by Ray Banks
“Once that student started giving it back with the mouth and Saeed kicked off, he was out of there. Yeah, he fuckin’ took off running.”
“What’s Saeed’s number?”
“No, fuck off. I ain’t doing that. I ain’t a grass.”
“I need to corroborate this, mate.”
“You don’t believe me, you can get fucked.” He backs up a few steps. “You just give us my money and that’s it.”
“You gave me nowt, Tariq. Two white students, they start some shite, one of them takes off running, the other one gets a kicking. Then they dump him on Wilmslow Road? Meantime, there’s people looking at this like it’s a racist thing—”
“Nah, man, don’t be feeding me that bullshit—”
“I’m feeding you nothing. I’m telling you the truth. The fuckin’ news is all about it, son. You’re about to have a march in your own back yard because of this. And let me tell you something, those marchers see a brown face, they’re going to stomp on it until the white meat shows, you get me?”
“Nowt to do with me, man.”
“You going to be out on the streets tonight?”
“Me and the boys, if what you say is true, we’ll be doing something. And what d’you mean I gave you nowt, man? I told you what transpired. Just ’cause it’s not what you want to hear, doesn’t mean you don’t pay us.”
I pull out the fifty, frown at Tariq. We both know I don’t need to corroborate any of what he told me. “Do yourself a favour, mate. Get a DVD or something, get drunk, sniff some aerosols, have a night in. Because there’s nothing you told me that I can use to stop them coming down here with fuckin’ sticks.”
Tariq plucks the money out of my hand. Closes his fist around it and pokes his bottom set of teeth with his tongue.
“I mean it, man. You care about your fuckin’ boys, don’t make this into a war. You’re too young to be fighting that hard for fuck all.”
I get into the Micra, start the engine.
“See you tonight,” says Tariq, giving me the wink.
I shake my head, pull the car away from the kerb. Fucking kids.
35
Heading towards Didsbury when my mobile rings. I turn the radio down, check the display. Not a number I recognise.
“Hello?”
“Mr Innes? This is Karyn.”
“Right. How are you?”
“I’m okay. I just wondered if you’d managed to find anything out yet.”
“About David?” I shift in my seat, think about what I’ve just seen. “No, I haven’t had a chance to look into it yet, Karyn.”
“No, I know, that’s fine,” she says. I swear I can hear a voice in the background. “I’m glad, actually, because I was going to tell you that it didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t matter?”
“The job.”
I straighten up a little. “And why’s that?”
“Please, Mr Innes, I’d rather you didn’t bother yourself. You’re right. You know, you’re busy, you don’t have time to investigate properly, I fully understand.”
“It’s not even been a day yet, Karyn.”
“I appreciate that, but I’ll still no longer be needing your services. It’s okay, really. Look, I just wanted to thank you for the work you’ve put in so far.”
“Who’s that with you?” I ask.
She doesn’t say anything. The line falls totally silent, no background noise either. Then: “There’s nobody here apart from me.”
“Then what happened to change your mind?”
“Nothing. I was just … upset. I wasn’t thinking right.”
I chance something. “If it’s the money, that’s fine. I’ll do it for free.”
Again, there’s a pause. “It’s really not the money.”
“You just want me to drop the case.”
“That’s right.”
A pause. She’s floundering. Then she takes a deep breath.
“Because I don’t think you’re up to the job,” she says. “I wanted someone trustworthy. And your prison time is an issue.”
I let that particular lie hang between us for a while, just so she realises how fucking ridiculous she sounds.
“Okay,” I say, sounding suitably hurt. “If that’s the way you want it. Who told you I was in prison, by the way?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’d like to know.”
“I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
She hangs up. I’m left with a dead phone and a very live lead.
Shouldn’t take me too long to get to Didsbury, but I still have to pull in and pop the glove compartment. Rifle around for the piece of paper that Karyn gave me. I find it wedged against a bag of glacier mints that’ve gone sticky.
I also find the flyer for tonight’s opening. I tuck it in my jacket pocket.
Dial the number, wait for Ben to pick up his mobile. Watch the birds at a feeder in someone’s garden. See them splashing around in the bird bath and remind myself that I need to take a shower before I head over to the Lads’ Club. When I turn my attention back to the inside of my car, I realise that the place is starting to look like Plummer’s office. Everywhere I turn, there seems to be a pile of loose paper and no filing system to speak of.
And for one second, I actually look forward to moving back into an office at Paulo’s place.
Fuckin’ dream on, son.
“Hello?”
Jesus, about time.
“Ben?”
“Who’s this?” he says. Wary.
“Callum Innes.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know if you remember me. We met outside the letting agency the other day.”
A pause, then it sounds as if Ben remembers. “Oh, right, Mr Innes. Sorry, yeah. How’d you get this number, by the way?”
“Karyn gave it to me. She said to give you a call.”
“Did she now?” Ben’s voice drops a little in volume. Sounds like he’s moved his mouth away from the phone.
Which makes me think Karyn’s in the room and he’s looking at her right now.
Which also makes me think that if Karyn’s hanging around now, it’s not that much of a stretch to think Ben was in the room when she called me.
“You still there, Ben?”
“Sorry,” he says, back at the phone now. “What was it concerning?”
“She was after hiring me to find out who put David in a coma.”
“Really?” Ben sniffs, clears his throat. “That’s interesting.”
“Yeah. Thing is, though, she phoned me this morning to tell me I was doing a shit job. That I should probably let it lie.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yeah, that I hadn’t done enough since she hired me this morning. Something like that, anyway. I mean, she didn’t go into any detail. Which seemed a little suspicious to me. She was so adamant about me working on it before … I don’t get the change of heart.”
“Well, she’s like that sometimes,” says Ben. “A bit flaky.”
“I didn’t know that. She doesn’t come across that way.”
“Comes and goes.” Ben clears his throat. “Look, if she wants you to drop the case, then you should probably drop the case, right? I mean, it’s not your fault you didn’t do anything. You’re probably really busy right now.”
“Actually, that’s kind of why I was ringing. I just cleared a case, so I thought, y’know, Karyn might not be able to afford me, but I’m not above doing some pro bono work.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
He doesn’t sound very grateful.
“Yeah, well, she bugged me with that whole ENS thing. I didn’t want poor old David to be tagged like that. He’s a politics student, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that kind of thing sticks with a lad.”
Ben doesn’t say anything.
“But I need some help,” I tell him. “I tried a few leads this morning, but they’re prett
y much dead ends as far as I can see. I thought if I popped round, we could have a wee chat.”
“I’m kind of busy right now, Mr Innes.”
“No, I appreciate that. You’ve probably got a lecture or something, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell you what, Ben, it won’t take up much of your time. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions, put our heads together, see if there’s anything I’ve missed. Nothing to get worried about.”
“I’m not worried.” Ben makes some thinking noises. He’s not keen. I don’t blame him. “And I don’t know …”
“Look, the way it’s going at the moment, the ENS have David Nunn as a poster boy for their cause. And that cause is going to go marching through South Manchester tonight on some kind of rabid crusade. People are going to get hurt, Ben. And I’m guessing that, when all’s said and done and the dust has settled, you and Karyn don’t want David to be associated with all that.”
“Of course,” says Ben. “David’s not about that.”
“And neither are you. So help me out.”
“Really, I haven’t—”
“Look, I’ve already got your address. I’ll come round, we’ll talk and I’ll be out of your hair in half an hour, okay?”
Ben sighs. He doesn’t want to sound like he’s trying to put me off. He also knows I’m not going to give up.
“Okay,” he says. “But it’ll have to be quick.”
I ring off. Pull the Micra in at the top of his street and wait for a few minutes. I don’t want to force it, but I also want a view of his house, just in case he tries to do a runner.
I take a pill, light a cigarette. Fill the car with smoke as I pull the tape recorder out of my jacket. Test it once more.
“Testing, testing, one-two-three.”
Play it back, and it seems okay. Even if my voice doesn’t sound the way I always thought it should.
It certainly wasn’t Karyn with David that night. Tariq reckoned the other guy was a Jonny Wilkinson lookalike, and the only guy I know who looks that much like a rugby player is the guy who just tried to put me off coming round.
And thinking back, wasn’t that the same guy who looked worried as fuck about that kid I saved?
Yeah, me and Ben, we need to talk.
One last chance, and I’ll play it like Frank. Get the fucker on tape. Then I’ll be able to do something with it. The only difference is I’m not going to be dealing with a couple of hardcases, like Frank did.
No, this guy’s just a student who ran out on a mate when things looked hairy. Should be a doddle if I play it right.
I just hope he speaks loud enough to record properly.
36
Ben’s house has rugs in the window instead of curtains. I wonder how that became a staple of student living, then wonder how I’m supposed to know that’s a staple of anything. I just suppose it’s the kind of thing students do. Ben does it. Just like it’s still light outside, but I can make out the glow of a lamp between the wall and the rug. I do another quick level check on the tape recorder, play it back and rewind.
Should be okay as long as I’m close enough and speaking clearly.
I drive up to a parking space outside Ben’s house. Get to the front door and give the wood a sharp knock. Ben opens up.
“You alright?” he says. “That was quick.”
I don’t answer as I step inside. Immediately get the whiff of something that must be incense, as well as the distinct impression we’re not alone.
“Karyn about?”
“No.” Ben opens the door to the living room, his hand on a poster of the Simpsons as Tony Soprano and family. There’s a battered sofa, probably came with the property, a throw covering it. An overstuffed chair, the same deal. Heavy rugs on the window, a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling and a brand new CD player on a table in the corner. I look at the posters on the far wall: The Motorcycle Diaries; that one of Bob Marley with lips around a spliff and the prerequisite Che Guevara icon, black on red. Books litter a large dining table. “Revolution” and “ism”s in the titles. I pick one up: Writings on Guerilla Warfare, Politics and History.
I read aloud: “It is not necessary to wait until all conditions for making revolution exist—”
“The insurrection can create them,” finishes Ben.
“Very good. You know it off by heart?”
“One of the key points.” Ben takes the book from me, flicks through it as if he’s read it more times than he cares to admit. “Have to study it, some of it’s got to sink in, eh? All the stuff about the time and situation where there’s no room for civil debate. When you have to fight for your social goals in another way.”
“You can’t start a revolution from your bed,” I say.
Ben smiles. “Noel.”
“Don’t know if that’s the right quote. I can’t fuckin’ stand Oasis. If I want to listen to The Beatles, I’ll listen to The Beatles.”
“Right.”
I pick up another book. “Not that I ever want to listen to The Beatles.”
“Mr Innes, I’m sorry.” Ben looks at his watch. “You said you wanted to ask me some questions?”
“Yeah,” I say, putting the book back down. I reach into my jacket, press record. Bring out the list of Plummer’s houses and look at it. I make a point of not showing it to Ben. “There’s really just one thing I wanted to clear up.”
“What’s that?”
“What’s the deal between you and Donald Plummer? I mean, you hate the bloke, fair enough. He’s not the easiest fella to get along with, I should know. But what did he do to you?”
“Plummer? He’s a blight—”
I wave at him. “Yeah, I know all that. David told me that line when I talked to him. But people don’t just get pissed off at other people’s business practices.”
Ben squints at me. “You can’t seriously be calling them business practices.”
“Well, it’s something to call them, and I’m not about to start debating words with you, Ben. So you don’t like the phrase, you think Plummer’s unethical, whatever.” I smile at him. “But the thing is, these pamphlets, they don’t get printed without something personal behind it, you know what I mean?”
“We had a good reason,” says Ben. “The man’s—”
“I’m not making myself clear. How’s about this: did you ever rent from Plummer?”
Ben folds his arms. “I don’t see what this has to do with David.”
“I’m interested.”
He thinks about it.
Then: “David and I rented from Donald Plummer, yes.”
“Last year?”
“Yes.”
“And he fucked you over?”
“You could put it like that.”
“How should I put it?”
Ben pulls a face. “He fucked us over.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Why’re you asking me this if you already know?” says Ben.
“Did I evict you?”
“No,” he says. “Someone else. A big bloke. Scared the shit out of David. Said that we hadn’t paid our rent. I mean, we paid it every month, direct debit. What are we supposed to do when someone comes round the house and says that?”
“Show them a bank statement.”
“You have bank statements handy?”
“No, but then I don’t rent from a dodgy landlord.” I move a little closer to him. “So all this leaflet bollocks, it was personal.”
“Donald Plummer is in the wrong, and he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that kind of practice.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“But that’s the answer you’re getting.”
“David come up with that?”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed with him?”
Ben nods.
“You agree with him on most things?”
“Politically?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, I agree with him o
n most political issues. We’re in the same seminar groups. David can be very persuasive when he puts his mind to it.”
I smile. “Yeah, I know. Karyn told me about the smoking thing. Wish I’d known when I talked to him.”
“She makes it sound like he hypnotised her. And there’s people on campus who think David has that spark about him, like he’s some kind of cult leader. Fact is, I just think Karyn was sick of the early morning hacks. She used to cough so hard, she’d get these headaches.”
“So you can’t make someone quit if they don’t already want to, right?”
Ben purses his lips, says, “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Nothing,” I say with a shrug. “Just thinking about myself again. Been meaning to give up. What with the no smoking in enclosed spaces thing. David didn’t smoke at all?”
“No,” says Ben. “Never did. Why?”
“I wondered, because I saw his Zippo, thought he might’ve smoked at some point.”
Ben looks at me. “What Zippo?”
“In his car. His is the blue Beetle, right?”
“I don’t know—”
“I mean, it had one of your leaflets in the back, and I remember seeing it by the picket line. New car like that, I’ve got to wonder how he could afford it.”
Ben shakes his head. “His parents bought it for him.”
“Man, you think they’d buy me a new car? Mine’s been through the wars, let me tell you.” I wipe my nose. “But the thing is, if David doesn’t smoke, what’s he doing with a Zippo in his car?”
“It’s mine,” says Ben.
I point at him. “You smoke?”
“Yes,” he says.
I regard him, then look around the room. “Oh, okay. That makes sense.”
“Was that all?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I back up a few steps, look at the poster of Che Guevara. “So you knew his car was still on Wilmslow Road?”
Ben’s face is calm. Otherwise, he’s hugging himself so hard it looks like he might crack a rib any minute. He nods at me.
“You know he was there, then,” I say.
“I assume so. You said his car’s there.”
“He didn’t tell you anything about going to Rusholme?”
“I’m not his carer.”
