by Mark Timlin
‘Well, that’s as maybe, but he wants to see you, and if he wants something he usually gets it.’
‘If that’s right, then he’s a lucky man.’
‘That is right, and he is, very lucky.’
‘I think his luck just ran out,’ I said. ‘I’ve got other fish to fry. I think I’ll pass.’
‘Don’t get fucking funny with me! That’s not the way it works and you know it. Mister Dark wants you to meet him tonight at twelve-thirty outside Aldwych tube.’
‘Shall I bring my membership card?’ I asked.
‘What membership card?’
‘My membership card to the Black Hand Gang. Now don’t you get fucking funny! I don’t meet strange men after midnight in the street. I’m not that kind of girl. And, besides, there’s altogether too many people want me out of the way for me to engage in that old malarky. So tell Mister Dark, thanks, but no thanks.’
‘All right, mate,’ said the voice. ‘Have it your way. We’ll be in touch.’ And he put the phone down.
I looked at the receiver, dead in my hand, and replaced it carefully on the hook.
‘Who was that?’ asked Fiona.
‘Someone called Jack Dark wants to see me.’
‘Who’s Jack Dark?’ she asked.
‘Dunno. Does the name mean anything to you?’
She pulled a face and shrugged. ‘Not a thing.’
‘Nor me.’ I said. ‘But he knows me, and like I said he wants to see me.’
‘What about?’
‘Who knows? I declined the offer.’
‘Do you think … ?’
I shivered as the speed took hold. ‘I’ve given up thinking for Lent.’
Fiona made coffee while we waited for Teddy. It was wet and warm which was the most that could be said for it.
He arrived about ten-thirty in the BMW. He was wearing a pale grey, double-breasted suit, white shirt, discreetly patterned tie and shiny black brogues. We watched him through the plate glass front of my office as he walked from the car.
‘Superfly,’ I said.
‘Hunky,’ said Fiona.
Fine, I thought, that’s all I need.
He pushed open the office door, posed in the doorway for a second and came in. ‘Nice place,’ he said.
‘Thanks, Teddy.’
He looked round. ‘Could do with a lick of paint here and there.’
‘Shall we talk interior design another time?’ I said. ‘Meet Fiona, a very good friend of mine.’ I emphasised the ‘good’.
‘Charmed,’ said Teddy.
‘Me too,’ said Fiona, and looked it.
Introductions over, I got straight down to the nitty. ‘Lupino,’ I said. ‘You say you’ve got a number for him?’
‘Yes.’
‘How come? Where did you get it from?’
Teddy looked at me and went over to where the telephone directories were stacked on a shelf behind my desk. He pulled out the Business & Services book and dropped it in front of me.
‘Under “L”,’ he said. ‘Where you could have found it. I thought you were supposed to be a detective.’
I felt like a berk.
I shrugged and thumbed through the pages and sure enough there it was: Lupino Fruit and Veg. Wholesalers, with an address in Nine Elms. ‘You could have told me that on the phone,’ I said.
‘And miss the look on your face? No way.’
I pulled over the telephone and dialled the number listed. It rang once. ‘Lupino’s Fruit and Veg,’ said a woman’s voice.
‘Mr Lupino please.’
‘I’ll see if he’s available. Who’s calling?’
‘Nick Sharman.’
The phone clicked and started playing the main theme from Chariots of Fire in my ear.
I looked at Teddy as I waited. The music stopped and the telephone clicked again. ‘What?’ said a man’s voice.
‘Bimpson Lupino. I’d like to talk to him.’
‘You and thousands, mate. What’s it about?’
‘I think he probably knows.’
‘Are we playing guessing games or what?’
‘Tell him it’s about Emerald.’
‘So?’
‘Does he know where Emerald is?’
‘Yes.’
So we were playing guessing games. ‘Does he know what happened to me last night?’
‘He knows a lot of things.’
‘Then tell him I’ve already slipped his name in the frame, and if anything happens to me or mine he’s likely to get a little visit.’
‘You are a silly cunt, aren’t you?’ asked the voice, and the phone went down with a bang. No songs from the shows that time. I waited for two or three minutes. ‘You’re in luck,’ said the voice eventually. ‘Mister Lupino will see you tonight at the Royal Hotel in Bickley. Go through the town on the London Road and it’s on the right, set back from the road, all lit up. You can’t miss it. The Guv’nor will be in the Vegas Bar. It’s a private party for the firm, so mind your manners. Be there at nine-thirty. The dinner will be over and the dancing will have begun. Ask for Mister Lupino’s party, and come alone. Understood?’
‘Yes,’ I said and the speaker hung up.
I put the phone down. ‘Tonight, Bickley, alone.’
‘Bollocks,’ said Fiona. ‘I’m going with you. I’m in this as much as you. Do you expect me just to go home and wash out a few pairs of knickers while you have all the fun?’
Fun! I thought. Jesus!
‘Besides, I’m your driver.’
‘I can drive,’ I said. ‘It’s about time I gave the motor a spin.’
‘I’ll drive you,’ interrupted Teddy. ‘Uncle said I was to help.’
I sat and chewed the inside of my mouth as the speed surged through me. ‘What the hell?’ I said. ‘We’ll all go to the ball.’
12
About then I thought it was time for a livener. We took both cars up to the wine bar where Teddy and I had eaten lunch the previous day. It seemed like a thousand years ago.
This morning there was a camp boy behind the bar doing the frug to some old Martha and the Vandellas number blasting out of the stereo. The bar was empty and he stopped dancing and turned down the volume as we came in. Teddy and Fiona went to a table and I went to get the drinks in.
‘Hello,’ said the boy. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Three Rocks, please.’
He went to the fridge.
‘I haven’t seen you for a bit,’ I said to make conversation and stop myself gnawing at my tongue.
‘I’ve been on holiday.’
‘Do anything good?’
‘I had my nipples pierced.’
There is absolutely no answer to that. ‘Really?’ I managed to say.
‘Yes.’
‘Was it painful?’
‘Excruciating,’ he said as he opened the bottles and put them and three glasses on the bar top. ‘But it was worth it.’ He leant closer and lowered his voice as I rescued a fiver from my back pocket. ‘I’ve got nipple rings in them, and my lover attaches a gold chain and leads me around the house at night.’
‘Makes my sex life look positively dull,’ I said.
He looked over at Teddy and Fiona and raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d say it had definite possibilities myself.’
I looked too. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Catch you later.’ And I took the beers over.
I told Teddy and Fiona about the party in Bickley, and that I’d told Endesleigh about Bim. I didn’t tell them what his reaction had been. I asked Teddy about Jack Dark but he’d never heard of him. We had a couple of beers and I gave Teddy my address and arranged for him to pick us up from there at eight. Fiona wanted to go home and get her best party frock. I volunteered to go with her but she declined the offer. She told me to go to my own home and get some sleep. Fat chance. I explained I was worried about her going off alone after the previous night’s excitement, and she told me firmly that she wasn’t going to change her life because of some cheap crooks.
In the end I gave in. Around two we left the bar and Fiona dropped me at home and sped off.
The envelope was waiting on the mat when I opened the street door. It was thick and unstamped with just my name scrawled on the front in felt tip pen. I leant against the wall and tore the flap open. Inside was a wodge of the dirtiest banknotes I’d ever seen. I riffled the pile. It was a lot. I took the money and myself up to my flat, popped open a bottle of Rock, lit a cigarette and counted the cash. When I finished I discovered I was five thousand pounds richer and my hands were five thousand pounds grubbier. The money was in fifties, twenties and tens. The cash wasn’t sorted, so I sorted it myself. I’m neat that way.
I put the money back in the envelope and threw it on top of the draining board. I washed my hands in the kitchen sink, dried them on a tea towel, finished the beer, threw the bottle in the garbage and lit another Silk Cut. I walked around the flat thinking. I called Fiona. She had just got home and all was quiet. I didn’t tell her about the money. Then I telephoned Endesleigh again. He was at his desk.
‘Sharman,’ I said.
‘I’m honoured, three times in two days. What’s up?’
I told him.
‘And you just left the scene?’
‘What was I supposed to do? Take notes. They were going to kill us.’
He said nothing in reply.
‘What happened to the pair that went down?’ I asked after a bit.
‘The one you shot dragged the other into the car and they took off after you.’
‘They didn’t catch me. Did you catch them?’
‘No. What happened to the gun?’
‘I deep sixed it off Waterloo Bridge.’
‘Very good. The charges are many and various.’
‘Come on, man. I didn’t have to tell you. And I didn’t start it. It was self-defence. Someone’s after me, the same day as I tell you about Em and Bim. Now do you believe me?’
‘What’s Lupino got to do with it?’
‘Oh, come on. He knew about it. I spoke to one of his lackeys.’
‘Prove it. Lupino knows about a lot.’
‘That’s what his lackey said.’
‘Look, Sharman,’ said Endesleigh, ‘your past goes back a long way. Maybe a piece of it caught up with you last night.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘Come in and talk to me about it sometime. Sometime soon.’
‘Got the bracelets ready?’
‘I don’t think it’ll come to that.’
‘OK. I’ll be in.’
‘Don’t forget. I’d hate to have to get someone to come and collect you.’
‘I won’t. Anything about Emerald?’
‘He’ll be on remand. He’s safe. Don’t worry, if I get any news you’ll be the first to know.’
‘Thanks. One last thing.’
‘What?’ he sighed.
‘Someone name of Jack Dark. Know him?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘Check out the name for me, will you?’
‘Why?’
‘Just interested.’
‘Do you think this is an information bureau?’
‘No, but as a favour.’
‘One of too many.’
‘You’re a diamond,’ I said. ‘I’ll be in. See you.’ And I hung up. I didn’t tell him about the five grand either.
I took the bag of money and put it in my sock drawer, lit another cigarette and sat back in my easy chair with my feet on the coffee table.
At five the telephone rang. I guessed who it would be and I was right. The same hoarse, Cockney voice was on the line. ‘Did you get it?’ he asked.
There were jokes aplenty there but I was trying to give them up. ‘What?’ I asked innocently.
‘The dough.’
‘I got it,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want it.’
‘It’s yours, mate. Mister Dark sent it.’
‘So I guessed.’
‘And he still wants to see you. It’s a gesture of good faith.’
That kind of faith I could handle. I had to admit I was intrigued. Five grand’s worth. ‘He’s persistent,’ I said.
‘I told you, didn’t I? He says you’re right to be cautious and not make a meet in the open. Will a restaurant do?’
‘Doesn’t he speak himself, or is he too exclusive?’
‘He speaks all right, you’ll find out, so is a restaurant OK?’
‘What restaurant?’
‘The Mogul Empire in Gray’s Inn Road. Do you know it?’
‘I dare say I could find it.’
‘Mister Dark has an Indian every Saturday night. He’s asked you to see him there tomorrow.’
‘What time?’
‘About ten.’
‘How will I know him?’ I asked.
‘Just ask for Mister Dark’s table. So shall I tell him you’ll be there?’
‘Unless something more interesting comes up,’ I said, and put down the receiver.
He didn’t phone back.
13
I changed into a clean white shirt, dark suit and tie, and sat around the flat in the dark watching TV with the sound turned down, chewing on my lips and feeling as jittery as a used car salesman going for a polygraph test. The flat bell rang just before eight. I got up and went over and moved the curtain and saw Teddy standing on the forecourt of the house. I rapped on the glass and he looked up. I went down to meet him and took my coat and stick because I didn’t want to walk upstairs again.
When I opened the front door, he was standing in the porch. ‘All right, Teddy?’ I said.
‘Fine.’
‘How’s Uncle?’
‘Not so good, refused bail, and he’s being moved to Brixton.’
‘I hope they’ve counted his arms and legs.’
‘Don’t worry, they have.’
‘He’ll be cool, man,’ I said. ‘We’ll get him out.’
I saw Teddy’s teeth flash in a grin. ‘Sure we will.’
I looked for the BMW. ‘Where’s the car?’
‘There.’ And he pointed to the vehicle that was blocking the driveway. It was a new-looking Suzuki SJ413 with a soft top. Under the harsh white light from the street lamps I saw that the Japanese jeep was turquoise and lavender with a white hood. It looked like an exotic variety of ice-cream. I shut the house door behind me, pulled on my coat against the cold night air and walked over and tried the passenger door. It was unlocked.
I opened it and climbed warily into the seat, scanning the interior. Cellphone, CD player and a radio that did everything bar make the tea. I suppose the car had less gadgets than the flight deck of a space shuttle, but it was a close call. Teddy, who had followed me over, opened the driver’s door, got behind the wheel and switched on the sidelights. The dash lit up like the New York skyline.
‘No wonder you guys exchanged a whole continent for a handful of beads and mirrors,’ I said.
‘Have you ever been punched in the mouth?’ asked Teddy, in a not unfriendly way.
‘Often. But Emerald told you to help me, not inflict actual bodily harm. I suppose you wear colour co-ordinated boxer shorts.’
‘Your jokes are crap and you never let up.’
‘That’s what my wife used to say.’
‘I didn’t know you were married.’
‘I’m not.’
‘See what I mean.’
‘Are you?’ I asked to make conversation.
‘Shit, no, man. I don’t need that kind of piano on my back. I like to spread myself thin. There’s too much of me for just one woman.’
‘Oh, Jesus,’ I said. ‘Joe Cool.’
His teeth flashed in the half darkness. ‘That’s my name, baby, don’t wear it out.’ Teddy seemed in high good humour which was more than I could say for myself.
‘So where is the lady?’ he asked.
‘She’ll be here,’ I said, and as if to prove me right the little yellow car barrelled up the road towards us and slid to a halt on the other side of th
e street with a squeal of rubber. Fiona killed the engine and the lights and opened her door and climbed out. I opened the door of the jeep and called to her.
‘Christ, is that you?’ she said. ‘What’s this, something out of a Christmas cracker?’
‘Funny,’ said Teddy.
I got out of the jeep and pulled the front seat forward on its hinges. ‘Get in,’ I said.
Fiona climbed into the back seat. I hitched myself in and looked at her. She was all wrapped up in a dark coat and had a man’s trilby pulled down over her hair. ‘What’s the story?’ she asked.
‘No change. We go to the hotel, you two find somewhere out of the way. I go and see Lupino and suss him out. Don’t forget, I was told to come alone. If it’s cool, I come and get you. If not, I don’t.’
‘What about me?’ asked Teddy.
‘You’re a different matter. I believe you said that Bim and his buddies are not partial to people of your particular ethnic persuasion.’
‘So?’
‘So, you’re staying out of that room.’
‘I thought I might be.’
‘Back of the bus job,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve had that every day of my life.’
And I suppose he had. No wonder he wasn’t mad about whites. I left it. What more could I say?
Teddy ground the starter of the jeep and the engine caught first time. He switched the lights to full beam, slid the stubby gearstick into first, checked over his shoulder and pulled out into the street. We went back to the South Circular where I seemed to be spending half my life lately and down through the ’burbs to Bickley and all the delights it had to offer.
The main roads were like bandages of light stretched across a wounded city. They were soda-pop orange striped with neon red and blue and sickly green that turned the pedestrians’ faces corpselike. As the highways were light so the back streets and alleyways were dark. So dark indeed that they stole the memory of light from the street lamps spaced too far apart and the odd unshaded window and ground it flat into the gutters.
It was mini-cab city where we were going. Black cabbies seem to think you need a visa to get into New Cross and Peckham. So every other car we saw seemed to be a four door coke-bottle Cortina with a thin, chrome, magnetic aerial resting on a piece of plastic to save the re-spray.
There were a lot of rusty white Transits too, being driven by fat geezers in T-shirts who either couldn’t afford jumpers or thought it was the height of machismo to freeze their upper arms in the December frost. Teddy drove well. He put a Marvin Gaye CD into the machine and we listened and hardly spoke as we went.
