The Goldfish Heist And Other Stories

by Jay Stringer

  “And your father?”

  “Cancer. He was diagnosed during the last round of legal fights, his own guts were eating him. He lived just long enough to see the fence go up.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes were cold when they met mine, “Sorry for what? For my father? Or for coming here to help them take what’s left?”

  ***

  Before I could turn the conversation to the fire, we heard noises outside. People had gathered together and were talking loudly, all at once.

  A teenager burst in on us. He looked like a younger version of Shannon. “Dad, there’s more fucking pigs here.”

  He stepped back out through the door without ever acknowledging my presence. Shannon looked at me and shrugged before climbing to his feet. “You brought some friends then?”

  I followed him outside, where a crowd had gathered to shout abuse at the new arrivals. Becker’s car was inching its way towards us, trying not to hit the people who stepped in the way. The two marked cars were following close behind, their lights were flashing but they’d kept the siren off.

  Great.

  Just great.

  I walked through the crowd and stepped in front of Becker’s car. He waved when he saw me, but I shook my head. I walked round to his side and waited while he rolled the window down.

  “What the fuck?”

  “I told you I was driving round.”

  “Yes, you. Not you and two shiny friends. You bring me along to try and do things the easy way, then you come rolling in like the fucking Sweeney.”

  “I should send the uniforms away?”

  “You should send the uniforms away.”

  He nodded and relayed the message on the radio. We both watched as the marked cars started inching backwards, looking for a safe place to turn around. The crowd cheered, but it was only a muted success, as far as they were concerned there were still two of us on the camp. I caught a glimpse of the teenager again, who I figured for Shannon’s son. He was stood at the edge of the crowd staring at the car, his eyes were focused with anger.

  I told Becker to go back down to the road and wait there unless I called him. I gave him Shannon’s name and asked him to run a background check while he waited, then I turned back towards the crowd.

  Shannon was waiting at the front, his face stayed locked in determination until Becker’s car was gone, then he turned to me, “You trying to show how brave you are?”

  “It’s more a case of confirming my stupidity, probably.”

  He cracked a smile and nodded for us to walk.

  He led me through the camp, nodding at everyone as he passed, stopping to greet each of the women by name and ask after their children.

  “Do you know Tom Bennett?” I asked as we walked.

  He nodded, “Sure.” He was going to leave it there, but saw that I wanted him to elaborate, “He was one of the first people to move onto the estate.”

  “Did you meet people as they moved in?”

  “We tried. I made a point of going round and knocking on their doors, tried to explain we weren’t looking for trouble, be neighbors, like, aye?”

  “How did they take it?”

  He shrugged, “Oh, you know. Some gave us a chance, some didn’t. Bennett did at first, used to come through the gap and buy eggs off us, promised to take my son to a football match.”

  “What happened?”

  “You have to understand, we see them as the squatters. My father bought that land. He owned it, had a piece of paper with his name on it.”

  “So-”

  “People from over here started going over there and causing trouble. They’d steal things, or damage property. A couple of our boys burned out Bennett’s car.”

  “Why target him?”

  Another shrug, “Because he was there.” He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Look, I was born here. Most of us were. You want us to just give that up? They’re going to keep coming and people here are going to keep fighting back.” I turned to continue walking put he pulled at my arm and continued talking, “When they come for us, they’re coming for you too. Do you think of that?”

  A Clash song popped into my head unbidden.

  Bass and violence running through my head.

  ***

  I found Shannon’s son sifting through the mess of the ruined allotment.

  “What happened?”

  He didn’t acknowledge me at first, but looked up once he realized I wasn’t going away. “What’s it to you?”

  “Just wondered.”

  “I come here to think, sometimes. This was my mum’s favorite place, you know? She loved coming down here and working. We had chickens, over there,” He pointed to a twisted heap of wood and chicken wire. “I’d come and help out, feed them, or dig the soil.”

  “Where is she? Your Mum?”

  He shrugged and I left it alone.

  “Men come over sometimes,” he said. “They made that hole in the fence, they come over when they’ve had too much to drink, wreck our stuff. They trampled this, and mum said she’d had enough. Took my little brother with her.”

  “But you stayed?”

  “Gotta stick by my dad. He can’t do it all himself.”

  He turned to walk back into the camp and I followed.

  “You know Tom Bennett, right?”

  He didn’t answer, so I stayed at his side, matching him step for step, a dog with a bone. At the door to his fathers caravan he hesitated and turned to me, “Yes.”

  “You used to be close, too, right?”

  He nodded. “Used to let me go round his and watch the football on his big TV, hang out with his mates like I was an adult, you know? But I think I was just there as a token, like, to show how cool and open minded he was.”

  “He promised to take you to a match?”

  “He used to have a season ticket at Chelsea, drive down to every home game. He said he’d take me, if my mum said it was okay, but they fell out.”

  I snapped a connection.

  Of all the things over here that could have been vandalized, they had targeted Mrs Shannon’s allotment. I don’t believe in coincidences anymore than the tooth fairy. I kept that to myself though.

  “Is that why you torched the car?”

  “He couldn’t afford the payments on that thing anyway, like the season tickets.”

  He pulled the door shut behind him.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Becker was calling me. I thought about ignoring it, but remembered he was doing background checks.

  “Michael Shannon has quite a record,” he said. “Was arrested for GBH in 1995, and for arson in 2000. Charges were dropped both times. Broke a coppers jaw during the first evictions. Be careful.”

  I hung up and turned back to the caravan. Shannon was stood in the doorway, staring at me.

  “Come in,” he said.

  ***

  Shannon settled down into the same sofa as before and waited for me to sit opposite. Then he leaned forward so that we could talk quietly.

  “I admit it, I did it, take me in.”

  “No you didn’t. Tell me, your son-”

  “Sean’s a good kid.”

  “-No doubt. But did he know about your wife and Bennett?”

  If that hurt him, he was well past showing it.

  “I think everyone knew apart from me. Funny, eh?” He licked his bottom lip for a moment, said, “It was only a couple times.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  “She’d wanted to move away for years. Only stayed because of me, because I feel I owe it to my dad to stay here and stand up for him, you know? But after what she- well- after that, it was like she became this object. Just another thing for them to insult and throw around. I couldn’t blame her in the end, she’s better off away from here.”

  “But Sean stayed with you.”

  “Do you have any kids?”

  My throat dried up and I must have flinched, because he saw s
omething in my face. I mumbled that I didn’t have any.

  “Don’t,” he said. “All we do is fuck them up.”

  Silence settled over the room. Shannon looked around, at all his belongings and pictures, then his eyes settled on the pile of children’s toys. He stayed that way for a long time, then put his hands out towards me.

  “I told you, I did it, take me in.”

  I stayed put. There was something else eating at me, something that I was trying to reach out and touch.

  “Sean said something about Bennett and money, does that mean anything to you?”

  He shrugged, “This all started when Tom was getting stressed over his business. All those mortgage and credit card guys, they’re all struggling right now, right?”

  Sirens cut through the air, and the sound of shouting, louder and farther away than the last time.

  Something was happening.

  ***

  Shannon and I ran in the direction of the noises.

  The fence.

  As we cleared the last row of caravans we could see the crowd gathered by the hole, it looked like the whole camp had turned out. I pushed through the crowd and saw Bennett, flanked by three other drunken beer bellied house owners, arguing with Sean and a group of the camp’s teenagers. The adults of the camp were closing in, and Becker was between them, arms outstretched in either direction, trying to keep everyone apart.

  The sirens were coming from the other side of the fence. The wrong side.

  “I told you,” Becker shouted over at me, “This thing was stoked.”

  The volume was getting louder, and the crowds closing in. More home owners were coming through the gap, teenagers with sticks, adults both trying to calm people down and rile people up. The couple of uniformed cops from earlier came through, holding onto people, doing a pathetic job of holding them back.

  I felt Shannon tense up behind me at the sight of Bennett.

  “Arrest him,” Bennett pointed over my shoulder, following his call with a string of expletives, “Gyppo scum.”

  The people behind me surged forward to get at Bennett, and I got knocked from my feet. Someone pulled me out of the way of all the rushing feet, and I turned to see the old man who’d spit in my face earlier. I smiled at him and climbed to my feet, turning back to the crowd. More officers were coming through the fence, and I could hear sirens coming through the camp now, I could just about see a way out of this.

  I pushed back through the crowd, to find Becker stood between the travelers and Bennett, keeping them apart by the width of his frame. I pushed in beside of him and started pushing Bennett back, trying to clear some space. Shannon stepped in beside me and started pushing his crowd back, helping to keep the peace.

  I turned and got into Bennett’s face, talking quiet enough that only he and Becker could hear me, “Half done, you said?”

  “What?”

  “Your extension was half done. Your business is in the shit and you’re working six days a week just to cover the mortgage. How much did you need the insurance payout?”

  Becker turned to face us, looking from me to Bennett with his mouth open.

  I continued pushing Bennett back, towards the line of officers that was now forming, where I could get him arrested safe from the mob.

  I could see behind Bennett’s eyes he was debating whether or not to put up an argument, but that was enough to tell me I was right. He came out fighting from a different angle.

  “What? You’re going to arrest me? It’s them who started it, him and his fucking wife-”

  I heard an animal yell and was pushed out of the way. I hit the floor and rolled as, again, the crowd followed through. Things got crazy for a couple of minutes, jostling, screaming and clawing, until the uniforms managed to wade in and split the crowd in two like parting the red sea.

  Three officers were pinning Sean to the ground, a bloody knife being wrestled from his right hand as he kicked and shouted.

  Becker was kneeling over Bennett, his hand pressed down onto his neck, blood covering them both. Two uniforms were knelt beside him, calling for medical aid. As Sean’s hands were twisted up into the handcuffs, I saw his father staring deep into me.

  Traitor.

  ***

  The house was dark when I got home.

  I’d stayed at the hospital long enough to see Sean Shannon’s assault charge turn into murder. The paperwork could wait for tomorrow, as could all the shit I was going to catch over it.

  I shut the front door and leaned against it for a while in the darkness, then went through into the living room and settled onto the sofa.

  Laura came in, wearing her dressing gown. She sat beside me and rubbed my hand. “Becker called to tell me. Want to talk about it?”

  I turned to look at her, shook my head.

  She ran her hand over my suit, “You’ve got blood on you.”

  “Yeah.”

  She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, then again on the lips, “Come to bed.”

  I nodded, said, “I will, in a minute. Just need to chill out first.”

  She got up and walked to the doorway, then turned back for a second and offered a sad smile, “I got my period today.”

  I nodded, trying to gauge what she was feeling. She smiled again and went to bed. I sat in the darkness long enough for her to fall asleep.

  Dime Store Mystery

  I shake a lot these days.

  I tried to spit three hours ago and my lips are still sore. I wont be doing that again for a while. Rosie says things get better; she says it’s all worth it in the end. I don’t really believe a word she says though, because she died in 1996.

  The bed is wet and not very comfortable. Its good though; its warm, and wet is better than cold.

  Rosie used to stand on the street corner. I’d see her every Wednesday. She’d always be holding the same bag of sweets, sucking on them between her teeth, telling stories to cute strangers and asking for favours. She was really sweet. I think, sometimes, that I loved her before I even met her. I’d always loved her. There was magic in the way she talked and the stories she told. She carried herself like she was an old movie star. One of the big pampered ones from black and white, when Hollywood meant something more than sleaze and money. The way she went on, it was like it was perfectly natural for someone to be an old time movie star and a young girl on the streets. Like you could be both at once.

  We believed it.

  Moving to the city was the best thing I ever did. If I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have done anything. I’d still be back home. My parents would still be asking me when I was going to get a job, and my friends would still be tapping me for money.

  But here in the city? Nobody taps me for money.

  I moved up with my best friend, Billy. He played bass and had really cool hair. Wore tartan trousers in a way that didn’t look stupid. I tried it once. Looked stupid.

  Billy loved Rosie, too. He’d talk about her all the time, and I think his songs were about her. She broke his heart just like mine, but the difference was he came up here to get his heart broken. Its what he’d always wanted; singing songs about girls even before he knew what girls were.

  Music does that to you.

  There was someone hammering on my door a couple of minutes ago, but I didn’t hear what they were saying and I didn’t move. They always stop eventually.

  I remember the first time I spoke to Rosie. She gave me a grin, the sort that she didn’t give to just anyone. She told me all about the films she’d been in and all the rich men who’d bought her jewellery. I told her I was in a band, and she looped her arm round mine and we walked down the street arm in arm. We got drunk on a rooftop and shouted at the sky.

  It was great, I’d recommend it.

  Last time I watched the news, they talked about how it had never been this hot in the city before, that even in the shade it was hot. I remember they showed someone frying an egg on the roof of a car. I can believe it. I just want some rain. Have y
ou ever got high in the rain? It’s the best feeling. It doesn’t matter what you’re taking, rain makes it better. You can sit and feel it, only you’ll really feel it, you know? Or you can cry about how beautiful it is. Rosie was a crier. She’d sit and cry at most things, when she got like that;

  Snow

  Rain

  Nightfall.

  She was crying the last time I saw her. Her makeup was streaked and dark and her dress was torn. She’d been out on the town, but the comedown had been epic, it was showing no signs of stopping.

  She said, “Would you believe me if I said I was Jesus?”

  I said, “Would you believe me if I told you anything?”

  She hugged us both for most of the night and nobody ever saw her after that.

  I argued with Billy last time I saw him. He said I was fucked up, that I’d stolen money from him. I don’t know what he was on about, I spent an hour helping him look for that money. If I had taken it, I would have known where to look, wouldn’t I?

  I sneezed yesterday and blood came away with it, and I’m having all sorts of problems you don’t want to know about. I spoke to this guy who told me he knew what I was going through. He quoted scripture and Bob Dylan. His hair was matted and I wondered if that’s how people looked when they got saved. All I know is that he said he’d help me if I gave him some money. I had money in my pocket.

  He went away after that. I haven’t seen him since. I’ll just stay here until he gets back.

  Hold On

  It took us several days to notice when the world ended.

  Somehow that news seemed to pass us by. Our lives continued, we commuted to work as normal. Some people talked about a crisis, about international news, but most of us ignored it.

  We were so used to the imagery and the fear. Flames and bombs on our television screens. Scrolling news on our computer screens. You begin to ignore it, to live with, to accept it. Sitting in the bar, or riding the subway home, you tune out to the images and the sounds. Some far off place is in trouble again, why should we care? As the days passed, fewer and fewer people were commuting, but unless it affected me I wasn’t going to stop listening to my ipod.