The Stranger by Mark Ayre (books you need to read TXT) 📗

He nodded. Said, "I hope it won't come to that."

It wouldn't. Eddie had probably told Leona to come alone. More likely than alone, she would come flanked by thugs like Ronson and Kline. More likely than that, the thugs would come while Leona stayed home with her feet up, watching crap telly and drinking tomato juice. More likely again: no one would come because Leona knew rejection was a powerful weapon that could cut as deep as any blade. She might also have realised, in the end, Eddie would defeat himself.

"Drink your whiskey," said Abbie.

From Abbie, Eddie looked to the knife rather than the whiskey. A furtive glance, as though he feared Abbie might try take it from him. That wouldn't be necessary. When Abbie made no move of any kind, he picked up his whiskey, then looked to her empty hand.

"You're not drinking?"

"I don't drink on the job."

"You're on a job?"

"I am."

"What job's that?"

"Primarily, I'm trying to save your life. As a bit of a side hustle, I'd like to free a couple of other people from debt. Destroying Francis would be a bonus."

Eddie sniffed the drink. If he feared Abbie had poisoned it, he was too afraid to say. He sipped.

"My life's not in danger," he said.

"Well, then, I'll have an easy job, won't I?"

Eddie drank a little more. Studied Abbie's face and tried to read her eyes. From those, he would discern nothing.

"You asked me if I'd killed before," he said.

This wasn't a question, so Abbie said nothing. Internally, she was mulling over what he was going to ask next. Trying to decide whether to answer. In the end, she decided she would. Though it was a risk.

"Have you?" he asked. "Killed before, I mean."

"Yes."

"More than once?"

"Yes."

"Did they deserve it?"

"They didn't think so."

"But you did?"

"I did. Amongst my victims, you’ll find rapists, killers, arsonists. That kind of thing."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Abbie could see them now. Her victims. They haunted her dreams, ensuring she would never forget their faces. In her youth, Abbie would become upset if, by accident, she crushed a flower. If her father found a spider in the house, Abbie would beg him not to kill but release it.

The first time she had killed a person, she had thrown up violently afterwards before collapsing into the kind of tears that shook your entire body and felt as though they would never stop.

After the second, she had cried but had not been sick. The third kill was easier again, and the fourth easier than that. On it went. Until she felt nothing at all. Until killing didn't seem to matter. Until Abbie had to remind herself it was not okay to murder the guy who pinched her bum in the bar or the woman who short-changed her in the shop.

After a while, killing became easy, but it was never fun. Abbie told Eddie so.

"Can't you stop?" he said.

"Possibly. Not easily. I never kill unless I can balance the scales. For every life I take, I must be saving at least one. Preferably more. I never want to run at a life deficit. How many lives will killing Leona save?"

"Plenty. She's scum."

Possibly, she was scum. Abbie doubted murdering her would save too many lives, and the big problem was that it would end two. Abbie didn't need to work too hard to stop Eddie. He would never put the knife in Leona.

"I've been honest with you. I think you'll agree," said Abbie to Eddie. "Now, I want to talk to you about Leona and Danny, and I expect you to be honest with me, too. Sound possible?"

"Of course."

Eddie had finished his whiskey. He placed it on the coffee table. Abbie waited until he met her eye again.

"Leona and Danny were sleeping together?" she said.

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"She used to bring him here? She gave him a key which he passed on to you when you found out about the affair?"

"Yes."

"She gave him the safe code and told him a day he would be able to rob Francis without Francis knowing?"

"Yes."

"And you believe he and her were supposed to split the money, but instead, she stole it and let Francis find out Danny was the thief?"

"I don't believe. That's what happened."

"How can you know?"

"She was the only one except for me and Danny who knew where the cash was."

"But Danny went drinking. He could have told anyone where to find the money."

"Yes, but I don't believe he would. Even Danny, and even drunk off his face, I don't believe he’d do that. Leona stole the money."

"You've not told your wife this?"

"No."

Abbie was about to pry into why, but wasn't it obvious? Eddie planned to kill Leona. He didn't want to put Jess in a position where she might have to lie to the police. Most of all, Eddie didn't want to lose his wife and baby. Though he would if he killed Leona. Luckily, that wouldn't happen.

"Another drink?" said Abbie.

"Please."

Rising, she took the glass and crossed to the drinks cabinet. She poured another measure of whiskey and returned to the table. After sliding the drink to Eddie, she fetched something from her pocket.

"Eddie—"

"Don't call me that."

"Excuse me?"

"Eddie. Don't call me Eddie," he said.

"Okay."

"When we were kids, he was Danny, and I was Ed. I hated it. He would go off and climb trees and go cycling with his friends. He would get into fights and shoplift. Most of the stuff he did was stupid, nothing to be proud of. But he always had a smile on his face. I hated it. I was so jealous. I wanted to be fun. But I wasn't."

Eddie sampled the whiskey. Didn't wince as much as he had after sipping from the first tumbler. Abbie let him speak.

"I asked people to call me Eddie," said Ed. "I was so stupid. Got it in my head that he was fun because he was Danny, not Dan, and I was boring because I was Ed, not Eddie.