Minions (25 page)

“Whose?”

“No idea, on the main it wasn’t his, but your thoughts
were shared by many, including me.  It deserved a little investigation, at
least until a body or two surfaced.”

“He killed two people?”

“Not that I know of, but it’s hard to say.  There was a
mixture of blood samples on him.  The source was a separate matter, or story,
entirely.  Nothing conclusive enough to confirm his involvement in any of the
several bodies that appeared around the time of his admission.  They at least
have been accounted for.”

“So what did you find?”

“I didn’t have grounds to hold or arrest him, but I was obligated
to prove his identity to at least gauge who he is.  That’s when I met Angie.”

“Angie?” Devlin questioned out of surprise.  “Angie who?”

“The deal was that I’d tell you about Malcolm, not
Angie.”  He waited for some acceptance before continuing.  “Anyway.  I found
Angie.  She’d been assaulted, and over a long period by someone.  Of course I
wanted to finger Malcolm for it, but the timelines didn’t match.  Thereafter he
was released under the pretence that I could find him if I needed to, but he’s
since disappeared.”

Devlin recalled Angie’s message.  She had disclosed the
names of her attacker and Malcolm was not among them.  It dawned on him that it
was possible, if not likely, that the Angie from the message and Malcolm’s
friend Angie were invariably not the same person.  “I don’t think that I’m
thinking of the same Malcolm, or Angie for that matter.”

“Why do you say that?” 

“The Angie I know named her attacker, and it isn’t
Malcolm. 
My
Angie even described her ‘Malcolm’ as some kind of friend.”

“A pity, I’m sure.” Reymond sighed.  “I was obviously
hoping you’d be able to assist me to at least some degree.  I get few enough
tangible rewards in my job to be able to turn my back on the prospect of being
able to put the finger on any man so capable of beating a woman.  I figured
that Malcolm was implicated in at least some way, irrespective of whether he
had a half plausible alibi or excuse on this particular occasion.”

Devlin felt a weight lift from his shoulders.  “So.  Is
there anything else that we need to talk about?”  He was tempted to stand, but
instead opted to wait for an answer.

“You know.  It’s a funny thing.”  Reymond ignored Devlin’s
obvious attempt to cut short their meeting.  “I’m no fan of all of this
technology.  I’m ‘old school’, you see.  Not a dinosaur, mind you, but I’ve
just been a little slow to embrace computers in everything we have to do.  The
purists argue that all this technology makes it harder for the guilty to hide,
but I’ve seen bad guys protected by a computer hard disk ‘crash’ just the same.” 
Reymond zealously emphasised his use of modern terminology with gestured
‘dittos’ in the air.  “They’re right, of course.  I’m not denying that.  But,
Malcolm’s situation surprised me is all.”

“How so?”

“You know.  Everyone has a history.  When I first started
in my game it would take a lot of time and effort to learn of anyone’s past. 
It took contacts and time, and generally speaking you could find out what you
needed to know.  It wouldn’t be everything, sure, but it would be enough.  You
could prove a man has a history of violence, or trouble with substance, or
perhaps that he’s indebted to the wrong people.  Now of course you can find out
substantially more, almost instantly.  And that’s not just the police either. 
A simple Internet search by anyone could find out just as much.  Sometimes I
wonder if the Police capabilities would be better if they actually just did a
Google
search!

“But not Malcolm Venn.  The guy’s got no identification,
nothing now or ever.  Not known to police, here or overseas.  No medical
records, driver’s license, no passport.  Not in any high school yearbooks or
rolls.  Nothing.”

“Did you think that perhaps Malcolm wasn’t his real name?”
Devlin commented mockingly.

“I’m old, but not senile and certainly not stupid.  It
wasn’t hard to justify getting the fingerprints off a man admitted covered in
blood.  The DNA test took a little more time for the approval, but not even
that bore fruit.  Incidentally, I’ve since learned that he’s known by at least
one other name.

“Sure, I found other people named the same, but not my
guy.  Many years ago it was substantially easier to live under the radar, but
now it’s almost unheard-of.  It’s your turn to talk, Devlin.”

Devlin attempted another sip from his long empty can.  “I
don’t know who Malcolm is, but I’d like to meet with him just the same.  When I
told Lori, you remember Lori, that Whitely mentioned Malcolm she said me that
others were looking for him too.”

“In spite of how committed I am to my job, I have no
interest in playing nursemaid to you as you struggle with life’s mysteries.  I
am however willing to help you where it helps me.”

“How so?”

“Help me to help Angie.”

“I said I don’t think it’s the same ‘Angie’.  All I have
is her number, and the rest is just what I’ve read.”

“So what did you read?”

Devlin felt the challenge of flaunting privacy.  “I just
read a message that she, the Angie I’m thinking of, left with LastGasp’.  The
details were private, but I felt for her.”

“Felt for her enough to be a bystander, or to actually do
something to help?”  The Detective paused to allow Devlin to think.  “Would it
help if you could put a name to a face?”

“Probably not.”

“What about if you knew
your
Angie and
my
Angie were one and the same?  You mentioned you had Angie’s number.  If you
tell me her number,
your
Angie’s number, then I’ll tell you if your
number matches my contact details.”

“You’re assuming that I trust you to tell me the truth. 
There’s nothing in that to prove to me you’ve even got a number.”

“Well I’m not going to tell you my Angie’s number.  I’m
not a dating service.  How’s this then.  An eight digit number, here’s the last
five digits.”

Devlin couldn’t hide his acceptance that he’d found his
Angie.  “What now?”

*          *          * 

Devlin
tried to relax in Detective Reymond’s car, but he was un-nerved.  He’d reasoned
initially that his decision to make a few visits with the Detective was
‘against his better judgement’, but in reality he could just as easily have
argued staunchly in favour of joining Reymond.  It implicitly meant that he
needed to weigh up what he could gain from meeting with Angie, and possibly
Malcolm, relative to what Glen and the others might make of it.  It was a moot
point now.  He’d left Ikel’s car parked near the café and set off with the
Detective.

On the road, Devlin amused himself with the thought that
at least he was in the front seat of the Police car and not in the back seat. 
He remembered his first ride in the rear seat of an un-marked Police vehicle as
if it were yesterday.  In particular he remembered the vandal proofing on the
rear of the front seats, the smell of sweat and fear that permeated the vinyl
seating, and the non-functional inner door handle.  It occurred to him that his
recollection was restricted to the view from the rear as would be seen subdued
and head down, as he was.  This time however, he was in the front seat, but he
instinctively grasped the door handle to prove to himself that it would work.

“Where are we going?” Devlin asked. 

“I just want you to meet Angie.  After that… we’ll see.”

“I’m not committing to anything remember.  The only reason
I’m here is to meet Malcolm, or at least get on his trail.”  He was more
interested in setting a realistic expectation of his involvement, no matter how
limited, than rescinding his offer.  .

“Meet her and then we’ll see.” 

                                                                                                                                                        
Chapter - 50.
               
 

Angie was singularly unimpressed to receive her flowers. 
More correctly, her initial delight at the delivery was replaced with a
confused mix of anger and disillusionment as soon as she read the card to
establish who had actually sent them.  Nebojsa.  She imagined just how the man
would find it amusing, and the thought of it all made her feel sick.

The hospital resident barely looked old enough to be out
of high school, but he’d made it abundantly clear that her bed was ripe for
vacation.  She tried to argue the point, but she was the patient, and as such,
what would
she
know.  Without medical grounds to stay and her reluctance
to disclose any other reason why she shouldn’t leave, the hospital was sure to
get their way.  Under those terms it was difficult to blame the medical
fraternity entirely.

As selfish as it was, Angie felt the desperation of her
predicament such that when she saw Detective Reymond enter her room, she saw
potential to use him to prolong her hospital stay.  The Detective raised his
hand in greeting, but first went to speak to one of the staff.  His young
offsider, she presumed it was another cop, stood staring at her from the
doorway.  She smiled and returned his gaze, but he seemed oblivious to what she
was doing, as if he was trying to place her face somewhere in their common
history.

“They tell me you’re well enough to be discharged,”
Reymond announced as he made his way to Angie’s bedside.  “I tend to disagree,
but alas I’m not a doctor, and the party line with the public hospital system
is that beds are at a premium but home visits are easier, that is,
cheaper
.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Well I’m not, Angie.  I think it’s criminal that anyone
would consider sending you home after what has happened, and even more so when
doing so is putting you potentially back into harm’s way.”  Reymond looked her
over, “you know with just your forearms and face exposed above the bed-linen
you really do look fit and healthy.  And your fairy-tale explanation for your
injuries hasn’t convinced anyone, nursing staff included.”  He glanced to a
wandering nurse to suggest that they would happily provide confirmation if
necessary. 

“Your pride or fear is going to see you discharged whether
you want or not.”  The Detective softened his tone.  “Of course, legally you
can’t be discharged to home care if this would be putting you at risk.”  That
was as subtle as Reymond could be.

“Who’s your offsider?” Angie ignored the hint.

“My name is Devlin,” he said, stepping forward to
introduce himself.  “The Detective here wanted me to meet you.  It may be that
you know someone that I’d like to meet.”

“I know who you are,” Angie said as soon as she registered
the name.  She looked to Reymond, “You’re wrong about Malcolm, Detective.”

“I’m just trying to help.  Malcolm and his friend, or
friends, won’t stop.  I would have thought you’d understand now how close you
came.”

“Malcolm’s more likely to help me than you are, but thanks
for introducing me to Devlin here.  Malcolm’s already told me about him.”

Devlin stepped forward and spoke up.  “Angie, I’m only
here at the request of the Detective here.  But if the opportunity came up,
then I’d be keen to meet with Malcolm.”

“Quite,” said Angie.  “I’d like to talk to you too, but
only after Detective Ghoul here leaves.”

The Detective raised his hand in acceptance that he was
being sidelined.  “My offer stands, Angie.  And just because you can’t see it
or won’t see it, won’t stop it from happening.  I’m going to get him with or
without you because if it’s not you, it will be someone else.”  He left the
room, summoning a nurse to follow him.

“Why didn’t you tell the Detective about Nebojsa?” Devlin
started as soon as the Detective was out of sight.  “I’m assuming you’re the
same Angie who described Nebojsa in a LastGasp’ message.”

Angie nodded while touching the most painful of her
bruises under the covers.  She held back a wince, but used the pain to focus
her thoughts.  “Malcolm said you were different.”

“I have no idea why he’d say that about me.”

“He said you’d be oblivious too.”

“Why would he say that about someone he didn’t know?”
Devlin asked, frustrated but composed.

“I don’t know.  Perhaps if I knew then I could make him
stay.”

“The Detective seems keen to help … If you’d let him.”

“Detective Reymond is well meaning, but he’s chasing the
wrong person.  He was nice enough to save me the other day, but he needn’t have
bothered.”

“Was Malcolm going to come to your rescue?”

“Malcolm has it in hand,” Angie said solemnly.

“I would have thought that any man worth their salt would
have wanted to be there for you.  I tend to agree with the Detective and his
low expectations of the guy.”

“You know nothing about Malcolm, so who are you to say?” 
Angie closed her eyes and sighed.  “I’m sorry.  That came out all wrong.”  She
took a deep breath and composed herself and relented a regret filled look to
her visitor.  “I know you’re only here to meet Malcolm.”

“That’s not entirely true.  I read your message, and when
that cop mentioned your name, I guess I wondered how I might help.”

The comment hit a raw nerve and try as she might, she could
not contain her emotions.  “Were you prepared to extend your wonder into
action, or just sit idly by thinking about it?” she said angrily

“I wanted to help, but …”

“I’ll bet you think you’re so fucking good, just because
you at least
wanted
to help!”

“I don’t need to take this from you, Angie.” 

As he stood to leave, Angie felt her rage bubble over and
be further inflamed with every step that he took from her bedside.  She unleashed
the vitriol that welled up from inside her.  “I hope he finds you!”

Devlin paused for a time with his back to Angie as if
considering asking for some clarification.  That he didn’t say anything and
eventually continued on his way was typical.