Chapter 8 Malachi #2
He turned to greet the customers—and walked directly into the newly rebuilt tower. The crash echoed around the shop.
It was just after 2 pm when Nomi returned to The Wolf’s Den. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the shop floor, but her scathing commentary was softened into an anaesthetic slur thanks to the dentist. Malachi was released from his shift with very little critique—a minor miracle.
He stepped out onto Main Street and drew in a deep breath of hot, salty air to awaken his senses. Heat stuck to his skin, prickling along his arms. He headed down towards the promenade and lunch at Lucky Crumbs, thoughts already drifting to coffee, sausages and cake.
After a restless sleep, an early start and surviving another battle with Jeff, he needed Ally’s company more than ever.
He also didn’t want to face Dad, not yet.
Not with the river hanging between them.
The idea of trying to explain what really happened and seeing the disbelief settle in Dad’s eyes, followed by blame, made his insides twist.
He was so lost in his own thoughts; he walked straight into John “Jaunty” McNeill.
Ridiculous really, as Jaunty was impossible to miss.
A large, broad-shouldered, red-faced man, whose whole body seemed to bounce when he walked.
They called him Jaunty for his happy persona and the way he marched everywhere like he was leading a parade.
He was friends with Dad; they had the odd pint in the Craic and Barrel.
Beyond that, Malachi had no idea what he did all day other than march to and from funerals.
“Sorry, Jaunty, I didn’t see you there.”
“Never worry, son. We were both lost in our own worlds, which is a much better place to be at times,” Jaunty sighed, wiping his red face with a white cotton handkerchief. “I’ve just been to pay my respects at the Johnston house.”
Of course he had. Jaunty was a frequent attendee at most, if not all, funerals on Latharna.
He could usually be found spinning a yarn near the buffet table.
Even the most tenuous link between Jaunty and the deceased seemed enough to secure his place as a solemn mourner.
Malachi gave up trying to figure out why and just accepted that where death was, Jaunty followed.
The rest of Latharna seemed to have reached the same conclusion.
It was simply one of those things no one bothered to question anymore.
“Dreadful business. Old Marty was an avid fisherman. To be killed in a shark attack is such a tragic way to go.” Jaunty’s thin red hair danced as he shook his head. “If the Mayor didn’t have bad luck, he’d have no luck at all.”
“A shark?” Malachi looked up at him. Jaunty towered over everyone. “At Latharna?”
The words tasted wrong the moment they left his mouth. His pulse kicked up, tight and uneven, like the world had slipped half a step sideways.
“A jogger found the remains this morning.” Jaunty slung a thick arm around Malachi’s shoulder, hauling him close as though sharing insider gossip that he’d no doubt repeated to everyone he met on his way from the Johnston house.
“Apparently the shark had made quite a mess of poor Marty.” He closed his eyes and mumbled something under his alcohol infused breath that Malachi couldn’t catch.
You might get the odd basking shark hovering close to shore in summer, but they weren’t known for violent attacks.
You were more likely to see pods of dolphins playing in the waters, not predators.
It made no sense. A supposed shark attack, and so close to Rhys’ anniversary—too close.
The timing bit straight through him. His lungs tightened and his legs turned to jelly.
If Jaunty was holding him up, he didn’t seem to notice.
The realisation slammed into him—this wasn’t a shark at all. Whatever had taken Rhys was back on Latharna.
The urge to bolt surged through him, wild and instinctive, but guilt kept him rooted.
He’d never told Ally what happened on the river, and had been too scared to tell Dad and Ina, knowing they’d blame him.
And even if he tried to flee, where would he go?
It’s not like Captain Murdock would let him onboard his precious Meara without a barrage of questions.
“I suspect I’ll be seeing you all at the funeral in a day or two, given that he went to school with dear Ina.” Jaunty waved his large, black funeral umbrella as he spoke. It was the height of summer, with no rain forecast, yet he still carried it everywhere.
“I suppose.” Malachi swerved to avoid being clipped by the renegade brolly.
“I’d say so,” Jaunty beamed. “There’s a family connection, through marriage mind you, but I’ll not trouble you with the details. I’m sure Ina will fill you in.”
Family connections was Jaunty’s specialist subject. He knew how everyone on Latharna was related, yet he never seemed to have any family of his own. It made his constant presence at funerals all the stranger.
“I’m sure you’re right, Jaunty.” Malachi forced a smile. “Anyway, I’m away to meet Ally at Lucky Crumbs.” He tried to step around him, but Jaunty shifted, blocking his path with the umbrella.
“I’ll save you a trip. I’ve just come from that direction, and the cafe is closed.” Jaunty peered over Malachi’s shoulder as he spoke. “You might as well go home.”
“I’ll maybe check and see if Ally is still there.” Malachi attempted another sidestep. It made no sense for Lucky Crumbs to be closed at the tail end of the lunchtime rush. “I told him I’d call in after work.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you back up the road.” Jaunty turned him around by the shoulders. “It’s on my way and absolutely no trouble at all.”
“I’m good, Jaunty. I’m going to head this way.
” Malachi’s shoulders tensed as he tried, and failed, to shrug off Jaunty’s unexpected grip.
Of all the days, Jaunty had to latch on like a barnacle.
He needed space, air, anything that wasn’t Jaunty crowding him when his nerves were already stretched thin.
“Your company will do me the world of good.” Jaunty ignored him. “It’s been a difficult afternoon, and I’m in need of cheering up.”
Malachi walked a few brisk steps with Jaunty, fighting against a rising panic that the so-called shark attack was something else entirely.
If the monsters that took Rhys were back he had to do something.
He just needed to get away from Jaunty first—preferably without causing a scene or offence.
Either crime would make its way back to Riverside before he did.
“Look, Jaunty, I’d really like to spend some time with Ally. It’s a difficult week for us, and I’d rather not go home right now.”
The firmness in his own voice startled him.
A flicker of guilt flashed through him for snapping, overshadowed by the sharper surprise of actually standing up for himself.
He never managed that with Jeff. Around Jeff, the words always stuck in his throat, only loosening later when he replayed the conversation in his head and finally thought about what he should’ve said.
Jaunty’s march juddered to a halt. He tapped his umbrella on the footpath. “I can’t let you do that, Malachi Wolfenden,” his voice dropped low.
A chill crawled up Malachi’s spine. His family always spoke highly of Jaunty, but something in his tone raised his hackles. He stepped back, but Jaunty’s tree trunk of an arm clamped tighter around his shoulders.
“Because there’s your dad!” Jaunty bellowed cheerfully in his ear.
Dad’s car pulled up alongside them, and the window rolled down.
“Hello, Archie.” Jaunty bounced on the balls of his feet. “Excellent timing. I had offered to walk young Malachi safely home, but you’ve saved my poor legs from trekking up that bloody hill. And look, we are right outside the pub,” He grinned and pointed his umbrella at the Craic and Barrel.
“Get in,” Dad barked. “I said I’d pick you up.”
Malachi’s stomach sank. He opened the car door and peered in. “I sent you a text about going to Lucky Crumbs after work. Did you not get it?” He nodded towards the old phone, plugged into the dashboard. “I keep telling you to upgrade that thing, there’s always a delay in messages being received.”
“Let me help you.”
Before he could protest, Jaunty bundled him into the passenger seat and slammed the door.
Malachi bounced off the dashboard. A throb pulsed through his elbow.
He scowled at Jaunty, rubbing the tender spot, but Jaunty grinned and placed his hands on his hips like a man satisfied with a job well done.
He gave the car roof a loud thump, nodded, then retrieved his umbrella from where it leaned against the car.
“Thanks, Jaunty,” Dad waved. “Enjoy your pint.”
“I certainly will, old friend. I may stop for a while and have dinner. The catering at the Johnston house was poor, which doesn’t bode well for a plentiful spread after the funeral.
” Jaunty closed his eyes and bowed his head, showing more emotion over the quality of the food than the gruesome death of the mayor.
“Oh well, I’ll see you all there. Bring your umbrella, as it might rain.
” With that, he waved farewell and marched towards the pub, swinging his umbrella as though he didn’t have a single care in the world.
“I’ll drop you home, and then run some errands.
” Dad pulled a smile in his direction, an attempt at reassurance that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
His knuckles stayed bone-white on the wheel.
“Ina needs your help. She’s baking replacements for whatever the hell Tilly is concocting in her kitchen for the funeral tomorrow. ”
“Jesus, hasn’t the family suffered enough?” Malachi’s empty stomach churned at the thought of Tilly’s cooking. He already knew the answer, but the question slipped out anyway. “Are you going to be long?”
“I’ll be a while, but I’ll be back in time to go to the Johnston house with you both later on.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Malachi had spent all day trying to avoid Dad, but the urge to stay close hit him hard.
Maybe he did need to tell him the truth.
If those monsters were back and killing other people, maybe there was something they could do to stop other people getting hurt. “Maybe we could have that chat?”
The air inside the car was thick and stifling. He cracked the window even though the air conditioning was blasting arctic air around him.
Dad didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at him. He stared straight ahead as though the road in front of them required life-or-death concentration.
Malachi rested his elbow on the door, propping his head up with his fist. The countryside blurred past in a wash of green as Dad sped towards Riverside.
In the reflection on the glass, a notification blinked on Dad’s phone: Jaunty—Main Street.
Of course. Dad had asked Jaunty to keep an eye out for him. No wonder Jaunty had been glued to his side. It wasn't a concern—it was a delaying tactic.
“Bloody phone.” Dad yanked the wire free and disconnected it from the car, jaw clenched.