‘Is it mine?’ Leon gasped. ‘For real?’
‘Nah, it’s for your kid,’ Acky said sarcastically. ‘So I can make dirty calls to her in the middle of the night.’
‘Course it’s yours,’ Damo said, clicking his fingers at Acky to pass his smoke over. ‘But don’t be giving the number to no one, ’cos it’s just between us, yeah?’
Leon nodded and gazed down at the phone again. Chantelle had got her mobile ages ago, but his mum always said he was too young whenever he asked for one. It was ace.
‘I’m gonna need you to look after something,’ Damo said now, blowing a smoke ring as he pulled a plastic bag out from the inside of his jacket and chucked it to Leon. ‘Put it somewhere safe. I’ll give you a call when I need you to fetch it to me.’
Leon caught the bag and gave Damo a questioning look. ‘What is it?’
‘None o’ your business,’ Acky said sharply. ‘Just do as you’re fuckin’ told and put it away.’
‘Leave the boy alone,’ Damo said quietly. ‘He knows not to ask questions – innit, Leon?’
‘Yeah, course.’ Leon nodded. ‘I won’t say nothing to no one.’
‘Course you won’t.’ Damo smiled.
‘Better not,’ Acky said, taking his knife out of his pocket and staring at Leon as he flicked the blade out. ‘Wouldn’t wanna have to cut your little cock off, would we?’
Leon’s mouth went dry when he saw the glint in the older boy’s eyes, and he clutched the bag to his stomach. ‘I’ll hide it somewhere safe,’ he promised.
Bill had Mitzy on her lap when Chantelle came back to the car. Eyes closed, she was humming along to some classical music that was drifting out from the radio. But she sat up straight when Chantelle tapped on the window, and popped the dog onto the back seat before releasing the door lock.
‘How did you get on?’
‘Okay.’ Chantelle climbed in and flopped her head back against the headrest. ‘I’m exhausted.’
‘Adrenalin,’ said Bill. ‘The rush when you locate your very first suspect is a knockout, but it’s not quite as bad the second time around. So let’s have it, then.’ She held out her hand.
Chantelle passed over the video recorder. ‘I didn’t think he was going to come, ’cos I was in there for over an hour before I saw him. He was on his own when he came in, so I thought he might just have nipped in for a quick drink. But then I saw him smile at this woman.’
‘Mmm-hmm,’ Bill murmured, nodding as she attached a USB lead to her laptop. ‘And?’
‘He bought a couple of drinks and carried them over to the table. But you’ll see what happened, because I started filming just before he sat down.’ Chantelle craned her neck to see the computer screen as she spoke. ‘It might be a bit shaky to start with,’ she admitted. ‘But I think I managed to get some good shots.’
Bill had loaded the film by now and was watching the screen intently. She pressed pause a few times and squinted closely at the screen before moving it along. Then, a slow smile lifting her lips, she jabbed her finger down on the stop button. ‘Bingo!’
Chantelle looked at the screen, and saw that Bill had stopped it on a frame that showed the man and his companion kissing. But it was the position of his hand which had brought the smile to Bill’s lips, because it was clearly cupping the woman’s breast.
‘That, my dear,’ Bill closed the laptop with a flourish, ‘is what we call the money shot.’
‘So, is it all right?’ Chantelle asked.
‘Marvellous.’ Bill took an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to Chantelle. ‘Bloody marvellous, actually, considering it was your first time. You’re obviously a natural.’
Chantelle felt so proud of herself that she couldn’t stop smiling. She had really thought she was going to mess it up, but it had turned out to be surprisingly easy. So easy, in fact, that she had been convinced she must be doing it wrong: that the film would turn out too dark, too shaky, or, worse, blank because she hadn’t pressed the right buttons. But Bill seemed delighted with the results so she couldn’t have done too bad a job. And she hadn’t even looked out of place standing there with her phone in her hand for so long, because loads of the other customers had been equally attached to theirs.
‘What will you do with it?’ Chantelle asked, slipping the envelope into her bag.
‘Take a few of the best stills and upload them onto my database,’ Bill told her as she started the engine. ‘Then I’ll provide my client with a pin number, so she can log in and view them.’
‘What will she do with them?’ Chantelle clipped her seat belt into place.
‘That’s her business,’ Bill said, manoeuvring the car out onto the main road. ‘But, in my experience, if a client has reached the point of contacting a private investigator it generally spells divorce.’
Chantelle snapped her head around and peered at Bill with wide eyes. She hadn’t thought to ask what kind of business Bill actually ran, but she would never have imagined that it would be a detective agency.
‘Wow,’ she said, seeing the old woman with new eyes. ‘I never knew women did that. You only ever see men doing it on TV, don’t you?’
‘That’s because those shows are generally penned by overgrown schoolboys who fancy themselves as real-life Sam Spades,’ Bill said scornfully. ‘But I assure you the reality is quite different. I have yet to be involved in a supercharged car chase, all guns blazing.’
Chantelle smiled and gazed out of the window. Bill had really shocked her; she looked nothing like Chantelle’s idea of a private investigator. Not that she’d ever really thought about it, but if she had her vision would have been of somebody a lot younger, and far more glamorous.
‘Here we are.’ Bill interrupted her thoughts.
Chantelle blinked when she realised the car had stopped, and was surprised to see that they were back at the corner where Bill had picked her up. ‘That was fast,’ she said. ‘We were still in Deansgate last time I looked.’
‘You’ve been in a world of your own for the last few minutes,’ Bill told her, smiling knowingly as she added, ‘Adrenalin comedown. Go home and put your feet up – you’ve earned a rest. I’ll give you a call when the next job comes in.’
‘Does that mean I passed the test?’ Chantelle asked, climbing out.
‘You’ll do for now,’ Bill said, patting her vacated seat. ‘Goodnight.’
Chantelle quickly closed the door when the dog dragged itself through the gap between the front seats and landed with a plop on the passenger seat. Then, waving Bill off, she walked home.
Two lads strolled out of the stairwell as she headed in, but she was too busy thinking about the events of the night to notice them. Leon was washing a cup at the kitchen sink when she let herself into the flat a couple of minutes later, and she could smell air freshener.
‘What’s got into you?’ she teased. ‘I should leave you alone more often if it’s going to have this effect on you.’
‘It’s only a cup,’ he grunted, giving her a funny look.
‘Yeah, but … Oh, never mind.’ Chantelle smiled and decided not to push it. ‘How come you’re still up? It’s nearly twelve, you know.’
‘I was watching telly,’ Leon said, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘But there’s nothing on, so I’m off to bed.’
‘See you in the morning,’ Chantelle said. ‘Oh, and have you decided if you want to go to the pictures or bowling tomorrow?’
‘Not sure.’ Leon shrugged. ‘Might just go round Kermit’s. Night.’
Chantelle frowned as she watched him go up the hall and disappear into his room. That was strange. First, washing up after himself, which she had never seen him do before; then opting to go to Kermit’s rather than bowling, even though he could go to Kermit’s any day – did go every day, in fact. But bowling was a rare treat, and he absolutely loved it, so she’d thought he would have been really excited about it.
The frown deepened as it occurred to her that he might have been spending s
o much time at Kermit’s because they had been getting stoned again. But she quickly dismissed the thought. Linda had gone mad the last time, so there was no way they would dare to do it in the flat while she was there. If they had been going out, maybe; but they had been holed up in Kermit’s room playing computer games for the last few weeks. Which wasn’t good in one way, but was infinitely better than him roaming the streets getting into trouble.
Satisfied that she had nothing to worry about, that Leon’s computer addiction was normal for boys of his age, Chantelle checked that all the plugs were switched off around the flat and then went to bed.
In his own room, Leon smiled when he heard Chantelle’s light go off, followed by the squeak of bed springs as she settled down for the night. He slid his hand under his pillow and pulled out the phone that was lying next to his knife. The glow from the screen lit up his face in the dark when he turned it on. It was one of the most basic models so it didn’t have a camera or internet access, or anything like that. It also didn’t have credit, so he couldn’t make any calls or send texts. But it was his, and he loved it.
Grinning happily, he turned the phone off and slid it back under his pillow. He couldn’t wait to get his first text or call, and it was going to be totally cool showing it off when he went back to school. Some of the other kids already had phones, but his was different. His was a gang phone, not some dumb-ass kid phone.
As his eyes began to feel heavy, he leaned over and stuck his hand under the mattress to check one last time that the bag was properly hidden. He hadn’t dared to look inside after Acky’s warning, but it smelled like weed and he guessed that they must have got it off the man they called Big T, because Damo had been saying for ages that he would set them up to deal for him one day. Leon had never seen the man, but he knew from what Damo had said that he was the leader of an older gang in Moss Side. And now that Damo was part of that gang, Leon was, too, by association. And that was so cool.
Chuffed to think that he was becoming a somebody instead of just a kid, Leon closed his eyes and snuggled down beneath his quilt.
11
Anton had taken the morning off work. Abdul had complained when he’d told him he wouldn’t be coming in but the fat fucker moaned about everything, so Anton couldn’t care less. When he’d put his name down on the housing list he’d thought it would be ages before he heard back from them, so he’d been surprised to receive a letter a few days ago telling him that a flat had become available on his block. He had made up his mind that he was going to take it before he’d even finished reading the letter, and he would have gone straight down to the office and signed the tenancy agreement there and then if they had let him. But the council liked to do it by the book, so he’d had to make an appointment to meet up with the housing officer this morning to do a formal viewing.
The flat’s front door opened into a small hallway, the kitchen to its left, the tiny cramped bathroom to the right. One of the bedrooms, which was only marginally bigger than the hall cupboard, sat between the kitchen and the living room. That room and the master bedroom were at the back, their large windows overlooking the car park.
‘Sorry about the smell,’ the housing officer apologised, her stiletto heels clipping loudly on the uncarpeted living-room floor as she rushed to open the window. ‘The maintenance team did a thorough clean-up, but there’s not a lot else we can do apart from wait for it to die down. It’ll be less noticeable when this has been replaced.’ She gestured towards the faded age- and tobacco-stained flock paper. ‘We used to redecorate before reletting, but we don’t do that any more, so you’ll have to do it yourself if you decide to take it on. But there’s a grant for materials, so it won’t cost you anything.’
Anton nodded and looked into the master bedroom. It was twice the size of the other and he was already visualising how it would look after he’d put his stamp on it. It would take a while to get everything exactly how he wanted it, because his wages were shit. But he didn’t care how long it took, so long as it meant getting out of his ma’s place.
In the bathroom the woman pointed at a damp patch around the base of the toilet. ‘That’s been sorted, so don’t worry about it; it just needs to dry out. I think we could probably do with a new shower head.’ She wrinkled her nose at the filthy article hanging limply from the wall above the bath. ‘But everything else seems okay.’
‘It’s all cool,’ Anton said, squeezing past her to get back out into the hallway. The smell was starting to get to him and he just wanted to get the paperwork signed so he could go and buy some bleach. The previous tenant had been ancient, so he supposed it wasn’t her fault she’d let it get into such a state. He just wished she’d chosen somewhere else to die, because it would take a while before he was able to sleep without visualising her corpse lying beside him.
‘So, what do you think?’ the woman asked.
‘I’ll take it,’ Anton said, walking into the kitchen. All the units were new in there, and the smell was nowhere near as bad as in the rest of the flat.
‘Great.’ She smiled and followed him in. ‘All you need to do is fill out the paperwork and it’s yours.’
Anton rested his elbow on the counter top and watched as the housing officer took a folder out of her bag and opened it up on the ledge beside him. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and clearly rated herself, judging by the way she was dressed in pencil skirt and heels, with a low-cut blouse that showed a fair bit more cleavage than he’d have expected of a council official. She’d been giving him flirtatious little looks and smiles since she’d got here, and he knew he could have her if he wanted, but she wasn’t really his type.
‘If you could just sign here, and here …’ She held out a pen and pointed to the appropriate places on the form.
Anton scribbled his signature and handed the pen back. ‘When can I get the keys?’
‘Right now.’ She took them out of her pocket and passed them over. ‘Your tenancy will officially start a week on Monday, so that’s when the first rent will become due. I’ll arrange to have the card sent out when I get back to the office. You can pay at any post office, or pop in and pay over the counter. Unless you’re in receipt of benefits, in which case you’ll need to update your claim with them. Oh, and you’ll need to let the electricity board know you’re moving in so they can start a new account. It’s still connected at the moment, but you don’t want to be landed with the previous tenant’s debts, so make sure you take a meter reading on the day you move in.’ The woman paused to draw breath, and smiled. ‘Any questions?’
‘Only about that grant you mentioned,’ Anton said, slipping the keys into his pocket.
‘Ah, yes.’ She took another form out of her folder and slid it across for him to sign. ‘Just tick everything and they’ll send vouchers. You should get them fairly quickly.’
‘Thanks.’ Anton signed the form and pushed it back to her. ‘Is that it, then?’
‘I think so.’ She closed the folder, then took a card out of her bag and handed it to him. ‘This is my direct line at the office. And my mobile number’s on the back – in case you need to contact me outside of office hours.’
Anton looked down at it and smiled. ‘Thanks, Jodie. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.’
She blushed when he said her name and gathered her things together. Amused, Anton showed her out and made sure that the door was double-locked before walking her up the landing.
Chantelle was coming up the stairs as Jodie started walking down. Anton stayed at the top and waved for Chantelle to come the rest of the way up.
‘Thanks,’ she said when she reached the top step.
‘No problem.’ He smiled. ‘We’re going to be neighbours,’ he said then. ‘Just signed for the flat three down from yours.’
‘That’s nice,’ Chantelle murmured. ‘Sorry, I’ve really got to go. Bye.’
‘Yeah, see you,’ Anton said, watching as she walked away quickly. When she disappeared into her flat, he shook his head and curse
d himself for having blurted that out about being neighbours. He didn’t know why he’d said it, or how he’d expected her to respond, but she probably thought he was a complete dick for announcing it like that.
Annoyed with himself, he tried to push Chantelle out of his mind as he trotted down the stairs to see the housing officer off, but it wasn’t easy. He’d only ever seen her a few times in total, and he’d always thought she was pretty, but this was the first time he’d ever seen her wearing make-up and with her hair down, and she’d looked amazing. But what was the point of thinking about her like that when she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested?
Chantelle rushed straight into the back room and peered through the net curtain to the car park below. The woman who had been with Anton was bent over, her backside in the air as she peered into the wing mirror of a parked car and fluffed her hair. Chantelle cast a critical eye over her clothes and shoes as she watched. She knew the woman was from the housing, because she’d seen the logo on the badge clipped to the lapel of her jacket, but she was surprised that the council allowed their female employees to dress so tartily.
When, a few seconds later, Anton strolled up to the car, Chantelle jerked back from the window and narrowed her eyes as she watched him give the woman a broad smile. Unimpressed when she gazed coquettishly up at him, Chantelle shook her head in disgust. Whatever he was saying to her, the stupid bitch was obviously falling for it hook, line and sinker. Well, more fool her if she couldn’t spot a player. Serve her right if she got pregnant, or had her heart broken.
When the woman had driven away at last, and Anton had walked off towards the shops, Chantelle went to her room and got changed. Then, taking her latest earnings out of her bag, she went into the kitchen and reached to the back of the cupboard beneath the sink for the old coffee jar in which she’d been stashing her money. She had thought it would be safer here than in her own room because it was the last place Leon would ever dream of looking, seeing as this was where the cleaning stuff was kept. Not that she thought he would deliberately steal from her, but it would be a huge temptation if he were to come across it by accident and she didn’t want to take the risk.
Respect (Mandasue Heller) Page 12
