Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

Both detectives blew their cheeks out.

‘I think that’ll be it for now,’ said Green.

‘Great! If you have any more questions for my client, I suggest you call my office. I know you have my number somewhere, but here’s another card for you.’ Mercier retrieved a card from his inside pocket and slid it with one finger over to the detectives, then he ushered me out of the room to where Mum was waiting for us.

‘How did it go?’ she asked, standing up.

‘As expected, there’s nothing to worry about, Mrs Chester. I’m taking care of everything.’

‘Thank you, Mr Mercier. I’m glad we’ve got you on my boy’s side.’ Her body turned to me. ‘Say thank you to the man,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Mr Mercier.’

He held out his hand for me to shake. I stared at it for a moment. No one had ever wanted to shake my hand before. Not even at Dad’s funeral. Everyone had shaken Grandad’s hand, but not mine. I wouldn’t have wanted too then, anyway, but still.

Mum cleared her throat pulling me back from my memory.

I shook his hand and offered my thanks again.

‘Right, let’s get you home,’ she said, and we made our way out with Mr Mercier trailing behind us.

‘Actually, Mum, I really should check on the shop. Make sure everything is okay.’

‘Oh, good idea. I’ll join you.’

I stopped in my tracks, twiddling my hands in front of me. ‘If you don’t mind, Mum, I’d rather go on my own… I need a minute to myself.’

She stopped, too, and turned around. ‘Oh.’ She sounded disappointed with the way her tone sloped downwards. ‘Sure thing. I’ll… umm… just head home, then.’

‘I’ll drop you off, Mrs Chester,’ Mr Mercier said from behind me.

‘Thanks, that’s truly kind of you. Alright John-Michael, off you trot.’

I watched them disappear to Mr Mercier’s car before embarking down the pavement, towards the antique shop. I had a plan to retrieve the guns from the safe and get them home without incident.

As I walked there, I thought about the weeks leading up to Mr Phillips’s death. I blamed myself. It was obvious now he had been in trouble, and he had let on something bad was going to happen. I wished I’d had the nuance at the time to fit all the pieces together instead of being consumed by the search for my missing puzzle piece.

I weaved up and down the side streets and alleyways in an attempt to avoid the townsfolk. It may have taken me longer to get there, but at least I could avoid being seen. To return home, I would need to use the tiny alley between the hardware store and greengrocers, and I’d have to be extra careful. Since Mr Phillips’s death, news had spread fast, and I was their number one suspect, regardless of the police’s attempts to find out more about the true killer.

I managed to get to the back of the shop without incident and took the case containing the guns from the safe. I searched the shop for something to carry it in and found an old army khaki canvass shoulder bag. I fastened the buckles as tight as they would go and put the bag across my body.

I held on to it tightly as I went back into the open. The interview had taken longer than I’d thought; the sun had started to set, but at least the wind had died down.

The early evening was quiet. Too quiet.

I rounded the back of the houses, behind the shops, then did a U-turn to exit via the alley near the chemist. I had to get onto the high street so I could cross over to the greengrocers.

I poked my head out and scanned the street.

My stomach dropped.

He was back. The Suit was back. Except he no longer wore a suit. He’d changed his clothes to a checked shirt which was tucked into a pair of jeans. Despite his disguise, I knew it was him; I’d never forget the face that haunted me. The face that danced in front of my own whenever I looked in the mirror.

I leant against the wall and held the bag tighter.

I’d hoped he’d gone back to wherever he’d come from. Surely The Suit had to be aware the police were looking for him. Perhaps he didn’t care. Perhaps that’s why he’d swapped his outfit.

What was I going to do? He was in my way and now the guns were out in the open.

I couldn’t go back the other way. I’d be too near the police station. I’d be in the open for too long. If PC Williams spotted me, he might stop me and demand to know what I was carrying.

Then he would know I’d lied. Everyone would.

I checked again. The Suit was leant casually against the hardware shop, his knee tucked so his foot was touching the wall.

You can do this, John-Michael, I told myself. Keep calm and stay cool.

I needed a distraction. But what?

I stuck my head out again. A white transit van had pulled up at the greengrocers, blocking my view.

Crap! Now, what would I do? I’d have to go back to the shop and wait it out.

As I turned, a phrase Mum had said popped into my head: ‘Why should we skulk off like wounded animals?’

She was right; I had to be brave. I was the Mirror Man. I’d spent years under the radar. Why would now be any different?

Two large men in suits jumped from the van, and I recognised them immediately. I’d seen them near The Suit shortly after Mr Phillips’s death. Were they going to put me in the van, take me somewhere?

The Suit bowed his head and pulled deeper into the shadows.

I watched intently. They didn’t so much as glance at him as they entered the greengrocers. The Suit was now like me: unassuming, invisible. They weren’t with him at all. In fact, he seemed wary of them.

I knew then I could accomplish my mission. I pulled the collar up on my