That seemed heartless but no doubt she had her reasons. Perhaps Terry had hurt her in some way in the past, or there had been a feud amongst the siblings. There could be a hundred scenarios and it wasn’t my business to pry or interfere.

Terry nodded, swallowed half his whiskey and returned the glass to the desk with a thud. “Kids eh, who’d have ‘em. Nothing but trouble from the day they’re born.” He scratched his right eyebrow and appeared to think for a moment; then he opened another draw in the desk, withdrew something and placed it in front of him. It was a mobile phone.

“That’s Neil’s mobile. It took me weeks to get it back off the police. They said it was evidence. I said it was Neil’s and therefore mine and after a real ruckus they released it. Bastards, don’t know their arse from their elbow.” Terry picked it up and toyed with it as though he were thinking about making a call.

“Thing is,” he said as he looked from the mobile to me, “you’re numbers on it.” He paused, watching me, “And Neil called you three times the week before he died. Now why’d he do that? He didn’t even know you.”

I was anxious and relieved at the same time. So this wasn’t just a friendly little chat. As I had first thought this was about his son’s death but I had an answer. “You should have more faith in the police Terry. I have already been through this with them. You see your sons were in debt and they needed to raise some money fast.”

“They came to you for money?”

“No, no, they knew that I had helped you in the past and they thought that I might be able to help them now. They wanted me to put them in touch with a lender, at least I think that’s what it was, you see I didn’t take the calls. Sandra answered each time they phoned and I’m afraid she wasn’t too helpful.” I sipped a little of the whiskey and watched his reaction. I was glad Sandra had concocted the story about her taking the calls. It had saved me once again.

Terry’s voice went even higher. “My boys weren’t in debt. If they needed money they would have come to me like they always did. That’s bullshit.”

“I understand it was a large amount, maybe they didn’t want to tell you.” I replaced my glass on the desk.

“Nah, that don’t make sense. If they were in some kinda trouble I would have known. They would have come to me.” He sniffed loudly and drummed his fingers continuously on the bare metal in front of him. There was a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Besides they didn’t even know you.”

“They got my number from somewhere. I assumed you had given it to them.” It was clear that Terry didn’t know they were blackmailing me but he must have told them about Sandra’s accident and that he believed that she was responsible for running over the old woman. It followed that they had then taken it on themselves to try to extort the money from us.

“I knew everything my boys did. They never mentioned needing money.” He finished the rest of his whiskey and banged down the glass. He was becoming agitated.

“I don’t know any children, no matter how old, that tell their parents everything that goes on in their lives. Your boys didn’t tell you about phoning me did they? But they called me three times; you have the phone in your hand that proves it.”

“Yeah,” he thought about it. I could see him turning it over in his mind. “There’s something strange here though, something that doesn’t quite add up.” He continued drumming his fingers on the metal surface. When he stopped he moved his hand to the laptop in front of him. He pulled open a side flap and a wire with odd looking attachments fell out. He sniffed again. “Time to give this a try I think.” I was aware of Bone easing himself up from the window sill.

“Time to give what a try?” I asked.

“Lie detector, it’s not exactly the latest model, it’s pretty old but it works okay. Amazing what you can get online nowadays.” He was unravelling the wire. Bone was coming towards the desk.

“You mean a polygraph?” I asked, amazed.

“Yeah, that’s what I think they call ‘em, a truth machine.”

“What the hell do you want that for?” Once again anxiety swam through my veins.

“To see if you’re telling the truth.” Terry gave me an ungainly grin. “Don’t worry, questions are easy. Whoever killed my boys, their number’s on that phone. I’m going through ‘em till I find out who did it. As the cops would say this is just to eliminate you from my enquiries.”

“That’s ridiculous, you surely can’t suspect me of……..” I never finished the sentence. The Bone grabbed my left wrist and held it firmly then he placed what I now saw were two little padded rings around the first and third fingers of my left hand.

“Just relax,” He said. His voice was deep and mellifluous, a complete contrast to Terry’s high pitched wail. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

Terry had switched on the polygraph and appeared to be setting it up or making some adjustments.

“You know those things are not proven to be one hundred per cent accurate don’t you? I doubt an old one works at all.” My anxiety had gone to a new level and my right hand gripped the steel butt of the pistol for moral support.

“Oh, it works, we tried it earlier. Now…..” He glanced up at me and I could see he was enjoying seeing me squirming in the chair. “Just answer yes or no to the questions. Ready? Is your name Harry Conrad?”

“Yes, you know bloody well it is.”

“Just yes or no, I’ll ask you again. Is your name Harry Conrad?”

“Yes.”

“Good, that’s better. Is your wife named Sandra?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a financial advisor?”

“Yes.”

“Do you own a blue Ford Fiesta?”

“Yes.”

“Have you worked for me before?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good,” he said, concentrating on the screen. “Were you or your wife involved in a road traffic accident last month?”

“Yes”

“Did you hit a woman and then drive off?”

I took a very deep breath. I could see little point in denying it or going into great detail now. “Yes.”

“Did you shoot my boys?”

“Christ no”

“Just yes or no”

“No.”