Evil in Hockley by William Buckel Read Free Book Online Page A

idiots. If you
think I’m walking into that house, you’re nuts.”
    “I guarantee your safety Mr. Tanner.
Drive to the house: Tony, Shelley, and I will be waiting. You will
come to no harm. We would like to show you we have nothing to
hide.”
    “Who the hell are you and why would you
care?”
    “My name is John Dean and I’m working
for Joe Sharky to resolve a misunderstanding that seems to have
developed between you and my client.”
    Harry knew a bullet between Joe’s eyes
would be the only resolution he was likely to accept.
    “Mr. Tanner, are you still with
us?”
    “I’m listening.”
    “Let’s suppose for a moment that Joe
didn’t kill your brother. The murderer, if in fact there is one,
will go free. What evidence do you have that he was indeed killed
by Mr. Sharky? The police seem satisfied that it was an
accident.”
    Harry realised his evidence didn’t
amount to much. The bumper mark on the bike could have been there a
week before Jarrod hit the ditch. But Joe had tried to drown him in
the reservoir for merely asking a few questions.
    “Mr. Tanner, we’ll be waiting. Come and
check us out. You’ll see it’s not a trap and we’ll talk. Just you
and I, and Shelley of course.”
    John Dean hung up.
    Sally asked who called.
    “No one you know. I’ve been invited to
a bull session at Moore’s house.”
    “It’s a trap. You can’t go.”
    “I’m going to check it out.”

Chapter 12
     
    Harry saw only a single black sedan at
Tony Moore’s house. He checked his Beretta then tucked it into the
waist band of his jeans. Sandy was in a nearby laneway barely out
of sight. He drove slowly toward the house expecting someone to
jump out the front door and spray lead across his windshield with
an Uzi.
    That didn’t happen.
    Harry climbed out of his car and slowly
walked toward the house searching for signs of movement. A figure
stepped into the open front doorway. He was tall, well muscled, and
slightly coloured. His hands were high in the air.
    “I’ve come to escort you Mr. Tanner.
I’m your hostage. Shoot me if you feel threatened.”
    If it was a trap this guy was taking a
hell of a chance. Harry warily followed him into the house. Shelley
was sitting at the dining room table and Tony stood in front of a
wall, his non blinking eyes wide.
    “Please have a seat Mr.
Tanner.”
    Harry sat across from John Dean,
Shelley to his left, and Tony to his right.
    “Don’t be a bad host Tony. Pour Mr.
Tanner a drink.”
    Tony walked toward the liquor cabinet
in a jerking motion as though his knees were backward, like a
dog’s. Of course the bullet to his knee wouldn’t help. Harry
watched as Tony poured whiskey into a glass, spilling most of it.
He brought it to him but half the contents dribbled over the rim.
Tony looked as though he was drugged. He set the glass on the table
then stood against the wall, still as a fencepost. Harry eyed the
yellow liquid but didn’t touch it.
    He turned left to Shelley and almost
drew his gun. A pencil was shoved into each of her eyes, standing
straight out. Her hands were sewn together in a praying fashion
with leather lace: In and out of between the bones of her hands.
She sat quietly and at first glance Harry thought she was
dead.
    “There was some persuasion required.
She was reluctant to cooperate. Now go ahead Mr. Tanner, ask your
questions.”
    “Is this some kind of a joke, Dean.
She’s dead.”
    “No she isn’t. Ask your
questions.”
    Harry felt like an idiot but he did
ask,
    “Do you know anything about Jarrod’s
death?”
    She shook her head from side to side.
She was alive but with a pencil shoved deep into each eye should
have been screaming. She seemed to be in no pain.
    Harry almost missed it but he’d stalked
terrorists for a living. You didn’t let your guard down with those
guys. John Dean had reached into his shirt and tossed a handful of
dust. Harry reasoned it would not be beneficial to his longevity
and dove to avoid it. He looked up