by Sean Cameron
“Fine, what kind of shoes are you looking for?”
“Well, I’m a successful business owner now. I need shoes that say I’ve made something of myself, that I’m going places. Do you sell those kind of shoes?”
Melinda looked Eddie up and down. He looked pretty slick in his suit, but the socks and sandals combination let him down.
“What happened to your other shoes?”
Eddie lowered his voice to a mumble. “I lost them.”
“Pardon?”
Eddie pointed at a pair on display. “Those shoes are sharp. Is that three hundred each?”
“For the pair.”
“What a bargain.”
Melinda smiled. “What’s got into you?”
“Nothing much, just solved a case that’s all.”
“Like a detective?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you? Me and Rex have a detective agency. We solved a big case, and today we pick up five thousand pounds.”
“Wow. That’s exciting.”
“Not bad for a couple of days work.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Is it?” Eddie smiled.
Melinda stepped closer and her voice softened. “You seem different, Eddie.”
“Just going out there, taking risks, and, uh, getting. Like a go-getter.”
She grinned. “It’s good on you.”
“I want those shoes, the three hundred pound ones. Those are the shoes a man should pick up five grand in.”
“You know what you want. I like it.”
“I was wondering, Melinda, if you’d like to go get dinner, maybe this evening?”
“Where?”
Eddie smiled. “It’s a surprise.”
“Exciting, yeah. OK.”
***
Eddie picked up Rex and they headed to Snodling to visit Stacey Lawrence. They had left her a message early in the morning to say they had the evidence. She called back and arranged for them to come over right away.
“Come in,” Stacey said, wide-eyed and a little nervous. Rex and Eddie shuffled in ready to share their wisdom. They followed her down the corridor to the living room. The pair’s cocksure strut was disrupted when Rex tripped on a backpack which spilled out a pair of ballet shoes. He tiptoed so as not to tread on the shoes but bumped into a framed painting instead.
“Sorry.”
Eddie shook his head and followed Stacey into the living room. Rex and Eddie took a seat opposite Stacey.
“Your father was murdered,” Eddie said.
“Yes, I know that.”
“We learnt he wrote a novel about a gangster who killed an accountant. The gangster is a thinly disguised version of Terry Palmer, have you heard of him?”
“The boots guy, right?”
“Bootsy,” Rex said.
Eddie leaned forward. “He was a suspect in the murder of his brother in nineteen-seventy-nine. He wasn’t charged as the police had no evidence. On the night of the murder, Bootsy was found without his clothes.”
“What’s this got to do with Dad?”
Rex handed her the collected pages of Lawrence’s writing.
“Your father’s novel was about a journalist who witnesses a killer dump his blood-soaked clothes into the river. We believe your father wrote about his real life experiences. He witnessed Palmer hide the evidence that could have put him away for life.”
“So how’d this man find out about the book? Dad never published anything.”
“No, but he sent out the manuscript to many publishers. It seems he targeted anyone that had previously published a crime book.”
Rex handed over an acceptance letter they found.
“This letter shows he sent it to P&P Publishing, which stands for Palmer & Palmer. Terry Palmer set up his own publishing company with his then wife in nineteen-ninety-eight to release his vanity project, an autobiography.”
“That was a mistake,” Rex said.
“We believe Palmer heard about the query letter, recognised the plot, and asked for the manuscript. He read it and had your father killed.”
Stacey reviewed the papers, one by one, with her hand over her mouth.
Rex cleared his throat. “Did we do good?”
“Give her a minute.”
“No, this is good. Really. I can’t believe it. Did you go to the police?”
Rex shook his head. “No, we came straight here.”
“Do we go to the police?” Eddie asked.
Stacey straightened the papers. “I’ll take care of it.”
“In that case, you can check over the evidence. All we need is the reward money.”
“Of course, I can have it for you tomorrow morning.”
“Not now?”
“I need some time, you only called an hour ago. Come back tomorrow morning. It’s not like you don’t know where I live.”
The pair got into the Morris Minor. As Eddie put on his seat belt, he noticed Rex stare out the window.
“Well done, Rex. We solved the case.”
Rex struggled to find the words as he put on his seat belt. “It’s just, it’s not what I expected. I wanted a femme fatale, a couple of double crossings, a big reveal, you know, a car chase.”
“Sorry Rex, but real detective work is time-consuming and monotonous.” He started the car and drove down the country lane. “In real life, it’s hard work and due diligence that pays off. Now let’s get a beer.”
Rex perked up. “Uh, Eddie.”
“It’s OK. There's no need to thank me.”
“No, it’s just, well, a black SUV is following us.” Rex pointed at the rear-view mirror. Eddie saw the black SUV catch up to them. He didn’t know what was worse: the thought of being followed, or that Rex was excited about it.
NINE
As Eddie drove down the lane, his focus darted between the road ahead, and the black SUV in the rear-view mirror.
“It’s following us,” Rex said. “Five minutes and he’s still behind us. That’s following.”
“I’m sure we’re just sharing the only road back into town.”
“Speed up.”
“We are not having a car chase. Get over it.”
“Do some weird turns, and see if you lose him?”
“There aren’t any turnings. It’s a country lane.” Eddie snapped. His agitation increased as his breathing became shallow.
“There, turn into those houses.”
“Fine. But only to prove to you that he’s just another driver headed to Cloisterham.”
Eddie turned left. Both of them watched the rear-view mirror. The black SUV turned after them.
“Ah ha!” Rex said.
“Doesn’t prove anything.” Eddie turned right and left again. He then pulled into to an empty parking space and waited. No SUV.
Eddie gave a sigh of relief. “See?”
“Damn, he’s good.”
“Give it a rest.”
Eddie pulled the car out and joined the main road. Within a minute they were back in town with steady traffic. The black SUV appeared behind them, a little further back this time.
“He’s behind us again.”
“What?” Eddie checked his rear window. There it was.
“Told you he was good.”
“It’s a coincidence.”
“We stopped for a full minute, and he still managed to be behind us.”
“Maybe he stopped for petrol or something.” Eddie put his foot down, and the Morris Minor crept towards 43 mph.
“Speed up.”
“This is sped up for uphill.”
“Uphill? This is a slope.”
Eddie thumped his foot down. The car spluttered up to 50 mph.
Rex adjusted his glasses and checked the speedometer. “Is this thing even in the right gear?”
“Yes, thank you.”
As the road evened out, the car reached 55 mph.
“School crossing,” Rex called out.
A lollipop lady stepped out into the road ho
lding a stop sign. Eddie put his foot on the brake, and a clank sound rang from beneath them.
Eddie’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”
They were headed downhill towards the zebra crossing. The Morris Minor increased speed going 56, 57, 58 mph. Eddie honked the horn, but the stubborn lollipop lady wouldn’t budge. He held his foot down on the brake so hard his ankle spasmed. Eddie thumped the car horn, which squeaked and squealed at a higher pitch with each hit. As they headed for the crossing, he swerved into the other lane and passed the lollipop lady.
“That was brilliant.” Rex pumped his fist in the air.
They both looked back to see the lollipop lady give them the finger, as the black SUV hurried past her and accelerated towards the Morris Minor.
Honk! Honk!
Eddie swung his head forward. They were headed towards an oncoming lorry. He pulled back into his own lane as the lorry brushed past. Its roaring engine blew hot air into Eddie’s face.
“That was not brilliant,” Eddie said.
“SUV’s still following us.”
“I see that.” He shifted from third to fifth gear. The car made a noise like it cleared its throat and coasted along the street. “Uh, I think the clutch is gone.” The car came to a slow crawl as the slope flattened out. Eddie used the last of their momentum to pull the car to the curb.
“What are you doing?” Rex said. “He’s gonna catch us now.”
The black SUV raced past them.
“I guess he was just in a hurry too.”
“Yeah, right. That’s what he wants us to think.”
“Let’s calm down.”
“You’re right, we need to take a moment to process our first car chase.”
“I don’t think that counts as a car chase. It was more like, tandem speeding.”
***
Eddie sat in the tow truck with his arms folded tight. He stared forward, sat between the driver and Rex.
The stupid Morris Minor, Eddie thought, with its dodgy brakes, broken clutch, and pathetic wooden structure.
“Left at the next light,” he said, only talking to bark directions.
“Eddie, are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Left.”
“Eddie?”
They pulled up outside Tim’s house. Eddie paid the driver as he lowered the Morris Minor into the road.
“Eddie? Are you OK?”
“Between the blown out tire and now the clutch, we’ve spent a quarter more than the sales price on this stupid lump of metal. We’ve only got four-hundred and thirty-five pounds left.”
“I asked if you’re OK?”
“I will be when we’ve got our money from Tim. Getting three-quarters of our money back is better than keeping that junk.”
“You want to sell back the car?”
“I want justice.”
Eddie marched to Tim’s door and Rex leaped along to keep up.
The red BMW was gone. Instead, a black 2007 Mercedes Benz C-Class was on the driveway.
Rex gazed at the car. “Now that’s a sweet ride.”
Eddie knocked. The door opened and a middle-aged woman, with mousy-blonde hair collected in a scrunchy, took a drag of her cigarette and blew in their direction.
“What?”
Eddie gave a polite smile. “Hello. Is Tim in?”
“Who’s asking?”
Rex waved. “Rex and Eddie. Hello.”
“Whatcha want?”
“I need to speak to him about the car we bought,” Eddie said
“I ain’t got nothing to do with that.”
“I know, that’s why I want to talk to Tim.”
“What about the car?” she said.
“It’s broken,” Eddie said.
“You want him to fix your motor?”
“I’d rather just have my money back.”
“You’ll have to talk to him about that.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
She blew smoke at the pair. Rex smiled to break the tension.
“He ain’t here.”
“Where is he?”
“Out.”
“Does he own the Benz?” Rex said.
“Yeah.”
“What happened to the BMW?”
“He totalled it, didn’t he? He crashed it, and the insurance gave him ten grand for it. He only got it for five, but it was undervalued, see. So now he’s got this.”
“Nice.”
“His dad ain’t happy.” She took another puff. “It’s better than his motor.”
“Where is Tim?” Eddie said.
“At work with his uncle. Regal Repairs, the mechanics.”
Eddie remembered that name and checked the car’s glove compartment for the MOT certificate.
“Damn it.”
“What’s up, Eddie?”
“Regal Repairs did the MOT. Tim got his uncle to declare it roadworthy. The cheeky git fudged it.”
“I’m sure this is all some misunderstanding,” Rex called across the driveway. “Right, Mrs Tim’s mum?”
“You’ll have to talk to him about it.”
“Come on, Rex. We’re going to the mechanics.”
“Don’t we need to wait for the tow truck?”
“I’m not spending another penny on that firewood on wheels. We’ll push it.”
***
Eddie unwound the driver window to control the steering as he pushed the car. Rex pushed from the back. Within a quarter of a mile the novelty wore off.
“Eddie, this isn’t fun any more.”
“It’s not meant to be fun. Now, push. We’ll reach a roundabout in a minute and we need a running start if we’re gonna make it.”
Rex found the journey across the roundabout a bit hairy at times. Ever the optimist, he focused on how Eddie’s anger managed to wipe away any trace of anxiety. He liked Eddie taking charge, even though he’d turned an unhealthy shade of red in the process.
They pulled the car into the Regal Repairs garage, in actual face it was more of a tin shed. A bald man with a grey beard lay under a bonnet and tugged wires out of its engine.
Eddie cleared his throat.
The bald man sat up. “What?”
“Is Tim, here?”
Tim glided out from under the car holding an engine part. He looked it over and dumped it on the floor.
“How you boys doing?”
“Fine,” Rex said.
“Not fine,” Eddie said.
“Having a tiff are we? Don’t worry fellas, love conquers all.”
“The Morris Minor, it’s falling apart.”
“What you done to it?”
The bald man, Tim’s uncle, positioned himself behind his nephew as he wiped his oily hands on his blue overalls.
“I haven’t done anything. You sold me a shoddy vehicle.” Eddie pointed at Tim’s uncle. “And you wrote a bogus MOT.”
The uncle puffed his chest out. “Is that right?”
“Yes.” Eddie’s voice rose an octave or two. He cleared his throat. “The clutch is gone and the brakes aren’t working.”
“Wasn’t like that when I sold it to you.”
“It was fine when I did the MOT,” the uncle said.
“Look, I don’t want trouble. I just want my eight hundred back.”
“Sorry mate, I ain’t in the market.”
“I’m not selling, I want a refund. Or I’ll report this place.”
Tim crossed his arms. “Clutch is wear and tear.”
“I’ve not even done a hundred miles in it.”
“Don’t matter if it’s ten or a hundred thousand,” the uncle said. “It’s the last mile that broke it. And I weren’t at the wheel. Was you at the wheel Tim?”
“No, uncle,” Tim said, glaring at Rex and Eddie.
“We can fix it up for you. For a discount.”
Eddie grimaced. “How much of a discount?”
“Fifty percent.”
***
; The uncle replaced the clutch and brakes and brought up the total on the register.
“We spotted a few other things. All in all it cost four-hundred-and-twenty-eight pounds”
“What about the discount? You said fifty percent.”
“On labour. Can’t give you a discount on parts. They ain’t ours. I’d be working at a loss. Now, that ain’t reasonable.”
“So it’s only reasonable if I’m the one losing is it?”
The uncle pounded his wrench into his palm. “You disrespecting me and my nephew?”
“Disrespect? No.”
“‘Cause it looks that way.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re paying then?”
Eddie sighed. “Yes, I’m paying.”
He handed over the cash and stomped to the Morris Minor. Eddie stepped in and slammed the door so hard the wing mirror dropped an inch. Rex silently slid into his seat. The engine started and they drove away from the sunset.
“I can’t let them get away with that, Rex.”
“You get your five grand tomorrow, you’ll come out on top at the end of this adventure.”
“I know a way to come out on top.”
“Let’s go have a drink and celebrate the end of the case.”
“I’ve just got one thing to do.”
They drove to the corner of Tim’s street and Eddie opened the car’s boot.
“Eddie, what are you doing?”
“Justice.” Eddie lifted a leftover can of the office paint and stormed towards Tim’s Mercedes-Benz.
Rex settled in his seat. “I think I’ll wait in the car.”
Eddie grabbed the lid to the paint, but he couldn’t open it. The dried paint had glued it shut. He pulled his keys from his pocket and wedged open the can. He yanked the lid off. Drops of paint flew across the driveway and onto Eddie’s new shoes.
“Ahhhh,” Eddie groaned. He picked up the can and poured the paint all over the car’s roof. The thick primer enveloped around the car and down the windows.
Eddie watched with glee. “No one messes with Eddie Miles,” he muttered. “No one.”
Tim’s mother opened the door. “Are you mental?” she shouted. Eddie backed away into the darkness as she viewed the car. “What the hell?”
“Uh, excuse me.” Eddie sprinted down the street to the Morris Minor, jumped in the car, and started the engine.
