Evil in Hockley

By William Buckel

Harry Tanner returns to his home in Mono Mills, on leave from the coalition forces in Afghanistan, after his brother is killed in an accident. He believes his brother was murdered and his personal investigation sparks attempts on his life. John Dean, the preacher, and Lenea, a Voodoo priestess clash with Harry as he refuses to drop his enquiry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Buckel
• Release date: Aug 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311225054

William Buckel

I, William Buckel, am a writer of Fiction and Fantasy. I'm an ongoing student of history having written several historical novels. I live with my dog, north of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Dew drops on the leaves shone like diamonds in the light of the morning sun. The fading moon glowed behind transparent clouds. A slight breeze wafted through the trees. A distant weather vane creaked in response to the motion of the wind. A deer bounded thoughtlessly across the road then disappeared into the cedar bush.

Forests lined both sides of the winding road for its twelve mile length. In most places it was dense cedar bush so thick it was impenetrable. It was a scenic section of land that attracted tourists on weekends. To the dismay of cottagers and year round residents living along the road it also attracted bikers. The loud ones that barked and drowned out every other sound in the valley. On a Sunday it was so noisy that residents had to hang up the phone inside their houses unable to hear the other party. Hence, the locals called it Thunder Alley.

It was just another lazy uneventful day in the valley for Amos Tucker. He stretched and yawned then thought about cutting the grass before the old lady gave him another chore. Betty was the only stain in his almost perfect retirement scheme. He’d worked hard all his life running his bakery in the city twelve hours a day. A heart attack was his cue to end it all and settle down in this nice quiet part of the world.

Not a cloud in the sky, he was shaken by an abrupt clap of thunder. It looked to Amos like a heat distortion forming above the road. Then another thunder clap accompanied by a lightning bolt. A car formed in the distortion, front end first, quickly moving forward. It hit the pavement, tires screeching, like it was tossed there or flew. The roar of a big block and the screaming of tires filled the air. Amos recognized it immediately, a Hemi Cuda. It roared like a big angry beast and screeched to a halt. It was as though it came out of nowhere. He’d never tell anyone what he’d seen… They’d all think him crazy. As a matter of fact he didn’t believe it himself. Something must have played a trick on his eyes or the scotch he’d had last night was tainted.

The Cuda pulled to the side of the road and a man stepped out. He was tall and lean wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt. He was young, about twenty-five or so with searching eyes. He turned staring both ways down the road. He looked lost. Then as though in recognition his eyes locked onto something toward Airport Road. He climbed into the Cuda, started it, and threw it into gear. Man and machine roared off then turned south onto the highway.

There was talk about him at the local doughnut shop, oh there was always talk. Amos had never seen him but that must be Harry Tanner. How many yellow Hemi Cudas could there be in one town? Harry’s parents long dead were joined by his young brother, Jarrod, last week when the motorcycle he was riding crashed into the woods not far from Amos’s cottage. They called it an accident but rumor had it Harry thought it was murder. He was coming home seeking revenge for his brother’s death. Or so they said.

Amos had heard that the young man was fighting in the desert on the other side of the world. He’d been given leave so he could attend to his brother’s affairs. They said he’d always been a wild one and his return would shatter the peace and tranquility people were accustomed to, especially if he was gunning for someone. Rumor had it, you didn’t mess with Harry Tanner. Apparently there were a few terrorists in the Middle East that had found that out as well.

Amos gave little regard to rumors but if the young man was half of what he was alleged to be then trouble was brewing. If his brother’s death was murder then there’d be someone who committed the crime. That someone would want Harry in a grave with the rest of the family. Funny thing he thought; Harry’s the one fighting in a war and yet alive, but the rest of the family was dead. Life’s not always fair.

What’s going to happen will happen whether he thought about it or not so Amos eyed the grass and decided it would last another day or two. He would drive to the coffee shop and visit with friends. He had something to tell everyone in any case. Harry Tanner was back in town.

Chapter 2

Harry popped the clutch then went through the gears. He had a four speed Hurst shifter and another lever for a dual speed rear end. He could chose between four eleven gears or four fifty-six. The seventy Plymouth Cuda was his thunder machine and the shifters his lightning rods. He was glad to be driving it again but not happy about the reason he was home. The only remaining member of his immediate family was killed last week. Details given him by a family friend, Dave Harper, pointed to murder. The bike crashed and landed on the right hand side but there was also a dent on the left about bumper height. It looked to Dave as though Jarrod had been run off the road.

He pulled into the laneway of the family home eyeing it for some time. It had been a three year absence. He tried his old key and it still fit. The house smelled musty but was reasonably clean, having been looked after by his brother. Jarrod lived in the city, Toronto, and motored north on weekends staying at the old homestead. He loved his motorcycles and hair raising escapades through Hockley roads. The coroner’s report cited speeding and alcohol as the reasons that led to his death. Jarrod never drank.

Harry and Jarrod had never been close being too competitive to share family times. When his parents were alive Harry was seldom home, mostly working and at times hunting for loose women. That didn’t mean Harry had no love for his brother. The opposite was true: Jarrod had always been so complete, always knew what he wanted from life. Harry was a dreamer, and like most dreamers, few came into being. Dreams can change quickly, like the four winds.

Harry opened the windows to air out the house then drove to the neighborhood donut shop.

Soon as he entered he spotted two familiar faces and was on his way to their table when he saw Sandy. She glanced at him, eyes wide, and stiffened, dropping the tray she was delivering to a couple. He approached while she scooped muffins and broken chunks of coffee cups onto the tray.

Look what you made me do, she said.

Harry sat on his heels to meet her gaze.

You’re still as clumsy as ever and twice as pretty.

There was no softness in her eyes when she stared and asked,

What do you want Harry?

Just a hello, Sandy. I missed you.

Her face was a picture of rage.

All right you said it, now go to the counter and order something. I’ve got work to do.

He’d definitely surprised her and she hadn’t had time to work out a reaction. She was angry at herself for being caught off guard, not him. He’d give her time to think and talk to her later. Adding to her embarrassment was the fact that Dave Harper and Jack Wesley were unable or unwilling to hold back their laughter. Harry joined them at their table and nodded a hello to both.

Dave shook his head.

Can you not come and go like everyone else, Harry? Does it always have to be fireworks with you?

Jack’s smile turned solemn.

Sorry about your brother.

Dave nodded then added,

Jarrod was the best. I’ll miss him.

Harry had phoned and asked Dave to make arrangements.

So when and where did you arrange the service to take place?

When the coroner was through I had his remains checked out by Doc Wardlaw. He found nothing but trauma associated with a bike crash. I had his remains cremated as you asked and the service will be in three days at my house. The urn is on the mantle.

Dave’s eyes were wet. He and Jarrod were close all through school and beyond.

Harry said,

The alcohol content, Dave. Jarrod never drank.

I know and the stomach contents were low, but present. I had Doc Wardlaw check the blood level. It was low but present as well.

Harry wondered,

Could it have been low enough… say he toasted someone?

Doc says he had the equivalent of a couple of drinks.

Not much but more than his brother would have had especially if he were to mount up on his bike.

Anything or anyone new in Jarrod’s life?

Dave thought for a minute then asked,

You knew about Shelley, right?

No, who is she?

Oh, I assumed Jarrod would have written about her. She’s a new girl at Sharky’s Bar and Grill. Jarrod dropped in when he went north. He dated her occasionally. I met her twice and she gave me an uneasy feeling.

Right on Dave, thought Harry. Neither of his two friends would know the extent of illicit activities that went on behind the scene at that establishment. Nor would he enlighten them: too much knowledge can sometimes be hazardous. Joe Sharky sold drugs, illegal booze, women, and anything else one could fix a price on. How did Jarrod get mixed up with someone from that place?

Joe Sharky’s bar was north on Airport Road between Hockley Valley and Collingwood. Harry used to spend the occasional evening there with his old buddy Tony Moore. That was until Tony fell in love with Karma, a local whore, who got guys hooked on cocaine.

Joe Sharky never sold product or soiled his hands in any way. He hired hookers, bar tenders, and bouncers to sell cocaine and other recreational drugs. If one of his people was caught Joe would plead ignorance. In return for loyalty Joe supplied the best legal representation for all his employees. For betrayal he would unleash an enforcer and seek revenge.

Dave and Jack both married childhood sweethearts and wouldn’t have gone near the place. It was a known hangout for the young, fast crowd. Harry would have to pay a visit to his old acquaintances and meet Shelley.

His brother’s service and old friends came first. There would be lots of time for the killing game afterwards.

Sandy came to the table, her hands clasped in front of her waist. The look on her face was an apologetic one.

Sorry about Jarrod. Sorry about earlier on. I wasn’t thinking. You were the one hurting more than me.

Sandy had always been that way: act first think later.

It’s okay Sandy. Actually I wasn’t expecting you to be so nice.

Dave and Jack laughed then so did Sandy. Jarrod had written six months ago informing him that Sandy’s latest love had been untrue and they’d split.

If you’re still free and not doing anything after work I’d like to take you to dinner. Catch up.

Well, I don’t know. I’d better not.

She excused herself and walked away. Harry reminded himself she always reacted first and thought afterwards.

Dave had a smile on his face. He knew.

Both Dave and Jack had work to do so left. Harry finished his coffee, purposely leaving after his friends. This would give Sandy a chance to change her mind about dinner without feeling uncomfortable in front of Dave and Jack. As he opened the front door Sandy called out,

Harry.

Yah.

Six o’clock.

See you then.

Chapter 3

The village of Mono Mills, in Ontario, Canada, lay on the corner of Highway 9 and Airport Road. On the west side of Airport Road sat two donut shops, one flourishing and the other for sale. Two gas stations existed side by side but even in a shit economy both were able to survive.

Traffic flowed north to the beaches and resorts for the weekend then south again and home to the city on Sunday night. The wealthy and young adults moved north and south all summer long. Skiers also hit the slopes when snow fell or the temperatures were low enough to make the artificial stuff.

There was a convenience store dead centre of town and two hamlets on either side of Airport Road. A guy could bark his way through on a Harley and barely miss the break in the open road.

An entrepreneur could make a posh living off one tenth of the traffic flow. Harry Tanner knew Joe Sharky was such a man.

It was a seven mile or twelve click drive west on Highway 9 to the intersection of Highway 10, a north, south road.

Sandy and a girlfriend rented a townhouse in Orangeville across from the reservoir. They called the area The Headwaters. The river that drained the Orangeville reservoir was the Credit. The river was only a stream even during Spring floods. The entire water table north of Orangeville and Toronto consisting of the Credit, Humber, and Nottawasaga Rivers plus smaller tributaries was regarded as the Headwaters. Some businesses around Orangeville proudly bore the name Headwaters due to the presence of the beautiful Orangeville Reservoir.

Nothing as grand as the Himalayas but Caledon Mountain was seven clicks south of Orangeville on Highway 10. It wasn’t one of those snow capped mountains year around. A British Columbia native wouldn’t even call it a hill. The name did add glamour to an area attempting to attract tourists.

Harry found Sandy’s condo and being a gentleman rang the front door bell instead of sounding his car horn. Sandy was dressed in tight blue jeans and a blouse wearing ankle high boots which meant she didn’t want the evening to be formal. Harry wore a business suit, had a tie in his pocket, and on seeing her removed his jacket. He’d come dressed so he could go either way.

Hi Sandy, how goes it?

She had a knowing smile and gave him a warm peck on the cheek.

Better than this afternoon. Where are we going?

I thought Kelsey’s. It’s not formal but does have a fantastic cuisine. Okay with you?

A good place to start.

Harry smiled wondering where the end point would be.

From Sandy’s condo they drove north past the reservoir on their right to the shopping plaza on their left. The area used to be a racetrack, featuring standard breeds, pacers, and trotters. Harry had childhood memories of sweat soaked horses pounding their hooves as owners cracked the whip before the finish line.

In the blink of an eye the racetrack disappeared and a Wal-Mart and a Crappy Tire took shape. Other stores soon filled the entire two hundred or so acre strip of land: Consumer dollars in action, progress moving north.

Kelsey’s wasn’t busy so they weren’t disappointed in the table they were given. Both