CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Life seemed to be getting worse for Thadias Grimes by the minute. Not only did he fear for his life and livelihood, but now he could not rely on officialdom to save him. What was happening to the police that they send someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown to handle such a delicate case? And then there was the fact that, with a volatile policeman not concentrating on the evidence laid before him, he may stumble on other things that had nothing to do with him.
Thadias thought about this as he served the only person to come into the shop in the last hour. And yes, that was because of the rumours, he knew. That damned boy, thought Thadias. And that sent him back in time, to when he was nothing but a boy himself, his mind drifting over the years of his life to the time when his life turned. He remembered the salt air, the crashing waves, the birds circling above, the smell of fuel still upon him as he dived from the sinking ship. He, and three others who had made it to the boat …

Vernie James was also thinking deeply. His smart suit seemed somehow crumpled, his tie askew. His hair, usually so perfect, looked disheveled, and his whole demeanour seemed to sag. Even that superior look upon his face was vanishing.
He was sat in the pub, alone. Indeed, the whole place looked like a morgue at that time of day, and this felt right. It echoed his mood.
He ordered another whisky. Looked at it for several moments. Threw it back. And another …
‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ offered the barman.
‘Don’t you think you should mind your own business?’
‘Out.’
The street moved as he left the pub, headed for home. As he passed Dale Crawford’s house, he stopped, felt like knocking on the door and then beating him to pulp. But he was sober enough – or cowardly enough – to realize it would be he who got beaten. Hence, he carried on his journey home. Home. Ha! He thought. No more; not no more.

Dale Crawford had been stood by the bedroom window as Vernie had passed. ‘Your husband is outside,’ he said. ‘And he looks worse for wear.’
‘Don’t spoil it,’ said Julia, lying naked in Dale’s bed. ‘I don’t want to think about him.’
‘But I’ve never seen him like that,’ said Dale. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was drunk.’
‘Oh good,’ said Julia, ‘he might get run over by a car.’
Dale immediately turned to her, annoyed. But Julia had realized at the same moment the tactlessness of what she’d said. ‘I’m sorry, Dale. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t think about what happened to your wife. Please forgive me.’
Dale was in a forgiving mood. He sat by the bed, placed a hand on her cheek, stroked her. Julia lay back once more. ‘Show me you forgive me,’ she said.
Dale was about to oblige when his mobile rang.
‘Ignore it,’ said Julia.
Dale picked it up, looked who was calling. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘It’s Bobby’s school. It might be important.
Julia sighed and he answered it. She saw his face harden, his voice change.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’ll be right there.’
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Julia.
‘It’s Bobby. He’s got himself in trouble.’

Thadias Grimes was no longer in his shop. He was back on the high seas, experiencing those days after the ship went down. The sun beat on his face and the hunger and thirst bit into his body. He was certain he was going to die. There were four of them and they all thought they were going to die. They were way off normal shipping routes, and a problem with the radio on the tramp steamer meant no message had gotten out. A search wouldn’t even be made until they failed to turn up at port.
All four of them thought they would die. But as it turned out, only one did. They stared at the body for a long time. They discussed throwing it overboard before it began to smell, but one of them had another idea. They felt revolted by the thought, but they didn’t throw that body overboard. Not straight away. They just continued to stare, juices beginning to tempt them in their mouths.
They threw the body overboard – in the end. What was left of it. After they had gorged.
And they were rescued the following day.

Vernie James continued his drinking once he got home. He sat there, an open bottle of whisky to his front. Eventually, his mobile rang. ‘Yes,’ he said.
It was his date for that night, checking he would be there on time. Only recently, the call would have been important. But now he stared incredulously at the mobile. Finally, he said ‘get lost’ and threw the mobile to the floor.
He thought of Julia then. ‘Oh Julia!’ he wailed. ‘How could you? How could you do this to me?’
He cried.
He cried for a long time, and the Vernie who emerged was even more of a wreck. But he was a vindictive wreck. He thought of Dale Crawford then, and a sneer captured his face. He thought of Dale Crawford and it hurt. He thought of Dale Crawford and his own mind went back over the years. He remembered his secret. A secret that would destroy Dale bloody Crawford. And he intended to destroy him for sure.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The world can be a confusing place at the best of times. But when you’re a little boy, and things you were told to do got you into trouble, then the world gets more confusing by the minute.
Bobby Crawford still smarted from the telling off he had received from the Head. ‘I will not have bullying in this school …’
‘But …’
‘It is despicable and I take it very seriously …’
‘But …’
‘I’ve never had bullying before …’
‘But …’
‘And I’m going to tell your father …’
‘But …’
‘And it is no use crying …’
‘But …’

Father had tried his best. ‘He’s been bullied for ages and seeing you wouldn’t do anything about it, I told him to stick up for himself.’
‘Parents will obviously believe all sorts …’
‘But …’
‘It really is irresponsible of you …’
‘But …’
‘You’ve got your son into serious trouble …’
‘But …’
‘I’m thinking of suspending you…’
‘But …’
‘Now get out of my sight …’
‘But …’
‘Go home!’

‘I could have killed him,’ said Dale as he arrived home with Bobby.
Julia had remained at Dale’s house. She didn’t really want to go home. She felt she already was at home. ‘You can’t think that of your son,’ she said.
‘Not him,’ said Dale, ‘the Head.’
Bobby had gone to his room. ‘I only did as you said,’ he had said as they arrived home.
‘I know you did, Bobby.’ He stroked his head. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out.’
‘But it isn’t fair.’
‘I know. Life often isn’t fair.’ But Dale thought Bobby had taken too much unfairness for one so young.

DI Summers was sat in the pub, a large whisky in front of him. Close by, Thadias Grimes and Peter Picasso were enjoying a drink. Summers strained his ears wanting to hear what they were saying, but he failed. I bet they think I’m a fool, he thought. I bet they think I’m incompetent and a failure.
The reader may have surmised from this that DI Summers was not acting as a detective should. And this is quite true. He was not on the case, for paranoia follows the first hints of a breakdown. And the obvious thoughts came to him at this point.
Do they like me?
Thadias Grimes and Peter Picasso got the wrong end of the stick, however.
‘He keeps looking at us,’ said Thadias.
‘I know,’ replied Peter.
‘He thinks I dunnit.’
‘No, he thinks I dunnit.’
‘Well I’m not staying here to be stared at like that.’
As they left the pub, Summers looked sad. He half waved as they left. Then he ordered another whisky, destination oblivion.

‘I really must go home,’ said Julia James as she nestled her head on Dale’s lap.
‘You don’t have to,’ replied Dale.
‘Alright, I won’t,’ she confirmed.
The whole situation was becoming cosy. Julia had forgotten what such things felt like – to feel wanted, to feel loved, to have companionship. Dale, too, had missed it, but for different reasons. He had had other girls other than Rachel since his wife died, but they only seemed like distractions. It was as if he needed to satisfy his physical urges, but emotions were a no-go area. Until now. Until Julia. Suddenly the world made sense again, and it was all so comfortable.
But the universe goes round and round, and the Cosmic Joker is forever ready to destroy moments like this. And the present moment was destroyed when Dale Crawford decided to go upstairs to check on Bobby. Moments later, he came running down stairs. ‘He’s not there,’ he said, ‘I think he’s run off.’

Bobby Crawford had indeed run off, but not too far. ‘Are you there, Jack’s ghost,’ he said as he stood amid the devastation of Jack Thomas’s house. ‘You never came to me tonight, and I want to talk to you. I have “problems” and dad can’t help me. He’s part of the trouble. He told me to do it – he did. And I did what dad said, and I got into trouble for it, and it’s not fair …’
The shadows seemed to congregate around him as he stood there in the dark. Then, suddenly, a faint light appeared, and as Bobby Crawford stared at it, it brightened, and before he knew what was happening, Jack’s face began to form, and it smiled …

Dale Crawford was frantic. He and Julia ran up and down the street shouting for Bobby. A comatose Vernie James heard the commotion and looked out the window, saw Dale, saw Julia, and guessed what they had been doing. A festering wound was opening in his mind and it wouldn’t be sated.
‘Bobby,’ Dale screamed as he checked the street, turned the corner and widened his search. As he did so, he saw a figure wobbling up as if to pass him. Dale recognized the detective. He ran over: ‘My son, he’s gone missing.’
‘We all have our problems,’ said DI Summers.
‘You what?’
‘Have you tried looking for him?’
‘What do you think I’m doing?’
‘Well I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.’
‘Do your job.’
‘I’ll call a news conference. Get the media here, pronto. You can say what a good boy he is. They always say that. But good boys don’t disappear. Don’t you realize that? He MUST have done something. Everybody’s done something. What have you done? Should I arrest you? You’re causing a public nuisance, hollering like that in the middle of the night.’

Bobby stared at Jack’s face, and as he did so, noises filtered to his mind. He could hear knockings and disembodied voices – angry voices, and as he heard them, he saw Jack’s face begin to change and he no longer felt comfortable with the face, and suddenly he felt frightened and didn’t want to be there, and the knockings and the voices got louder and he felt the door of hell had been opened and Bobby Crawford began to run …

Dale’s hand hurt after hitting the detective, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do, but still he searched, shouting, ‘Bobby, Bobby,’ as he searched. Suddenly, through the haze of fear, he heard a sound. ‘Daddy,’ he heard as he turned back into the street, and from the ruins of Jack Thomas’s house he saw the slight figure run.
Dale raced over and hugged his son. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked.
‘With Jack,’ said Bobby.
‘But he’s dead.’
‘With his ghost. I talk to his ghost, but not no more. He got angry tonight and I was frightened.’
Things got too much for Bobby Crawford then and he passed out. Dale picked him up and carried him home.
Meanwhile, down the street, DI Summers had begun his investigation of the missing boy. ‘Are you in there, Grimes,’ he said as he banged the door. ‘I want to talk to you. You’ve got the boy. And you’ve put him in your bloody pies.’

(c) Anthony North, December 2007