Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) (9 page)

'Leave it there, where it belongs.'
Schneider hissed. He slammed his fist down onto the table making Evan jump and
muttered something under his breath. It sounded to Evan a lot like
filthy
whore
.

The sudden outburst of violence and
the venom in Schneider's voice surprised Evan. He felt guilty for invading
Schneider's privacy and digging up memories that were capable of producing such
rage. But it also made him wonder if Schneider had been completely truthful
about the happy home life he'd lived with his sister.

It was clear there’d been some sexual
interest on his part which hopefully hadn’t been reciprocated. You never knew
in these small towns. It was obvious that it was him who thought she was a
whore. Maybe he'd inherited his parents' strictness or maybe he was just
jealous because he wasn’t getting what the other guys were. Perhaps she was
locked in the basement as they spoke, desperately trying to get Evan's attention.
Or buried in the back yard for refusing to come up with the goodies.

One thing was for sure; he wasn't
about to get anything useful out of Schneider now. Not that he’d got anything
useful so far, apart from prima facie evidence that anyone living with Max
Schneider would run off at the first opportunity.

Evan left him alone with his
memories and his dreams of a working washing machine.

It was good to get back outside into
the fresh air and sunlight. Schneider’s house had been oppressive and it
smelled like the drains were backed up. That was probably the problem with his
washing machine.

Evan got in his car and opened all
the windows and let the wind blow through. He leaned back and closed his eyes
and wondered what to do next. His phone rang. He thought it would be Guillory
but he didn't recognize the number when he looked at the screen.

'I've been doing a bit of research
into you,' Faulkner's voice said down the line. 'Not exactly a career to be
proud of. Let's hope Linda Clayton doesn't end up like your last client.'

Evan groaned.
He could have done without any of this. Okay, he wanted to talk
to Faulkner again, but not now, and not on Faulkner's terms. And even though he
knew Faulkner was just trying to rile him, the dig about Stanton still hurt.
'We've all got to make a living,' he said lamely.

'Yes, and when you couldn't make one
doing a proper job, you decided to stick your zoom lens up some woman's tired
old twat and then sell the pictures to her husband. I bet you kept copies too.'

It crossed Evan’s mind that it
hadn’t looked tired or old as far as he could remember – he’d check his copies
when he got back to the office - but that wasn’t the point. Faulkner sounded
drunk.

'At least I'm not drunk in the
middle of the afternoon.'
You sad old bastard

'Up yours, sonny.'

The front door to Schneider’s house
opened and Schneider started walking towards Evan’s car. Evan sighed heavily.
He couldn’t deal with Faulkner on the phone and nutty Schneider at the same
time. He put the car into gear and pulled away slowly. Behind him Schneider broke
into a run and started shouting that he’d remembered how the noise sounded.

‘What was that?’ Faulkner said.

'Nothing. Anyway, now we've got the
pleasantries out the way, why don't we see if we can have a normal
conversation?'

'Conversation? Let me look that up
in my dictionary. Here we go... conversation; as in some interfering
individual, let's call him Mr Evan P-for-Peeper Buckley, bugs the hell out of
some other person and asks him a whole bunch of questions that he's not
entitled to have the answers to.'

Evan looked into his mirror and saw
that Schneider had given up and gone back inside. He pulled onto the shoulder
and stopped. 'Sounds like we've got the exact same edition,' he said. 'There's
just one thing - I'm not bugging you - you called me.'

Faulkner laughed. 'You know, I can't
help myself, but I actually like you.'

'Is that why you're calling me up?
To tell me how much you like me? Or just to give me your considered opinion on
my choice of career? It sounds to me like you’ve been discussing me with
Detective Donut.’

'Who? Oh, Ryder.’ He laughed again.
‘No, I called to find out why you didn't come back to me if you needed more
answers.'

Got you
, Evan thought. Obviously he’d got
under Faulkner's skin more than he'd realized. He grinned down the phone. 'So
that's it - you can't keep the green-eyed monster in its cage.'

'I don't know what you're talking
about,’ Faulkner said defensively, ‘but you should have come to me instead of
Guillory.'

'Why? Guillory started me on this
and he's still on the force so he's got access to more resources than you.'
And
he hasn't got his precious reputation to protect.

'That's what you think. Besides, he
wasn't even there at the time. You need to get it from the horse’s mouth.'

‘The horse’s what?’

‘Do you want me to help you or not?’

Evan didn't think for a minute that
Faulkner had suddenly decided to be über-helpful. More like he wanted to
control the information Evan had access to. 'So is this an invitation to come
over and have you fill in all the gaps for me?'

'Why not? Tell you what – let’s
reinforce all those preconceived notions you've got in your fat head and I’ll tell
you all about it over a beer. I'm not drunk, but it sounds like a plan to me.'

'Okay, where do you want to go?'

'Well, I'm afraid that's where the
old clichés end. We're not going to some dive of a bar to drink cheap beer. I like
up-market cocktail lounges - especially when you're paying. And since I'm going
to be doing most of the drinking, why don't you come by and pick me up.'

Evan was happy to go along with
that. There was a chance Faulkner would loosen up once he had a few drinks and
Evan would be in a sensible condition to take it all in. He would have liked a
bit more time, so he suggested picking Faulkner up about seven the following
day. Unfortunately Faulkner wasn't having any of it and Evan reluctantly agreed
to pick him up that evening.

After he finished on the phone with
Faulkner, he called Guillory to give him an update on Schneider.

'So what have you found out, Mr P?'

It looked like Guillory wasn't going
to let the peeper moniker drop. At least there didn't seem to be any malice in
his tone.

‘First off, max Schneider is a
certifiable fruitcake.’

‘Okay, that’s useful. I’ll be sure
to make a note of that. Anything else we can actually use?’

'It seems Barbara Schneider was Max
Schneider's sister, not his wife.'

'What makes you say that?'

'That's what Schneider told me.'

'That would be Schneider the
fruitcake? I'm sure that's not right. Let me check.'

Evan could hear Guillory tapping
away in his two-finger style at his keyboard. They ought to send him on a
typing course. The tapping stopped.

'No, she was definitely his wife.
That's what it says right here in the report.'

'He gave me some story about her
running wild after their parents died. Living it up, lots of different men.'

'Uh huh. That doesn't mean she
wasn't married to him.’ Evan could have kicked himself. He felt stupid for not
thinking about the possibility himself, especially given what he’d spent the
last five years doing. Guillory didn’t miss it either.

‘I would have thought your career
before you became Mr
Ex
-Peeper would have alerted you to that
possibility.’ He could feel Guillory’s amusement oozing down the phone line.

‘Sorry, that life’s been expunged
from my memory.’

‘It sounds like he's invented some
story to make himself feel better; soothe his injured pride. Tell yourself
something for long enough and you come to believe it.'

'That's possible. As I said, he's
not firing on all cylinders.'

'It could also explain her
disappearance if there was another man. Either that or she's buried in the back
yard.'

'He did get quite angry at the end. Called
her a filthy whore and smashed a picture of her.'

'Really? I might just take a look
into that.'

But not Daniel Clayton?
Evan wondered ending the call. Did
that mean he thought it was a dead duck and he’d just put Evan onto it to give
him something to do. On the other hand, things were getting more complicated,
the more he dug into them. He’d been hoping to be able to eliminate the
running-off-with-another-woman line of enquiry but now it seemed to be growing
legs.

The time had come to talk to
Hendricks. Evan realized he'd been putting the moment off, but when he thought
about it he wasn't sure why. He'd picked up all the animosity towards Hendricks
coming from Ray Clements and Linda. Subconsciously he was siding with them
because Hendricks sounded such a degenerate. More preconceived ideas; he
couldn't argue with Faulkner about that.

He wanted to talk to Hendricks
before he talked to Faulkner again, so he didn't have much choice but to drive
straight out there. Hendricks' place surprised the hell out of Evan. All he
knew about him was that he'd been the school bus driver. If he'd been asked he
would have said that Hendricks probably lived in a trailer park like Faulkner.

What he actually lived in was a
beautiful old farmhouse surrounded by three or four acres of land with a couple
of well kept barns standing off to the side. There was a hand-painted sign that
read
Beau Terre
and an old-fashioned farmhouse porch which wrapped
expansively around the house. It was about as different to Schneider's
farmhouse as you could imagine. Either he'd made a ton of money selling drugs
to the kids on the bus, or he'd inherited it.

Hendricks himself was sitting in a
rocker on the porch enjoying the late afternoon sun, looking like God was in
his heaven and all was right with the world. He had a pinched, bony face with a
scar across the bridge of his nose, which had been badly set at some time in
the past. He had a mass of black and gray hair that made Evan think there must
have been a sale of wire wool at the dollar store. The sybaritic smile
plastered on his thin lips made Evan want to slap him before he’d even said a
word.

'You must be Buckley,' he said, as
Evan climbed the steps up to the porch. 'Have a seat. Can I get you anything?'
There was a pitcher of iced tea on the table beside him and two glasses. He
waved towards them.

Evan declined the offer. 'How do you
know who I am?'

'Matt Faulkner called me. Said you
were working for that crazy woman Clayton, digging all that shit up again and
would probably want to talk to me.' He had a lazy, drawling way of speaking
which just reinforced the air of smug contentment.

'He's right. I'm just surprised he
called to...'

'Warn me? Is that what you were
about to say?’ He rolled forward in his rocker and spread his arms, palms
towards Evan, in a universal gesture of openness. ‘We haven't got anything to
hide.'

A large white cat with a black patch
on its head trotted up the steps and jumped onto Hendricks’ lap. He stroked it as
it started to clean. ‘Have we, Armstrong?’ he said, rubbing the cat’s ears. It
purred contentedly. Evan wasn’t really a cat person but he had to admit it was
a good looking cat. He wasn’t sure which one of them was the most
self-satisfied.

'I'm sure you haven't.' Evan said.
He didn't know if he was sure of that at all. He also didn't know how to take
Faulkner calling ahead. He thought
warn
was exactly the right word to
use. He asked Hendricks to give him his view of the events.

'Personally I think it was
Clements.'

It made a refreshing change for
someone to say something other than they didn't have a clue. 'That doesn't
surprise me. Clements doesn't have a good word for you either.'

'I'm sure he doesn't. But Ray
Clements is a bitter old man and he's lucky he's not in jail if you ask me.'

'You seem pretty sure about it. What
do you think happened?'

'Like I said at the time, the boy
never left the campus. I don't care what anybody says about me not paying
attention and letting him slip past. It didn't happen. That boy never left the
campus except in Clements' car.' He jabbed the table with his middle finger as
if that clinched it.

'What about the fact that Faulkner
ended up believing Daniel made it past you without being seen and it was the
father who did it?'
Get out of that you smug bastard
.

'Just because Matt Faulkner called
me up to
warn
me, doesn't mean we're so tight I can't disagree with him.
The boy did
not
walk past my bus without me seeing him.'

'And that automatically makes it
Clements, does it?'

'He tried to hide the fact that he'd
given him a ride before. Why would a man with nothing to hide do that?'

'And it was you who told Faulkner
about it.'

He nodded emphatically. 'You got
that right. I think most people would agree it was the appropriate thing to do
in the circumstances.' The self-righteous look on his face made Evan want to
punch it.

'He lost his job as a result. Over
an accusation that was never proven.'

'No he didn't. He lost his job
because they wanted to get rid of him and this gave them the excuse they needed
to do it.'

'Why do you say that?'

Hendricks poured himself another
glass of iced tea. This time Evan accepted the offer of a drink. He wanted to
see if the glass had been used. He asked Hendricks again why he thought the school
had wanted to get rid of Clements.

'Because he was a pervert, a
pederast.'

'You mean a pedophile.'

'No, a pederast - there's a
difference. He only liked boys. Why else would you give young boys a ride in
your car?

'Because he was a nice guy and the kid
lived a block away?'

Hendricks gave him a scathing look.
'Doesn't happen if you ask me. You could see he was a pervert just looking at
him.'

Evan decided it wasn’t even worth
asking him what he meant – what particular facial or bodily characteristics marked
you out as a pervert. In fact Clements and Hendricks looked quite similar,
particularly the hair.

'Were there other boys apart from
Daniel?'

'Probably.'

'Did you ever see any of them?'

'No. Doesn't mean it didn't happen.'

Evan had heard enough of Hendricks'
prejudices. 'Was there any proof? Did anyone make an accusation? Or were they
just as prejudiced as you?'

'I'm not prejudiced; I'm just saying
what everyone knew.'

'According to you.'

'Whatever.'

It was obvious Evan wasn't going to
get anything remotely objective out of Hendricks, but that didn't surprise him.
The trouble was, Hendricks' smug confidence in his own bigotry was really
starting to irritate him. He decided to try to wipe the smile off his face. 
'Why did you take a job as a school bus driver?'

It worked. Hendricks jerked upright
in his chair and glowered at Evan. Evan saw him wince as the cat leapt from his
lap digging its claws into his leg as it went.
That’s more like it.

'You better not be suggesting it's
because I like little kids.'

Evan gave him a supercilious look.
'Why not?  I like kids, just not in the way you're thinking. Why is it people
like you automatically assume if you like children, you want to have sex with
them?'

'I don't think that.' Most of the
smugness was gone now. The irritating smile had been replaced by an unpleasant
curl of the lip.

'Yes you do. That's exactly what you
think about Ray Clements.'

'Yeah, well he's different. I just
needed a job.'

The comment had an unfortunate ring
of familiarity about it. Evan had said pretty much the same thing to Faulkner
to justify what he’d been doing.

'Do you know why Linda Clayton made
Daniel walk home?'

The question threw Hendricks as Evan
had hoped. His eyes narrowed and he leaned back in the rocker and contemplated
Evan. He could see something coming but he didn't know what it was. 'Because
exercise is good for you?' he said sarcastically.

'No. Because she didn't like the
look of you. She didn't want Daniel on your bus.'

Evan had no idea what made him say
it; Linda hadn't said any such thing. He wanted to try to rattle Hendricks to
see what happened. It was also fun to annoy him just for the sake of it.

'Bullshit.'

'If you say so.'

There was no dismissive
whatever
this time. All trace of smugness had been scrubbed from his face. 'You're
making that up.'

'I would say, ask her yourself,
apart from the fact that she wouldn't talk to you if her life depended on it.'

Evan would have liked to carry on
antagonizing Hendricks all night but he had to get away to meet Faulkner. 'You
don't work there any more, do you?' he said.

Hendricks relaxed slightly at the
change of topic. 'No, I retired just after the kid went missing. It was a
stressful time all round. Lots of bad feeling.'
Mainly being spread around
by you
' I had this place and didn't really need the job so I quit.'

'I thought you just said you needed
a job.'

There was a flash of anger in
Hendricks' eyes. He was annoyed that he'd slipped up, but it didn't last long.

'What I meant was I wanted a job to
give me something worthwhile to do. Keep me out of trouble.' He smirked at his
own poor joke. He didn't say how it was that he came to own such a large
property or that he didn't need to work. He could only have been in his late
forties at the time it happened. Probably thought it wasn't any of Evan's
business.

'I can see you're doing okay,' Evan
said, looking around. 'It's a nice place you've got here.'

'Sure is. Come on, I'll give you a
look around. You can check the barns for bodies if you like,' he sniggered.

Evan couldn't decide if he was
jumping at the opportunity to change the subject completely, or he was simply a
proud home owner. Evan had to admit he was just a bit jumpy as Hendricks showed
him around. He knew he was being stupid but he had visions of Hendricks hitting
him over the head with and axe handle and locking him in one of the barns. He
didn't really relax until he was back in his car and driving away.

Once again he had the feeling that
the more he talked to people, the more complicated it all became. All he had
learned from his visit was that Hendricks owned a very nice house and he blamed
Clements. Everybody was pointing the finger at everybody else. Hendricks might
have been blaming Clements because the alternative - an innocent Clements -
made him look stupid for sending the police barking up the wrong tree. Or he
might have been using Clements to take the heat off himself.

            He also had the feeling that there had been someone
else with Hendricks just before he arrived. He was pretty sure the glass he’d
drunk from had already been used. Unless Hendricks had some OCD issues that
made him use a fresh glass every time he refreshed his drink, he’d had a
visitor who hadn’t wanted to be seen there.