Death Of A Used Car SalesmanA Story by Alistair Canlin The past comes back to haunt Harry Chamberlain in the shape of a woman
Death Of A Used Car Salesman
“Is this how it ends?” He thought.
The concrete floor of the car lot was damp; he could feel it soaking into his knees as he fell to the ground. The car keys fell from his grasp as he reached for the wound that opened up on the back of his head.
Warm and sticky.
He could feel his own blood seep through his fingers, it pulsed and flowed.
Warm and sticky.
From where he lay the car looked huge, bearing down on him. His shirt began to soak up the dampness, it felt cold.
Shoes came into view, brown brogues, old fashioned, a pair of crisp blue jeans that looked as if a crease had been ironed into them with military precision. He’d recognise them anywhere.
A lopsided smile looked down on him and then everything went black.
v v v v
Things had been better once, the sun on his back, its warmth in his blood, the occasional smile on his face. Cutting a deal was what it was all about; making people think they’d got a bargain. He was the master of this kingdom, this little car lot. But it wasn’t just any car lot, this was Honest Harry Chamberlain’s car lot and he was Harry Chamberlain, the best used car salesman for miles around.
He revelled in this reputation, a nod, a wink, even a wave at the passing folk. Draw them into his web, entice them in, seal the deal, his shinny suit and winning smile.
It was said he had a twinkle in his eye, was one for the ladies, neither of which he could deny. He was, after all, Honest Harry Chamberlain.
The sun was high in the sky, a heat haze shimmering over the lot. Harry sat in his office, in his shirt sleeves, jacket draped over the back of his chair. He stared out the window, the reds, blues, greens even yellows of the cars glowed bright, like a field of beautiful blooms. On the desk was the paperwork for the last couple of sales, a good morning, easy work, the silver coated words slipping off his tongue with ease, wrapped round his little finger and packaged up like the deal of the century. A very tidy profit.
The car lot was empty now, the afternoon sun keeping people away, enticing them to the beach or up to the shade of the hills. Harry hated this time of year, too many distractions, people with too much time on their hands.
He twiddled his pen between his fingers and contemplated the prospect of lunch. His wife would want him to eat healthy, all manner of rabbit food, but he had a hankering for something greasy. Half the side of a cow, dripping in fat with all the trimmings. His stomach rumbled in sympathy.
Decision made he grabbed his bunch of keys, pulled his jacket off the back of the chair and locked everything up.
He could feel the heat of the sun on his back, as he headed towards the diner. It had been a mistake to put on his jacket, but he didn’t feel dressed without it. Little beads of sweat trickled down his collar.
The air conditioned atmosphere of the diner was a blessed relief. He took up his position in his usual booth and set about studying the menu. Why? He wasn’t sure; he already knew what he wanted.
He peered over the top of the menu and took in his surroundings. It was Americana gone mad, license plates and hub caps hung on the wall, black and white photographs of old New York portraying long lost dreams. The booths were all red leatherette and chrome. It was all very close to tacky, but he liked it.
“The usual Mr Chamberlain?” The smiling waitress appeared at the end of his table.
“No, I’ll have the special.”
She eyed him with a look that let him know that Mrs Chamberlain had told them he was on a diet.
“I’m allowed.” He used his best smile “I can show you the permission slip.”
“One special it is then.” She said after a moments thought.
“One born every minute.” He thought to himself, and smiled as he watched her walk away.
The bell above the front door of the diner jingled as somebody else walked in.
Harry looked up momentarily, his heart skipped a beat, she was totally stunning, his breath was lost from his body, long legs, bright eyes every man’s dream.
He hardly noticed as the waitress came back with his steaming plate, piled high with all the unhealthiest foods he could imagine.
“Mr Chamberlain?”
He watched as the woman took up her seat at the far end of the diner. Sliding in with elegance and grace.
“Mr Chamberlain?”
She flicked her auburn hair behind her ear, revealing an unblemished porcelain neck.
“You okay Mr Chamberlain?”
“Uh sorry?” He slowly returned from fantasy land.
“You look a bit funny.” The waitress wrinkled her nose.
“No I’m fine, sorry; I was in a world of my own.”
“You work too hard.”
He laughed at this. Selling cars wasn’t hard, he was born to it, it was something he loved, something he had to do.
The waitress laughed politely and walked away.
Harry stared down at his heart attack on a plate. He didn’t know where to start; he picked up his fork and dived in. Every morsel was like heaven, his wife’s diets were notoriously strict, his stomach always let him know what it thought of the regime.
More people started to enter the diner, the lunchtime rush filling the place up.
“Hey Harry.” Marv, who ran the hardware store, waved at him.
Harry nodded in return.
“Harry.” Mr Wexell nodded formally in his direction. Mr Wexell was an insurance salesman, and an incredibly dull person. Harry just put up his hand as a half hearted wave, but didn’t look up.
The sun started to stretch out across his table; it looked like fire and wispy smoke dancing across the surface, striving for the heavens.
“Harry Harry Harry!” Tony Darnell drummed his hands on the table.
Harry looked up at Tony, a gaunt youth with a close cropped haircut, stared back at him, a look of desperation in his eyes.
“I’ve got some business I could put your way.” He persisted.
“I’m eating here.” Harry fixed him with a stern look.
“This could be good for the both of us Harry.”
“It’s Mr Chamberlain to you.”
Tony gulped.
“I don’t do business when I’m eating.”
“I’ll come back later then?”
“You do that.” Harry got back to his food, Tony’s presence forgotten about instantly.
A shadow blocked out the sun, a momentary chill cast over his body.
“Mr Chamberlain?”
Harry let out an audible sigh and looked up to see who was bothering him now. His heart faltered, his stomach somersaulted, it was her. She was standing, there in front of him, talking.
“It is isn’t it?” Her voice wrapped round him, caressed and stroked, flattering his ego and making him weak at the knees.
For the first time in his life words failed to come.
“I couldn’t help overhearing.” Her smile almost blinded him.
Before he even noticed she had slid into the booth and was sitting opposite him. The sun returned, stretching out over him, warming him, dazzling him.
“I like a man with a hearty appetite.” She glanced down at his plate.
Harry laughed nervously; the greasy plateful now embarrassed him, his belly feeling twice as big as before. He thought about fastening his jacket, but somehow knew the buttons wouldn’t meet.
“Don’t stop on my account, I’ve got all day.” She smiled.
Now Harry felt unnerved, he didn’t know who she was, but knew she wanted something.
“I didn’t catch your name?” Harry finally managed to get some words out.
“That’s cos I didn’t give you it, silly.” Her giggle almost made him crumble.
“Grow up for godsake man!” His brain screamed at him, every sinew of his body told him to be careful, but that giggle shoved every thought out of his head.
“You don’t remember me do you?” Her eyes fixed on him.
Harry’s brain scrabbled and scrambled, surely he’d remember somebody like her? He could usually place every customer from the past ten years, but she eluded him.
“Rebecca Statham.” Her eyes remained fixed on him, boring into his soul, searching for weakness.
“Little Becky?” Harry’s mouth fell open, his mind filled with images of a little girl in pigtails running amok, summer dresses, big smiles, and her father, Franklin. The images turned darker, a shiver went down Harry’s spine, he pushed the images from his head.
Rebecca’s eyes stayed fixed, Harry wondered if she knew?
“It’s been a while.” Was all Harry could manage.
“Over fifteen years.” Her expression stayed constant.
“That long?” Harry broke eye contact first, he looked into the sun, letting it burn into his retinas.
“Been back a couple of days, doesn’t feel like I’ve been away at all.”
The warmth of the sun was no longer soothing; he could feel his collar tighten.
“How have…” He couldn’t turn round, he couldn’t look at her “…things been?”
“Hard.”
He wanted to tell her.
He needed to tell her.
“Still got the car lot?”
“Business is good.” He nodded, now on safer ground, the confessional moment lost and forgotten “Could always use an extra pair of hands, you know what it’s like, but I still make enough to live on, enough to put food on the table.”
“That’s what I was going to ask you about.” Her eyes looked away for a moment.
“You want a job?”
“Just for old time’s sake, until I get things sorted. I could do the paperwork, office stuff. You’re the salesman. Dad always said you were the king of salesmen.” Her face gave away nothing.
“Sure why not.” He said after a moments thought, then wondered the second he said it if he was going to regret it.
Her face beamed and she leaned across the table and kissed him. Harry blushed; he could feel everybody in the diner staring.
“Oops sorry.” She produced a white hankie and wiped the lipstick from his face.
Harry blushed even more.
v v v v
“Have one of these.” Franklin’s eyes danced as he thrust a large cigar into Harry’s hand.
“What’s this in aid of?” Harry coughed as a large plum of smoke was blown in his face “I didn’t even think you smoked?”
“I don’t, but it’s what you do isn’t it?” Franklin was full of nervous energy, almost dancing on the spot.
“What’re you on about?”
“You’re supposed to give out cigars are you not?”
“You’ve lost me, have you taken something?”
“No, no. It’s tradition you give out cigars when you become a dad.”
“You mean?”
“Well I just gave you a cigar didn’t I?”
The two men embraced in a huge bear hug.
v v v v
Harry tried to concentrate on the task in hand, the deal. He had a young couple ready to sign, sitting in the office, done deal, high profit, easy peasy. But he was distracted, mind not on the game, he kept stumbling over words, his eyes constantly drawn to Rebecca as she sped through the monotonous paperwork.
The office had never run smoother, he could find everything, customers loved her, but always at the back of his mind niggling away at him was that one little thought that wouldn’t go away.
Did she know?
It just wouldn’t go away; he was kept awake at night with it rattling round his head. Things started to slip, he lost sales, profits were down, and still it kept going round and round his head.
Did she know?
Did she know?
Did she know?
“We’ll think about it.” The couple stood and left.
“F**k!” Harry threw his pen across the desk.
“Hey, it’s alright. You’re just in a slump, everyone has them.”
“I don’t.” He huffed.
“You need to relax.” She left the paperwork and stood behind his chair and started to rub his shoulders.
He tried not to react, it felt good, but it was also wrong. It was Franklin’s daughter. Little Becky.
“You’re so tense, you need to learn how to let things go.” Rebecca continued to work on his shoulders “A problem shared is a problem halved after all.”
A small groan escaped his lips as her thumbs pushed at his shoulder blades.
“I’m a good listener.” She whispered in his ear “You can tell me anything.”
She knew!
She knew!
Alarm bells started to ring in his head; she was just trying to soften him up, weedle her way inside.
“My god you are tense. Just relax.” She held his shoulders in a vicelike grip; she was stronger than she looked.
“I’m fine.” He shrugged her away.
“I was only trying to help.”
“Customers.” He mumbled and strode out to the car lot.
He was glad of the escape, his brain was getting confused and he knew at some stage he’d let something slip.
“I see you admiring the little number, perfect for the first time buyer.” He slipped into salesman mode as he approached a young girl with her father.
“Too expensive.” The father almost growled.
Harry knew from the look on the girl’s face that he had her.
“Nonsense, there’s always a deal to be done.” He used his winning smile.
The girl used her eyes to plead with her father.
“What sort of deal?” He softened.
Harry would make him crumble.
The girl’s smile became massive, her eyes sparkled.
“Let’s go to the office.” Harry put his arm round the father and guided him.
Easy peasy.
v v v v
“I think we should go into business together.”
“Pardon?” Harry looked at Franklin as if he was mad.
“I’m serious.”
“You’re clearly insane.”
“It’d be a great idea.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“I’ve found the perfect place; it could be a little goldmine.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch.”
“Come on Franklin, it’s me you’re talking to.” “Honestly there is no catch.”
“Why do I get very nervous when you use that word?”
“Trust me.” Franklin beamed.
v v v v
“Fancy a drink?” Rebecca put away the last of the paperwork.
“Sure why not.” Harry put on his shiny suit jacket.
“I just don’t fancy going straight home.” Rebecca reached for her jacket.
“Know what you mean.” Harry mumbled.
After locking everything up they found themselves in McGinty’s, the local Irish themed bar.
“So how is Mrs Chamberlain?” Rebecca placed Harry’s drink in front of him.
“Fine.” Harry said it after downing half his beer.
“Is that all I’m going to get?”
“She’s away.” Harry stared at his glass “At her sisters.”
“A little holiday?”
“Not quite.” Harry kept turning his glass.
“Aaw Harry. Nothing serious I hope?”
“This time? Who knows?” Harry shrugged.
“I always thought you were the perfect couple.”
“Far from it.” Harry took another huge slug of beer.
“But you’re always smiling together, you both look so happy.”
“I’m a salesman.” Harry shrugged and stared at his beer as if it held the answer to everything.
“You’ve shocked me Mr Chamberlain.”
Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Call yourself Honest Harry Chamberlain?”
“It’s just a name.” Harry seemed resigned.
“It’s more than just a name, it’s a fact. It’s what people believe, it’s what people expect from you. It is you.”
“It’s all a lie.” Harry downed more beer.
Rebecca sipped her wine politely.
“It’s all built on a lie.” Harry froze mid gulp. He’d gone too far, said too much. A little bit of the secret had slipped out, and he couldn’t get it back.
He searched her face, looking for any sign, a glimmer or a flicker. But he saw nothing. Unless she hid it well, maybe she knew everything and was just waiting for him to slip up. Maybe he just had.
His brain was fizzing, he tried to control it, but to no avail. Fear forced his thoughts ever onwards.
“You should call her.” Rebecca stared at him “Right now. Just pick up the phone and call her.”
“She’ll be in bed.”
“Then wake her.”
“I can’t do that, she gets cranky.”
“You’re chicken.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca laughed. Harry found himself swept up by the sound and laughed along.
v v v v
The sun was bursting the sky, the heat was almost unbearable, the air was filled with the sound of laughter.
“Be careful!” Franklin shouted to little Becky, who was running in and around all the cars.
“She’s becoming a proper little tearaway.” Harry smiled.
“Wouldn’t have her any other way.”
“You promise you won’t get mad?” Harry scratched the back of his head nervously.
“What’ve you done this time?” Franklin let out an exasperated sigh.
Little Becky watched from her hiding place behind one of the cars, a shiny red one. She could see arms being waved, it looked like they were shouting, her father’s face was almost as red as her hiding place.
“Rebecca!” Her father stormed away “Rebecca! It’s time to go we’re leaving.”
v v v v
“I think it’s time to leave, you’ve had enough.” Rebecca tried to smile politely.
“Spoilsport.” Harry staggered off his seat.
“I’ll take you home.” Rebecca felt a little drunk, her head only swimming slightly as she grabbed hold of Harry to stop him falling over. “I’m alright.” He tried to shrug her away, but nearly went flying arse over tit.
“Look no arguments, I’m taking you home.”
“I love it when you’re masterful.” Harry giggled at his own joke.
“Come on.” She pulled, pushed and cajoled him out of the bar. Harry insisted on saying goodbye to everybody there. After thumping his head several times on the roof she eventually managed to get him in the car.
“Where are your keys?” She tried to get a response from him when they arrived at his house.
“My what?” He was propped against the wall to stop him from falling over.
“House keys?” Her own head was starting to spin.
“Pocket. They’re in my pocket.” Harry had trouble focusing on anything “I think.”
Without thinking Rebecca thrust her hand into his trouser pocket.
“Oooo!” Harry’s eyes widened.
Just as her hand tightened round the keys Harry kissed her.
There was a moment of awkward confusion and then she responded. Her hand still deep inside his pocket she pulled him close. Harry, like a schoolboy, frantically pulled at clothing.
It was a clumsy awkward fumble, but Harry pictured himself as Valentino or Casanova.
Rebecca could smell his beer breath; feel his hands dig into her, the front door hard against her back, his body squashing her.
Harry put his hand through her hair, his wife never smelt like this. He tried desperately to force her image from his head.
“I can’t do this.” Harry pulled himself away.
Rebecca looked down at herself and started to feel ashamed.
“It’s not you, god no.” Harry misread her expression “I’m married.”
Rebecca felt instantly sober, guilt had that effect.
“The wife’d kill me.” Harry wasn’t helping.
Shame, guilt, embarrassment, humiliation all washed over Rebecca. This wasn’t in the plan.
“I mean I’m flattered, but I’m drunk, we’d regret it in the morning, we work together, if I gave you the wrong signals.” Harry babbled.
“Harry.”
“Yeah?”
“Stop talking.”
Harry looked at his feet like a scolded child.
v v v v
Harry pretended not to be watching Franklin as he poured over the accounts. Harry could feel his hands sweat, his heart thumped loudly, he fidgeted with his collar.
Franklin was going to find it, there was no way he’d miss it. In a way Harry was amazed he’d got away with it this long.
A couple of potential customers wandered across the lot. Harry couldn’t move, his eyes fixed on Franklin.
“You going to get them?”
Franklin never missed a trick.
“They’re just browsing.” Harry shrugged dismissively.
“No wonder takings are down.” Franklin didn’t even look up from the ledgers.
To Harry it was all gobbledygook, a mass of numbers that blended into one. He got lost in a blizzard of digits every time he looked at them.
“A good sale could push us into profit.”
“They’re just timewasters.”
“How do you know?”
“I can tell.” Franklin finally looked up; his usually friendly eyes had a coldness to them.
“They were in last week.” Harry held up his hands defensively “Yammering on for ages. I probably lost a couple of sales while they were going on.”
Franklin sighed and returned to the ledgers.
Harry felt sick, he couldn’t let Franklin find out, he’d be finished for sure. He had to find a way of stopping him.
v v v v
Harry nursed his head, even the fizz of the alka-seltzer he’d just dropped into a glass of water sounded like cannons going off.
“You look like s**t.” Rebecca came into the office, not a hair out of place, looking a million dollars.
Harry held his head in his hands and grunted.
“You did kinda over do it.”
“Enough of the lecture.” Harry had a very very very loud army marching through his head.
Rebecca let a giggle escape.
“How’d you do it?” The words croaked out of Harry’s dry throat.
“Easy.” She just smiled.
“You’re not going to tell me are you?”
Rebecca just smiled.
Harry had vague recollections of the night before, broken images filling his head. It made him feel worse. One particular image kept sticking, but he was sure that couldn’t be true. He took a gulp of his fizzing water, he wanted to gag. It coated his throat and made him feel worse. The image flashed into his head again. He looked across at Rebecca, she quickly looked away, he was sure she was blushing.
“I didn’t do anything, like, embarrassing last night?”
“No.” Rebecca’s blush got momentarily brighter.
Harry’s gaze became fixed on his glass, an image of Rebecca became stamped on his mind, it was probably completely fictitious, but his mind was making it more and more real each time it came into his head.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out.
“What for?” Rebecca busied herself with the weeks of sales receipts.
“Everything.” What was he saying? He could give it all away, and for what? An imagined fumble with his best friend’s daughter.
v v v v
Franklin tapped some numbers into his calculator and scratched his head.
Harry swallowed loudly and pulled at his collar.
He was going to get caught.
His heart was racing.
His hands sweaty.
His stomach performed gymnastics.
Franklin scratched his head again.
Why wasn’t he saying anything?
Just say it!
Just say it!
Franklin lifted his head and looked at Harry.
“I’m sorry.” Harry moved without thinking. Brought his hand down. The paperweight clutched in his sweaty grip.
A crunch and his face felt warm.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He gasped for breath, heaved desperately. The paperweight still clutched in his sweaty grip.
Franklin was slumped forward, his hair matted in dark blood, his fingers still above the calculator.
The paperweight fell from his grasp. The clatter seemed to bring Harry back to reality. He staggered back, the wall stopping his fall. His eyes didn’t want to take in what he was looking at, he tried to cover his eyes with his hands, but he felt Franklin’s warm blood on his face.
Sobs, deep long desperate sobs wracked his body.
What’d he done?
What had he done?
v v v v
“You okay?”
Harry looked up, she looked like Franklin. The same eyes, staring at him, examining his soul, accusing him.
“Fine.” He waved her away dismissively. All he could think of recently was Franklin, every waking hour, and she wasn’t helping.
“I was only asking.” She span away from him.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her.
She knew something.
She had to.
Why else would she come back to a dead end town?
She was after revenge.
He had to get her first.
v v v v
Lights drifted by. Harry drove through the deserted town, his gruesome cargo locked in the back.
He tried not to think about what he’d done. It was either kill or be killed he tried to reason it.
It was his best friend, how could he do that to his best friend?
His conscience gnawed at him.
The radio blared out in an attempt to distract him from thinking. It wasn’t working. His head filled with images if Franklin, always smiling, always his best friend.
He let out a strangled scream and thumped the steering wheel. The car skidded and weaved; he grasped the wheel and fought to get it under control. He felt it ride onto the verge and bound and kick. He slammed the breaks and tensed as the car skidded to a halt inches away from a huge tree.
His heart in his mouth he clambered out of the car, his legs were weak and could barely hold him. A pain in his chest convinced him he was having a heart attack. On his knees he clutched at his chest and struggled to breathe, his body heaved, the pain got worse. His vision blurred his stomach spasmed and he vomited, splattering the ground in front of him.
The pain disappeared.
He wiped the acidic spittle away with the back of his hand. From where he lay his car looked huge, bearing down on him.
Above him a bird called, dragging him out of his self pity.
Franklin’s body was heavier than he expected, as he hauled it out the back of the car, his face seemed almost serene, eyes closed, what looked like a Mona Lisa smile.
Harry couldn’t look, he carried the body into the woods not daring to look down, staring straight ahead in case Franklin was looking at him.
His breath running short, his back aching, this was far enough. A convenient ditch presented itself, Harry lay Franklin’s body down and kicked some leaves over it. Not the greatest of hiding places, but it would have to do.
He tried not to think as he walked back to the car, the puddle of vomit shimmered in the moonlight. Above him a bird called, he hoped it was the only thing that watched him.
v v v v
His house felt empty, he hadn’t realised how much noise his wife would make. Sure she’d disappear for the odd day of two, but it was nearly a month now and he kind of missed her. Well he missed his food being cooked and his laundry being done.
Not only was the place empty it was a tip. Empty takeaway cartons littered the kitchen, dirty clothes were draped over furniture, the smell of old food and stale body odour hung heavy in the air.
Harry himself was lounging on the sofa, a beer can resting on his belly, staring at the Tv. He looked like he hadn’t washed in days.
The doorbell chimed loudly.
Harry stayed rooted to the sofa.
The doorbell went again.
Harry turned up the Tv.
The door rattled as it was thumped hard.
“I know you’re in there.”
Harry recognised Rebecca’s voice and turned the Tv up further.
“I’m not leaving!” Rebecca’s voice could still be heard above the Tv.
“Alright, for godsake, if it’ll shut you up.” Harry hauled himself off the sofa, trampling over food wrappers and old newspapers on his way.
The door continued to rattle.
“What?” He growled as he flung open the door.
“Jesus, you look like crap.” Rebecca’s startled face stared back at him.
“Nice to see you too.” He mumbled as she pushed her way passed him.
“I like what you’ve done with the place.” She found it hard not to wrinkle her nose as she looked round.
“If you’ve just come to take the piss then you can f**k off.”
“I was worried. You haven’t been in for a couple of days.” Her face seemed genuinely concerned.
Harry became instantly suspicious.
“It’s not like you.”
How did she know what he was like? She hardly knew him, his eyes narrowed as he examined her, his suspicion seeking justification.
“What?” Rebecca felt uncomfortable under his gaze.
“Nothing.” Harry mumbled and turned away from her.
“You’ve got to pull yourself together.”
“DON’T F*****G TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” He turned and screamed in her face, his eyes bulging, skin burning red.
Rebecca felt spit and bad breath wash over her, her entire body tensed in shock.
Harry trembled with rage.
Not now.
Don’t do it now.
He must wait.
Wait for the right moment.
Keep his powder dry.
Thoughts rambled and raged round his head, he struggled to put them into some form of order.
“Sorry.” A simple word fell sheepishly from his mouth
v v v v
He saw the flashing lights first, his heart jumped into his mouth. As he approached the car lot he tried to act as calmly and normally as he could.
He counted four cars, that would probably mean about eight officers. Heart beating wildly and his mouth running dry he tried to control his legs as he neared the lot.
“Work damn it, work.” He repeated over and over again, as his legs felt as if they were going to buckle at any minute.
“Mr Chamberlain?” A stocky man in a cheap ill fitting suit, who looked the human equivalent of a bulldog, strode towards Harry.
Harry hoped his nerves weren’t showing, dry mouth, sweaty palms, he could feel his top lip moisten.
“Mr Harry Chamberlain?” The human bulldog asked again.
Harry could only nod, his voice stuck somewhere in his throat.
“I’m Detective Bullen.”
“Apt name.” Harry thought.
“You’ve had a break in.” Bullen stated matter of factly.
Harry’s brain whirred for a moment. They hadn’t come about Franklin, this wasn’t about Franklin. It was as if his body was jump started, he could hear things again, his blood moving round his body, he could feel, a breeze ruffled his hair and tickled his neck. He wanted to smile; he wanted to scream out loud.
“I know these things are stressful.” Bullen completely misjudged Harry’s silence “But we need to know if they’ve taken anything.”
“They?” Harry raised an eyebrow.
“This sort of thing usually involves a team. Quite often someone on the inside.”
“You’re not suggesting…” Harry suddenly sensed an opportunity “My business partner, Franklin has been acting strangely and now that I think of it I haven’t seen him for a few days.”
“Business partner?” Bullen produced a notebook and started scribbling furiously.
Inside Harry was grinning like a fool, he couldn’t believe his luck.
The bulldog could be his saviour.
v v v v
Harry stood across the street, staring at the car lot. His little kingdom. But he felt like he didn’t belong, as if it was shrinking, or he’d outgrown it. He scratched his unshaven chin, he’d never felt like this before, not even after Franklin, but now he had no control. None at all. He could see his life and everything he’d worked for spiralling away from him.
He needed to stop it.
Get control back.
His eyes narrowed as he spied Rebecca. Who did she think she was? Lording it up in his kingdom.
His jaw ached as he ground his teeth.
She was a succubus, draining his life away. He needed to stop her before he no longer existed.
“Morning.” He strode across the lot with as much confidence as he could muster.
“Morning.” Rebecca had to do a double take, she’d gotten used to him not being around.
“Surprised to see me?” He couldn’t resist.
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Her words trailed off.
Harry revelled in her obvious discomfort, he fiddled with the buttons of his suit jacket until he realised they weren’t there, fallen off long ago. At least the jacket hid the stains on his shirt. As for the faded knees in his trousers, well, everybody had them.
Rebecca stared at what looked like a tramp, a man that used to be Harry, unshaven, dirty and wearing soiled clothes.
Harry knew she was up to something, he could tell by the way she was looking at him, sizing him up like a piece of meat.
All day he watched.
Watched her try and rule his kingdom.
Not one sale.
Not even a sniff.
Her womanly wiles deserting her.
“Will you go home.” She stomped passed him.
“Having a bad day?” He couldn’t help smiling.
“Go home.” She bawled at him.
“Face it. You’re not a salesman.”
“It’s you!” Her face turned red with anger “You’re scaring customers away.”
Harry scratched his beard.
“They want to know who the tramp is that’s staring at them.” She was on a roll; her arms waving wildly “Go home and have a bath. Look at yourself, you’re a disgrace!”
The rage exploded, he could contain it no longer. He grabbed her by her hair and slammed her against the wall, pinning her there his breath came rapid, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Her eyes were wide, his breath washing over her. She could feel his hands grasping, grappling. There was a tug on her skirt.
“You wanted this from the start.” His voice sounded strange, raspy, alien.
He reached for her underwear.
She lashed out.
Something crunched.
Harry was on the ground.
Rebecca ran.
v v v v
He didn’t know how long he’d lain there. Minutes, hours, seconds, it was all the same. It was dark, the lot silent.
What was happening to him?
He didn’t recognise the reflection that stared back at him from the darkened windows.
His hand absently stroked his beard, his mind trying not to think about what he did and almost did to Rebecca.
That wasn’t him.
He’d have to explain that it wasn’t him.
He found his car keys in his pocket and shuffled across the empty lot to his car.
Apologise.
Yes.
He’d have to apologise.
Bath first.
She was right.
Make himself respectable.
Then apologise.
Yes.
Apologise.
He was about to put his keys into the lock on the car when he heard a slight noise, something, he stopped. About to turn round his head exploded, stars, colours, darkness, everything all at once.
“Was this how it ends?” He thought.
The concrete floor of the car lot was damp; he could feel it soaking into his knees as he fell to the ground. The car keys fell from his grasp as he reached for the wound that opened up on the back of his head.
Warm and sticky.
He could feel his own blood seep through his fingers, it pulsed and flowed.
Warm and sticky.
From where he lay the car looked huge, bearing down on him. His shirt began to soak up the dampness, it felt cold.
Shoes came into view, brown brogues, old fashioned, a pair of crisp blue jeans that looked as if a crease had been ironed into them with military precision. He’d recognise them anywhere.
Franklin’s lopsided smile looked down on him, and then everything went black.
© 2008 Alistair CanlinFeatured Review
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Added on May 11, 2008Author
Alistair CanlinGlasgow, United KingdomAboutIt was raining the day it happened, the day everything changed, the day the world changed forever, the day I was born. A monumental moment you may say, well if you believe my Mum I was born asleep, s.. more..Writing
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