Gordon Ferris - Truth Dare kill

“I’ll tell you why, McRae. Or may I still call you Danny?”

That cool voice, that smooth, tough voice that sent me on my way to France, pulled me to my feet in a heartbeat. He ambled into the room from a doorway behind me.

Tony Caldwell hadn’t changed much. Still slim, about the same height as me, slicked-back sandy hair and neat moustache. The difference was in the eyes; once calculating they now looked cunning, older and more tired. Too many late nights?

I got my bags by lying awake and staring at the ceiling in the hours before dawn. What was keeping him up? He was smiling in that special mocking way of his; he used it to poke fun at me and the other agents during training if we got something wrong.

“You look well for a corpse,” I said.

“And you look fine, Danny. Much better than when I last saw you. Thought you mightn’t make it, you know. Pretty beat up.” He walked over to the drinks cabinet and pulled out the Scotch. “Top up, anyone?”

“Why, Tony? Why all this… contrivance? What are you hiding?”

Tony filled his tumbler, walked over and stood behind Kate’s chair, an elegant pose for the family album. But whose family? “We’ve got nothing to hide, old man. It’s you we were hiding from.” He smiled in what he thought was a sympathetic manner.

“Dear god, Tony, what were you afraid of from me?”

His voice was sweet and sickly. “You’re not well, old man. I mean really not well. Damn shame. I mean not your fault. But you came back in terrible shape and the quacks who know about such stuff said you were a bit – how shall we put it – barmy.”

I’d had enough of this. “That’s such shit, Tony! They wouldn’t have let me out if I was mad. I’ve lost some memories, not my marbles!”

He tried to look earnest. It came out patronising. “Danny, you’ve seen my reports and the psychiatrist’s report. He thought you’d be delusional, paranoiac, wanting to blame someone. The likelihood was that you’d blame me. You were too dangerous. Didn’t want you to flare up, don’t you know?”

Damn him! It was true enough for whatever case he was making against me. Then a thought struck me. “How did you know I’ve seen your reports on me?”

“I heard about your little break-in. Went a bit far, that. Afraid it sort of bears out what we’re all saying, old chap.”

Who told him? Cassells? I was feeling swamped now; a little truth could become a big lie with clever words. I fought back.

“That still isn’t grounds for sending me chasing wild geese. All you had to do was meet me and tell me what you knew. That’s all. I wanted to find out, Tony. I wasn’t blaming you.”

“But here you are. Wouldn’t let it go, would you. Always saw you as the terrier type. Like the rest of your clan. Get your teeth into something and you’d cling to it till the death. Great spirit. For a war. But not now, do you see? Besides… ”

“Besides what?”

“The psychiatrists didn’t have all the facts, did they?”

I knew what was coming. I felt nausea rise.

“They didn’t know about the little problem in France. The little French girl.

Did they? And I ’spect if they had, they might have decided to hang on to you for a bit. I couldn’t take that chance.” He moved out from behind Kate’s chair and stepped closer to me. “Couldn’t let you near me or mine, d’you see? Done it once and you might do it again, right?”

His concerned eyes searched mine. I could feel the weight of his argument piling on me like a rock fall. Wouldn’t I have done the same, in his shoes? I was casting about for a way to fight back. I searched my treacherous memory for the list of questions I’d been planning to pose. I grasped at one. “Do you mean you were so concerned for your safety – and Liza, and your… wife or girlfriend here…” I waved in the direction of Kate who was watching us intently from her chair. “… that you blew up the house you were using? And why were you using another house anyway? Doesn’t this place have enough hideaways?”

I thought I’d connected for a moment, then his smile flickered back into life.

“Serendipity, old chap. The house belonged to a friend of ours. Used to pop in for drinks and such. But the house was empty when it went up. Our friend spends winter in the South of France. Can’t blame him, can you? Must have been a gas leak or something. Gave us the notion of taking me out the picture, d’you see?

Very convenient.”

“Very.” I couldn’t hide the sarcasm. “And the shoes, the beautiful blue shoes?”

I directed this at her, sitting with a smile on her face, or was it a smirk? “I quite liked those shoes you know. You should have searched harder, McRae. I’d have liked them both back.”

I was getting desperate now, angry with them and myself for my inability to break down their smug faзade. My questions were coming out more and more shrill.

“You turned this into a game, didn’t you? It became something to amuse you! What the hell are you doing in this house anyway, Tony? Why is Kate registered as your next of kin? What’s going on here?”

His face lost the contrived smile. “Why, nothing, dear chap. Nothing at all. I’m just a house guest, that’s all.”

They gazed at me, waiting to see if the monkey would jump through another hoop for them. Kate’s face had lost its superiority. She suddenly looked puzzled and anxious. Why? “I don’t believe you. I don’t know what you’re covering up, here. But none of this adds up. I won’t rest till I find out the truth, Tony. For starters, I need to know what happened in France. You owe me that!”

He shook his head. “I owe you nothing, old chap. Can’t be responsible for the actions of a madman, can I? I saw you, Danny. I saw you coming out of the house where that girl was murdered. I found her there. I came to confront you in your safe house and you were cleaning up. There was blood on your clothes. You looked wild. I asked you what you’d done. You began screaming at me. Said she was a whore, and she shouldn’t have been seeing other men. She was yours, yours alone.

Terrible stuff. So sorry, old man. I think the pressure got to you. And you flipped.” He shrugged and held my gaze.

Every word drilled into me like a stiletto. I could feel the heat of the fire on my face, could sense the tumbler slipping in my sweat-filled hand. I could see it all now, except her face; I couldn’t see her face; just the blood around her head. The tension in my temples was beginning to edge towards one of my turns. I couldn’t fall apart here. I had to get out. But I still hadn’t heard enough; didn’t want to believe what I’d heard. For how can you admit to yourself that you’re a monster? “I don’t believe it. There has to be some other reason. I’m not letting this go, Tony. I can’t! All these games you’re playing. All you had to do was meet me and tell me what you knew. Or turn me in. I’m not leaving till you to tell me what’s going on!”

Kate’s lips were pinched and she took a hurried swig of her drink. Tony sighed and took two steps towards the fire. He placed his drink carefully on the mantelpiece and turned back to me. For a second I couldn’t see what he’d done; he was a dark silhouette against the firelight. Then I saw the glint in his hand. The glint from a big Colt service revolver. A gun that could stop a rhino.

If you got close enough. Tony was close enough.

“I was afraid you’d say that. Don’t you see? This is exactly what we were afraid of. I know your type, McRae. You go on and on and on, chipping away. We could have got the police involved. But what could we prove? It was wartime, in France. Lot of things happened in the war that are best forgotten. But you won’t, will you? You won’t let up.”