by Neil Mach
It became very silent downstairs Hopie listened for a sound that might suggest Moondog had started to look for her suitcase. But it was dreadfully silent. ‘Moondog, hun?’ she shouted. ‘Are you still there? Quit playing around and get my case please. And bring it up here.’
Downstairs remained noiseless. ‘That’s odd,’ she thought. I hope he hasn’t sneaked back into the cab... I wouldn’t put it past him... ‘Moondog?’ she shouted again. All hush. With an almighty ugh! she put down what she’d been holding to scamper downstairs like an overgrown puppy. When she got to the foot of the stairs, she found her front-door wide open. Had he left without telling her?
‘Moondog?’ she mumbled.
Then she heard a man’s chesty cough. The sound was deeper than she expected from Moondog. In fact she knew, right away, and quite instinctively, that the cough did not come from him. Oh no, not again. This is becoming tiresome, she decided. Why doesn’t that shit-freak Jimmie Lavery leave things alone? ‘I was hoping the Chief could keep his side of the bargain. How tedious,’ she said out loud. ‘If that’s you in my house again Jimmie then you’re in a whole heap of hot-sauce. Because Moondog is here with me and he’s going to box your ears.’
She crashed into the main room with an angry look on her face and prepared to glare at Jimmie.
But she was stopped in her tracks. Because it was not him. It was not Jimmie who’d invaded her home. Standing by her sofa was a pot-bellied Korean-looking man. He smelled of stale marijuana. She recognised the aroma. The same sweet ashy smell that Jimmie had on his clothes earlier. The stranger had cracked lips and made an ugly scowl when she entered the room.
‘Wutup bitch?’ he growled. She guessed the man was Woo Hoo Ram, the opium dealer. ‘If you come any closer, I’ll rip your boyfriend’s throat out.’ She could see that the stranger held a curious weapon in right his hand. She’d never seen anything like it before; it was made of shiny metal and had three sharp prongs at the end of a hook. It looked like some kind of wicked garden implement of some kind. He held the sharpened spikes directly beneath Moondog’s Adam’s apple. Moondog had a defeated look in his eyes and stood on tip toes, perhaps to avoid the sharpness of the barbs that seemed poised to tear his throat out.
‘Ring 999 and tell them this is a home invasion...’ yapped Moondog, taking care not to move. He gazed at her house-phone sat in a cradle behind. She shifted her eyes to look at it.
‘Look back at me…’ shouted the Korean. ‘If you touch that phone, I will tear your eyes out with this, bitch.’
‘Call now,’ Moondog repeated.
‘The only reason I have chosen to spare you, honey, is because I want you to see how you react when your boyfriend gets his blue eyes gouged out. After that, I’m going to wrench his ears off, one-by-one. I want you to watch. I want you to enjoy the show. I want you to remember his screams forever. Get what I mean? If you do anything silly, I guess I will have to gouge your eyes too. But that would be a pity, no? Not a happy ending for you. Know what I mean?’
‘Pick up the phone and dial 999,’ Moondog said again, with calm acceptance. ‘Do it now.’
Hopie evaluated the situation. The Korean held the prongs of the sinister looking tool under Moondog’s throat. He held the claw-thing with his right hand, while the other hand dangled by his side. He might have other weapons too, she decided, but she couldn’t be sure. ‘Let him go,’ she said. ‘I can make it worth your while. I have a hundred pounds in a trinket box upstairs. I’ll give you all my savings if you let him run away. Will you do that?’
Woo Hoo Ram made a loud guttural sound that might have been a giggle but sounded more like a machine gun going off. ‘That’s funny, if I wanted your money, I would grab it…’ he snarled. ‘If you want me to tear your face away with this, you’d better dial 999. Be sure to call quick though, ‘cos I’ve got to rip his eyes out first. After that I’ll be running for you. Do you think they’ll connect in ten seconds? I doubt it… That’s all I need to do the deed then come over to rip your face off...’
‘Do not listen, he’s bluffing. Do what I told you, pick up the phone and dial 999,’ muttered Moondog.
‘I’m going to count to five,’ continued Woo Hoo Ram. ‘By the time I finish, I want you down on your hands and knees, girl, so you can watch me disfigure your squealing, rat-haired pikey boyfriend...’ Ram said, with a snarl.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she whimpered as she started to sink to her knees.
‘Don’t you know? Didn’t your ex tell you?’
‘My ex? What do you mean ex? Who are you talking about? Tell me? Tell me what?’
‘He spilled the beans, didn’t he?’ Woo Hoo Ram bared stained teeth. He pushed his knee against Moondog’s groin and passed the honed tines of the weapon across the gypsy’s left earlobe. The garden-tool was very well-sharpened, so the subtle incision didn’t bleed for a second. But, soon enough, Moondog’s ear started to trickle blood onto her carpet. ‘This pikey is a copper’s nark isn’t he, right?’ He observed Moondog’s blood spirited eyes. ‘The gypsy works for the police, doesn’t he? You know that don’t you? I hate narks. He ratted me out. He told your ex, Jimmie Lavery, that I am the main dealer in town and even told him about my lair. He told the Copper what time to raid my place and where to find my stash. The only thing is, and this is the funny bit so listen up… The only thing is that particular Copper is a good friend of mine. We’ve even done business together for years.’ Woo Hoo Ram took a moment to lick his top lip. ‘Me and Jimmie go back a while. And we don’t like snoops and we especially don’t like narks. Your Jimmie came around my place and warned me. He told me to dispose of my gear then get the pikey. It was good advice, I reckon. He’s a good lad your ex, the Copper. I owe him large. After I got rid of my stash, I washed it down the loo, I came around here to get my revenge. I found your lover in your house… Exactly where your ex told me I’d find him …Funny that? Isn’t it? Don’t touch the girl, he said. Finish the gyppo. Huh? He didn’t want me to you hurt you, isn’t that sentimental? Perhaps he still feels a pang of something in his heart. He’s burning with jealousy though. Ain’t he?’
‘You putrid scum,’ Hopie spat on the carpet.
‘Now, now love. That ain’t nice. I thought you was well-brought up... Now get on your hands and knees as if you’re about to pray. Then watch close while I cut this naak a new face. Five-four-three-two...’
*
When Woo Hoo Ram reached number one in his murderous countdown, Moondog attacked, just like Hopie knew he would.
First, Moondog turned on his axis, jolted rapidly, lightning fast, and stabbed Ram in the ribs with the bony part of his elbow. But that was not enough. He turned again, this time flexing in the opposite direction, to deliver a bone-crunching punch to the Korean’s ribcage. Woo Hoo Ram hesitated and babbled something incomprehensible, but Moondog was a talented fighter and pulled something from a back pocket. Hopie concentrated on the object and realized it was his little pocket comb. The weapon he carried with him at Groby Pool that he called his tanto. Moondog moved the thing so fast and with such nimbleness, that she couldn’t see it hit. But he curled the comb around and thrust it towards Ram’s ribs. Then he made a final upper cut to Ram’s chin and that was nearly enough to crush the man, but not quite. Woo Hoo Ram’s head became wobbly and he began to teeter on unstable legs. And, as his neck see-sawed, Moondog delivered a final blow, a thwack to the bad-man’s the solar plexus. It was given without hesitation and seemed as powerful as a sledgehammer. It was a blow destined to ground his assailant. The Korean keeled to the floor, out for the count.
‘Call 999, like I told you…’ shouted Moondog. ‘Tell them had a home invasion use those exact words. Then they’ll be here quick. Be sure tell them that the suspect is still on premises. Ram will be out cold for just a short while, but not for ever. After you’ve phoned, lock and double lock your front door and wait across the road, out of sight, until the police arrive... Let them enter your house first. They will probably
bust open the door. Inside they’ll find Ram and they will secure him before they start to question you. That’s when you ought to identify yourself and tell them you have been hiding across the road. Got all that?’
‘What about you?’
‘I can’t be found here.’
‘Why? They won’t believe me, will they? They won’t accept that I managed to knock out an armed drug-dealer on my own. What should I tell them?’
‘You can tell them it was me. But I’m not hanging around. I can’t be caught up in this. I don’t want you to lie so you must tell them I legged it...’
‘But can’t you tell them what happened yourself? You’ve got nothing to hide. You’ve done nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve been a hero…’
‘They won’t believe me. They never do. I’ll get nicked along with him…’ Moondog looked at the crumpled body of Woo Hoo Ram down on her carpet. He gave the crushed man an expression of contempt. ‘I know how your lot operate, Hopie. Besides, I need to get this fixed...’ He dabbed the tip of a finger to his ear. That’s when she realized he’d been injured in the fight, and his blood leaked from a puncture wound.
Her eyes welled, ‘Oh my God, what have I got you into? I’ll stand by you. They will believe me. I’ll tell them you shielded me and saved me from the intruder... I’ll tell them anything. Oh God, you need an ambulance. That wound looks deep. We’ll get you the help you need...’
‘They might believe you, but they’ll never believe me. Sorry Hopie, but it’s better for all of us if I scoot off. I’m going now. Bye-bye.’
‘But, Moondog —’
‘I will not forget you... I leave you with all my love.’
‘But...’
‘Existence isn’t permanent. Friendship isn’t permanent. Home isn’t permanent. The only thing that is permanent is love. Love is what I leave.’
Then Moondog was gone.
*
Assumpta
‘Busy night last night, so I heard, huh?’ Sergeant Moyes spoke quietly to Hopie in the morning, while she hung her coat on the hook by the office door.
‘Mmm.’
‘Sarah-Jane is not here, apparently off sick… flu amongst other things.’
‘Oh?’
‘Anyway, it’s the two of us today. So, we can have a nice natter in peace. Want to put the kettle on love?’
‘Give me a minute to collect my thoughts...’ Hopie told him.
‘No, actually, I’ll do it. It’s fine.’ The Sarge went over to the tea-tray and started to make their hot drinks. It was a rare sight.
Once coffee was made, the Sarge came to sit on her desk, his fattened buttocks making a dent in a stack of papers. ‘The Chief Constable telephoned first thing. He asked after you…’
‘That’s nice.’ Hopie said in a monotone voice.
‘He said they waited for you last night, but you didn’t come.’
‘Well, no... obviously.’
‘Anyway...’ Moyes took a swig from his mug. ‘I just wanted you to know you can count on me as a friend. Don’t forget that. I’m very proud of you, you know...’
She gazed at him with an arched eyebrow, ‘You still owe me...’
‘Yes, I still owe you. Drink your coffee.’ He handed her a mug, but she decided not to take it. ‘Er? What did you want to see the Chief Constable about?’ he asked.
‘I want a transfer out of this place...’
‘Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that Hopie. It’s not me, is it?’
The comment made her lips curl into a minor smile, Moyes only ever cared about himself: ‘No, of course it’s not you...’ she mumbled.
The Sarge shifted his buttocks on the desk. ‘I am glad to hear that.’ It seemed he’d got the news he wanted, so made moves to shift away.
Hopie took the mug that he’d kindly offered, too a swig and said, ‘What’s happened to Jimmie?’
‘Mmm?’ The Sarge returned a blank look. ‘Um, between you and me, Jimmie is in custody. Keep that to yourself. We don’t want it to get in the papers. The heavy mob picked him up last night. They arrested him for conspiracy and assault. Er, they require a statement at some point.’
‘And Moondog?’
‘Ah, yes, I was about to get to your Mister Moon Dog.’ The Sarge scratched his chin. He gave her a cautious look.
‘What about him?’
‘I don’t want you to get upset Hopie. I want you to listen carefully before you make any comment. I’m afraid you won’t like what I’m about to tell you...’
‘Oh God, oh God...’ Hopie felt her chin tremble while her eyes fill with tears. She sponged her nose on a sleeve and the Sergeant offered a tissue from her box on the desk.
‘The fingerprints came back from the glass you took...’ That’s not what she expected to hear. She thought that the Sarge was about to tell her that Moondog was in hospital fighting for his life. Or worse. She rubbed the hairs on the back of her neck and took a deep swallow. ‘The fingerprints from the glass came back positive...’
‘Positive, what does that mean?’
‘Your gypsy, Mister Moon Dog is known to police...’
‘Known? Known for what?’ she frowned.
‘Theft. Stealing. A little bit of nicking... nothing serious. All trivial stuff, but what you’d expect from a gypsy boy.’
‘I know what theft means... I’m not daft as a brush you know...’ she snapped.
‘That’s not all...’
‘There’s more?’ She dropped her head down and closed her eyes.
‘It’s not even his real name...’
‘No shit Sherlock...’ Hopie gave Moyes a disdainful look
‘His name is Jack.’
‘Jack? Are you bloody serious? Jack? How lackluster...’
‘I’m sorry, Hopie. I know you wanted this guy to turn out to be something worthy... A bit of a knight in shining armour. But he’s not. I’m sorry, he’s nothing. He’s just a loser named Jack.’
‘What is his family name?’
‘Atkinson, Jack Atkinson...’
‘Atkinson? That doesn’t even sound like a gypsy-type name. It sounds faintly Northern…’
‘Does the name mean anything to you? Did he have it on any of his documents?’ pressed the Sarge. ‘For example, did he have the name on his credit card or drivers’ licence?’
‘No, I think it sounds familiar, but I don’t know why. He never used cards. Only cash. He didn’t carry identity documents or a driving licence, so I never got to double-check his name. Why do you ask?’
‘Er?’
‘Come on Sarge, why do you ask?’ Hopie’s chin trembled.
‘Like I say, his record is positive.’
‘Yeah, you said that. Jack is known for a bit of petty theft, so what?’
‘He’s not just known, Hopie. Don’t you know what I’m trying to tell you? Do you know where we can find him?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘He’s not just known. Where is his camp?’
‘What? Why? What do you mean?’
‘He’s marked. He’s positive. Hopie, your guy is wanted. Jack is wanted by the courts. Wanted for theft and non-payment. No bail. We can get this whole mess sorted out quite quick if we land him now. It would neatly solve this bundle of crap. And we can put the whole sorry case behind us, so to speak...’
‘He won’t be there long. In fact, he’s already gone. They’re ships in the night... aren’t they?’
‘Where? Where will he not be?’
‘His trailer is hidden at the back of the Holiday Inn. He’ll be long gone though, and he promised...’ Hopie couldn’t help it, and let out a sob.
‘Promised what?’ Moyes rubbed her shoulder.
‘He promised he wouldn’t go without saying goodbye. What a rat...’
Sergeant Moyes raised his broad backside from her desk and walked away. ‘Wait here, I need to call the control room....’
‘I want to come with you.’
‘No, you can’t come Hopie. This i
s police business...’
‘I want to come...it might be my only chance to say goodbye before he’s bundled off to prison.’
‘No.’
‘You owe me, remember? This is my pay-back. I want to be there when they apprehend him.’
‘Okay, if you insist, I will see what I can do.’
*
The Hummer’s thick rubber tyres creaked on lumpy asphalt when Moondog arrived at Camp Lingwood. The camp was more than a hundred miles from Hugh-Lupus. Overhead, the skies began to fill with engorged clouds. So, when he jumped from his vehicle, he pulled a thin cagoule around his shoulders. A thin mist clung to his curls and adorned his eyelashes with glittering beads of dew.
Moondog opened the back doors of his electric car and took out a portable generator. He started it up with a tug. He placed his commercial transformer on a mat and connected the supply to his vehicle.
‘It’s an outrageous mountain of gunoi,’ said the old woman as she approached his vehicle.
‘And best of the day to you too — dav pakiv — mother...’ Moondog said with a gesture of obedience.
The wizened old woman was half his size, with skin like withered leather, sunken eyes that resembled metallic bluebottle flies, and hair as tangled as a nest. Nevertheless, she still caused her son-in-law much fear and discomfort.
He leaned to kiss her cheek, bouncing on one foot to balance as he did, and she shot him a callous look that offered no mercy. His forgiveness must be won, and he’d not even approached that state of grace yet, in her eyes.
‘This has to go on the boil, right? And how long do we have to suffer the drone?’ she asked. Moondog shrugged and the old woman gave a snort. ‘Well, I suppose you had better come in. Have some tea.’ Her silver moustache collected salty droplets from the moist air, and they twinkled above bronze lips. She moved away slow and steady, her shoulders low and her arms loose by her side.
