Fat Tuesday

by Gary Davison

  “I hope it’s got somewhere to stay,” Amber said, looking down over my shoulder. “It could freeze in this weather.”

  “What weather – it’s roasting!”

  “Wait a second.” The dog went into the first set of bushes and never came out. “Ah. Shall we bring him inside?”

  “Are you insane? It’s probably riddled with fleas, and what we going to do with it after Sunday?”

  “I forgot about that, you’re probably right, and it can’t come to that much harm in this weather, can it?”

  We went inside and Amber switched the ghetto blaster on and squeezed us a glass of wine each from the goon bag, while I knocked up. After a few blasts of the joint we stretched out on the sofa.

  Sometime much later, just as I’d won the battle of wills and released the catches on Amber’s bra, Gregg shot up the stairs and slapped the landing light on. His face was blazing red, his white shirt creased and stained with drink.

  “You owe me big-time,” he panted, “fucking big time.”

  It was half-twelve. The shower went off and he came out, struggling into a brown t-shirt.

  “I hear you’re in love,” I said, passing him a joint.

  “Love?” he shook his head. “Ever heard of periontis?”

  “Periodontitis you mean,” Amber said. “Gum disease, my grandmother had it.”

  “Granny sounds about right,” he said, twisting his face. “Eleanor’s bottom set were only fucking false, can you believe it? She laid the fuckers on the bedside table!”

  “You’ve having a laugh,” I said. “And you managed to bone her with her nashers chattering away on the table?”

  “I can’t listen to this!” Amber said, hands over ears, fast-walking to the bathroom.

  “Honestly, she’s so fucking saggy, you just wouldn’t believe.”

  I was squirming as he went into detail. “Did you do the business then?”

  “Are you for real or what? There was never ever going to be any penetration, but I overdid it plying the fucker with treble gins, crazy cow played hard to get when we got back to her place.” Amber returned. “Just so you know.’

  “Please, nothing graphic. I heard the penetration word and I nearly chucked.”

  “No penetration, for the record. Anyway, she was there in all her glory, fumbling around, then she passed out and I went straight for her bag.”

  “And?”

  Gregg pulled out a piece of paper and bunch of keys. “Oh, yes.”

  I leapt on him. “Fucking get in! Get in! You fucking nutter!”

  “Unbelievable!” Amber screamed, joining in. “Only you!”

  “I’ll tell you what, though?” Gregg said, peeling us off him and reaching for a smoke. “She’ll be off work tomorrow, no doubt about it, but we need to get these keys copied and back to her or she’ll be onto me.’

  In less than thirty-six hours we’d be on our way to rob Vasey supermarket. I was looking for a way out. I didn’t need to do this now. I had Amber. Life couldn’t be sweeter. Whatever we stood to make off the robbery, if we managed not to get caught out by some blatant oversight, I already had in the bank. Ok, I wouldn’t feel totally comfortable coming right out and telling them all, but Amber knew I had money coming and the rest she’d understand. Gregg would be the one I’d lose. The two of us had become so close planning this, if I walked away from the robbery, I walked away from him.

  Just about anything could happen on the night and the more we talked about it the more we freaked each other out. It was one-thirty.

  Gregg looked around. “I’ve just realised, where’s Cam?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” I said.

  “Could be out with his friend from the Traveller’s Rest,” Amber said.

  Gregg walked over to the window. “On an important night like this? I doubt it.”

  Gregg switched the light off. “Come here,” he said.

  Amber and I joined him at the window.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  Cam was sat on the first park bench, elbows on knees, smoking.

  “His nerves’ll be shot to fuck,” Gregg mumbled on his way down the stairs.

  Half-an-hour passed before they came back in.

  “What’s up?” I asked Gregg tossed a newspaper at me. “Inside page.”

  Amber rushed over to Cam. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m out of here tonight, no matter what.”

  ATTACKED MAN FOUND DEAD IN HIS BED

  Mystery surrounds the death of a man found in his bed early this morning. Police today said they were treating the death of the 53-year-old as murder and launched an enquiry as they waited for the results of a post-mortem.

  Det Insp Callum Knight of Kings Cross command area said: “Further tests are being carried out and more enquires are being made. Two men were arrested in connection with the enquiry and have been released with no further action. An e-fit of a man seen following the victim home from Oxford Street last night, between the hours 1am and 2am, has been released. The man is between 5–8 and 5-11, blond hair, slim build, wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt. We urge this gentleman to come forward so we can eliminate him from our enquiries.”

  Officers found the body of the 53-year-old after responding to a disturbance at a bed and breakfast on Palmer Street. The street was sealed off last night and today as police carried out their enquiries. An eyewitness, who did not want to be named, said, “I heard a window smash, looked out and saw a man running up the middle of the road. It was total chaos, people in the street, police everywhere.”

  Police also want to speak to a taxi driver who dropped two men off in Palmer Street around this time.

  Det Con Sean May added, “We know Oxford Street was crowded around this time with night clubbers and that the victim walked home alone. If you have any information or were on Oxford Street or the surrounding area between 12.30am and 2.30am, or recognise the man in the e-fit, please contact us.”

  The e-fit was a ringer for Cam.

  “I’m getting my stuff,” he said.

  “I was there last night! I’ve been seen running up the fucking street! That brick could’ve killed him!”

  “Calm down, Spence,” Amber said, grabbing my hand. “We still don’t know if he had anything to do with us.”

  “If he didn’t before, he fucking does now,” I said, pacing. “I bricked his window! I could be guilty of killing the fucker!”

  The ginger bloke hadn’t come out into the street. Every fucker else was out, but not him. I pictured him lying on his back, brick by his side, blood running down his face, soaking into his beard, eyes bulging, gasping for breath. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  “SPENCE!” Amber screamed.

  “Spence, come on mate,” Gregg was saying, pulling me up off the floor. “Let’s just chill out, take it easy.”

  Amber prised my arm from my side. “Your arm’s bleeding again. You’re going OTT. Please, Spence, just calm down. For me?”

  The two lads in white shirts, the taxi pulling away in the back lane, and me, the killer, standing in the shadows with my brick. Why did I go there? What could I have sorted even if I’d seen him? Fuck all, that’s what, and now look what I’ve done.

  “Says here,” Gregg said, showing me the paper. “Top of the next page. That he’d been assaulted and strangled.”

  I read the words twice.

  “Thank fuck for that,” I said, taking a walk. “Fuck’s sakes, honestly, I thought I’d done him with a brick.”

  Cam dumped his backpack at the door.

  We had a couple of drinks and tried to make sense of it all.

  The reality was that we’d been caught up in this man’s death. Cam and I had been to Palmer Street last night and could be implicated. Facts could get distorted. The newspaper report had said the victim had walked home alone, which meant the prostitute Cam had seen hadn’t come forward, making her the prime suspect, and our first line of defence if we ever got dragged in. We had two choices: go to the police or leave tow
n.

  11

  My initial reaction was to pack up and fuck off, and whoever wanted to join Amber and me were welcome. By the time I fell asleep, my attitude had changed. A life without Gregg and Cam made me uneasy. Amber and I would be fine all loved up, but these two were my best mates – my only mates.

  I considered telling them about my past to get out of doing the robbery, but all the reasons why I hadn’t done it before were even stronger now after seeing their reactions to the stalker’s death. So how could we keep it all together without giving the robbery a go?

  I woke up on the sofa next to Amber. My head was splitting. Cam was sat in the armchair, legs hanging over the side, blowing smoke rings. Amber stirred and went to the bathroom. I made the coffees and poked my head into Gregg’s room on the way back – all his stuff was there but he was gone. Cam half opened the curtains and the sunlight cut across the room: cans of lager, dope tray, two full ashtrays, plastic glasses on the floor and two pizza boxes.

  Gregg breezed up the stairs, whistling, armed with McDonalds bags. “Four double cheeseburger meals.” He plonked himself down in the armchair and winked at me.

  “So,” Cam said, wafting a chip at Gregg. “You’ve been all the way to Liverpool Street and back, and managed not to eat your meal.”

  “Or,” I said, “you sat in and had pancakes and syrup first.”

  “Or,” Amber said. “You had a big breakfast.”

  “Big breakfast,” he said with his mouth full. “I need extra nourishment when I’m stressed.”

  We finished our breakfasts and passed the smokes around. Gregg handed me the morning paper. “Page five, bottom left.”

  The follow up story to the murder was brief. The police had arrested a prostitute and she was helping them with their enquiries, and they still wanted people to come forward if they were in the area between 12 and 2.30. I passed the paper around.

  “Right,” Gregg said, standing up. “There’s not a single mention of Cam or you, Spence. Like we said last night, it had to be her, or her pimp, or something to do with her, or she would have come forward straight away, wouldn’t she?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with us and we didn’t,” Cam said.

  “Now, I know we could have done without this before Sunday.”

  “I’m leaving today,” Cam said. “I’m sorry, mate, I know what this means to you, but I just can’t go through with it.”

  “Couldn’t agree more, Cam. You’re a liability. If you head out the door now in broad daylight you could get fingered from that e-fit. Citizen’s arrest, even.”

  “Well, cheers for that. So I’m a liability now, and likely to be arrested on sight if I leave the flat? Why don’t I just hand myself in straight away and ask for a shorter sentence?”

  Gregg reeled off the endless scenarios of how Cam could be captured, including making an arrest himself here in the flat. The Outlaw Cam Brazelle, Cam Hood Prince of Thieves, Cam The Terrible, Cam Kimble – The Fugitive.

  “Fuck right off! You’re not taking this seriously!” He was up out of his chair. “I could be arrested! God knows what they class as evidence!”

  “Just chill,” Gregg said, all hands. “Sit down and listen to what I’ve got to say.”

  Cam sat back down.

  Gregg stared at me. “You know we’ve got everything we need to pull this off.”

  “Yeah, but don’t forget, the longer we hang around here the more risky it’ll be.”

  “Tonight. Me and you. Nothing heavy, just slip into work, nice and easy; if it feels right we’ll give it a shot. If the vibe’s wrong we head back, meet these two, and we’re on the next bus out of here.”

  This was the way out for us all. Into the back rooms, see how far we get, slightest sign of bother, we leave it alone, saving face by at least attempting it. At worst, we get caught in the back rooms and get a warning. Tomorrow, a fresh start and I’ll tell them about home, and we’ll piss ourselves laughing that we tried to rob Vaseys when we didn’t need to. I’ll sell the house and business, and we’ll pool the money and head up the gold coast in style, partying in Airlie Beach, diving the barrier reef, Thailand, Ibiza, the lot.

  Gregg was following me around the flat. “Nothing hard and fast, Spence. Just go to work tonight, see how the land lies, any grief and we’re out of there. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “We can’t leave until dark anyway, can we?” I asked Amber. She shrugged.

  Gregg was in front of me, palms open. “What do you say?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to see how it lies just for an hour.”

  12

  I went over to the garage and told Craig I was leaving, and he was genuinely gutted, asking me to do one last bumper day on the petrol con. Problem was, the roadworks were still on and the traffic was hardly moving. The first one we did conked out only fifty yards away and Craig had no room to get in front of her and it caused havoc. We ended up towing the miserable cow away for free.

  I grafted hard for the rest of the afternoon. Seemed only right, and I enjoyed it. Come four o’clock I was fully focused on the night ahead. If we did manage to get in and rob the place, Gregg and I would have to go back and work as normal the next day to avoid suspicion. This hadn’t been mentioned in the morning, which is why I thought we were acting this out to keep the bravado going that we’d done our best. We weren’t all mouth.

  I finished work and promised to keep in touch with Craig, agreeing to meet up in Airlie Beach soon. I zigzagged through the traffic and caught a train at Wynyard and got off a stop later at Circular Quay. I bought a fanta orange and stood at the railings next to the ferry terminals, looking out over the harbour at the bridge and opera house. I love it here. I had my girl, my two mates and a job. Where the fuck were we going to go after tonight?

  Amber finished work at four every day and arrived home no sooner that half-five. I can’t remember her ever getting back before then. She gets on the train at North Sydney and gets off five stops later at Kings Cross. It takes fifteen minutes, tops. What does she do for an hour-and-fifteen every night? Not just occasionally, every night? We’d been on the text all afternoon and come to think of it a few of her later texts were a bit short – not abrupt as such and always with a treble kiss – but, if you looked at them carefully, definitely hurried. It was too late to go over now.

  Walking through the park, I was joined by the stray dog. When he’d finished eating the sandwich I’d given him, he stretched out over my feet. I sat for a while, sun warming my face. I watched the old man with the panama, hunched over, shuffling along. I found his battle to get to the end of the footpath each night therapeutic.

  Something’s bothering me and I’m fucked if I know what. Something right in front of me, a blatant piss-take, and I can’t see it. It’s not Amber. Can’t be. She loves me as much as I do her. No doubt.

  Could be Cam. The fucker isn’t coming tonight. Why is that? He’ll be happy to split the money when we leave, so why not come tonight? Two reasons I reckon. One, because he’s shitting it about the police, and, two, he knows something about the stalker that we don’t. I’ll tell you what, if Cam wanted to, after tonight, he could fuck the lot of us over big time. He’d know about the robbery and be able to place me at the scene with the stalker. And what about the time he pulled me aside to talk about him being bent? I’m fucking sure something was off, I could feel it; the fucker was too close for comfort. I’m not saying he’s going to go to the police but, if they gave him a tug, he could escape with a warning while we get done properly.

  Fuck knows. Maybe I’m just getting edgy because we’re leaving town. If I had things my way I would stay. I’d buy a place here and chill right out.

  I took a slow walk towards the flat and promised myself I’d be back on Bondi Beach for Christmas day with Amber. I reached the gates and turned to say goodbye to the dog but he’d taken off chasing another dog.

  13

  Gregg and I marched to work in silence, the bright green Vasey sign bearing
down on us as we walked through the doors and went our separate ways to start the shift. With only a couple of hours to go, I was watching the staff and customers, and looking for a reason to back out.

  23.20hrs

  Gregg knelt down beside me. “How d’you feel?”

  “Calm as you like.”

  “Guess who’s still off?”

  “Your bird?”

  Eleanor’s absence was a bonus, but we needed to find out which key colleague would be standing in for her. Gregg squeezed my shoulder and went back to his aisle. Any excuse would do to call it off, but everything felt right.

  0.00hrs

  I pushed the empty trolley back through the stream of departing staff and into the warehouse. I checked for the holdalls before taking the next one.

  Cam’s porcelain white face appeared alongside me. “You all right, Spence?”

  My heart started racing; he had dug well deep to get himself here. I mouthed “Keep your eye on Jason”, and barged through the doors, along the top aisle and down 23. I passed the crossover as the security guard wandered up 25. Gregg and I came together and he steered the trolley against the security door and bent down for the bags. He opened the door and stepped inside. I checked over my shoulder, pushed the trolley forward and followed him in. We stared back through the mirrored glass: Amber talking to the cashier nearest to us and Cam on the corner of 17.

  We pulled our gloves on and crept along the corridor to the CCTV room. Gregg punched in the code and the green light came on. I gripped the handle, sensing someone was on the other side. Gregg pushed past me and I shut the door behind us. “Snap out of it, Spence,” he hissed.

  00.11

  To our left and right there were shelves at head height stacked with papers; on the back wall a grey metal cabinet; right of that a desk with a joystick and a bank of screens, each split into six. The air conditioning unit hummed away as I stared at the door handle, waiting for it to turn. Gregg took Jeff’s keys and started on the cabinet. It opened at the fourth attempt. I bent down and ejected the tapes from the three video recorders and stuffed them into the bag. Gregg locked it. We checked around the room to see if there was anything else to take. There was another desk with a steel cabinet beneath it. Gregg tried three keys before I dragged him up.