Numb: A Dark Thriller Read Online Free PDF
Author: Lee Stevens
said, wanting this over with. “I could call Nash now and tell him what’s gone on. Within half an hour ten of his men would be round here and you and your nephews would never be seen again and they’d take whatever they could from your house to get what you owe. But I don’t want that.” He separated three thousand two hundred in twenty pound notes from the bundle he held and showed them to Simpson. “So, what do you say?”
Simpson took a long breath. Then he glanced from one nephew to the other. And then he nodded.
“Good,” Riley said. “Got an envelope?”
“A what?”“An envelope – for the money. It’ll look better.”
“Yeah, I think I have one in one of the kitchen drawers.”
“Get it.”
A minute later, when Simpson returned from the kitchen with a small brown envelope, Riley wrote PAID UP in big letters across Simpson’s paperwork and bundled the cash inside the envelope. Receipts for the customer weren’t required.
“I’ll tell Nash you’re square.” Riley then looked at the two nephews. The one drinking was a little quieter now but his face was still contorted in pain. The other had pulled off his balaclava and was sitting up. His face was red with blood from his top lip to his chin and he was staring around like he didn’t know where he was. “As for them, have them finish off that whisky and then call an ambulance. Tell the paramedics they were drunk and had a scuffle and fell down the stairs. Don’t tell them what’s gone on here.”
“I won’t.”
“Make sure they stick to the story. If Nash finds out what’s gone on here he’ll be pissed. Then I’ll be pissed and pay you another visit.” An idle threat, but one that had to be made.
“They’ll stick to the story,” Simpson said. “I don’t think they’d want their mother to know the plan they had. She thought they were just coming to pick me up. She thought I just didn’t want to live on my own since Marie died. She didn’t know about the trouble or anything.”
“So what are you going to tell her now?”
Simpson shrugged.
“That I changed my mind about leaving here. I didn’t really want to leave anyway. I shared this house with my wife for over forty years. She might be dead but I... I can still feel her here.”
Riley wanted to leave before the old guy started crying again. He sounded on the verge of it.
“I’ll see you on the first of next month, Mr Simpson.” He headed for the door but stopped when he noticed the framed picture on the cabinet. He’d missed it on the way in and now wished he’d missed it on the way out. It showed Simpson and a lady who Riley assumed to be his deceased wife. Simpson looked much the same as he did now. His wife looked very thin and very frail. Her skin was tinged yellow and the hairs on her head were mere wisps of grey. She smiled broadly but painfully as they both posed in front of the cake at the foot of the bed. Riley could just make out the candles that formed the number 40 and the word ‘anniversary’ in icing.
Suddenly, the bottom fell out of his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“For what?” Simpson asked.
For everything , Riley thought, but said, “For your loss. I heard it was... recent.”
“Three months ago,” Simpson said, a sudden strength in his voice, like he wanted to get something off his chest. “My wife was dying when I borrowed the money. The cancer had spread to her liver and was terminal. I had to give up work to look after her. We never had kids and so I was the only one. My sister and her boys live in Liverpool and couldn’t be on hand all the time. When we found out she was on borrowed time she made it clear that she wanted to die at home and not in some hospice. She was in a wheelchair by then and would need a stair lift. I had already used up most of our savings after leaving work and I couldn’t get a loan with any banks to have one installed. Then I saw an advert in the local paper for Fast Track Loans .
Simpson took a long breath. Then he glanced from one nephew to the other. And then he nodded.
“Good,” Riley said. “Got an envelope?”
“A what?”“An envelope – for the money. It’ll look better.”
“Yeah, I think I have one in one of the kitchen drawers.”
“Get it.”
A minute later, when Simpson returned from the kitchen with a small brown envelope, Riley wrote PAID UP in big letters across Simpson’s paperwork and bundled the cash inside the envelope. Receipts for the customer weren’t required.
“I’ll tell Nash you’re square.” Riley then looked at the two nephews. The one drinking was a little quieter now but his face was still contorted in pain. The other had pulled off his balaclava and was sitting up. His face was red with blood from his top lip to his chin and he was staring around like he didn’t know where he was. “As for them, have them finish off that whisky and then call an ambulance. Tell the paramedics they were drunk and had a scuffle and fell down the stairs. Don’t tell them what’s gone on here.”
“I won’t.”
“Make sure they stick to the story. If Nash finds out what’s gone on here he’ll be pissed. Then I’ll be pissed and pay you another visit.” An idle threat, but one that had to be made.
“They’ll stick to the story,” Simpson said. “I don’t think they’d want their mother to know the plan they had. She thought they were just coming to pick me up. She thought I just didn’t want to live on my own since Marie died. She didn’t know about the trouble or anything.”
“So what are you going to tell her now?”
Simpson shrugged.
“That I changed my mind about leaving here. I didn’t really want to leave anyway. I shared this house with my wife for over forty years. She might be dead but I... I can still feel her here.”
Riley wanted to leave before the old guy started crying again. He sounded on the verge of it.
“I’ll see you on the first of next month, Mr Simpson.” He headed for the door but stopped when he noticed the framed picture on the cabinet. He’d missed it on the way in and now wished he’d missed it on the way out. It showed Simpson and a lady who Riley assumed to be his deceased wife. Simpson looked much the same as he did now. His wife looked very thin and very frail. Her skin was tinged yellow and the hairs on her head were mere wisps of grey. She smiled broadly but painfully as they both posed in front of the cake at the foot of the bed. Riley could just make out the candles that formed the number 40 and the word ‘anniversary’ in icing.
Suddenly, the bottom fell out of his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“For what?” Simpson asked.
For everything , Riley thought, but said, “For your loss. I heard it was... recent.”
“Three months ago,” Simpson said, a sudden strength in his voice, like he wanted to get something off his chest. “My wife was dying when I borrowed the money. The cancer had spread to her liver and was terminal. I had to give up work to look after her. We never had kids and so I was the only one. My sister and her boys live in Liverpool and couldn’t be on hand all the time. When we found out she was on borrowed time she made it clear that she wanted to die at home and not in some hospice. She was in a wheelchair by then and would need a stair lift. I had already used up most of our savings after leaving work and I couldn’t get a loan with any banks to have one installed. Then I saw an advert in the local paper for Fast Track Loans .