~ A Fatal Score ~

by

A. W. Lambert

The door displayed the sign ‘PRIVATE’ in gold lettering, and without a moment’s hesitation Wallace rapped sharply with his fist. A voice from within called for them to come in. Wallace led the way, leaving Stern to close the door behind them.

Cooper sat behind his desk, a frown of confusion crossing his face at the sight of the two men. Wallace strode across the room, his hand out stretched. “Geoff,” he said brightly, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Reg Wallace, you remember, the Blue Mood? Nice to meet you at last.”

Nodding, Cooper rose slowly from his seat. He took Wallace’s hand warily. “Yes, nice to see you too,” he said, his eyes flicking across to Stern.

Wallace caught the glance. “This is Theo Stern,” he said brightly. “Local PI and a good friend.”

Yeah, right, thought Stern.

Cooper lowered himself cautiously back into his chair. “I didn’t know you were coming, er, Reg,” he said haltingly. “You should have called, let me know. The receptionist down stairs? She didn’t...?”

“Oh, we didn’t want to bother her.” Wallace grinned. “Theo here knew you were up here somewhere so I thought we’d give you a bit of a surprise.”

Cooper’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but after only a brief hesitation he half-heartedly motioned toward two chairs standing against the wall.

Wallace immediately shook his head. “No, we won’t sit down,” he said, his voice still bright. “We’re not staying.”

Cooper shrugged and relaxed back into his chair, some hint of composure returning. “So, what can I do for you?”

Wallace leaned forward, his palms flat on the desk, the smile suddenly dropping from his face.

“I just wanted to know why you fucked with my friends,” he said softly, his eyes suddenly steel hard.

Cooper’s jaw dropped. “What... I don’t know... What are you saying?” he stuttered.

“Oh I think you know what I’m saying,” Wallace growled. “I’m talking about Steve Arnold and the other guys in the band. They were all my friends, and for some reason you chose to play them for a bunch of suckers. You even managed to kill one of ’em. I just want to know why.”

“N-Now listen,” Cooper stuttered. “I never killed anyone. And you can’t just barge your way in here and accuse me...”

Stern stepped alongside Wallace. “Careful, Reg,” he warned.

Wallace held up a conciliatory hand. “Don’t worry, Theo. It’s all under control.” He turned back to Cooper. “You see, it’s just that I’ve got a little problem, Geoff. It goes like this. I know what you did; I just don’t know why you did it. That’s all I’ve come for. That’s all I want to know.”

The colour had completely drained from Cooper’s face, and a tiny trickle of saliva glistened in one corner his open mouth. Now, no longer relaxed in his chair, he sat bolt upright, his white-knuckled hands gripping the edge of the desk. Stern, himself astonished at Wallace’s instant attack, dragged his eyes from Cooper’s thunderstruck face and looked down at the little man by his side. Wallace’s expression was completely impassive, his eyes, unblinking, locked onto Cooper’s face.

Cooper suddenly came to life. “You come in here, into my own office, and accuse me of the most outrageous...” He rose violently from the chair, sending it clattering against the wall. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He reached for the telephone, his finger pumping at the number. “The police will have something to say about…”

“Yeah, you phone the law.” Wallace interrupted, his voice low, menacing. “And I’ll tell them a little story about a telephone call I received in the early hours one day last week. Woke me up it did, really annoyed me. That was until I realised who was calling.” A smile touched his lips, but only his lips. “Bet you can’t guess who it was.”

The words rang ominously threatening, and Cooper’s hand froze over the telephone. He remained silent.

“No? Don’t want to guess?” Wallace taunted. “Well, I’ll tell you. It was Ronnie Fox. And d’you know what he told me? He told me that he had paid a little late-night visit to this office.”

Copper’s jaw visibly slackened, but still he said nothing.

“And d’you know what he found? He found one of those little books; I think they call them diaries.” Wallace’s nostrils flared. “And you wouldn’t believe what he told me was written in it.”

Cooper’s eyes flicked down. His hand involuntarily reached for the drawer, hovering.

“I shouldn’t bother,” Wallace growled. “It’s gone and we have it.” He paused, his lips drawing back in a snarl. “And you, my friend, are in deep shit.”

Cooper dropped the telephone back onto its cradle. He looked as if his legs were about to give way beneath him. He looked slowly from Reg Wallace to Stern. “How did he...?” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.

“I shouldn’t worry yourself about how he did it,” Wallace hissed. “He did it. That’s what matters, ain’t it?”

Stern now realised that his earlier fears were well founded. There was more to the visit than Wallace had chosen to admit. Much more. “What the hell’s going on, Reg?” he snapped. “What’s this all about?”

“Not now,” Wallace snarled, his eyes never wavering from Cooper’s face.

It was as if Wallace’s words had thrown a switch, released a torrent. “The stupid bastard,” Cooper hissed. “All he had to do was play that ridiculous music and take the money, that’s all he had to do. But no, he had to interfere. Him and his stupid trombone player. And now look...” His eyes blazed as he looked across the desk back at Wallace, control seeping from him. “And as for you, you ... you, you dwarf.” He suddenly came to life. Fists clenched, he lunged around the desk. He got no further than the end of the desk before he pulled up short.

Again Stern glanced down at Wallace, this time his blood instantly turning to ice. “Christ, Reg, what the hell are you doing?” he spluttered.

Reg Wallace held his ground, not moving a muscle, the snub-nosed pistol pointing directly at Cooper’s midriff. “Rest assured,” he said quietly. “I have used this before and I won’t hesitate to use it again. So, if I were you, I would get back behind your fancy desk and get your arse back on your fancy chair.” His words were flat and unemotional, yet full of menace.

Cooper backed away, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Hanging onto the edge of the desk as if it was preventing him from falling, he edged his way back, lowering himself carefully into the chair.

“Now,” Wallace hissed, moving closer to the desk, the gun now pointing directly at Cooper’s face. “As old Max Bygraves would say, I’ll tell you a story.” The corners of his mouth twitched briefly at his own joke. “Over the last thirty odd years I’ve made a lot of money. I admit, not all of it legit. But, you see, I think I’ve lost more. I’ve lost face, I’ve lost friends, and most of all I’ve lost family. All because of the muck that some callous bastards have chosen to spread through this country. Now from what Ronnie told me about this little diary of yours, you are one of those callous bastards.” He inched the barrel of the pistol closer to Cooper’s face.

Stern’s heart was pounding. He put his hand gently on Wallace’s shoulder, terrified of initiating a reaction, yet desperate to stop what he felt was inevitable. “Don’t do this, Reg,” he whispered. “Just give me the gun. Let’s walk away and talk about this.”

All time had ground to a halt, the searing tension hanging like a pending storm. Cooper had visibly sunk into the chair, the sweat now trickling freely down his face. His eyes flicked, terrified toward Stern. “Stop him,” he pleaded, his words clattering loud in the stillness. “The mad bastard’s going to shoot me. Stop him.”

It was as if Wallace had heard neither man. “Just one thing,” he whispered menacingly. “I want to know one thing.” He paused, allowing the tension to build even further. “What happened to Ronnie Fox?”

“How the hell do you expect me to know,” Cooper stammered. “He fell... he fell into the pit…”

His words were cut instantly short by the thunderous report, the roar from the pistol ear-shattering in the confined space, burning acrid fumes quickly filling the room.

Stern staggered back, then reacted instantly, grabbing Wallace’s arm, spinning him round. “Give me the gun,” he snarled. But Wallace was even quicker, and Stern found the barrel of the pistol now pointing directly at his forehead.

“Back off, Stern,” Wallace snarled, moving back out of Stern’s reach, the gun hovering.

Stern took a pace back. “This is stupid, Reg. It can only end one way.”

“Don’t give a toss which way it ends,” Wallace spat. “Providing this bastard pays.”

Stern glanced across the desk. To his relief, though shaking uncontrollably, his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer, Cooper was still upright in the chair. The wooden arm of the chair was smashed to smithereens.

Wallace seemed totally unmoved by his own violent action. “Let’s try again, shall we?” His voice was as passive as before. “I promise, get it wrong this time and I won’t miss.” He lowered the muzzle of the gun until it was pointing directly at Cooper’s groin.

“Okay, okay,” Cooper spluttered, holding up his shaking hands in submission. “I had nothing to do with it, but Jacko saw it all. He swears it was an accident. The daft bugger fell into the pit.”

“Jacko, your minder?”

Cooper nodded, his head jerking uncontrollably.

“So how did Jacko know that Ronnie had gone to the Garage?”

“It was after midnight.”

Wallace frowned.

“There’s a camera,” Cooper hastily explained. “Downstairs. Just inside the front door. The monitor and an alarm are in Jacko’s room. Anyone leaves the place after midnight the alarm goes off. He can see who’s there, and it’s his job to deal with it.”

“So he followed Ronnie to the garage?”

Cooper sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“And bashed his head in,” Wallace said softly.

“No, no he didn’t,” Cooper stammered. “It was an accident. Jacko told me it was an accident. He said he followed Fox to the garage and watched him break in. By the time he got inside Fox had fallen into the pit. That’s what happened.”

Wallace turned to Stern. “D’you believe that?”

Stern thought about the initial examination of the body, the pathologist’s comments about the additional, unexplained damage to Ronnie’s head, possibly not caused by the fall. He shook his head. “I think there’s more to it than that,” he said finally. “But, Reg, that makes no difference. You mustn’t do this.”

Wallace ignored Stern’s plea. He turned back to Cooper. “See, even Theo don’t believe that,” he sneered. “He’s an ex-copper, he’s got a nose for these things.”

Cooper looked appealingly at Reg Wallace. “Look, what’s the point of all this? It’s done, there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. You’ve been around the block; you know the score. He’s dead. Can’t we just forget it? I’m willing to pay. I’m willing to pay big time.”

Wallace nodded his head slowly. “D’you remember me saying that I had lost a lot over the last thirty odd years?”

Cooper, his hands still held out in front of him, frowned, confused.

“Do you?” Wallace persisted.

Cooper nodded warily. “Yes, but...”

“Well, I don’t think you’ve lost nearly as much as me. And I don’t think you’ve lost anything like as much as those poor bastards out there who’ve been shoving your shit into themselves.” His lip curled. “And you’ve certainly not lost as much as Ronnie; he lost his life.” He shook his head sadly, resignedly. “No. D’you know what, I don’t think you’ve lost anything like enough. And it’s about time you did.”

The gun spat flame for the second time, and Cooper was thrown screaming from the chair. Stern found himself pressed to the wall, for the second time the thunderous sound shattering his ears, the acrid smell of cordite filling his nostrils and searing his throat.