Jealous Storm by Jack Stroke (classic literature books TXT) 📗

with that, didn’t I?”

“This is a bit different from some kid stealing my crayons.”

“Little brat. I would be very surprised if he wasn’t in jail by now.”

“He was six.”

“A thief is a thief. So, tell me about this problem. Is it to do with the thing? Why you are away? Logistics?”

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t worry about it then.”

“Don’t worry?”

“I don’t know much about logistics, but you’ll be fine. You’re such a smart boy, and we’re all very proud of you. You can do amazing things.”

“Yeah, but that’s the point. What if I can’t do this? What if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew?”

“Oh, Ben. Everyone has doubts. You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know —”

“That Mother woman. The one I met when she came here? She wouldn’t suffer fools. And Amber? She’s smart. You wouldn’t be there if people didn’t believe in you.”

“What if I let everybody down?”

“You’re not going to let anybody down. Nothing worth doing is easy.”

“Thanks, Joan.”

“See? I knew I could help make you feel better.”

Ben hadn’t said anything about feeling better.

46

Amber didn’t regret her deal with Grubby, not once. She had no second thoughts about what she was doing or why or involving the useless fool. It was what it was. She went about her day-to-day activities and waited.

In the afternoon, she arrived at cabin six to a note pushed under her door. It was on bait shop paper which seemed odd enough. Why would Grubby need personalised paper? It looked pretty old. Perhaps someone had purchased it a long time ago, and the shop never had much use for it.

On the note was a smiley face and the words ‘Midnight. Old Scout Hall’. Not a whole lot written on the page, yet Amber found herself impressed Grubby had managed to spell all the words correctly.

The scout hall? Midnight? What should she wear? A trench coat and dark glasses? Why couldn’t he meet her here if he had the gear? Why the sense of drama? Stupid Grubby.

Amber found herself pleased this would all be over soon. It was good he’d been able to come through so quickly. As soon as she took possession, she would plant it, place a call to Officer Stacey and it would be done.

She looked at her watch. Just what she needed - a few hours to kill. Stupid Grubby.

Amber attempted to fill her time, once again finding herself at a loss as to what to do. She tried to have a nap. Sleep wouldn’t come. She settled on pacing the small space. Why not? Pacing was as good as anything.

Maybe she could simply go and see Grubby? Take control of the situation. Why let him dictate anything?

She froze. Someone was there. At her cabin. Her ears burned for the tell-tale sounds of a person.

It is almost impossible to remain completely silent while breaking in somewhere, even for a professional. She could make out light scraping noises. Then the cabin door handle turned.

Ellis…

Perfect. Amber was going to end all this, right here, right now.

She scampered to her bed and flung her pillow across the room. Come on, Ellis. You wanna play?

Except… It wasn’t there. Her Sig.

With a flash, she knew. Ellis was coming to shoot her with her own gun. How could she have been so foolish? The cabin’s lack of security was hardly news. And yet she left her gun just sitting there? Of course it wasn’t safe.

There were no exits and no places to hide. The cabin door flew open.

“Lost something?”

The barrel of her Sig pointed at her out of the darkness. She backed up, hitting the bed.

The intruder cackled and stepped in, far too big to be Ellis.

“I should shoot you right now.”

“Ralph?”

“The one and only. Of course, I can’t even hold this silly little gun with my right hand.”

He held up the hand in question. His thumb hung down at the wrong angle.

“Still really hurts.”

He sidled in, moving like a crab, his oversized body bent in all wrong directions. His head faced one way, his legs another.

“You’re worried about your thumb? Your head is not on properly.”

“Maybe, but it’s the thumb that kills.”

Amber flopped onto the bed.

“Is it gonna hurt like that for, you know, ever?”

“I don’t know, Ralph. I don’t know how these things work.”

“It was really mean.”

“You were strangling me. About to kill me.”

“So? Still mean. What happened next?”

“After I dislocated your thumb? You were mad. You fell out the window.”

“Right. Guess that explains the head.”

He twisted his neck, producing an almighty crack, yet not really improving its position. The big guy lumbered over and sat on the bed beside her.

“Of all the possible dead people in the world, I’ve gotta be haunted by you?” Amber said.

“I am dead, am I? Thought so. I’ve got a message for you from the afterlife then.”

“What’s that?”

“You stink.” He cackled again.

“Great. Can you just leave me alone, please?”

“Nah, seriously. I do have a message. This is a dumb idea.”

“What is?”

“Buying drugs. Grubby. What are you, stupid?”

“That’s not a message, Ralph.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t really know that.”

“Why don’t I?”

“Because you’re not really here.”

“I’m not?”

Amber shook her head. “You’re a figment of my messed-up mind.”

“Where am I then?”

“Dead. Probably an unmarked grave somewhere.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I could be wrong. I assume Gomez wouldn’t have claimed your body.”

“No, I mean calling me a figment.”

“Please go away.”

“Could a figment do this?”

He levelled the Sig at her face and shot her between the eyes. Amber too slow to take evasive action. The bullet inched its way into her brow, Amber’s brains exploding out the back of her head.

Amber work with a start, feeling terrified and foolish, in that way dreams can get to you, no matter how ridiculous they are. At least she was alone once more. She checked. Her Sig remained safely where she’d left it.

Ralph? Really? She could do without Ralph haunting her, thank you very much.

47

Just before midnight, Amber made the short walk away from Paradise by the Bay, still unsettled thanks to her encounter with the deceased Ralph. Everything was