Matt Hilton - Blood and Ashes

I stepped closer to the window, meeting their gaze. The boy and girl shared a glance. The girl said something and the boy sneered at me before they turned and walked unhurriedly across the green.

They look dangerous. Go after them, Hunter. Why not kill them as well?

I sighed and turned back to the room, putting the kids out of my mind. Don was walking in ahead of Millie and he was clutching a steaming mug similar to the two she carried. He also had the police file he’d shown me earlier tucked under his elbow.

‘I thought you might want to take a look at this again.’ As Don sat down he snapped the file against his thigh.

Taking the proffered mug from Millie, I said, ‘I don’t need to, Don.’ What I really meant was, ‘I don’t want to.’ ‘I’d rather see your grandchildren. And there’s something I want to show you on the way.. ’

Don caught the tone of delivery and had a good idea what the something was. ‘I don’t want to leave Millie here alone.’

‘She can come with us,’ I said. ‘She can wait with the kids while we-’

Millie held up a hand. ‘Hold on. Don’t I have a say in this?’

Don and I shared a glance.

‘I’m not a baby,’ she said. ‘I can look after myself. And I can certainly make up my own mind when it comes to where I’m going to wait. She ’s going to wait right here.’ She looked pointedly at me for my choice of words.

‘It may not be safe here,’ Don said.

‘Dad!’

‘I mean it, Millie.’

‘What’s going to happen here? Who’s going to do something in this town?’

Once again we shared a glance. More could happen here than she could ever suspect, and we both knew it. Finally, I nodded. ‘You’re right, Millie. Nothing’s going to happen to you.’ I looked at Don. ‘Leave the key for her, though.’

Don frowned, but then dug in his back pocket for the key to the drawer where he’d left the gun this morning. He placed it on the arm of his chair. ‘It’s just a precaution. You remember how to use it, don’t you, Millie?’

‘Your gun? Yes… but…’

‘It’s just a precaution,’ I echoed. ‘You won’t need it, but it’s there just in case.’

‘Just in case I get frightened, you mean?’ Millie shook her head and turned to walk out of the room without picking up the key. Before she reached the door, the old tomcat graced us with his presence. He swanked into the room, his tail held high. Millie crouched, opening her arms, and the cat immediately sprang up to be cuddled. She turned back to us, holding the cat. It stared at us without blinking. So did Millie. ‘See. I’m not here all alone. We’ll be fine while you’re gone.’

We could only acquiesce. Don grabbed a jacket and a spare for me. I shrugged into the winter coat as Don gave his daughter a warning eye. ‘Just keep everything locked and don’t answer the door to any strangers.’

Millie walked away stiffly, the cat looking back over her shoulder at us. ‘Like we see many strangers around here?’

From seats in the window of Benson’s Drugstore Vince Everett and Sonya Madden watched the two men drive away in the dark-coloured Audi.

Sonya was slurping on a milkshake. She batted her mascara-laden eyelashes at the young man next to her.

‘We gonna follow them, Vince?’

With a fingertip stained by nicotine he teased a drip of milkshake that trembled on her lip. ‘No, we just stay cool.’

Sonya looked over her shoulder. The motion appeared languid but was practised. At the counter, the old man — a third-generation Benson — paid them no more attention than he did any other kid in the place. Sonya leaned towards Vince. ‘We were told to keep an eye on them.’

‘They’ll spot a tail too easy.’

‘What if we lose them?’

‘They’ll come back. Now drink your shake and shut up, will ya? I’m trying to think.’

Sonya caught links of her nose chain with the tip of her tongue and pulled it into the corner of her mouth. ‘You’re thinking about the woman.’

Vince tilted his chin her way. His hair flopped on his forehead and he rolled his head to flick it back in place. ‘Only one woman I’m interested in, baby.’

Sonya let the chain pop loose as she concentrated on pouting. ‘So you say, but I know what’s on your mind. You’re looking forward to paying her a visit, ain’t ya?’

‘A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Doesn’t mean I have to take any pleasure from it.’

‘I want to come with you.’

‘No. You have to wait outside and keep watch.’

‘I want to watch you.’ Her eyes flared at the suggestion.

Vince touched her on the tip of her upturned nose. ‘Don’t worry, baby. When I do it, I’ll be thinking about you.’ He stood up, kicking back the chair with a heel of his silver-tipped boots. ‘Wait until I’m outta here, then go on over to the well. You see those guys come back, you ring me right away.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’ She slurped her milkshake again, managing her pout around the straw this time. ‘Knock yourself out, Vince.’

He stared down at her. Then he curled his lip and held her under his smouldering gaze. She smiled, but then she hunched her shoulders, ducking her head coyly like she couldn’t bear his sexy look any longer.

All an act. But he liked it.

He hitched up his jeans and then pimp-walked out of the store looking back over his shoulder.

Sonya watched him go. He saw her head come up and the innocence vanish from her features. They loved playing their little game, but now Sonya was all business. And so was he.

Vince Everett was a fake name, but that was all he’d allow. Everything else about him was the real deal. In the movie Jailhouse Rock Elvis Presley played the character of Vince Everett, the ex-con who became a big singing star. It didn’t matter that Vince couldn’t sing a note, or that his hip-swinging was more akin to someone taking a fit, there was something this Louisiana Cat possessed that the man whose name he’d assumed couldn’t claim. Elvis was famous for shooting at TV screens, but had he ever shot and killed a man?

Vince Everett had.

More than once.

He was also suspected of murdering a cop by beating him with the PR24 baton he’d taken off the cop’s belt. Vince had reputedly laughed for joy as the cop’s face went from stunned surprise to ground beef under the repeated whacks of the baton.

Unlike the Presley character, Everett had never been caught. He was no ex-con, and all being well things shouldn’t change.

School kids were clambering to get the best seats on a yellow bus as he walked across the green. From the misted windows a couple of older girls watched his progress. He swaggered for their benefit; but their laughter was too harsh to be appreciated. What did they know about sex on legs, anyway?

The bus puttered away, sending clouds of smoke out of its tailpipe. Vince kept walking. At the gate on to Don Griffiths’ property he paused. Back across the way he saw Sonya come out of the drugstore and walk towards the green. She was already clutching her cell phone, ready to warn him of the men’s return.

She was a good catch, that one.

He’d met her out East at one of them burlesque clubs in Greenwich Village. Not a dancer but a punter just like he was; someone who liked the archaic fashion and musical styles of bygone eras. It only took a glance and they both knew it: there was something else they shared. That night they’d danced and drunk and fucked, and things had been pretty much like that in the three months since. And twice already they’d shared their lust for violence. Sonya liked to watch him. Afterwards they’d screwed their brains out; high on the agony of the ones they had hurt.