by Roger Hurn
Anyway, I spruced myself up and took the train and tube up to North London to the pub where she wanted to meet. It was one of those boozers that had re-invented itself as an American style bar and grill. I hate them as a rule. They sell you overpriced lager with bits of citrus fruit sticking out of the neck of the bottle, call crisps “chips” and chips “fries” and charge an arm and a leg for a burger with a scrap of lettuce and half a tomato. Sometimes I think I’m turning into my dad and that’s a real worry. He’s a miserable old git.
Still, I was looking forward to seeing Carly. So I paid the extortionate entry price and elbowed my way through the crowds to the booth where Carly was sitting. She’d bought a bucket of bottles which must have set her back a few quid, but was a sensible thing to do as it would save us from fighting our way to the bar every time we wanted to get a fresh round in. I slid in to the seat opposite her and grinned.
‘Hey kid, how’s it going?’
She looked at me for a long time before answering. ‘Yeah, good thanks.’ Then her eyes flicked away from mine. I knew she had something on her mind and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what it was. I helped myself to a bottle and clinked it against hers. ‘Cheers, hun.’
‘Yeah, cheers.’
It was like pulling teeth. Carly was usually bubbly and firing out smart arse wise cracks at my expense, but not tonight. Then she said, ‘Christ Ry, you’re looking well rough. And how come you’ve got a bloody great big black eye and a sodding great lump on your head? Did you and your missus come to blows over who gets to pull the wishbone or something?’
Well, this wasn’t her usual standard of repartee, but it was better than nothing. ‘No, my missus was away for Christmas up in Manchester with her sister, but I told you that. I got these beauties when a crazy woman belted me with a wine bottle.’
Carly’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? So tell me how it happened.’
I gave her the edited highlights. I managed to avoid saying I’d slept with Natasha as I thought it was too much information and anyway it wasn’t relevant. I also didn’t mention that, despite saving my bacon, Sarah was still adamant that she wanted a divorce. I was holding that headline news back for the chimes of midnight. I wanted to start the New Year with Carly knowing I was soon to be a free man.
‘Jeez, Ry, you could’ve been killed, you idiot.’ Her face was a picture of concern for a brief second, and that really got my heart working overtime. Then she frowned and said: ‘See that’s what happens if I go away and leave you for a few days.’
For once I was quick to agree. ‘I suppose so, kid. So it’ll be good to have you back in the office bright and early on January the second.’
Her face suddenly fell and she looked guilty. ‘Err … that’s something I gotta talk to you about,’ she said.
I felt a jolt in the pit of my stomach. I’m not a bloody psychic, but I knew I wasn’t going to like what was coming next.
Carly took a deep breath. ‘You see, Ry, the thing is, Tyrone’s auntie has died. And she owns this beach bar in Jamaica, right and Ty’s cousins are like well useless and couldn’t organise a shag in a brothel, so he’s asked me to go with him to help him run it.’
I blinked. Inside I was screaming like a baby at this news, but I just shrugged like I didn’t care and said, ‘So, how long does he want you to stay out there?’
Now it was her turn to shrug. ‘I dunno. For as long as it takes, I guess.’
I nodded. ‘Riiight, and how long do you reckon that is in real terms? I mean give me an educated guess here, Carls, ‘cos I’ve got a business to run too.’
She swallowed. I’d never seen her on the back foot like this before. ‘Well, the thing is, Ty and I are sort of seeing each other now so he’s hoping that, if we make a go of it, I’ll stay permanently.’
I tapped my teeth with my fingers. The beer had gone sour in my stomach and my head felt as empty as the space between the stars. Then, after what seemed to me an eternity, I trusted myself enough to speak. ‘So that’s why you wanted to meet up with me tonight is it, to break the good news? Thanks, Carly, and a Happy New Year to you too.’ I swigged on my bottle like an infant sucking on a teat as I stared at her. It probably made me look like an idiot, but I was beyond caring. She flinched like I’d just slapped her.
‘Err … no. I wanted to see you anyway. But, yeah, I knew I had to tell you this shit and I knew you weren’t gonna like it so I figured it was better to do it face-to-face than by text or something.’
I sat back and gave a strangled sort of incredulous laugh. ‘Oh thanks for having the decency to tell me this in person, Carly. I mean a text is just so not classy. And you’re a classy girl as Tyrone knows. You’ll have the punters flocking to his auntie’s beach bar.’ I nodded and grinned as if I admired him. ‘Yep, that lad’s done well for himself this Christmas. He’s got himself a hot property and a hot girl. Hey, it’s true what that song says, some guys do have all the luck.’
Carly shook her head. ‘Listen Ryan, I didn’t know what was gonna happen between me and Ty, right. I mean we’ve been friends like since forever, but then this Christmas we just sort of clicked sexually.’
I put my empty bottle down on the table just a tad too hard. ‘Spare me the details, Carly,’ I said. ‘I really don’t care what you do in your private life; I’m just your boss.’ I could see the surprise and hurt in her eyes, but I ploughed on. ‘Actually, it’s good that you’re heading off with Tyrone because, frankly, I was going to have to let you go from the agency anyway – I’m just not making enough to justify having an assistant.’
Her forehead creased into a deep frown. She probably knew I was lying through my teeth, but my choice of the word “assistant” was meant to be cutting. I decided to add insult to injury. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my wallet. I dropped a pile of notes onto the table. ‘Hey, here’s my share for the beer plus your Christmas bonus – sorry it’s late.’ I could hear myself sneer and I hated the sound but I wasn’t done. ‘I’m guessing you won’t be wanting to work your notice so I’ll put a week’s wages in the post to you. There’s no need for you to come in person to collect them.’
She looked up at me and I was stunned to see her eyes were glistening and wet. Carly doesn’t do vulnerable or tears with me. ‘Why are you being like this, Ry?’
Well, I knew why. I was jealous, bitterly disappointed, hurt and angry, but also because, at that moment, I had all the emotional maturity of a toddler whose favourite toy’s just been snatched away. It was pathetic. Then, like a puppet with abruptly severed strings, my legs buckled and I dropped back down onto my seat. ‘Because I’m a twat, honey. And because I’ve had my brains scrambled and have nearly been killed twice in a few days by a psychotic woman and because the person I thought was going to be my business partner and help me turn the Ryan Kyd Private Investigations Agency into the next Pinkerton’s has just told me she’s buggering off to Jamaica with a guy who scares the shit out of me.’ It was a big speech and I rushed through it without any pauses because I knew if I faltered I’d choke to death on the words. ‘But good luck to you both.’ Then I slapped on a smile so fake I’m amazed some jobsworth trading standards officer didn’t arrest me on the spot. ‘You had the makings of a hell of a fine private eye, kid, but a beach bar in the West Indies has got to beat a grubby office over a kebab shop in downtown Deptford any day of the week. So go for it.’
Carly sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She gave me a sweet smile that broke my heart. I kept on grinning like a loon.
‘Look Ry,’ she said. ‘I had this tattoo done like the day before Ty asked me to go to Jamaica with him.’ She showed me her leg and there, etched into the skin by her ankle, were the words “Carly & Ryan, Private Eyes. We will find the truth for you.”
By now my face was aching with the strain of smiling, but I kept it up. ‘Nice one, Carls,’ I said. Then I stood up. ‘Look, hun, I’ve got a screaming headache. I should never have come out tonight.
The docs’d be furious with me if they knew I was drinking anything stronger than cocoa so I’m gonna cut and run. Give my best to Tyrone when he turns up and tell him I’ll have his guts for garters if he ever pisses you about.’
She stood up and we hugged awkwardly. She started to say something, but I was already pulling away from her and her voice was lost in the noise of the crowd. I kept going and didn’t look back. When I got outside I took the gift wrapped box with the star and silver chain in it out of my pocket and dropped it in a waste bin on my way to the tube. “Happy New Year, Ryan,” I said to myself. Then my mobile rang. I pulled it out hoping against hope it was Carly to say she’d changed her mind. It wasn’t. It was a man who said, ‘Please forgive me calling you on New Year’s Eve, Mr Kyd, but a mutual friend gave me your number because I urgently need your help.’
I nearly cut the call, but I didn’t. ‘No problem,’ I said. ‘I’m all ears.’
If you enjoyed Dead of Winter you might like Below Zero by Roger Hurn, also published by Endeavour Press.
Extract from Below Zero by Roger Hurn
Chapter 1
It was a bleak day in Deptford. The rain was chucking it down in stair rods and a wind with more bite than a polar bear’s teeth whipped in from the river. As per usual, my assistant Carly was refusing point blank to nip out and get us both a decent cup of coffee from Bianca’s Café when the office bell sounded. She stopped answering me back long enough to buzz in whoever it was out there shivering their arse off in the gale.
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and figured whoever the client turned out to be, they would have to be an improvement on the day so far. I was wrong.
The door opened and the bloke who stood there in his elegantly tailored Chesterfield coat and shaking his umbrella all over our threadbare carpet tiles was none other than Crispian Hunt.
Carly scowled at him and my heart sank faster than the Titanic at an iceberg convention. Crispian was a big cheese in Box 500, or MI5 to give it its proper name. But secret squirrels like Crispian just love a bit of drama and Box 500 sounds so much more mysterious than plain old MI5.
Anyway, our paths had crossed on a previous case. That case had gone seriously pear shaped thanks to some shenanigans with a stolen handgun and, as a result, Crispian had us by the short and curlies. Now, judging by the look on his face, he was about to give them a very sharp tug indeed.
Without being asked, he slid into the chair in front of my desk and then treated us to his oily smile.
‘Filthy weather for the time of year, isn’t it?’
Carly stared at him as if he was a particularly sleek but dangerous predator who had just padded into the office and said hello. He was acting friendly but she didn’t trust him an inch. Carly may be a tad on the stroppy side but she isn’t stupid -and neither am I. If Crispian Hunt had dragged himself all the way over to a “down on its luck” private detective agency above a kebab shop on Deptford High Street then it certainly wasn’t to chat about the weather.
I decided to cut to the chase. ‘So, what do you want with us, Crispian?’
He stretched back in his chair and smiled. ‘A nice hot cup of tea would do for a start - if it’s not too much trouble.’
I knew there was about as much chance of Carly making him a cuppa as Millwall winning the Champions League, so I went and put the kettle on.
‘Sorry we seem to be right out of Earl Grey,’ I said. ‘But I can do you an Asda Smart Price Builders’ Brew.’
Crispian’s smile didn’t slip. ‘How delightfully quaint,’ he said with only the faintest trace of sarcasm. ‘I’m sure it will put hairs on my chest. I’ll have it with milk and two sugars please.’
I made his tea in a grubby mug. It wasn’t much of a rebellion but it was the best I could do. He raised his eyebrows when I handed it to him but he didn’t say anything.’
‘Do you wanna biscuit with it?’
Without waiting for an answer, Carly threw a pack of digestives at him. He caught them deftly and grinned at her. ‘Why, Carly, how unexpectedly sweet of you!’
She shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m not being sweet, Crispian. I’m hoping you choke to death on them.’
To give him his due, he came right back. ‘Oh Ryan, how lucky you are to have Carly’s razor sharp wit to brighten your day. In fact, I’m amazed you solve any cases at all given the amount of time you must spend shaking with helpless laughter.’
Carly coloured up and I could see she was going to rise to the bait so I stepped in before it all kicked off.
‘Yeah, we have fun, Crispian, but why do I get the feeling that whatever it is you’re here to talk about is going to wipe the smiles off our faces?’
He raised his hand and wagged his finger at me. ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I am in fact proposing that you and the lovely Carly here take a short, all expenses paid, holiday courtesy of Her Majesty’s Government.’
‘What! You gonna have us banged up? Why? You can’t do that! You said all that stuff with the gun was sorted!’
Crispian shook his head. ‘You misunderstand me, Carly. I want you and Ryan to go to Spain on a little job for me. Naturally, the British tax payer will be funding the trip as what I’m asking you to do is in the national interest.’
Carly folded her arms and glowered at him as if he was offering her a turd on a stick. ‘Oh right. It’s a snidey deal so you wanna send two fall guys to do it just in case it all goes to shit, is that it?’
He gave her a cool appraising look. ‘Obviously deniability is a consideration in any operation the department engages in, but I can assure you that this really will be a glorified holiday.’
Carly wasn’t convinced. ‘So why don’t you send a couple of your guys to do it then?’
‘He can’t,’ I said. ‘Crispian’s mob is strictly UK based. MI6 do all the overseas stuff and, for some reason, which I’m sure he’s about to tell us, he’s chosen not to go cap in hand to ask them to take care of business for him.’
Crispian gave me a supercilious smile. ‘Not quite correct, old chum. We do put our oar in overseas if necessary but, in the main, we let our partners in SIS deal with Johnny foreigner on his own patch.
I pulled a face. Crispian had a way of talking down to me that set my teeth on edge. ‘So why us?’
‘Because you’re good at what you do and the fewer people in-house who know about this the better. And anyway, outsourcing to freelancers is all the rage these days.’
I pushed a bit harder. ‘Look, I know you’re a cloak and dagger merchant and so secretive that I bet your right bollock doesn’t know who your left bollock is screwing but, if you want me and Carly to put our necks on the line, you’re going to have to level with us.’
Ok, I know expecting Crispian to come clean was about as likely as Elvis coming back to Earth in a UFO and crash-landing on the Loch Ness Monster but I had to try.
Crispian ran his tongue over his lips. He was like a lizard and just as cold blooded. He was also the kind of guy who only had teeth so he could lie through them, so whatever he was about to tell us would be a version of the truth, but not the whole truth and probably nothing like the truth we needed to hear. But he had way too much on Carly and me for us to turn him down. I just hoped he’d tell us enough so we could at least stand a fighting chance of not coming back from the “all expenses paid holiday” in body bags. Fat chance!
Chapter 2
Crispian sucked in his cheeks and furrowed his brow. He was trying to create the impression of a man struggling with his conscience, but I knew that he’d already worked out in fine detail exactly what he was going to tell us. But I appreciated the effort he was making. He sighed and with the open expression of a man telling all he said, ‘One of our scientists at Porton Down has gone AWOL. It’s a tad embarrassing as he’s a prized asset who relocated from Eastern Europe a couple of years ago. He thought living in England would be so much more agreeable than in some soviet era tower block in Moldova. And we rather encouraged him in th
is view - particularly as the chap has a genius for chemistry. Anyway, all seemed to be going swimmingly until he suddenly became restive and a bit of a diva. He claimed to have made a breakthrough in some research he was engaged in and he wanted big bucks for it and a much more exalted status.’
I shrugged. ‘So what’s the problem? If the bloke’s delivering big time then surely he’s entitled to a few perks. I mean have you seen what a half decent striker in the Premiership makes these days just for banging in the odd goal or two?’
Either Crispian wasn’t a football fan or I was missing the point. He looked at me as if I was dribbling into my bib.
‘The problem, Ryan, is that he was rocking the boat. He’d got it into his head that we didn’t love him enough and that he could get a better offer for the fruits of his labours elsewhere. So he’s taken himself off to see if he can.’
‘And you guys didn’t stop him because …?’
‘Because he gave our watchers the slip.’ Crispian sighed and shook his head.
‘You just can’t get the staff these days, can you?’ I said in mock sympathy.
Crispian gave me a chilly little smile. ‘Which is where you and Miss Bloom come in.’
‘So, whereabouts in Spain is he?’ Carly asked.
‘Well, he took the 7.25 Easy Jet flight from Gatwick to Malaga yesterday evening so I imagine he’s now on the Costa Del Sol holed up somewhere cosy and waiting for the bidders to arrive.’
