by Sam Millar
‘It’ll cost you gentlemen another hundred,’ Harrington said, before inhaling on his cigar, sending smoky doughnuts floating into the air. He was smiling like a dog with two dicks.
‘You must have five aces,’ Karl said. ‘That’s the only time you make a bet that big.’
‘Only one way to find out, isn’t there?’
‘Too rich for a poor boy like me, members of the jury,’ said Henry McGovern, a criminal lawyer with a reputation bordering on criminal, and Karl’s legal advisor. ‘I’ll sit this one out and plead no contest.’
‘I’ll leave the bloodletting to you two,’ Buster said, standing, before walking towards the fridge.
Karl sucked on the cigar, cradling the smoke in his mouth. Needled his eyes across the table at Harrington. Harrington tried returning the look. Failed miserably.
‘Is this a staring-out contest, Kane, or are you going to play?’
‘You look nervous, Marty. The last time I saw you this nervous was at Jimbo Cassidy’s funeral, last year, when you had to buy a round of drinks for the mourners. I thought you were going into cardiac arrest.’
‘That’s a load of balls. Everyone knows I pay my way, and generously into the bargain.’
‘Yes, you’d give a poor man the sleeves of your waistcoat. And talking of balls, I went into the chemist yesterday for some deodorant, and the lady behind the counter asked me, “Is it the ball-type deodorant you want, sir?” I looked straight at her and said, “Good God, no! It’s for my underarms!”’
Everyone in the room let out a polite laugh, with the exception of Harrington.
‘C’mon. Stop stalling, Kane. We haven’t all night. Are you in or out?’
Karl looked at his cards. They were shit. Liquorice Allsorts. Not even a measly pair of deuces. Removing the cigar, he smiled, placed some notes in the centre of the table. ‘Make it an even two hundred.’
Harrington almost choked on his cigar. Looked at his cards. Two pair. Threes and fours. Glanced at his dwindling stack of money. Glanced back over at Karl’s face.
‘You’re bluffing, Kane.’
‘Only one way to find out. Dig into those long pockets of yours, where you have hamsters performing tricks.’
After a tense twenty-second standoff, Harrington sighed and threw his cards down in defeat.
Karl pulled the winnings over to his side of the table.
‘What’d you have?’ Harrington asked, looking disgusted with life.
‘That sort of information will cost you two hundred to find out, my funerary friend. Next time, be courageous in lieu of timorous.’
‘Who wants another Harp?’ Buster asked, tray full of beers in hands.
‘Nothing stronger?’ Karl asked.
‘That’s what fell off the back of this week’s lorry,’ Buster said. ‘Next week, could be brandy – or bottles of Evian.’
‘I was reading about you in last week’s Sunday Exposé.’ Harrington said to Karl, while taking a beer from Buster. ‘Still think you’re a teenager, showing off to all the girls?’
‘As your lawyer, Karl, I must advise you not to say anything that might incriminate you,’ Henry said, smiling. ‘That may or may not have been my client.’
‘Well? Are you going to tell us what it was all about, or not?’ Harrington persisted.
‘Nothing to tell. You know that bloody paper, makes it up as it goes along. If it doesn’t fit, they dig a hole and bury it. A bit like your profession.’
‘You beat the crap out of some crime boss from England. Are you out of your head or something?’
‘Or something…’ Karl took a slug of beer. Glanced at his watch. ‘Can we change the subject?’
‘Provided you’re not thinking of running home with all the winnings? We all know Naomi wears the trousers, but it’s only a little after midnight, so why don’t you give her a call and ask for permission to stay out another hour?’
Good-natured laughter came from Buster and Henry.
Karl smiled. ‘If you keep playing the way you’re playing, you’ll be going home without trousers.’
More laughter. Louder.
Scooping up the cards, Karl shuffled, then darted them out to the four corners of the table.
‘This is going to be the start of my comeback,’ Harrington said.
‘On a serious note, Marty, I need some information.’
‘Concerning?’
‘Along with ordinary burials, you do a lot of cremating, right?’
‘Roughly forty percent of my business is done that way now, and it’s increasing each year. People are less squeamish about it nowadays. It’s funny though, the way Belfast people think. They’re dead, but they still shudder at the thought of having their bodies burnt. Maybe they think it’s a precursor to where they’re going.’
Harrington grinned. Karl was reminded of Dracula.
‘Is it possible for a body to be totally incinerated? Gone, into thin air?’ Karl asked.
Harrington shook his head. ‘Not even in a high-powered furnace. The average person leaves behind six to nine pounds of ash, depending on body frame, weight, et cetera. Perhaps a newborn baby’s body could totally vanish, because the bones haven’t yet matured or become very dense, but I’ve never actually seen that happen.’
Buster quickly cut in. ‘Any chance of hitting all this morbid talk on the head, Burke and Hare? It’s starting to give me the creeps, especially talking about babies like that.’
‘Why’re you asking me all these questions anyway, Kane?’ Harrington asked. ‘Working a case?’
‘Yes, and from what you’ve told me, I’ve come to a dead end.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
If you come back in here, I’m going to hit you with so many rights, you’re going to beg for a left.
Chuck Norris, Invasion, USA
Monday morning, Karl pulled up outside the Naughton house shortly before noon. No work had commenced yet on the devastated shambles across the street that had once been the Reilly home.
A gusty wind was blowing dust and brown sand everywhere. A group of kids in the street thought it was great, being chased by the Brown Blustery Banshee, screaming their heads off each time the wind gathered momentum.
Karl exited the car, head down, and fast-paced to the Naughton’s front door. Just as he was about to knock, the door opened.
‘I recognised the sound of your car pulling up, Karl. Come on in,’ Tommy said, smiling, practically pulling Karl into the hallway, out of the blustery dust. ‘Theresa’s out visiting her sister, but let me get you a coffee.’
‘Hold the coffee, Tommy. I can’t stay long. Just came by to let you and Theresa know, I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary with regards the deaths of your daughter and family. I asked a few experts, and they all came to the same conclusion, practically. I’m truly sorry.’
Tommy looked crestfallen.
‘Theresa’ll be devastated to hear that. We did try, didn’t we, Karl?’
‘You did. You did everything you could, and more.’
Tommy held out his hand and Karl shook it.
‘Thank you, Karl, for everything. You’re a gentleman.’
‘I don’t know about being a gentleman, but if you should hear of anything, anything at all, you’ve got my card. Take care of yourself, Tommy. Give my best to Theresa. And stay safe.’
‘Well? How’d it go?’ Naomi asked, as Karl walked into the office, taking off his coat, almost an hour later.
‘Only Tommy was home when I called. He still had that look of guilt, but hopefully my words went some way to ease it. Any calls while I was out earning a crust?’ Karl began opening the morning’s mail, parked in a wire tray atop the desk.
‘Three calls. Two of them sounded quite lucrative. One was from a company boss in Lisburn. Here are his details and queries.’ Naomi sat on the edge of the desk, and handed Karl two typed-out pages. ‘The other was from a lady who reckons her husband is cheating, and wonders would you investigate it for her?’
<
br /> ‘You know I don’t do that sort of sleazy stuff. I’m a professional.’
‘She lives on the Malone Road, and is quite wealthy.’
‘How wealthy?’
‘Very.’
‘Why didn’t you say that? I can always make an exception.’
‘The third call was from a man claiming his landlord is slowly poisoning his goldfish, just to get him out of his flat. I told him to either drop by or call back later in the afternoon.’
‘Is this what I’ve come to? Fishy clients carping about bloody goldfish?’
The chime to the outside office door jingled. Through the frosted glass from the office, Karl saw a shadow come in and sit down in the reception.
‘Hopefully, that’s not the one with the goldfish. I’m not in the mood to listen to a lonely man’s paranoia. I can do that any time by talking to myself.’
‘Stop being so uppity. That’s our bread and butter you’re talking about.’
‘I’m well aware of that, but I’m the knife who has to carefully slice the bread and spread the butter, sorting time-wasters from genuine clients. So, I can get all the uppity I like. Now, if you don’t mind?’ Karl indicated with his chin towards the reception.
Naomi lifted her ample arse off the desk, and headed out the door. Karl reached over and extracted a couple of opened letters in the messed tray.
‘Dear Lord, give me strength this day…’ Karl sighed, running his eyes over the letters. ‘Bloody bills. Relentless torture.’
A few seconds later, the door opened. Naomi popped her head in.
‘It’s a Mister Carlisle. Needs to talk to you. Face looks messed up pretty ugly.’
‘Pretty ugly? That’s a paradox. What’s he want?’
‘Says he’s hoping for help in locating a missing person. Shall I show him in?’
‘You explained of course that we normally don’t see anyone without an appointment, because of how busy we are?’
Naomi folded her arms. ‘I’m not in the mood to go along with your charades, right now.’
‘You just keep that attitude up, and see what happens, Miss Ungrateful. Give me a few seconds, then send him in.’
Karl quickly picked up the phone’s receiver, pretending to talk into it, just as the man walked in.
‘No, I’m sorry Mayor, but right now I can’t take any new cases for at least a month or…’ Karl’s voice trailed off. He replaced the receiver and glared at the man standing before him. ‘I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.’
‘Didn’t think you’d see me if you knew who it was.’ Graham Butler sat down on a chair opposite. His face was ballooned, patterned in black-and-blue. His left eye was totally closed by hyphens of stitches, and his out-of-kilter nose had an enormous sticking plaster plastered to it.
He looked dreadful.
Karl looked pleased.
‘And there’s me telling the cops that you wouldn’t be stupid enough to come looking for me. Now, what’s this bullshit about a missing person?’
From an inside pocket, Butler removed a large envelope. Opened it. Produced the clipping from Sunday Exposé. Slid it across the desk.
‘Good looking guy, if you don’t mind me saying,’ Karl said, holding the clipping in his hand. ‘Looks the type you really wouldn’t want to fuck with.’
‘You have to forgive my ignorance. I didn’t know who you were until one of my associates showed me this. Now you have no place to hide, mate.’
‘Hiding? Who’s hiding? The only hiding I remember is the one I gave you, mate.’
Butler’s face did an almost imperceptible nervous twitch, but Karl spotted it.
‘You Irish have a saying, Kane: Every dog is brave on his own doorstep. Describes you perfectly. There’ll be a time you’ll face me on equal terms, not sucker-punching or when I’m naked and defenceless.’
‘There’s another part of that old saying you forgot to mention.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘Only a stupid dog leaves its own doorstep.’
Butler tried to smile, but it was painfully obvious he was in great pain.
‘In a strange way, I like you, Kane. You’ve got balls.’
‘As big as a fridge. More than I can say about yours. But tell you what, you end up in one of our jails over here, you’ll eventually end up with an extra pair of balls dangling from your arse.’ Karl pointed at the door. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to see a man about a goldfish.’
‘If this were London, you’d be dead by now.’
‘In all honesty, I wouldn’t be seen dead in London. I was courteous to you in the hotel. So-called men beating up defenceless young girls, doesn’t go down too well over here in Belfast. It sparks something dark in our psyche. Something that demands blood. If I were you, I’d think myself lucky that all I got was a jolly good kicking, old chap. Want some good advice for free? Get on the next plane home.’
‘I’m not going home for at least two more weeks. Maybe longer. For your information, I’ve a couple of gentlemen outside, waiting in a car. They wanted to come in here, smash the place up, put you in hospital. Perhaps even worse. But I said no, Karl Kane is a smart man. Someone I can do business with. Am I right or am I right?’
‘Wrong. On both counts. And as far as you having two gentleman in your car?’ Karl leaned over the desk. Stared directly into Butler’s eyes. ‘This is my kingdom you’re visiting. A simple phone call and I’ll have forty not-so-fucking-gentle gentlemen busting their balls to return the many favours I’ve done for them over the years, keeping them from going to prison.’
Butler shook his head in disbelief. ‘Okay, have it your way, but that little whore has a very expensive watch belonging to me. It’s–’
‘If you use the word “whore” again, I won’t be responsible for where my fist–’
‘–Patek Philippe. It holds a lot of sentimental value in my heart, not to mention its price tag of sixty thousand quid.’
Karl almost swallowed the desk.
From his pocket, Butler removed another envelope, and slapped it loudly on the desk. Karl saw the gun parked in a holster beneath Butler’s armpit. It was a deliberate flash from Butler, to let Karl know he wasn’t messing about.
‘I’m a fair man, Kane. There’s a thousand quid in there. See that the little…see that she gets it, along with this message: She has forty-eight hours to return what doesn’t belong to her. Otherwise…’ Butler stood. ‘Well, you fill in the blanks. I’m sure you remember where I’m staying? See you soon, Kane, one way or the other.’
Karl waited until Butler left the room, before making his way upstairs. Rapped on the door of the spare bedroom.
‘Who is it?’ came the voice of Lipstick.
‘Me. Are you decent?’
‘I’m always decent. You know that.’ She giggled. ‘Come in.’
Karl opened the door, and peered inside. Lipstick was sitting up in bed, a copy of Naomi’s Glamour magazine in her tiny hands. Her face was healing a hell of a lot better than Butler’s.
‘How’re you doing, kiddo?’ Karl said, forcing a smile.
‘Feeling really great.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘This is for you.’ Karl placed the envelope on the bed.
‘What is it?’
‘A thousand quid, apparently.’
‘A thousand…?’ Lipstick hungrily tore the envelope’s stomach, spilling out its contents. ‘Where…where’d all this come from?’
‘A nasty piece of work named Butler.’
‘Butler…?’ Lipstick’s face paled slightly. ‘How…how did he know I was here?’
‘He doesn’t. Not yet, anyway. He’s on a fishing expedition at the moment, only instead of a teeny-weeny hook at the end of the line, he’s got a bloody humongous harpoon under his armpit that would scare the shit out of Moby-Dick.’
Lipstick pursed her lips. ‘What does he want?’
‘Playing coy isn’t going to cut it, L
ipstick. He wants his outrageously expensive watch back. That’s what he wants. He’s sentimentally attached to it, apparently. Sixty-thousand quid worth of sentimentally.’
‘What will we do, Karl?’
‘We? Ha! We will do nothing. But you, on the other hand, need to return the watch. This thug isn’t going away until he gets it, and within forty-eight hours, starting two minutes ago.’
‘I’m not giving it back.’
‘I suspected that.’
‘And I’m keeping the money.’
‘I suspected that, too.’
‘Well? Aren’t you gonna try and force me?’
‘I’ve never tried to force you to do anything. I’m not going to start now.’
‘Good, because I’m going to enjoy spending that bastard’s money and wearing his watch.’
‘Isn’t it a bit big for a wee wrist like yours?’
‘My wrist is, but not this.’ Lipstick poked a leg out from beneath the bedclothes. The watch was attached to her ankle. She began snaking her leg seductively towards Karl. ‘What d’you think?’
‘What you need to think is what could’ve happened in that hotel room. It was a warning most young people in similar situations don’t get. Someone saintly must be guarding over you. But even Saint Karl’s patience is limited.’
Karl turned and left, wondering what the hell Butler would do once he found out he’d have to add a thousand quid to his increasingly expanding List of All Things Lovely And Lost?
Downstairs, Naomi waited, arms folded.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to wait and read about it in the papers? That was Butler, right?’
‘Right.’
‘He was here looking for Lipstick, I take it?’
‘Right again. You’re good at this.’
‘Stop trying to piss me off. You’ve got to call the police, Karl, tell them he was here making threats to you.’
‘How many times do I need to tell you to stop earwigging?’
‘If I didn’t listen in, I wouldn’t know half of what the hell goes on in here at times.’
‘Well, this was one of those times when I didn’t want you to know.’
