Between Two Thieves

by Solomon Carter

  “What just happened?” said Mark.

  “I don’t know,” said Eva.

  “Maybe he’s with the fashion police,” said Joanne, with a smirk. “Did you see what that guy was wearing?”

  Dan opened the car door and got in.

  “You see that?” he said. “That little guy almost got himself turned into a pancake. I think that tall guy was after him. It’s like Leigh Broadway’s turned into Southend High Street.”

  Dan looked at Eva and saw a hardened look in her eye. She started the engine.

  “What’s the matter?” he said.

  “I just got a text message from an old friend.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? So, what’s the matter?” said Dan.

  Eva took her time and pulled the car out into the traffic before she replied.

  “We’re not friends anymore, Dan. We haven’t been friends for almost twenty years.”

  Dan nodded but she saw he didn’t understand.

  “Think about that,” said Eva. “How did she get my number?”

  “Oh.” Dan nodded his head, his eyes tempted by the newspaper in his hands. “Hang on. Didn’t I tell you?”

  Eva cast a glance to the front passenger seat.

  “Some girl called you few days back. You were out. Said she was an old, old friend of yours and was trying to track you down for a get together. You were out. So I gave her your number.”

  “What?” said Eva.

  “Eva, she was your friend. She even mentioned a few places you used to hang out. She sounded pretty nostalgic for the good old days, you know. I gave her your number so you two could catch up.”

  “Damn it, Dan!” said Eva, working hard to keep her driving calm.

  “Then you’re not friends?” said Dan.

  “I told you, we’re ex-friends. As in former. As in I don’t like her.”

  “But she said—”

  “Then she played you just like she once played me. I don’t know what she wants, but you can bet it won’t be anything good.”

  “How do you know that, Eva? She sounded friendly enough to me. She said some very kind things about you. People can change a lot in twenty years.”

  Eva blinked, recalling the Dan she’d met back in her college days. Since then he’d lost half a finger, gained a few grey hairs, survived several deadly attacks and acquired the scars and wrinkles to prove it. Other than that, Dan Bradley was the same man-child he’d always been. Eva shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Eva,” he said.

  She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll deal with it. Let’s just go and get some lunch, okay? I’m sure I’ll forget all about it soon enough.”

  Dan sighed and turned the newspaper over on his lap. “Sorry to tell you I was right about the headline I saw. There is a missing person mystery, but The Record are jumping the gun. The guy only disappeared last night. Alice Perry must be desperate to write about something other than Ubers.”

  “Who’s gone missing?” said Mark, shrugging dismissively in the back seat.

  “He disappeared last night, which means the guy might not be missing at all,” said Dan. “But the type of guy he is, it’d be pretty strange to just vanish like that. He runs a rehab, and a Christian charity. He’s the stable as they come type. That’s her angle.”

  “Alice Perry was always desperate,” said Eva.

  “True. But she knows what her readers like. And from what this article says about this Carl Renton guy – she could well be right.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose,” said Eva. “But if Mr Renton turns up today, the least she’ll have is egg on her face.” Eva smiled at the thought. Mark and Joanne crowded in from the back seats to read the front page headline. Eva’s eyes flicked from the Broadway traffic to the newspaper on Dan’s lap. Today was supposed to be fun, and yet Lauren Jaeger had appeared to spoil it. Eva felt on edge. There was only one thing for it. A decent sized glass of ice cold Italian white to go with her pizza.

  Eva glanced at the headline, and the write up. LOCAL HERO GOES MISSING. The photograph below showed a happy middle-aged man – from a holiday in Israel, so the text beneath said. The man hardly looked like a typical hero to Eva, but then, Perry was behind the article. Poetic licence and all that. As she scanned further, Eva got the gist. Carl Renton was a single man, a devout Christian, who had spent the last fifteen years getting drunks dry and junkies clean. The article said the man had invested his own money and had received a grant to a second rehab. And in recent months, Carl Renton had personally taken up the fight against those bringing wave after wave of drugs into Essex, drugs such as Spice, which turned people into living zombies, and the new Uber form of ecstasy, which offered youths a celebrated almost manic high, followed by a crashing low. But Ubers were far worse than the earlier versions of ecstasy. Deaths seemed to follow wherever it was taken. The newspaper quoted the pastor of Renton’s local church. The pastor described Carl Renton as “a selfless man who goes out on a limb for the lost. If not for Carl’s help, an awful lot of people in this town would already be dead. Carl has always been a brave, fearless and loving man. He decided to try and take on the town’s drug problems when most turned a blind eye. Because of that we are already greatly concerned for his safety. Carl was due to attend our regular church meeting this morning but he didn’t show up. Carl wouldn’t have ever missed one without calling.” Perry went on to say that Carl Renton also failed to show up at either of his rehab houses for the late night shift. More behaviour which was distinctly out of character. The article ended with a neat appeal for anyone with news of Renton’s whereabouts to give the news desk or the police a call to reassure the friends, rehab users and staff that the man was alive and well. The article was a heartstring puller with more than a hint of purple prose. Perry made Eva sick but it sounded like she wasn’t wrong about Carl Renton. Whoever he was, he sounded like a good man. And his sudden disappearance, even for one night, was against the man’s character.

  “Let’s hope they find him,” said Eva. “Alive and well,” she added.

  Dan was already halfway through the flimsy newspaper by the time Eva parked the car outside Leigh’s fancy pizza house. Eva watched him fold the newspaper under his arm as he got out of the car. He was going to bring the damn thing with him after all. Eva shook her head. Looked like it was going to have to be a large glass of white wine after all. Today, small just wasn’t going to cut it.

  Three

  A Hawaiian for Joanne – sweet and savoury, much like the girl herself. A Four Seasons for Dan, – the man who wanted everything, all dowsed with extra chilli oil. An olive and anchovy for Eva, a woman who always opted for the most savoury of tastes, balanced by a glass of cold white wine which amounted to a third of a bottle. Mark opted for beef and mozzarella – plain and maybe a little too safe. Eva smiled. The wine wasn’t enough to make her drunk, but it was enough to take the bitter edge off her mood. The pizza restaurant’s chatty ambience helped too. Even Mark seemed to be loosening up. Dan flicked through the newspaper between slices of pizza, and Eva drank her wine to prevent herself complaining. She watched as he glanced through from front to back, and then started over, only reading the articles which had piqued his interest. Eva reclined in her seat. She took her glass in hand and pushed thoughts of Lauren Jaeger to the back of her mind.

  “Now you’ve digested the whole newspaper, you should tell us what we’re missing.”

  Dan laid the paper down and picked up the vegetable portion of his pizza. He eyed it with a carnivore’s suspicion.

  “Well, to start with you’ve got Carl Renton,” said Dan.

  “The missing hero,” said Joanne, sipping from her own glass of white, a hint of pink already showing on her cheeks.

  “Yep. There’s even a profile piece on him inside – but he only disappeared last night. Perry must really think something’s happened to the guy. She must have had a tip-off. This Renton guy looks safe and boring from the outsid
e, but it seems he’s actually a pretty interesting man. He sounds like a good guy out on a limb. I hope this story gets a happy ending.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the ending Alice Perry would want.”

  “Alice Perry only wants to sell newspapers,” said Dan. “And bad news is what sells.”

  “That’s not all she wants,” said Eva.

  Dan looked at Eva, seeing her serious eyes. “Hey. We’re past all that and we’ve got her under control.”

  Eva’s eyes flicked to the newspaper. “So. What other craziness is going on in this town?” Dan knew she was changing the subject.

  “This Uber Ecstasy craze is causing a lot of problems. A&E has been flooded with kids OD’ing on the crap.” Dan flicked back to the paper and began to list the items he’d read. “And, after that dumb-arse councillor managed to lose some items from that Saxon King treasure trove, Southend Museum is putting out an appeal for their return.”

  “What was he doing with them anyway?” said Joanne.

  “They were the centrepiece for Councillor Audley’s fundraising dinner. The councillor was no doubt stroking his own ego and it looks like we all paid the price.” Dan patted the newspaper.

  “Feel better for your news fix?” said Eva.

  “I’ll feel better when I finish this pizza and get another beer to wash it down. Are you still the designated driver?”

  “So long as I stick to just this one,” said Eva, tapping her glass, “I should just about manage it.”

  “Then another Kronenbourg it is. Anyone else?”

  Joanne nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. Mark hesitated before asking for a half.

  “Suit yourself,” said Dan. As he waved at the nearest waitress, Eva noticed Mark’s eyes drifting off.

  “What’s on your mind, Mark?” said Eva.

  “Me?” His eyes returned to the present and picked up a forkful of spicy beef. “Oh, just thinking about the past.”

  “Oh please,” said Joanne. “Just when I was enjoying myself too.. Maybe you should go for the full pint instead.”

  “Um, no thanks,” said Mark. “Actually, I was hoping that we could stop off somewhere on the way back into town – if you don’t mind.”

  Eva shrugged. “I don’t think that’d be a problem. Why? What do you want to do?”

  “It’s this.” Mark shuffled in his seat and slid his hand into his pocket. When his hand came back it was carrying a bright red nylon wallet with a colourful ‘Hang Loose’ logo on the front.

  “You brought that thing with you? Why?” said Joanne. She turned to face Eva. “He’s been banging on about this stupid wallet for days. Because he’d stopped talking about it, I thought it had been forgotten.”

  “Not at all,” said Mark. “I just thought it was a bit weird, that’s all.”

  “Weird?” said Eva. “Why? Who does it belong to?”

  Dan’s hand still hung in the air. He hadn’t been served. He leaned over the back of his chair and snapped his fingers for attention. “Hey.”

  “I found a provisional driving licence card inside,” said Mark. “And an old gym membership card. Expired. There was no cash or anything else. I guess any cash could have been stolen and the wallet discarded.”

  Eva nodded for Mark to go on.

  “It belongs to a guy called Joe Clancy,” he said. “We were in the same class at school. We were similar kids. I mean, Joe wasn’t exactly popular, either, but he was confident, smart, just a bit of a loner. But unlike me he always had plenty of money. His dad was a wealthy jeweller. They said Joe only insisted on coming to our school because he wanted to piss off his dad. I got the impression they never got on.”

  Eva did her best to follow Mark’s story and sipped her wine. Joanne gave Eva a look, which seemed to say ‘see what I have to put up with?’

  “Okaaay...” said Eva.

  Mark picked up on the nuances and decided to sum up.

  “Joe Clancy was a rich kid in a rough school. My school. He didn’t need to be there, but there he was. After we left I never saw him in my part of town again. I mean, no one really ventures to that part of Southchurch anyway, unless they’ve got a very good reason. Basically, you either go there for the adult college or the adult entertainment, if you know what I mean. You’re a kerb crawler coming for the ladies of the night.”

  “Ladies of the night?” said Joanne, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them.”

  “I was trying to be eloquent about it.”

  “Well, you came close,” said Joanne, grinning.

  “And that’s where you found the wallet? Near your home?” said Eva.

  “Kind of. I found it in that little old park. The one we always used to call the duck park, the one on Park Lane.”

  “I know it,” said Eva. “It’s a very pretty looking place, but some very unscrupulous types use it by night,” said Eva.

  “I know,” said Mark, “And that’s where I found Joe Clancy’s wallet. Right there in the park, thrown to the side of the path.”

  “So where does this Joe Clancy live?” asked Eva.

  “Not far from here, actually. On Kings Road.”

  “Now that’s a very decent street,” said Dan, having placed his order with the waitress. “Big houses, fancy cars. You never know, the kid could even give you a reward for your trouble. I assume that’s what you’re after.”

  “No,” said Mark. “I just thought we should get this back to him. And it’d be interesting to see how he’s doing. It’s been years.

  Dan picked up the dregs of his glass with a thirsty grin.

  “You want the little rich kid to get his wallet back? No problem. We can do that.. But first, we relax and we drink.” Dan raised his glass. “Cheers!”

  Mark sipped his half lager, his eyes glazing over the top of the glass. He felt the lump of his old schoolmate’s wallet in his pocket, pressing against his chest. Old feelings and new questions had a hold of him. Soon he’d find out what it meant.

  Four

  After a hot morning, a large salty pizza and an oversized glass of white, Eva wasn’t in a great state for driving. But then again, everyone else had drunk more than her with the exception of Mark. And there was no way their apprentice was driving her car. The two strong lagers were beginning to show in Dan’s exuberance, and Joanne seemed to find everything hilarious. Finally Eva found herself enjoying the atmosphere in the car. The whole long afternoon lay ahead of them like a blank canvas. She could feel the beach calling. It was a rare day indeed that they skipped work to enjoy the local sands. But at the weekends, any hot day ensured most of the beaches were far too busy to be enjoyed. If ever there was a day for ice cream at the seaside this was it. Eva lowered the driver’s side window all the way down and turned up the radio.

  “Kings Road, remember?” said Mark.

  “I know. I haven’t forgotten,” said Eva, glancing back in the rear-view. “Do you know where this Joe guy lives?”

  “It says right here,” said Mark. He opened the big red wallet and glanced at the driving licence. He read out the door number and Eva took it in.

  “And after that?” said Dan. “How about a spot of beach followed by some sundowners at Chez Roberts and Bradley.”

  “We’re certainly cutting loose,” said Joanne, smiling.

  “If not us, then who?” said Dan, with a theatrical tone. “If not now, when?!”

  “What’s that from?” said Eva.

  “Ronald Reagan,” said Dan.

  “Who?” said Joanne.

  “Forget it,” said Dan.

  The car pulled up at the foot of a steep slope, where the princely Kings Road stretched down from the back end of glamorous Leigh, into the neat affluence of Chalkwell. They were in the centre of Kings Road, a place of spacious white mid-twentieth century houses, all detached, all with big driveways, and many of them had two cars apiece, most paid for by lucrative city jobs just up the train line. Dan eyed the parked cars all around with a hint of envy. Then he looked
at the house immediately before them with no car in sight. The driveway looked naked in comparison.

  “Thought you said this guy has money,” said Dan.

  “He does. Just look at his house,” said Mark.

  Dan scoped it out. Eva turned down the stereo. From what they could see through the window the interior looked part minimalist and part cluttered. The balance in one room was in favour of clutter. The house looked well kept, as did the front garden and borders.

  “Still, money shows itself in a man’s car.”

  “Or a woman’s car,” said Joanne.

  “Works either way – but no car.”

  “Joe lives with his father. His dad probably has the car.”

  “His mother doesn’t live here?” asked Dan.

  “No. They split up years back,” said Mark. “His dad’s free-wheeling.”

  “And daddy got the house? Those odds are like winning the lottery.”

  “I get the idea she was the one who cheated,” said Mark.

  “Okay then. Go and give him his wallet back,” said Dan. “I’d kind of like to see what his house is all about. What did you say his dad did for a living?”

  “I said he’s a jeweller. Joe once boasted he was a bit of collector too. A collector of rare shiny things.”

  “Rare and shiny?” said Joanne. “Now I’m interested.”

  “So am I,” said Dan, looking at the house. He noticed a curtain twitch in the leaded-light window of the first floor.

  “Someone’s in,” said Joanne.

  Mark got out of the car. The rest of them watched what was likely to be a brief exchange. Mark pressed the doorbell and its shrill ring was audible from the car. He waited a minute, then pressed it again. A moment after that, Mark turned back and started walking to the car.

  “Well... it looks like he’s not at home,” said Mark.

  “Someone is,” said Dan.

  “Then it can’t be convenient for them. We can call back sometime.”