Chapter 13

 

“You can drop me here,” said Andy Cronin as the taxi slowly drove along the seafront road, “I’ll walk through the town.” He thought sixty pounds was a lot for a thirty minute drive but then thought the driver had to make a living and had no return fare. And the driver was cheerful and good at the taxi driver chit-chat. He grabbed his bag from the boot, slammed the boot lid, tapped the roof and the taxi drove off towards the river where it U turned and came back along the beach road to head out of town. Andy stood for a few moments looking along the esplanade taking in the hectic Sunday afternoon day tripper scene. People, kids and dogs and ice cream by the ton on a warm day. There were kids in the sea and playing football on the beach with the tide out and the sand exposed. A great place to burn off all that youthful energy. Growing up in London with a mum mostly on her own he had never experienced this as a kid. He gave a long sigh of regret then he walked slowly down the main street aiming for a small street way back of town to meet a lady called Mavis and a B&B that was cheap.

The short fat lady in the floral dress next to the tall skinny man with shorts and sandals with white socks pulled up high was rubbing her shin. She had tried to lean on the man but ended up holding the edge of a shop front. Struggling to bend. Her face had a grimace. His had a smirk. They had taken up all the pavement with her slow waddle and his long stride. There were cars in the street. Andy had said, “‘Scuse me,” and tried to go by but she would not shift. So he tried to go between them and she shifted left. Squeezing him out. So he stepped into the road and around her, kicking up his heel as he passed. Heard the yelp and smiled loving that sound as he walked on down the street. 

The long low building on the right had that old time look about it. It must have come straight out of an age gone by. White washed with black stained wood. A pub with a sign board on the street that said it never shut except late at night and served food all day. It looked gloomy inside but he didn’t care he was off to see Mavis.

He moved on down the pavement weaving a bit here and there. It was sure busy. The crowds were thick and his progress was slow. He heard or maybe felt a commotion enough for him to look back. A natural reaction for one always on the alert. The two detectives were in the street pushing a hole in the crowd and heading his way. 

Mouthing a few words he started to move quickly pushing aside people as best he could but needed to get clear of the crowds. Looking back he saw the detectives’ sight line was blocked; he could hardly see them. They were stuck behind the lady rubbing her shin. Taking the next side street he pushed his bag around over his back then sprinted turning again into a joining road then began to make his way through the maze of streets towards the back of town.

Taking out his phone he punched in the postcode of the B&B and fifteen minutes later he was on the doorstep of a house with blue windows and blue front door pushing a bell button to hear chimes down the hallway.

“You must be Andy,” said the lady with a sort of smile that carried an air of suspicion. Her greying short curly hair looked smart and a long apron, the bib type with pockets and tied at the front in a big bow. The long hallway with polished floorboards showing each side of a Shiraz runner leading to a rear kitchen and guest breakfast room. It was bright. There was light flooding in from the open doors. He followed her and she said, “breakfast at eight thirty sharp. In there….You can use the front room. I don’t want girls back here and mind your manners I don’t take too well to swearing. And no alcohol. This is a dry house. Don’t come in drunk and be sick.” And Andy thought she must have had some problems.

A few minutes later he was telling Mavis his friend would arrive early tomorrow and she said that was no problem and could he pay for the two rooms upfront please. Then he was upstairs through the narrow landing to the front bedroom with a big bay window unpacking the small amount of stuff in his bag. He put a full bottle of red label on the side table. The room was basic but clean and tidy and the bed was wide with fresh sheets. The pink en-suite was compact but shiny with one of those small bottles with the sticks in sending out a lavender scent. It would clog up his brain so he covered it over. He’d have to live with the pink.

 The gun he put in his jacket pocket. It was lightweight and small made for a lady’s purse so did not spoil the line of his jacket. He would wait until tomorrow to see if George arrived before making any solid moves to look for Jane Somerton. Sitting on the dressing table was a pile of finger worn things to do flyers. He skipped through them and picked out the one with the map and hotel list. 

Grabbing a glass from the bathroom he poured three fingers, his normal single, then settled back on the bed to make a few calls. Starting with the poshest looking hotel and working his way down. He was thinking seeing those two detectives just made it seem all the more the right thing to hire George.

He had to wait thirty minutes at Waterloo for the 12.20 Exeter train and queued for a bottle of water and a sandwich. His navy blue jacket and faded denims with white trainers made him look casual. The tall man with the black tee shirt and tattoos up his arms making them look blue. The big arms and chest and wide shoulders of a work out man. Short hair and a tough face. This tall man took to the front of the queue with a confident swagger not expecting any protest. The fella with the coffee seller shirt about to serve him.

“Hey,” said Andy, “the queue’s back here.” Pointing to the line behind him, “at the back and wait your turn.”

The guy looked round, “I ain’t going to be a minute,” he said and, still not expecting any serious protest, turned back to the black shirted server with a coffee cup motiff on his breast pocket with steam swirling off the top froth picked out in white thread.

“You’re not serving this fella,” said Andy to the server.

“He only wants a bottle of water. Two minutes then I’m with you.” said the server.

Andy forced his way between the man and the counter and, facing the server, said, “I’ve been waiting twenty minutes to get two minutes of your valuable time. Tell me why I should wait twenty two minutes so this fella can wait two?” He could feel the big fella’s presence hitting his back but he ignored it.

“Two minutes is all,” the tall fella said to the back of his head. His voice was deep and resonating and that kind of fitted well with his appearance. Andy felt an intimidating nudge of his heel and looking down saw a black chain covered biker boot.

He turned and looked up into the tall man’s face, “You gotta wait and this guy won’t serve you. You can protest. You're big enough. You can slap me with the one finger it’ll take but that’ll make no difference. If I go down I’ll be straight back up all dusty but I’ll be straight back up. Ask the queue if I’m right. You’ve gotta wait.”

The man looked at the queue and the lady next in line shrugged and said. “The man’s right. You gotta wait.” The tall man looked at Andy and saw the bruised face and red nose then shrugged and moved to the back of the line.

“BLT and two large bottles of water,” said Andy to the server. Two minutes later and he grabbed the bottles and cardboard pack with the picture of a sandwich on the side and said, “You should watch your queue or one time you’ll have a riot.”

He moved away towards the back of the queue and stopped next to the tall man and gave him a bottle of water and said, “Sorry about that my family has a thing about principles. It got my dad shot so you understand I won’t be intimidated….You quiet enough over the next few days to help me out with a little problem? There’s two grand to be made.”

“I might be. What’s the situation?”

“I’m going to see a lady to retrieve a package and there might be some heavy competition. All you’ve gotta do is watch my back. We get the package you get two grand. We don’t get the package you get a grand. There’s a monkey up front when you meet me in Honiton. That’s in Devon.”

“When?”

“You’ll have to get there tomorrow early am. Get an early train. I’ll cover the fare and all expenses. What d’you say?” 

“Sure I can do that. My work can wait.”

“Name’s Andy…. And you are?”

“George….Just call me George.” 

“What’s your phone number George? and I’ll text you the details of where we’re staying. I’ve got to make a call first to set it up.”

On the train Andy grabbed the three quarters empty red label from his bag and poured half into a metal tumbler. The rest he would save for the last half hour. Then he pressed the number on his phone that he had saved earlier and spoke to a lady called Mavis and booked two rooms in the B&B for five nights. Then he sent a text to George and he responded with a smiling face. Looking at the map on his phone the B&B was almost out of town so away from the action and hopefully anonymous. The nearest landmark was the cemetery. Should be quiet alright and he laughed then quickly glanced around to see if anyone was looking at him. 

Earlier he had been thinking of the detectives and wondering if he would need help. Now he was feeling good and thought that if George turned up he had added confidence. Then he thought. Could he trust him? Of course not he didn’t know him. Did it matter? Not a bit, the guy had presence and that might be enough. Would he turn up? Who knows. If not he had lost nothing except a bottle of water and would save at least two grand. He would have to wing it on his own like he was going to do anyway and hope to keep those two detectives at arms length and not have to try out that ancient gun. Would George trust him? Probably not but he would have no problem extracting whatever he wanted from Andy just about anytime he felt the need.

Having seen the detectives he was glad he had travelled alone. Meeting Big George would be a surprise those two would not be expecting and he was sure that if they met it would be just enough to give him the edge.