Notorious - John Jones (read after .TXT) 📗

he was heading for Widnes. Nobody else recognised him. He was soon stood in his cold flat, looking around. I’ll soon be out of this hovel, he thought. He wondered if he would have to visit the jobcentre to sign off.

 

Not yet, he thought. It was too early. What about housing benefit? Would they pay for accommodation in London? He decided to cross those bridges when the time came. For now, he crossed to the hi-fi and selected a CD. Bob Perry’s jazz moods, volume 2. The sound filled the flat and he made himself a cup of tea. As he sat down in his armchair to drink it, his mobile phone rang. He put down the tea on the coffee table and went to his coat. He retrieved it and saw that there was an unfamiliar telephone number. He answered it as he walked back to his chair.

“Hello, who’s this?” he asked.

“Curio, it’s Abe. I figured you’d be back by now. I wondered if you are free tomorrow.

I’m playing golf with a couple of work colleagues and wondered if you would join us. If you agree then we will arrange a round on a course up where you live. There’s no need for you to travel back here. Anyway, there’s somebody who wishes to meet you. What do you say, fancy a round?”. Curio thought for a few moments.

“Who wants to meet me?” he asked.

“I’ll bring him along if you agree”.

“Alright,” Curio said. “I’ll need to borrow some clubs, though”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

51

 

 

As the sun sank beyond the horizon, Malcolm was staring out of the window of Melissa’s seven storey penthouse apartment, which she shared with her sister. He could not make much out from her bedroom on the top floor. As Ryvak had burned, attention had been diverted from them, and they knew that if they stayed, they would have faced questions that neither of them wanted to answer.

 

They would have slowed down Malcolm’s urge to get to Curio for his reading. It would have been hassle they could have both done without, so quickly vacated the area as quickly as they could, making sure to be out of view of anybody in a uniform. They had hurried to the nearest train station, and with them running every fifteen minutes to Liverpool, they had only 6 minutes to wait upon arrival.

 

Since their return, they had stayed in the apartment. Melissa had had to explain to her sister, but knew she would not object. They had to talk quietly as she was in bed. She was a nurse, and was up at 06:30am.

“I’ve got to get to Curio’s as soon as possible,” he said. “I wonder if he’s back from London. I suppose he should be”.

“I think you’re getting paranoid,” said Melissa, standing behind him.

“Yes, I am, I’ve every right to be. People are trying to kill me, but I don’t know why. I have to get my parents and Ian to tell me. I’ve got the cash…” he took the envelope out of his trouser pocket and held it up.

“£500 quid to get Curio to give me another reading. £500 quid”.

“If it stops people trying to kill you, then it’s worth it”.

“You know, I wouldn’t have thought Tom would just suddenly decide to go and do something like that. He was normally very careful. That’s why he always had money. He covered his tracks, but to just decide to drive to Ryvak to burn it down. That’s not the Tom I knew”.

“Like your father,” said Melissa.

“Yes. Maybe Ian was right. Maybe I have got some virus. Maybe it infects people around me into doing things they wouldn’t normally do, but Ian wanted it”. He saw the expression on Melissa’s face. It was one of fear.

“Do you think you have?” she asked, “Got a virus?” She stepped back. Malcolm’s shoulders slumped and he looked to the floor.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to get Curio to find out”.

“Are you going now?” she asked. “Might it be better to go in the morning? You can stay here, you know. Where else have you got? Your parent’s house is out of the question now, isn’t it?” He nodded.

“It’s probably better if I go to Curio’s now,” he said.

“I’ll stay here,” said Melissa, “I’ll wait up”. A loud knock came on the door, and they both spun in the direction of the sound.

“Who’s that?” asked Melissa, as if Malcolm would know.

“It can’t be the police,” said Malcolm. The banging came again.

“They’re going to wake Fiona,” said Melissa, frowning. More banging came, louder.

“It sounds like they’re going to stay until someone answers. Maybe they know we’re here. I suppose we’ll have to face whoever it is,” said Malcolm. Melissa walked out towards the door. She put the light on and opened it on a chain. She couldn’t make out properly who stood there, as the hallway outside was in darkness.

“Who’s that?” she asked, but she was not answered as the door was kicked forcefully, breaking the chain and sending Melissa collapsing back onto the carpet. She saw as a woman walked in, wearing a long black coat, with dark red hair and piercings in her lip and ears. She had black eye liner and black fingernails. The boots she wore were heavy and metallic.

 

Melissa saw that she was a ‘goth’, and looked to be of a similar age. She did not recognise her.

“Are you Melissa?” the woman asked. Melissa stood up.

“What? Who are you? Get out!”

“Are you Melissa?” Malcolm appeared at Melissa’s side.

“What’s going on?” he asked, but was not answered.

“Are you Melissa?” the woman asked.

“What do you want? Get out!” Melissa gestured to the door.

“Who are you?” asked Malcolm. His question went unanswered, or unheard. The woman walked closer, and Malcolm stepped in her way, but she forced him to the side, but only because Malcolm had not retained his balance. He stumbled against the wall. It seemed as though she had tried to walk through him, as though he was not there.

“Are you Melissa?”

“What do you want?”

“I want Melissa. Is that you?”

“Yes, now who are you and what do you want?” The goth grabbed her dress at the shoulders and shoved her to the ground. Fiona appeared in a nightgown, hair dishevelled, eyes tired. She didn’t say anything, simply tried to focus and understand what she was seeing.

“Get back in!” shouted Malcolm. Melissa got to her feet quickly and ran for her bedroom. She was quickly followed by the woman. Melissa slammed the door, but it was kicked back, Melissa behind it, falling again to the floor. The goth walked in, vehemence on her face.

 

She reached forward and grabbed Melissa’s hair, pulling her to her feet. Malcolm ran in and grabbed the woman from behind. She let Melissa go, but still did not acknowledge Malcolm. Instead, she reached forward towards Melissa, and with surprising strength walked forward, breaking Malcolm’s weak grip. Melissa held her hands up, her face streaked with tears in a gesture to stop her advance. It was futile as she was pushed back, cracking the window. The goth took one step forward, and shoved her again, harder. The window shattered easily, and Melissa crashed through it, screaming as she fell eighty feet to the concrete.

“No!” yelled Malcolm, running to the window sill. The goth turned and walked out of the room. Malcolm ran past her, past a confused looking Fiona, and out into the hallway of the apartments. It wasn’t long before he found her beneath the glare of a nightlight. She was motionless, lying on her front, a pool of spreading blood around her head. Malcolm knew it was futile to attempt recovery. He could see that she was dead.

 

He collapsed to his knees, his hands on his face, breathing heavily. Tears coursed down his face, more for Melissa than there had been for his parents. The goth appeared, and strode across to Melissa. Malcolm stood up, and nervously backed away. Fear and anger conflicted within him, and he simply watched as the goth crouched down beside her. She stared at her for a few moments. Eventually, anger won the skirmish, and Malcolm stepped towards her.

“Hey,” he said, loudly. She didn’t seem to hear him. She nodded, satisfied, then stood up, and saw Malcolm.

“What the fuck?” he said, “Why?”

“Why what?” she asked. He gestured towards Melissa.

“What the fuck d’you mean, what?” She looked in the direction of her.

“She had to die,” she said, and began walking away. Malcolm walked with her. “Just like that?” he said. “Why?”

“She had to die”.

“Come on, at least tell me why”.

“Leave me alone, she had to die, that’s that”.

“Just tell me why?” he shouted, standing still. The woman looked back at him, as though to see if he was following her.

“She had to die,” she said, turning a corner. Malcolm was left on a silent pavement, bathed in orange from a nearby street-lamp. He sighed, knowing it was useless to pursue her.

“That’s what my father said,” he said aloud. “She had to die.”. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope containing the money.

“Curio,” he said, quietly, then looked back at Melissa. Tears streaked his face again, and he turned and ran into the darkness.

 

After two minutes, the woman found herself walking along a deserted road. Street lamps illuminated their surrounding areas at irregular intervals, bathing cars and buildings in a muted orange hue. Silence surrounded her. No lights were on in any of the houses. It seemed that even cats and insects were asleep. She stopped and looked around her, searching. Her eyes rested on the railings of a semi-detached nearby. They were atop of a three foot wall. Parts of it were rusted and flaking. It was in need of a good paint. The spikes did not look sharp, but this did not concern her.

 

She stepped across and with both hands, gripped the horizontal rail, four inches below the spikes. Her hands were approximately twenty inches apart, and she did not hesitate, did not take a breath before she sent her face into the spikes. The tension in her arms pulled her downwards as one spike punctured through her right eye. As the spikes were four inches apart, another tore the skin from the side of her face, taking an ear. The spike sank into her brain, and she collapsed to the floor, her skull cracking apart.

 

52

 

 

It was twenty minutes by the time Curio’s block of flats came into view, and Malcolm was taking it in turns to walk, then run, walk, then run, as he was so over exerted. He eventually walked into the car-park, and could see that the main entrance door was being propped open by one of two men who looked to be chatting. He was leaning against the door frame, one arm keeping the door open. The other man was nodding and gesticulating.

 

It seemed that the man holding open the door was a resident. The other man saw Malcolm approach, and his stopping of conversation caused the tenant to look in his direction. Malcolm ignored them and pushed past into the corridor. The tenant looked back at him, shrugged, and looked back at the other man.

“...and that’s what he said, anyway”.

 

Malcolm sighed when he reached the stairs. He ascended as quickly as he could, but he had to stop and lean against a wall to regain his breath on Curio’s floor. After a few moments, he walked along the corridor to his flat and banged on the door. He banged again after two seconds.

“Curio,” he shouted. “It’s me, Malcolm. I’ve got to see you”. The door opened, and Curio appeared, looking tired.

“What?” he asked. Malcolm pushed his way in, and walked into the living room. Curio closed