Lunching at Laura's

by Claire Rayner

  ‘All very interesting,’ Preston said. ‘But for my part, I couldn’t care less. Let them point us out if they want to.

  Me, I want to know what’s going on. Why all of a sudden a meeting like this?’

  ‘Well!’ Davriosh said fatly and grinned. ‘I have a progress report to make. A nice progress report, and this afternoon I got an appointment at three o’clock with Reggie Statler to tell him all about it. Only I wanted to talk to you first, because there ought to be a way we can do ourselves a bit of good here.’

  ‘I thought that was what it was all about,’ Preston said and nodded at Miklos who had come to take their food order. ‘Doing ourselves a bit of good. I’ll have the jellied carp and duck with red cabbage.’

  ‘Of course it is. But no reason why we can’t do even better,’ Davriosh said. ‘Fish salad, with extra sour cream and cucumber on the side and stuffed cabbage with a side order of egg barley. And a bottle of seventeen to start with. Now listen to me, Preston –’

  ‘Do I have any choice?’

  Davriosh ignored that. ‘You’ll remember I told you about this place being owned by a Family Trust –’

  ‘One thing at a time,’ Preston said. ‘Start with the other place, over the yard. What’s happening there?’

  ‘I told you that. It’s all in hand, the old man’s in France, the freehold offer’s in and accepted – that’s all over bar the shouting. No problem there at all.’ He laughed then. ‘Not for us, though I tell you, that there Simmy’s in for trouble when his uncle finds out. From all accounts the old man can be tart, very tart. And Simmy’s so bloody greedy –’ He shook his head disapprovingly. ‘He’ll fall over himself the way he’s going. Still, it’s his affair, I suppose. Now, to this place –’

  ‘Keep your voice down!’ Preston said sharply. ‘You must have been mad to come here if you want to talk about this!’

  Davriosh laughed. ‘I liked the idea. It gives a sort of relish to it, know what I mean? Don’t you worry. They’re all too busy talking about themselves to pay any attention to us. Look at ’em!’

  And it was true that the restaurant was fizzing with activity. Women were greeting each other with soft little cries of delight and clashing cheeks and kisses in the air, and men were jabbering with the flushed excitement of children on a holiday. Laughter was much in evidence as Maxie moved from table to table with his bottles and glasses and everyone seemed very happy indeed. And totally uninterested in the two grey men at their corner table, watching them.

  ‘I tell you, short of getting down on the floor and starting a bunk up, no one would notice what we said or did,’ Davriosh said and Preston said primly, ‘Do you have to be so cheap? Isn’t it bad enough I have to put up with that sort of thing every day in my office without having to listen to it at lunchtime?’

  ‘Still wanting out, then?’ Davriosh said, all mock sympathy. ‘Still sick of the sex business?’

  ‘It’s sick on its own account,’ Preston said with much feeling. ‘D’you know what they’re doing to me now? The council are shoving up the fee for a show licence. Already it costs me over twelve grand for a strip show licence and now the buggers are saying they can make us pay fifty times more than that. Can you imagine? Fifty times more! God damn it, that’d be bloody near twenty-five per cent of my annual take at the Brewer Street place and it’d make one hell of a hole in the books over at Rupert Street. It don’t bear thinking of. And my topless bar in Dean Street, they want to meddle with that too, and the place in Manette Yard. Nicest little near-beer places in the district and they want to cripple ’em. I tell you, the sooner I can go decent the better for me. So I need to know what’s the state of play.’

  By now the food had arrived and for some time there was no way that Davriosh was going to pay any attention to anything but that, and they sat and demolished the elegantly presented platefuls as the restaurant hummed and laughed and chattered cheerfully around them, but both very aware of why they were here. And it wasn’t just for food, delectable though that was.

  Not until his stuffed cabbage had followed the carp and he was leaning back, replete and gently belching, did Davriosh return to the subject, and now, for all his early bravado, he kept his voice down.

  ‘The thing is, I’ve got an agent working for me now. He doesn’t know what’s in it for me – just that I want the freehold here. And he can get it, by buying their shares from various members of the family.’

  ‘Laura?’ Preston said and turned his head to look at her. She was standing beside the table Davriosh had pointed out earlier, where a striking looking woman in extremely elegant clothes was sitting with two men. The dress designer, that was it, he thought and looked at her and then at Laura, who might not be as fashionably dressed as her guest, but who still looked very attractive. There was a glow about her hair and skin that shone even here, five tables away.

  ‘Do me a favour!’ Davriosh said. ‘Is that likely? No, she’s the biggest fly in the proverbial. It’s the other people’s shares we’re after. First things first. And P – my agent – reckons he can get them.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Never you mind.’ Davriosh sounded pompous suddenly. ‘He’s my agent. Works for me. I throw his name around and he ain’t my agent no more, right? So never you mind. Thing is, he reckons to buy up everyone’s share but hers.’ And he jerked his head towards Laura. ‘And under the terms of the Trust, of which I have seen a copy –’

  ‘How did you get your hands on that?’

  ‘I told you, never you mind. He’s a good agent, right? And under the terms of this Trust, as long as the majority of the family want to dissolve it and sell the others have got to, like it or not. So, we have to make sure they do it. But there’s a catch.’

  ‘There always is.’ Preston sound gloomy.

  ‘It’s good and bad, good and bad!’ Davriosh was jovial. ‘The bad is I have to go to Statler and get more out of him. We’ve had a fair bit already, of course, for the Bosquet property, but now I need a lot more. To sweeten the family members here who own the place. But the good news –’ He laughed now, a bubbling self satisfied little sound. ‘The good news is that he has no way of checking how much I need.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, we tell him we need a good deal more for the buying up of the shares than we do, and we split the difference. With a little sweetener for my agent, of course.’

  ‘How much difference?’ Preston was very alert now.

  ‘I reckon he can get the shares we need for say, a hundred and fifty thousand. Sounds a lot, but for the value of this site, it’s nothing. Certainly to Statler it’s nothing. And you heard what he said that day we met at Joe Allen’s. He wants to shave his costs but he wants the site so bad if he has to pay more then he’ll pay more.’

  Preston’s lips curved. ‘I remember. It was a pleasure to listen to the man talk. A pleasure. Such a way with money.’

  ‘As I see it, I can get a quarter of a million out of him easy. The balance between that and what my agent needs to get the properties is ours. A straight split.’

  Preston looked at him sharply. ‘Why?’

  ‘How do you mean, why?’

  ‘Why should you split with me? You could have the lot. You’re not a chap to share anything you don’t have to.’

  Davriosh laughed. ‘Oh, you’ve got a nasty mind, Preston, you really have. Listen, do you think if I go to Statler, tell him what I need on my own, he’ll play? Of course he won’t. He wants corroboration,’ He rolled the word round his tongue as though proud of being able to say it at all. ‘Corroboration. Now, you, he trusts. It’s crazy, but there it is. Because I got a small back room and do most of my business out and about in other people’s offices, he don’t see me as reliable. But you, with your sex shows and your shops and your offices, you he sees as a good businessman.’

  ‘I am. I’m just in the wrong line of business at the moment.’

  ‘Not that wrong if a licence fee of way over six hundred grand is only twent
y five per cent of your take,’ Davriosh said sardonically. ‘Do you think Statler doesn’t know to an old threepenny bit what you’re worth? And isn’t impressed by it? Of course he is. So if you come with me this afternoon and tell him that all I say is so, that I need the extra cash, then we have no problems. I can’t expect you to do that for nothing, can I? Wish I could, believe you me!’ He laughed loudly then. ‘Believe you me!’

  There was a little silence and then Preston said, ‘All right. I can see the sense in it. But let me say this, Davriosh. If you come a cropper and Statler finds out, then I didn’t know you were up to any tricks, right?’

  Davriosh looked pained. ‘How can you talk that way? As though I’d do anything underhand with you. Aren’t we partners?’

  ‘Indeed we are. So let’s do it right as partners should. I want a letter from you, telling me the situation as you’re going to tell it to Statler. Right? Then a letter from me agreeing with you and that we should talk to Statler, and so forth. All properly dated a week or so back. We can work out what sort of dates we should have on these letters, of course, and then we take copies, one for me, and you can have one too. The important thing is I get covered. On that basis, I’m in. I’ll come with you to see Statler.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Davriosh said expansively and waved at Miklos. A tray with plates of raspberry torte had just gone by him and that was a very interesting sight. ‘I’ll see to it first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ Preston smiled at him sweetly. ‘You’ll see to it this afternoon. Before we see Statler.’

  Again Davriosh looked hurt. ‘Is that necessary? For Chrissakes, Preston, aren’t we partners? Can’t you trust me? If I say I’ll do it tomorrow, I’ll do it tomorrow.’

  ‘I’d rather you did it this afternoon,’ Preston said silkily. ‘We have time. It’s only just after two now. We’ll go back to your office, get the letters typed and copied and then and only then will we go and see Mr. High and Mighty Statler. What a man.’ And he shook his head in admiration. ‘A real gent. I can’t stand him, but what a man.’

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ Davriosh said and fell on his raspberry torte with gusto. ‘Don’t I know it. And doesn’t he too. But I tell you, the way I’m planning it, nothing can go wrong.’

  ‘The way I’m planning it, nothing can go wrong,’ Edward Malplackett said into the phone. ‘I do assure you, you have no need to worry. I have checked the facts on this man. Your information showed the way, but I’ve checked the facts.’

  He listened for a long time, sitting tipped back in his chair with his feet up on his cluttered desk and then grinned.

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ he said. ‘Davriosh is about as reliable as a straw raft in a hurricane. It’s not him I’m dealing with. Not ultimately, you understand.’

  Again the silence, and then he laughed. ‘Would I tell you? Don’t be ridiculous. What I know is all I’ve got. It’s my trading balance, my goods on offer, call it what you like. It’s mine, and I keep it. Just believe me. The man’s as good as settled.’

  The thin voice at the other end of the phone rattled on for a long time and Malplackett swung his feet down to the floor and reached for a notebook and began to write, nodding and grinning an assent from time to time.

  ‘All right,’ he said at length. ‘Tonight at Preston’s place in Rupert Street. You know the one I mean? The Queen Freya – that’s it. We’ll be there at half past eleven – don’t be late. And make sure you’ve got a flashlight. It’s important he can actually see those pictures, right? Okay, see you there.’ And he hung up the phone with a rattle and leaned back in his chair and stretched.

  It was all working out fine. At first it had been a difficult tangle. Leo and the Trust on the one hand and Statler and Davriosh and Preston on the other. He’d not been sure at first he could get away with it, but the whole Bosquet affair had worked out so well that he’d been willing to set caution aside just for once and go for this man’s offer. It was a good offer too, and it amused him that there should be so many different interests in the same piece of property.

  Sitting now in his messy little back room he laughed aloud as he thought of them all, weaving in and out of each other’s paths like dancers at an Elizabethan masque. And there she is, Laura, in the middle of it all and quite unconscious of what’s going on. Pity really. It was a nice restaurant, and it was a shame it had to go, but there it was. Progress is progress. The whole district’s ripe for renewal. And he got to his feet and went to stare out of his grimy window at the street below.

  This could be a whole new career for him. He let his imagination slide; Malplackett and Company – it would look good on those hoardings they put up round new developments. This one would be just the same; there’d be a board on which all the contractors’ names were, the architect and the builder and the electrician and the air conditioning and the lifts and God knows who else, all beavering away, but the name at the top would be his. Edward Malplackett. No partners, no one but himself. It was worth taking the chances he was taking now to get that. He had to raise the capital to make it possible, that was the thing. Once he’d done it, then there’d be no more need for chances. He’d be a straight honest businessman.

  And he sighed with sheer pleasure at the thought and turned and went back to his desk to pick up the phone. Get tonight’s little meeting sorted out and then he’d be on his way.

  23

  There was a strong smell in the air, like sour wood smoke, and Malplackett wrinkled his nose in distaste as he pushed his way through the crowd of dim figures cluttering up the doorway beyond the red plush curtain and made his way to a far corner.

  ‘Amazing isn’t it?’ he murmured to the man at his side, and in whose elbow his hand was firmly tucked. ‘You’d think they’d be a bit more circumspect, wouldn’t you? At least cocaine doesn’t advertise itself quite so blatantly.’

  ‘Yes,’ gasped the man beside him. ‘Er – no.’

  Malplackett laughed as he pushed his companion into the rather rickety chair that was behind the table on which a large ‘reserved’ sign stood.

  ‘Do you know, I have a strong suspicion you haven’t the remotest idea what I’m talking about,’ he said jovially. ‘Admit it!’

  ‘Er – yes,’ the man said and slid into the chair and peered up at Malplackett in the dimness. ‘Actually, it’s a bit noisy in here. Hard to hear anything properly.’

  ‘Well, yes, that is a point,’ Malplackett allowed handsomely and grinned at him. ‘Now what sort of drink are you buying me?’ He waved a long arm and a girl wearing a short frill of a skirt over net tights and high heeled shoes and nothing else came towards them. Her breasts were pendulous and veined and the man beside Malplackett reddened and looked away as she leaned over him to reach for the dirty ashtray on the table and then gave the surface a perfunctory wipe with a grubby cloth.

  ‘I think I need a little something light,’ Malplackett said and gave the other man a wicked little grin. ‘Feel like stretching to a bottle of bubbly?’

  Miserably the other man stared at him and then swallowed.

  ‘If it’s not too expensive,’ he muttered. ‘Didn’t bring much out with me.’

  Malplackett shook his head, clearly disappointed. ‘That’s a pity. Oh, well, then. Beer, Jenny. American beer, at least. The sort that made Milwaukee whatever it was.’

  The girl grunted and went away and Malplackett leaned back comfortably, gazing benevolently at his companion.

  ‘Well, now, Mr. Hersh. Let me explain. That smell I was talking about.’

  The man looked blank. ‘Smell?’

  ‘Pot, my dear chap. Pot. Grass. Tea. Marijuana.’ He laughed then at the expression of horror on the other face. ‘Oh, please, don’t look like that! The fact I can recognise it doesn’t mean I’m a hopeless addict, you know. Just like a little puff now and again. Like beer.’

  ‘I thought –’ Hersh swallowed and shook his head miserably. ‘It’s not really something I know much
about. Don’t understand. There are people at the office know about it, but not me. I just do hygiene, you see, so it isn’t the same. I don’t get involved with the police like some of them there do and –’

  ‘Well, I dare say there are lot of people, even in this day and age, who don’t know the smell of pot when it comes to choke them,’ Malplackett said kindly as the beer arrived. ‘But I would have thought it’s time a chap like you improved his education. The more you know about such things the better your chances of promotion, I’d have thought.’

  ‘I don’t want promotion,’ Hersh said. ‘I’m very happy where I am.’ He took a sharp little breath in through his nose that was clearly audible even above the raucous scratchy music that was coming from the stage. ‘I like my department and like my job in it. I just want to go on as I am. I don’t want anything I haven’t got – just a quiet life, Mr. – Mr –’

  ‘Malplackett,’ Edward said and smiled. ‘It was on the letter I sent you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hersh said. ‘The letter you sent me.’ He bent his head and drank some of the beer, suddenly and greedily as though he were very thirsty. ‘Why me?’ he said then loudly. ‘Why did you write to me? If you got that list the way you said you did, why pick on me out of it? I’m a very quiet sort of person. I can’t see what a man like you wants with me. I just do my job and live quietly and –’

  ‘And walk in the park whenever you have the chance,’ Malplackett said softly.

  ‘No, not at all! I mean, well what’s wrong with walking in the park? I never hurt anyone, I just walk there and –’

  ‘And watch the old people sunning themselves and the little children running about and playing, hmm?’

  ‘I told you, I do no harm to anyone! I just live quietly on my own, and I do my job and – I never hurt anyone. Why pick on me?’

  ‘Because you do your job, Mr. Hersh,’ Malplackett said and then pursed his lips and said, ‘Sssh,’ as the lights dimmed even more, the music changed and the red plush curtain in front of the small stage leapt into its own bright light. ‘The show’s starting again! You’ll just love this, Mr. Hersh. Great stuff.’