On Saturday after tea Sally set off to the cinema, with a bag of mixed sandwiches. She walked down Spencer Road as cars passed her by. She wondered how many of them would be going to the comedy film.
After twenty minutes walking she was in Robin Park approaching the Regal Multi Film centre where she would be meeting Donkey and her partner Bones. Donkey and Bones, Donkey and Bones, she was sure to remember their names.
She reached Anjou Boulevard and stood at the steps leading to the cinema. Her stance was straight and motionless, her sight focussed in the distance, not wavering. Like a boulder in a river, she stood against the human flow. This posture attracted comments.
‘This way to the films dear,’ said one passer-by pointing up the steps.
‘Turn round and go with the flow,’ said a laughing couple of young lads in torn jeans.
‘Fancy a snog with me in the back row?’ a spot flecked youth challenged. Sally ignored him as she ignored any remark which she thought was not directed specifically towards her.
Others showed some pity with head slanted gentle smiles, but Sally only scanned the faces to find her two new friends. She began to bite her left sleeve. It was now 7.25 p.m. She turned to look the other way. She studied her cinema ticket and her heart began to race. Her choices were stark. She could make for the stairs and find her seat. Surely her new friends would join her. But they might be angry at her for not waiting and that caused her to clench her teeth and hands. Decisions were not Sally’s strength. Her feet began to march on the spot.
The stream of film goers dwindled. There was still no sight of Donkey and Bones. Her vision remained piercing, like a needle through a button’s hole. She remained fixed looking right. So it was a shivering shock when her shoulder was thumped by a solid solitary hand. She turned round and smiled.
‘Hi Sally. This is Bones.’
Sally nodded. ‘Hello Bones. I like your nickname.’
Bones remained silent. He smiled gingerly at Sally.
Donkey winked at Bones. It was the signal that Donkey was right about her new friend acting gullible. Bones’ smile enlarged, creasing his eyes in the process.
‘Okay, let’s go, the ads will be finished soon,’ he said.
Sally sat with Donkey on her left and Bones further away. Every now and then a joke or a humorous act got the audience shrieking. Sally looked round about her each time.
Donkey nudged her. ‘Enjoying it?’ she asked.
Without her eyes leaving the screen, Sally replied.
‘Yes, I like it.’
After twenty minutes had elapsed, Sally remembered the knapsack she had in her hand.
She opened it and produced a Tupperware box of sandwiches. They were egg and chives, tuna and cucumber, ham and mustard. Donkey grabbed a couple of ham sandwiches and Bones took both tuna leaving egg and chives for Sally. Was this her mother’s intention? Sally had hoped they would share the sandwiches. Her face screwed up. She then handed out three chocolate digestives which were gratefully received, but only Sally ate fruit. She gathered grapes in her hand. She offered them to her friends.
‘Grapes are for monkeys,’ said Donkey and Bones agreed. Sally wondered if that was a joke as she popped them in her mouth.
An hour and a half later the credits began to roll. Donkey and Bones rose from their seats and turned right. When they got to the end of the row and turned to join the advancing column of people, they noticed Sally was still watching the credits, her stare as fixed as the seat she sat on.
‘Sally, c’mon,’ said Donkey motioning with her hand.
Sally heard her name and diverted her eyes from the screen.
‘I want to see the end of the film,’ she declared.
She saw Donkey looking embarrassed, making the advancing picture goers crush like the neck of a bottle. Bones took a deep breath ready to enforce Donkey’s command but Donkey put her finger to her pursed lips.
‘Bones, it’s alright, luv. You wait outside. I’ll bring her.’
Bones nodded, remembering the need to keep Sally on their side. He smiled at her then proceeded to mount the stairs and he then disappeared into the foyer.
Donkey returned to her seat beside Sally. She waited watching the best-boy and the grip employees being named in the credits. Then the companies which made the film possible appeared as the music came to a crescendo and ended.
Only when the curtains advanced to hide the screen did Sally accept the film was over. She got up briskly motioning to Donkey to move. It took her by surprise but she was equally surprised to see more than a handful of the audience had stayed to the curtain call and they were now, like them, on their way out of the cinema, without a crush.
The trio met outside in a shower of rain.
‘C’mon, let’s go the Tuning Fork cafe in the Wallgate. It’s not far, not far at all.’
They entered the cafe and ruffled dry their hair. They sat at the rear of the shop.
‘What do you want, Sally?’
‘I want a coke.’
‘I’ll have a coffee and bacon roll,’ said Donkey and Bones nodded to confirm he’d have the same. The waitress came and took their orders and as she turned to go, Donkey looked at Sally.
‘You got enough to pay for this?’
‘Yes, I’ve got my wallet. I can pay.’
Donkey turned to Bones and gazed at him. Bones gave a gentle but devious lip curving smile.
‘Did I tell you Bones is an accountant?’
‘An accountant? No, you did not tell me. You mean is that a banker?’ asked Sally turning to stare at her partner Bones.
‘I’m not a banker. I said I’m an accountant. I deal in gilts and foreign currencies; those sorts of things you know?’
‘I see. Do you work in London?’ asked an impressed Sally, shaking with delight.
‘London? No, I save a lot of money not working in London. I work from home, by computer. No rented offices involved. You see?’
A nod of agreement could have sufficed but it never arrived. Sally’s mind was elsewhere. ‘I don’t work, I look after Mum.’
Bones drew his chair nearer and lowered his voice.
‘Wouldn’t it be good if you could have a lot of money to make life comfortable? You know, after your mother is no longer there, Yeah?’
‘I’ve got some money for that.’
Bones’ eyes looked up at Donkey and she nodded her approval. It was the queue to go for the jugular.
‘You see Sally,’ said Bones lowering his voice to a mere whisper, ‘You can never have enough money. I guess your money would run out after a few years. You just can’t assume you have enough. I can make £500 double in six months by playing the market.’ He sat back with a broad smile for a brief moment. Then he bent forward again with his elbows on the table and in a normal voice told her, ‘all legal of course.’
The waitress returned with a tray and deposited its contents before them. Donkey and Bones remained quiet while Sally digested the figures she had just heard.
‘That’s a lot of money to make in a short time,’ she said.
Bones and Donkey nodded at the same time. The waitress deposited the bill on a saucer and placed it on the table.
‘Just think what interest the bank gives. Very little. I can beat that any day,’ resumed Bones when the coast was clear.
‘How?’ asked Sally.
‘I speculate on the market. I never make a mistake, do I Donkey, luv?’
‘He’s made us wealthy. We invested £2,000 and it got us £3,500 in a year, easy money. And if you are not working Sally, then this is your lucky day. Isn’t it?’ asked Donkey.
Sally felt lucky. She knew some people had lots of money and they always had financial people behind them. With no feelings of doubt in her mind, she made her mind up. ‘Yes, my lucky day,’ she repeated smiling at the cafe ceiling.
‘So listen Sally, you give me..... let’s say £500 and in six months you get it back twice as much. Now that makes sense, doesn’t it?’ asked Bones.
Sally resumed her stare at him. She nodded with her mouth wide open. ‘So, I send you a cheque in the post. You give me your address and I’ll send the cheque in the post,’ she repeated.
Donkey held onto Sally’s sleeve as it reached for her cup. She lowered her voice once more. ‘Cheques are not good. They can get lost in the post. Take longer to clear through the bank, longer to make money. Cash is best.’
She let go of Sally’s arm. Sally took a sip then replaced her cup on the saucer. She had to agree with her. ‘Cash is best, yes isn’t it?’
Bones took the bill-bearing saucer and slid it towards Sally’s plate. ‘Yup I always deal in cash. Ready cash talks, Sally. Ready cash brings in the profits you understand?’
Sally nodded pleased with her accountant friend’s advice.
‘So Sally, let’s do it. You bring me £500 and let’s make it grow,’ said Bones whose encouraging smile comforted Donkey.
‘Where will I bring the money?’
‘What about the top of Spencer Road by the letter box 7.30 p.m. on Monday night? That will give you time to get the money.’
A visit to the bank on Monday morning, Sally concluded, yes that was okay. But another night out might get her lost again. She gave it some thought. ‘You could come to my house. My Mum would like to meet you I am sure,’ suggested a contented Sally.
Bones was quick to respond with a slight frown on his brow.
‘Listen Sally, you are a mature woman. You don’t want your mother to know what you are doing with your own money, do you? This is your money we’re talking about not hers. Keep it a secret. Then when we’ve made you your first million, you can tell her. Now, how does that sound?’
Sally felt she was being treated properly. She processed the making money in her mind. A million pounds, she had heard Bones say. An image of a car full of notes came to her mind. ‘Top of Spencer road 7.30 p.m.’ she said nodding and shaking her hands robustly with Bones at the same time.
Bones and Donkey raised their collars as they parted from the cafe. ‘Don’t forget, to pay the waitress, Sally,’ said Donkey.
‘Okay I’ll pay her now,’ she replied as she got up and approached the counter. Her friends kept the door open, waiting for her.
‘Bit chilly,’ said Donkey ramming her hands into her well-worn jacket pockets. Sally mimicked their collar-raising on the pavement as they made their separate ways home.
Sally related the film as best she remembered to her mother and she showed polite interest, not having understood the storyline. When Sally mentioned her new friend, Donkey’s partner, was an accountant, her mother smiled and gave Sally a cuddle.
‘Your new friend’s an accountant? That’s wonderful. I hope you will stay pals with them for a very long time,’ she said. ‘They have been very kind to you,’ she continued as her face creased in a broad smile.
‘Yes Mum, they are.’
3
Codes and Numbers
Inspector Mark Rawlings was the lead officer in the Drugs Squad at Wigan. His name was emblazoned on his door in highly polished brass. His dark blue suit and gleaming black shoes gave the impression that he was a graduate heading ever upwards. The truth was, until earlier this year, Sergeant Rawlings was the lead raid man dressed more like a road sweeper as he barged through front doors and leapt up stairs to make drug arrests. He had earned his promotion.
He removed his glasses and wiped them with his tie. ‘Gentlemen, I’m pleased to report in this past month there has been a dip in housebreaking, fewer violent crimes and crimes of a sexual nature. However credit card frauds and the black market are still on the rise - the new cash for drugs. But not all are onto it yet. What’s the talk of the streets, Jim?’
Sergeant Jim Boyd stretched his neck upwards. Thirty years service meant he could consider retiring but he loved his job. He was the quintessential street Bobby known to all the kids, their parents and their parents too for that matter; such were the restricted breeding habits of his patch, a deprived area of town.
‘The Brownlees are quiet and so too are Eck and Tam Barker. No real news of ‘Donkey’ Riley or ‘Bones’ Ritchie.’
‘Sounds good but maybe Bones and Donkey are inside still,’ queried Officer Paul Rice.
The inspector grinned and shook his head. ‘No such luck, they have been out for six weeks already. In fact, I saw them at the Regal cinema the other night. More suitable recreation at last perhaps,’ commented Inspector Rawlings. Then the officer gave a thoughtful stare and caressed his chin. ‘Or the lull before the storm might be more likely,’ he concluded. His remark caused head nodding agreement.
Sally had gone to her bank earlier in the day. Her request was clearly stated. The teller made her enquiry. ‘Is this you having a party then, Sally?’
Sally smiled at the thought of a party. Maybe she’d have a party when her next birthday fell. ‘No, it’s not for a party,’ she said. ‘The bank does not give a good return,’ she said recalling what Bones had told her. The teller raised her eyebrows and agreed. ‘£500 is quite a sum, though.’
Sally’s knuckles began to tap the counter.
‘I have to give it to my accountant. He will make the money grow.’
‘I see,’ said the teller. ‘I don’t blame you. Some of our other customers are doing that too,’ she said collecting the money and flicking through the notes like a threshing harvester ensuring the right amount was handed over.
Her business at the bank was over from the moment she received the money. With no other town interests she returned home satisfied she had obtained the right amount of money.
On Monday night Sally made her way at 7.20 p.m. to the red pillar box. True to their word Bones and Donkey arrived on time with welcoming smiles fixed on their faces. They greeted Sally warmly patting her back. Bones gave Sally a kiss on her cheek. She smiled at him feeling he had made her feel very special. However no preamble was forthcoming. Such was their way. They came directly to the point.
‘Have you got the money, Sally, luv?’
Sally did not answer. Rather she put her hand into her blue jerkin and pulled out a letter.
‘It’s for you,’ she smiled, ‘from my mother.’
Bones’ face went white. Donkey snatched the letter in disbelief. To her this meant their golden egg was cracked. The fortune was slipping from their grasp. She tore the envelope open and pulled out a card.
‘What does it say?’ asked a worried Bones.
A smile came over Donkey’s face.
‘Aww, how nice of her. Do thank her from us both,’ she said, handing the card over to Bones.
Bones was more relaxed as he read her mother’s appreciation for finding her daughter when she was lost and taking her to see the film. ‘That was very kind of her indeed,’ said Bones. ‘I’ll put it up on our mantelpiece when we get home,’ he said stuffing the card into the back pocket of his jeans.
‘So the money Sally, you got it?’
‘Yes, here it is.’
‘Is it £500?’ asked Bones impatiently.
‘Yes, £500,’ she replied in a loud voice, upset to think she could have short-changed him.
Nevertheless Bones took hold of the bundle of notes and opened out the money. He counted it himself.
‘You won’t regret this Sally,’ said Bones still flipping his dirty fingers through five hundred pounds.
‘I can’t do this every week,’ said Sally.
‘No, no, of course not. We don’t want to make you poor while your money is growing every day. We won’t let that happen, honest, Sally,’ said Donkey in an actor’s caring voice.
‘No, no you don’t understand. I am going on holiday with my Mum soon.’ Sally’s
announcement ignited her tic as her hands started to tremble and her rocking stance took off.
Donkey and Bones looked at one another. They saw a necessary break in their illicit gold pot income. But two weeks away was not the end of their business with Sally. It was only a time to cool off.
‘So where are you going?’
‘We are going to Malta,’ she said continuing with her rocking back and forward on her toes and heels with her eyes fixed on Donkey who had asked the question.
‘Malta, that’s in the Mediterranean Sea, isn’t it?’ questioned Donkey.
‘Yes. It will be warm,’ Sally said with a look into the sky to a warm place, far from Wigan.
‘Oh yes, very warm. You will enjoy it,’ said Bones.
Donkey was oddly animated. Her face was flushed and she had a strange glow in her eyes. ‘So,’ she said turning to Sally. ‘Will there be anyone looking after the house while you are away?’
‘No, no one.’
‘I see. Well, you had better put your burglar alarm on then luv,’ suggested Bones looking thoughtful and catching his co-conspirator’s eye.
‘Yes, we will.’
Bones looked up to the sky. ‘We often play a game. Usually at home when there’s nothing on the telly, you know, something to do.’
‘Oh, which game? I love games,’ said Sally.
‘Let me give you an example,’ said Donkey looking up at the star flecked sky. ‘So we were talking about security codes. So Sally, I try to guess yours. Is it 9876?’
‘No it’s not,’ she replied clenching her fists in excitement.
‘I know what it is,’ said Donkey, obviously familiar with this game. ‘It’s 1234, isn’t it?’
The Trials of Sally Dunning and a Clerical Murder Page 2
