Cucumber Coolie by Ryan Casey Page A

clueless about lock picking, even though Martha insisted he was an arms dealer with side business ventures in burglary kit and drugs and things like that.
    “Yeah?” Martha said. She frowned. Jotted down a few things, even though she seemed to have something to jot for every number, no matter how much info they had. “That’s… that’s interesting. Very interesting. Thanks, Jared.”
    She put the phone down. Wrote another few things.
    “Well?”
    She looked at me with an expression that I’d not yet seen since we started our mass calling.
    A smile tickled the corners of her mouth.
    “Jared Kowlwhite,” she said. “Runs a jewellers down in Broughton.”
    “As well as…”
    “Burglary equipment, knives, prepper kit like gas masks. All sorts of barely legal things.”
    She smiled some more. Did all she could to stop it bustling over.
    “Martha, time’s ticking. We don’t have all day to dick around—”
    “Jared sold a huge batch of lock picking equipment three weeks ago, including the newest item in his repertoire—a Wilko’s SawDoor.”
    “A SawDoor?”
    “The electronic chainsaw knife thing you saw in Hose’s video?”
    My stomach turned as I imagined the “SawDoor” cutting off Danielle’s ear…
    “Yes. Great. But that doesn’t necessarily mean this Jared guy sold Hose the SawDoor. There must be other dodgy dealers selling this type of thing.”
    Martha tilted her head either side and doodled on her pad. “You’re right. Sure.”
    And then she stopped doodling and looked right at me.
    “He also sold a top of the range VaiTox to the same guy at the same time.”
    I scratched at my nose and scanned the next page of Martha’s list. “VaiTox? What’s that?”
    “A voice alteration device,” she said.
    I let go of the page. Looked at Martha. Her smile was wide.
    “I think we should pay Jared a visit, hun. Don’t you?”

NINETEEN
    It didn’t take Martha and I long to get ourselves down to Jared’s Jewellers in Broughton, which was just what you needed when a psycho killer was threatening to murder your girlfriend in eleven and a half hours.
    I stepped out of the car. Got a whiff of fish and chips from a local chippy. Broughton was a quiet little village, a bit in the middle of nowhere. Decent place, though. I used to go to school here a long, long time ago. Now, I had little reason to visit.
    They didn’t have an electronics shop. Therefore, there was no use for me being here.
    “This Jared guy isn’t like your other pals is he?” I asked.
    Martha squinted at me. She was wearing a cream wool coat even though it wasn’t remotely cold. “Like my other pals? What’s that supposed to mean?”
    I fished around for the right words as we approached the all-glass front of Jared’s Jewellers. “Oh, you know. Hostile. Bit of a dick.”
    “I’m sure they’re full of praise for you too, grumpy. Now come on. He’s waiting for us. Let’s get him chatted to.”
    We stepped inside Jared’s Jewellers. Now I knew exactly why Martha had brought her coat along. It was bloody freezing in here, as air conditioning blasted through the main room, sheltered from the glare of the sun.
    At the other side of the quiet shop floor, there was a man sitting behind the counter. He was dressed in a black suit, with a white shirt underneath. Jesus, he looked clean cut as hell, and—turn for the books here—he was actually smiling .
    “That’s not him, is it?”
    “Why?” Martha asked. “Got yourself a mancrush?”
    I couldn’t deny that Jared was an extremely handsome fella. “Just looks a bit high class for you to be mixing with.”
    “Sometimes, hun, I wonder why I help you out.”
    “Cause you love me?”
    “Definitely not that. Jared! Nice to see you.”
    Jared smiled at Martha. Shook her hand. “Pleasure to see you again, Martha. You’re looking well.”
    “Oh, you. Such a charmer.”
    I listened to them chat like old friends catching up for what felt like forever before Smooth Guy Jared