Running Stupid: (Mystery Series) (19 page)

His mind kept him awake more than the banging door. Once he rested, his mind started working, filling with images, memories and thoughts that he didn’t want to deal with. He saw visions of Jennifer, her long dark hair glittering from the stage lights, her curvy body moving sensually to music, her angelic voice singing soft songs

In his mind’s eye, in a state of closed-eye-visuals, Jester saw her tight, leather and lace-clad body dwindle into a bloody, pale corpse. No longer was she on stage, she was in his bathtub, dead.

Jumping off the sofa he casually walked over to the door that had been annoying him. He stopped in front of it and watched it shake on its hinges. With a placid smile on his face he lunged into an attack in the door kicking it ferociously. “Shut the fucking hell up!” he screamed, throwing his foot at the bottom of the door. The wood finally gave in and wielded under the pressure. Jester’s right boot punctured straight through, creating a foot-sized hole in the door and leaving his foot stuck in the hole.

Squirming in frustration, he tried to free his foot whilst maintaining his balance. Splinters had escaped the broken wood and embedded themselves in his foot, further irritating the wounds already wrapped around his ankles.

“Fuck!” he groaned, still struggling.

He grabbed his right leg with both his arms and tried to pull it free, momentarily losing balance. After a few pulls he was free, but he broke away quicker than he expected. He lost his balance and collapsed backwards on the floor.

Swearing again, he rolled over, pushed himself up and looked at the door. The hole he had created now allowed for more wind disturbance. The noise had increased considerably.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Fuck you then,” he muttered to the door.

He turned away, heading back towards the sofa before a knock at the door startled him. It was heavy, hard, and solitary.

Matthew paused, his feet rooted to the ground. He hoped something had just fallen against the door, or that the wind had thrown something at it, but his hopes were diminished when two more thuds shook the door.

He stood still, refusing to move. The door knocked again, louder and more erratic this time. Whoever was outside wanted to be inside. In the kitchen, Jester flicked through three drawers until he encountered a large carving knife, then he slowly edged his way to the door.

With the knife in his right hand, Matthew reached for the handle with his left; in one quick movement he opened the door and flung himself in the entrance way, ready to embrace the visitor.

He paused. His eyes on a well-dressed man. “What…” he lowered the knife, his face creasing with confusion. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help you, sir,” Charles Edinburgh said with a smile on his lips.

“How the hell did you find me?”

“Sir, it is rather wet out here,” Edinburgh said, hinting.

Jester continued with his questions. His confusion cancelled out the reality around him. “And how do you know I’m in trouble?”

“I can answer all of your questions,” Charles said with a nod. “But, I think it would be better if we talked inside,” he looked to the skies, noting the downpour of rain.

“Hell, no,” Jester affirmed, raising the knife again. “After all the shit that’s happened to me, no chance. The rain won’t hurt you.”

“I understand you’ve been through a lot.”

“How?”

“It’s rather complicated.”

Jester smiled sadistically. “I win a ridiculous court case, get framed for my girlfriend’s murder and then some fucking twat puts a price tag on my head. Do you know how many people have tried to kill me?”

Charles Edinburgh looked solemn. “No, sir.”

“Neither do I!” Jester shouted. “Coz there’s been so fucking many and I ain’t had time to stop and count!”

“I am sorry for your loss, sir,” Charles said with a great deal of honesty, something that Jester picked up on.

Jester locked eyes with the driver momentarily before he spoke again. “If you know where I am, you’ve been following me.” Jester paused in contemplation and then raised his eyebrows, adding a question mark to his words.

“In a way, yes.”

“And you never offered to help … why?”

“I haven’t really been watching you, more like keeping tabs.”

“Why?”

“There’s the tricky part,” Edinburgh said. “I’m not actually the one keeping tabs on you.”

Jester shook his head. “Fucking hell,” he said slowly. “Are you trying to give me a headache?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Then prepared to get wet.”

Charles Edinburgh sighed. Matthew Jester smiled.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, but believe it or not I may be your only hope,” Charles explained.

“You’re missing the point. I nearly died … many times. Where were you?”

“I wasn’t near, I couldn’t help. I didn’t know.” Charles lowered his head. “But I’m here now.”

“Okay, start talking.”

“Are you sure we can’t do this inside?” Charles’s voice was now fuelled with a cold shiver. He was trembling in the freezing outdoors. “It is rather cold, and…” he lingered, pretending to look for a word he knew all along. He shot awkward glances to the left side of the front door. “Your…
friend
is making me anxious.”

Matthew looked confused. “Friend?” he followed Charles’s gaze. James Whittall had finally died, his fleshless head slumped down. “Oh, him,” Jester said calmly. He studied Charles’s eyes, pondered and then stepped aside. “Come in,” he said, “but make a wrong move and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Charles stepped over the threshold and the door was shut behind him. He was delighted to be in the warmth of the cabin. “Thanks for the hospitality,” he said sarcastically.

“Sit down,” Jester said, gesturing towards the couch. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Matthew left Charles on the couch and walked to a lounge chair in the corner of the room. After a struggle he had managed to drag the chair to within five feet of the sofa. He sat himself down, rested his elbows on his knees – the knife hanging loosely in his right hand – and leaned forward, his eyes locked with the driver’s.

“I’m ready,” Matthew said. “Begin.”

Charles Edinburgh shifted uneasily on the sofa, shooting an anxious glance towards the knife in Matthew’s hand. He averted his eyes from Jester, staring at the floor; trying to find the right words. During his moment of contemplation he detected a pungent smell in the air. It seemed to be coming from a nearby cupboard, but he decided that whatever it was, he didn’t want to know.

“Okay,” Charles said, readying himself. “You’re...” he looked up at Matthew, taking his eyes away from the floor, only to return them to the ground when his nervous flicker was met with a stern stare. “You’re a bet,” he said softly.

“Excuse me?”

Charles Edinburgh looked up and slumped back in the seat. After moments of awkwardness he finally locked stares with the fugitive. “Right now,” he began in a regretful tone, “there are hundreds of billionaires, all over the world, waiting for you to die.”

Matthew nodded blankly. “I’ll repeat myself,” he said, prompting for more clarification. “
Excuse me
?”

Charles Edinburgh leaned forward, remembered the knife and then cowered again. “I’m not really a limo driver,” he admitted. “I lied.”

“Fair enough.”

Charles looked at Jester, expecting him to continue, but he didn’t speak. He just sat with a look of anticipation on his face.

“I’m working for my father-in-law, like I told you.” He looked up at Matthew again, his eyes still fiercely fixed on him. “That bit was true. But I don’t drive cars for him.”

“What do you do?”

“Nothing,” Charles said blankly. “Technically, I don’t work for him. This is a one off.”

“This? I think you need to stop beating around the fucking bush and get to the point, Charlie. I haven’t slept, I’m full of narcotics and the smell coming from that fucking cupboard is giving me a fucking headache. Just tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Charlie leaned forward. “Ahmad Fadel wants you dead.”

“He can join the queue.”

“No, I mean he
really
wants you dead. He didn’t take too kindly to the fact that you sued him, so he set up a plan to get his own back. His right hand man, an American named Maloney, took control. He devised a plan that would bring in a lot of money for Fadel and himself.”

“He’s a billionaire, why would he care? It was only one hundred million - fucking pennies to him. Not to mention the fact that I ain’t collected the money yet and the chances that I ever will are looking pretty fucking bleak, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s not about the money. It’s a game to them.”

Jester nodded placidly. “Okay, so he wants me dead. How does that explain things?”

Charles Edinburgh looked anxious again. He seemed to want to delay telling Jester the truth for as long as possible, but he couldn’t delay any longer. “Long before you won the case, Maloney set up an elaborate scheme that would make him and Fadel very rich, giving Fadel his revenge in the process. People are betting on your life, how long will you survive, how will you die, who will kill you, will you make it past the night, will you commit suicide, will you give yourself into the police.” Charles paused. “The list goes on. Fadel and Maloney are looking at a few billion whether you live till you’re one-hundred or die next week, and they have the satisfaction of watching you suffer through it all.”

Matthew Jester slumped in his seat, allowing the knife to fall to the floor. “Shit,” he said distantly. “Well, I guess that explains things.”

“They’ve been tracking you. Dennis Maloney, Fadel’s right hand man, is keeping tabs on you. He’s also the middleman in the betting. He takes the bets from the clients and passes them onto the bookie. Which is where I come in.”

“Huh?” Jester looked at Charlie with a blank stare.

“Mark Chambers, my father-in-law, is running the books on your life.”

Matthew Jester sat and stared. His mind had slowed to a stop and was now completely dry. It had struggled to understand and accept all the information that had been provided to it before shutting itself down in confusion. “He’s the guy who owns the limo firm?”

“Yes, he is also the CEO of one of Europe’s biggest betting agencies.”

Matthew nodded and silence fell over them. Jester broke the awkward peace, “So where exactly do
you
come in?” he asked.

“Chambers wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Charles looked at Jester. “He wanted to keep his prize safe.”

“If he wanted to keep me safe, he did a fucking shitty job.”

“Not exactly
safe
, he just wanted to keep an eye on you. He wanted to know your every move, and with some help from Fadel and a few punters in high positions, he made sure he
did
know your every move. Closed Circuit Television, spy cameras, registration plate checks. Everywhere in the city, and the towns around it, are practically covered.”

“Big brother has been watching me,” Matthew said meekly, a smile on his lips.

“Big brother has been
paid
to watch you, yes,” Charles confirmed. “This goes deep. Fadel knows a lot of people in high places and the majority of them are in on this.”

“By
this
you mean my life?”

Charles nodded, his eyes averted. “Chambers hired me,” he said eventually, moving on with his explanation. “I didn’t want any part of it, but I had to do it. I’ve been under his employment for years, working a managerial position at the betting office HQ, but then I messed up. I made a few errors. I cost the company – and Chambers – quite a bit of money. He’s a two-faced, lying, manipulative bastard,” Charles spat. “When I meet him, he plays the boss, he shows his superiority to me and lets me know he could buy and sell me a million times, but when I’m with my wife,
his daughter
, his tune changes. He becomes a loving grandfather to our children and an adoring father to my wife. She loves him, she sees no evil in him. I don’t talk to her about mine and her father’s conversations.”

“Okay,” Matthew said with a note of impatience. “Nine people have tried to kill me in the last forty-eight hours. Forgive me if I ain’t empathic at the moment.”

Charles nodded. “Chambers wanted me to chauffeur you to the court house and he wanted me to …” Edinburgh paused. “He wanted me to take you home, only …”

“Only what?” Jester pushed.

Charles flashed a worried glance Jester’s way. “He wanted me to
stall
the journey.”

“What do you mean?”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably on his seat and fell into silent mode for a few seconds. Jester’s mind had started to work and he was getting annoyed and angry with Charles. Their eyes met, a flicker of anxiety passed across Charles’s eyes. Anger flared in Jester’s eyes. He bolted up from the chair and, in one rapid movement, he managed to jump on the driver, pull him from the couch and jump on top of him as he fell onto the wooden floor.

“You fucking bastard!” Jester bellowed into the back of Charlie’s head. “You fucking piece of shit!” His words were literally spat, flying with venom on a line of saliva.