Suzy, Gary L Beer [story reading txt] 📗

as she gets out of the car. Slamming the car door Suzy runs into the telephone box and dials Lewis's number.
Leaving Suzy's earlier in Sharon's car they had been forced to drive around to lose the 'tail' they had following them. It was a two year old Ford Escort that looked immaculate in its dark blue paintwork. Sharon had seen it pull out behind them before she reached the end of Suzy's road and with a bit of reckless driving managed to lose it in the heavy traffic of the town.
The telephone box where she had dropped Suzy was situated on a busy industrial estate, many of the factories were open and there was a constant flow of people between the buildings.
Arriving back at the telephone box two minutes later Sharon sees the door open as Suzy steps out. Hurrying across to Sharon she opens the passengers door and jumps in; “Can we get out of here? Some of those dirty men walking around give me the creeps.” she says as she shudders at the thought of one of them touching her.
Sharon puts the car in gear and drives away from the telephone box; “Did you get through to him?”
“Yes he was at home, he will meet us tomorrow at eleven o'clock at the Seafront Cafe, and he did not sound very happy.”
“What do you mean; he was not happy with you phoning him? or generally unhappy?” asks Sharon hoping for a bit more enlightenment.
Suzy stares out of the window appearing to think carefully before she replies, frowning she looks at Sharon; “Unhappy is not what I mean, scared would be a better word.”
Sharon makes no reply as she turns onto the main road and concentrates on the busy traffic around her.

Malcolm cannot wait any longer, all the family have gone to bed and at last he can smoke a cigarette. He had been trying to give up for years and usually did well during the daytime but night times were the problem. If he did not have a cigarette before he went to bed he could not sleep.
Taking his keys from the mantelpiece and his cigarettes and lighter from the cupboard he quietly makes his way to the front door. Opening the front door he puts the key in the lock and turns it so that it will not 'click' as he shuts it.
Shutting the front door he takes the key from the lock and puts it in his pocket and sits down on the little bench in the corner of the garden.
Screened by a large fir tree, that was getting far too big for the small front garden, he takes a cigarette out of the packet and lights it. With a satisfied sigh he breathes the smoke in deeply making him cough. Holding the cigarette at arm’s length he tries hard not to cough; as with a lungful of smoke it stings terribly.
Regaining his breath and with eyes watering Malcolm takes a tentative drag and is relieved it does not make him cough. Gaining confidence he drags on the cigarette again and settles back onto the bench. Sitting there quietly smoking he listens to the night sounds of mainly car engine noises and slamming doors.
Regretfully the cigarette is soon gone and Malcolm stubs out the butt in a small flowerpot on the ground. Feeling that the one he has just smoked is not enough he contemplates lighting another one as a small van drives slowly past.
Malcolm hears the van pull to a stop maybe fifty metres along the road as the engine falls silent. Hearing the door opening and being quietly closed makes Malcolm wonder who it is.
He thought he knew all of the neighbour’s cars and he does not recognise the van and stands for a better look.
Walking towards him is a scruffy looking man wearing a camouflaged jacket and worn jeans. His hair looks wild and windswept as he passes under a street light and slows down as he approaches Malcolm's house.
Malcolm's heart beats fast followed by a sick feeling in his stomach as he realises it is the watching man from the morning. Slowly sitting himself back down Malcolm is in deep shade and watches the rough character approach.
Reaching the front of his house the scruffy man stops and looks up and down the road. Satisfied he is all alone he takes something from his pocket and approaches Malcolm's car. Walking around to the front he lifts up the driver’s side windscreen wiper and places a stick underneath it.
As he drops the wiper down onto the windscreen Malcolm steps out of the darkness; “Why have you done that?” he asks in a soft voice.
The scruffy man turns quickly towards him pulling out of his coat a long bladed machete. The weapon gleams in the weak light as the man stares at Malcolm; “Just letting you know we know where you live mate.” he replies in a gruff threatening voice.
“Why would you want to do that then mate?”
“I watched you and your daughter this morning when you visited the Well, I noticed that she did not stay very long but you did. Nice looking kid by the way and so young, how old is she ten or eleven?”
Malcolm feels a deep rage grow inside him as he is aware that the man is threatening his daughter. The words 'we know where you live' that the man had said when he placed the stick under the windscreen wiper stops Malcolm from rushing towards him to kill him. The machete the man is waving at Malcolm he hardly registers, as his fatherly rage nearly consumes him.
“Take it easy mate,” the man warns; “you do not want to do anything you will regret later.”
“What do you want?” asks Malcolm angrily.
“For you, and your daughter, to forget about the little walk you had this morning.”
“Already have, if I was going to do anything I would have done it by now.” replies Malcolm putting a positive tone to his voice. The smell of Doug's rotting corpse drifting out of the Well had convinced Malcolm there was a dead body in there.
The fear for his daughter's safety especially as they had been seen by one who he believed was involved, had made him keep his mouth shut. He had little faith in the police and his hopes had been their watcher just took them for ramblers’.
The man standing in front of him waving a machete made Malcolm realise he and his daughter would never be safe. How he knew where Malcolm lived, and that Malcolm knew about the body was a mystery.
For him to identify himself this way appears to Malcolm, to be absolute foolishness.
Walking backwards with the machete still pointing at Malcolm he warns; “Forget about this morning, you cannot watch your back twenty four hours a day.” turning quickly he hides the machete under his coat as he hurries back to his van.
Malcolm follows him out into the road and stands behind his neighbour’s jeep as he crouches down and watches him through the rear window. Before the scruffy man gets into his van he looks back in Malcolm's direction. Not seeing Malcolm hiding behind the jeep he gets into his van and starts the engine.
Malcolm stands upright so that his head is above the jeep hoping to see the number plate. The man puts the van in gear and pulls out into the road without turning his lights on until he is fifty metres further down the road.
All that Malcolm can make out is that it is an old light coloured Renault van that had squeaking back doors. Sitting back on the bench he lights another cigarette and tries to think calmly. Why the man had just not killed him with his machete Malcolm could not understand. The man would be in constant fear that Malcolm would go to the police and it would have solved the problem completely.
Malcolm was glad he still lived, as he had a deep desire for revenge and to secure the safety of his family. Finding him would not be easy and he would have to be careful how he asked Paris where she had heard about the Well, without raising her suspicions.

Lewis drives slowly along the road until he feels he is far enough away and turns his lights on. Keeping to the speed limit he makes his way home by avoiding the town centre and its security cameras.
That man coming out of the darkness had unnerved him and he knew he should have used the machete straight away. Not being one hundred percent certain that he could have killed him quickly; and quietly, in such a built up area had made him hold back.
Driving down to his lock-up garages he gets his car out and aware that he would not be able to use the van again for quite a while he locks it in the garage.

“Dad me and Becky are going for a bike ride.” says an excited Paris, who is already wearing her safety helmet.
Malcolm has a sinking feeling as to where they are going; “Where to?” he asks trying to keep his voice calm.
“I am going to show Becky the Well as she wants the fox’s tail.”
“What is she going to do with it?”
“Hang it on her wall I think, she said she has always wanted one.”
“You can catch diseases off dead things, especially if they have been lying around for a while like that one. You will have to think of somewhere else to go.” Malcolm tells her firmly.
Paris looks disappointed and stares back defiantly at her Dad.
With a sinking feeling Malcolm knew that even if he did forbid her not to go Becky would be more persuasive and get her to defy him. The warning he had from the scruffy man last night he took very seriously and his mind races for a solution.
“Would you prefer to see a live one? Becky can come too.”
“A live one, where?” asks Paris excitedly.
“We will go up to Wildwood as your mother is working today, let me finish my breakfast and we will go, twenty minutes Ok?”
Paris runs over and kisses her Dad on the cheek; “I will go and tell Becky, I love you Dad.” she says as she runs out the door still wearing her cycling helmet.
Malcolm sips at his tea; he could not really afford a day out as the entrance fee would add up to a fair bit with the three of them. But this would give him the ideal opportunity to ask Paris where she had heard about the Well. The distraction of the animals and being with her friend would put her at ease and he felt confident he would know by