Page 142 of Ink's Devil

Ink had later enlightened me simply that it had all gone as planned. Connor has wiped his slate clean as Caruso would be getting a pat on his back for getting eight kilos of heroin off the street. While at first he was annoyed that he’d returned to find Phil Foster dead, when Connor was able to offer up Alder and what he’d learned about how the drugs came in from Mexico, he agreed Connor had done enough. As a result, the feds are going to help him get settled with his new identity in a new town. I was relieved that his new papers would be officially prepared. While the Satan’s Devils had suggested they’d sort out his new identity themselves, I didn’t really know Cad’s skills or connections, and had worried there’d be a chance his new identity might not stand up to scrutiny.

Of course, Mom would have to change her name as well, but she was keeping her first name, and just changing the last to Forster. They’d agreed to use the name Connor had already become.

The next few days pass in a whirlwind. Ink and I spend a lot of time at my house, packing up bits Mom wants to take. There wasn’t a lot apart from her clothes and her sewing machine of course. Steph, with her knowledge of Wit Sec had advised her to leave personal possessions behind, anything that might connect her with her old life. So, I became the custodian of the family photographs. I found myself not envying her.

Of course, we also attend the funeral that we’d somehow found time to arrange.

It might not have been my brother in that box being solemnly carried into the crematorium, but I am in mourning.

This is the last formality before Connor and Mom leave for pastures unknown, and this is the first occasion since the decision had been made that I’ve allowed myself to think how much I’ll be losing. I’m going to miss them both. Over the past few days, I reconnected with my brother and have regained more of the relationship we had when we were younger. As for Mom, she’s been there all my life, and what’s a girl supposed to do without her mother? She won’t even be at the end of the phone. All contact is prohibited.

The coffin is symbolic of the loss that’s about to happen in my life, and I’m not acting as tears start to fall as I listen to the brief service. The officiant talks about my brother’s life, a complete fiction about a young man with so much promise taken from us all too soon. Mom sits beside me, squeezing my hand as if she too is sad for how her life will be changing.

Ink’s sitting beside me and stands with everyone else as we watch the coffin soundlessly slide away until it’s hidden from our view. Mom turns to me with tears in her eyes. Then we’re in each other’s arms and weeping.

“My sincere condolences.”

The deep voice makes us jump, and I feel myself tense as mom turns.

“You’ve never been sincere about anything. I doubt you’re starting now.” Mom steps back from me and rounds on the speaker, quietly hissing, “What the hell are you doing here, Alder?”

I’m proud of her in that moment, she might be small, but she’s standing up to the man. I look around for Ink, but he’s no longer here.

Mom continues, pausing only to dab a tissue at her eyes, “Have you any idea who did this to my son?” She waves to where the coffin is now hidden behind curtains. In a moment, or perhaps when we’re gone, it will enter the furnace and whoever’s body is inside would be gone forever.

“I don’t know.” My attention snaps back to Alder, his deep voice sounding chilled. “But I’ll do what I can to find out.” He too stares at where the coffin has disappeared. “It’s a fucking shame Phil couldn’t be here. He was close to Connor.”

So close he condoned him being beaten and killed. And Alder need look no further than a mirror to see who was responsible for the supposed death of my brother.

“Any news on Phil’s accident?” Mom asks politely, her tone suggesting as he’d lived on the wrong side of the law, his death was predictable and while she could cry an ocean of tears for her son, she wasn’t going to waste any on her dead ex.

Alder appears slightly more interested in who caused Phil’s death, than Connor’s. “It was no accident,” he growls. “Someone took him out and cost me a fucking fortune when he did it. I’ll find out who’s responsible, eventually. I always do.” It sounds like a half promise, or a half warning. “He, or they, stole from us.”

I start to feel uneasy, and look around for Ink, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. Has he made himself scarce, so Alder doesn’t notice him? I’ve no proof, but I’ll always wonder if the Satan’s Devils had a hand in Phil’s death. At times like this, maybe keeping club business from old ladies makes sense, I’d rather not know. The bigger worry is whether Alder knew the Satan’s Devils had the drugs Connor had stolen from him, but so far, there had been no indication whether he does or not. Phil’s dead, and his close confidants died along with him. It’s quite possible he doesn’t know, but of course, still a risk. I hope Caruso is able to arrest him soon.

Alder’s staring at the closed curtains, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, then he turns back to us. “Well, it’s been nice getting reacquainted Patsy. Unless you hear from the dead, I doubt we’ll cross paths again.” He moves forward and threatens in a low voice, “No one gets away with stealing from me, not even a ghost.”

“Hey, babe, sorry about that.” Ink comes up and puts his arm around me. “Needed a piss. Friend of the family?” He nods toward Alder, seeming unconcerned.

“No friend of mine,” Mom says.

Alder raises an eyebrow, then, with a smirk, walks smartly away.

“Where have you been?” I turn to Ink. “Pissing, really? That wasAlder.” I emphasise his name, stressing it was a bad time for him to make himself scarce.

He leans in and speaks into my ear, “I know who he is. That Alder’s here suggests he’s suspicious. Must admit some bucks just changed hands, and the coffin is in the cremator now.”

“Don’t they always burn them immediately?”

“Just wanted to make sure, Beth. Didn’t want to take a chance of Alder having the opportunity to examine it. Now, though, he can’t.”

That had been quick thinking by Ink. Now the body has been destroyed, Alder has no proof Connor is alive.

“Just who did we cremate today?” I ask as we get into the car. “I feel so bad that we might have taken someone away from family.”

“Nah,” Ink turns before he starts the engine, “he was a homeless man who was killed by a car when he stumbled drunk across the road. No living relatives found. Look at it this way, he got a send-off he didn’t expect, tears shed for him, nice words said. Probably more than he expected or deserved.”

“Are you worried about Alder?”

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