| |
I emailed Constable Hunter, and worked on the notes for my case file over a solid belt of whiskey and water.
She replied and requested a copy of my case file, and told me I might have to be available over the coming weeks.
I was sitting in the second bedroom of my flat, my makeshift office, when the phone rang.
It was Sue Hunter. She wanted to tell me more about Green and McCaskill. ‘They weren’t old friends at all. I came across a draft document on Paul’s PC with McCaskill’s name on it. It appears Green had evidence against McCaskill in relation to the indecent assaults, so Green held that as collateral over McCaskill, to use his car in getting from points A and B.’
‘Green had McCaskill over a barrel.’
‘That’s why McCaskill assaulted you at the warehouse. Not only did Green line up Michael Le Mat for a fall, he tried to cover his tracks with McCaskill.’
I thanked her for the information and for joining up some of the loose ends that had bothered me.
She didn’t exactly promise to keep in touch, but I sensed I had an ally in the blue and white brigade.
I meditated on my actions in the investigation and their respective consequences. Looking back on the night in McCaskill’s kitchen, I scolded myself for wishing I’d punched him harder. I couldn’t expect to become a better person holding on to that particular avarice.
Would George still be alive if I hadn’t fought back the night McCaskill attacked me with the baseball bat? I considered my actions: if one acted with honourable intentions, did that negate the results? I admitted to suffering a mild case of anxiety, brought on by a steady diet of antacids and late nights in front of the television. The pain in my groin intensified, maybe because I’d become hyper aware of its existence, which only exacerbated the matter—the snake eating its own tail.
I had mixed feelings about my first murder case. I thought about the initial impetus I felt to take the case on at the urging of my uncle. Was I trying to prove myself to him or to myself? If I looked deeper, I might have used the case as an excuse to meet Annette.
I started writing an email to Reggie requesting more insurance work, and pain shot through my testicle. I took it as a sign. I deleted the draft, turned off the laptop, poured a strong shot of Chivas Regal, cracked some ice cubes into a bowl, and took the whole lot into my makeshift office to finish off Magda’s book. I considered the possible reasons behind the rift between my uncles, and found myself taking on too many hypotheticals, too many scenarios unfounded on any facts. Had they crossed swords over a woman? Had they lost shares on a horse? A part of me felt bolstered by the fact Carmine had called Zio Fausto, and now with his sons in the ground, I hoped the reason for the rift between the two men could become part of their shared history.
I logged into my Zoosk account, sent a message to Annette, and awaited her response.
—-THE END—-
But... don’t stop here. Please keep reading for more, including our Bonus Content—not just one, but two Special Sneak Previews:
TALL DARK HEART by Chris Krupa
and
BROOMETIME SERENADE by Barry Metcalf
