Goodnight, John-boy: Chapter 39
‘Oh, yeah. Artists,’ said a dismissive Greg, returning to his editing. ‘What? Is he sending you a turd in the post? It’s not another dead rat?’
Welcome to Book Two of my dark comedy thriller series, Read Em And Weep.
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If you’re new to the Read Em And Weep series, start with Book One: Serial Killer.
DAVE’S PHONE RANG. It was the anonymous caller. ‘The Major got his, Maudling. I’m coming for you next, you fuck pig,’ he whispered down the phone.
‘F-f-f-fuck!’ said Dave.
‘You’ll never know where or when, but I’m watching you, fuck pig, waiting for the right moment. I am going to hurt you so bad, you will beg for death. Then I’m going to pour Greek fire all over you.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Dave.
‘It’s a burning liquid, like napalm,’ the caller whispered. ‘It bursts into flames on contact with your body. It will stick to your face. You will …’
The caller spoke so softly, Dave had to ask: ‘Sorry. It’s a bad line. Could you repeat that please?’
‘It’s a burning liquid …’ the caller began.
‘I got that. No, just the last bit.’
‘I said, it will stick to your face and you will die in agony, you fuck pig.’
‘Well, bring it on, you fuck pig. Okay?’ Dave snarled down the phone. ‘I’ll be waiting. And I’m going to make you fucking pay, you bastard. Got it? So fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.’ He shouted for good measure. ‘Fuck you!’
In response, the line had gone dead.
Dave realised he wanted to make the anonymous caller pay for killing the Major so badly, it had taken care of his fear.
He became aware that Greg was sitting opposite, staring wide-eyed at him.
‘What was all that about?’ asked a concerned Greg
‘Oh, just an artist.’
‘Just an artist?’
‘You know what they’re like when we reject their work.’
‘Oh, yeah. Artists,’ said a dismissive Greg, returning to his editing. ‘What? Is he sending you a turd in the post? It’s not another dead rat?’
‘Dead fish,’ said Dave. “I told him his pages hit me like a wet cod. So he’s sending me one.’
‘Couldn’t handle a little constructive criticism, eh?’ Greg nodded sympathetically. ‘It wasn’t Leggett?’
‘Leggett?’
‘The artist that agent kept locked in her attic so he’d finish his work on time?’
‘I don’t see how it could be Leggett,’ said Dave, looking meaningfully at Greg.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Greg shuddered as he remembered. ‘A bad business.’
‘A bad business,’ agreed Dave.
‘A very bad business.’
‘I had no idea, at first, that he was writing secret messages on his artwork.’ Dave reflected. ‘Saying, “Help me. My agent’s holding me against my will.” ’
‘She always saw his messages and whitened them out.’
‘When I saw “SOS” on the side of a desk he’d drawn, I became suspicious. Then, when I studied the page closely, I could just see in tiny letters a plea for help she’d missed.’
Greg nodded. ‘Not that it did him any good. Because then we whitened his messages out, too.’
‘Just until he’d finished drawing his story for us.’
‘Well, we had to. We had to get our priorities right. And by then … well … it was, sadly, too late.’
‘And it did give you a great idea for a story, Greg.’
‘Flora’s in the Attic. A young girl, a talented artist, who is being worked to death by her cruel art agent and never allowed out of the attic.’
‘Drawing from dawn to midnight and wondering, “Where will it all end?” ’
‘Some people thought it was in really bad taste, especially as the agent did actually run a florist’s, below.’
‘But, you know, I had some sympathy with her: listening to artists’ excuses why they’re late with their work, day in day out, year in year out, I guess the poor woman just couldn’t take anymore mañana bullshit. Something inside her … snapped.’
‘I guess something inside Leggett snapped, too. When she opened that attic door and he was waiting for her …’
Greg winced as he remembered.
‘I don’t feel that bad about it,’ mused Dave. ‘He’s an artist. What did she expect?’
‘They should really be given a mental health assessment before we hire them,’ agreed Greg.
‘Even so, pity the real-life version of Flora’s in the Attic ended so badly. No happy ending there, eh?’
‘There you go, Dave. Real life always ends badly.’
* * *
A few days later Dave entered The Spanker offices after a meeting with Leni. He was in a surprisingly upbeat mood.
‘Any luck?’ asked Greg hopefully.
‘Sorry. The pendulum says it’s got to be me. She’s really excited about it.’
‘Are you sure that’s why she was excited? Did you check behind her modesty board?’
‘Nobody there. Nope, she’s genuinely excited at me going on Tomorrow’s Britain.’
‘I’d have happily done it, you know?’
‘I told her that, Greg. But she said, “The monster who kicked the Newshound dog? I don’t think so.”’
The Tomorrow’s Britain star, Fabulous Keen, had rung the publisher asking to do an interview with the editor of Space Warp, the man who was bringing back Dan Darwin, so it really had to be Dave.
Dave was apprehensive at first, but then he reminded himself that Keen had absolutely no idea who he was. They had only come face to face when Dave was wearing his Spanish Inquisition hood. Of course they had met once before, when Dave was a fifteen-year old errand boy, but that wouldn’t connect him with the murderous events at the Feast of Mary Magdalene.
And the interview was to take place at TV Centre, so there was really nothing to worry about. Even if Keen somehow knew it was him, what could he possibly do in a studio, in front of the cameras?
Dave rather enjoyed the thought of flirting with danger.
‘You know, now that Leni’s out of my life, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,’ said Greg as Dave got ready to leave.
‘Uh-huh,’ said Dave.
Greg held up a book. ‘I’ve been reading The Book of est. It tears you down and then puts you back together. It’s made me realise just how I’m wasting my life here.’
Dave picked it up. ‘Luke Rhinehart. Wrote The Diceman, where the hero makes important life decisions on the roll of a die.’
‘That’s him,’ said Greg. ‘And I’ve decided the sensible thing for me to do is to hand in my notice and go freelance.’
‘I think you’re doing absolutely the right thing, Greg,’ said Dave. ‘It’s a very brave decision. To hell with security.’
‘Exactly,’ said Greg, clicking his pen. ‘Who needs a regular income, a pension and paid holidays?’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Fuck it!’
‘Fuck it!’ agreed Dave. He flicked through the book. ‘Yes, this is definitely the way to empowerment and enlightenment.’ And the dole queue for you, Greg, he thought to himself. With Greg out of the way, it would bring Joy and him closer again. They could do Space Warp together. Long intimate evenings discussing stories, making her laugh. The Two Musketeers.
All for one and one for two.
Goodnight, John-boy is the second book in the Read Em And Weep series and you can buy it digitally or as a paperback.
This chapter was an absolute rollercoaster of suspense and dark humor! 😂 The way you seamlessly blends comedy and thriller elements is truly impressive. And the reference to "Flora's in the Attic" added a clever layer to the story. Can't wait to see where the plot goes next! 📚🤣
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