by Jim Reeves
‘You’ve got an early start,’ Bishop said. ‘Vince can pick you up at your place.’
‘How early,’ asked Joe.
‘Three o’clock tomorrow morning.’
‘Three o’clock?’ Joe grimaced.
‘It’s an early flight,’ Bishop told him. ‘You’ve got a two hour drive to the airport.’
‘I don’t usually finish at the Blue Parrot till around two,’ Joe said. ‘I might as well come straight here.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Bishop said. ‘But don’t be late.’
Joe rose a little unsteadily from the chair.
‘Hold on a minute,’ Bishop said. ‘Vince, go and see if you can find that cat.’
Vince nodded and left the room.
‘Sit down and have another drink,’ Bishop told Joe. ‘Might as well see if it really was your cat that brought you in here.’
Bishop poured another drink for Joe and one for himself then sat behind his desk, facing Joe.
‘How did you get tied in with Patti Birch anyway?’
Joe shrugged. ‘She saw me singing in a pub a couple of years ago and offered me a job. She’s got an eye for talent.’
‘What’s she paying you?’ asked Bishop.
‘Enough,’ Joe said flatly.
.‘But you still need a day job to pay the bills,’ Bishop pointed out.
Joe nodded. ‘My bank manager prefers it that way.’
‘You ever think of moving on?’
‘No,’ Joe said.
‘I could more than double your money if you came to work for me. With my three clubs, I could have you working every night of the week. You could forget all about that detective agency crap. Concentrate on what you’re good at.’
‘Patti’s been good to me,’ Joe shook his head. ‘And she puts up with my crankiness.’
‘You screwing her?’
‘None of your business,’ Joe told him, ‘but no, I’m not.’
‘Well think about it. I think we could be good for each other.’
‘I doubt that,’ Joe said rubbing his jaw tenderly.
‘Sounds like you mean it,’ Bishop said.
‘Afraid so,’ nodded Joe.
‘Bishop was silent for a few seconds. ‘I’ve always said you should hire the right man to do a job. If I want legal work doing, I use a solicitor. If I want my books cooked I get an accountant. If I want somebody to inflict pain, I’ve got Vince. Right now, I need a singer and I want you.’
‘The world’s full of singers,’ Joe told him. ‘Keep looking.’
Vince entered the room with the cat draped across his arm.
‘You found him,’ Bishop said brightly. ‘Let’s have a closer look.’
Bishop stood up and took the cat from Vince. He picked up the photograph and studied it. ‘I reckon it is him,’ he told Joe.
Joe stood up and leaned across the desk to compare the cat to the photograph.
‘Definite, I’d say,’ nodded Joe.
‘Has he got a name?’ asked Bishop.
‘Tregorran,’ Joe told him.
‘Poor bugger,’ Bishop said. ‘Who saddled him with a name like that?’
‘The old lady who owns him,’ Joe said. ‘She must like it.’
‘No accounting for taste,’ Bishop said. He passed the cat back to Vince. ‘So, mission accomplished.’ He smiled at Joe. ‘You could go out on top as a detective. Had any more thoughts about my job offer?’
‘Not a single one,’ Joe shook his head.
‘Pity.’ Bishop shrugged and nodded, almost imperceptibly at Vince.
Vince gripped the cat’s head with a large hand, its body with the other hand and twisted sharply. There was a quiet click and a brief whimper as the cat died. Vince dropped the limp body on the desk.
Joe stared at Bishop in open mouthed disbelief. ‘You bastard,’ he gasped, fighting back the nausea.
‘You’d better believe it.’ Bishop nodded coldly.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Joe said. ‘There’s an old lady waiting for him to come home.’
Bishop shrugged. ‘Take her a bottle of gin instead. She’ll soon get over it.’
Joe sat down heavily, still shaking his head in disbelief.
‘That was just to let you know I’m not somebody to mess with,’ Bishop told him. ‘You mess with me and it could be your neck next time.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Joe stares up at him.
‘You walk into my place uninvited. You insult me and call me a crook. Then you have the temerity to turn me down when I offer you a job. I don’t like being turned down,’ Bishop said. ‘If you’d taken the job, the cat would still be alive. Think about that. I like to have the last word and I always do.’
Joe rose unsteadily, ready to leave.
Bishop passed him a small bag. ‘This is for your hand luggage,’ he said. ‘You can put your bits and pieces in that. You won’t need any other luggage. You ain’t going to be there long. I’ll give you the CDs and your flight info tomorrow morning.’
‘You still expect me to go,’ asked Joe incredulously. ‘After what you just did.’
‘We’ve got a deal,’ Bishop said. ‘Please don’t welch on it. Vince wouldn’t like that.’
Joe glanced at Vince who was smiling pleasantly at him while flexing his fingers. There was no way out of the situation. Vince would happily break every bone in his body if Bishop gave the word. Joe had to go along with the arrangement, at least for the moment. He would just have to mark down Bishop and Vince for some form of retribution at a later date. Whatever happened, he would have the last word with Bishop. No question.
‘What about the money?’ Joe asked.
Bishop smiled and knelt down at a cupboard at the side of his desk. He opened a panelled door to reveal a small safe. He operated the combination lock and pulled the door open.
Joe couldn’t see inside the safe but Bishop reached inside and pulled out a bundle of twenty pound notes. He peeled some notes from the bundle and put it back in the safe. Then he closed the door and locked the safe before standing to face Joe.
‘There’s two hundred quid there. That should see you through. You’ll get another three hundred when you get back.’
Bishop offered Joe the money and he took it. Joe thought there must be something else he should say but he didn’t know what. He pushed the money into his pocket.
‘You’d better have this back.’ Bishop threw Joe’s wallet across the desk. ‘You’ll need to get some Euros. Hundred should be enough. Now bugger off. And be here at three in the morning. Don’t be late,’ warned Bishop.
Vince escorted Joe to the front door of the club. Neither of them spoke although Vince wore a smirk the whole time. Joe walked out into the street and headed groggily for home.
Chapter 10
Joe walked disconsolately down the street. Still feeling sick from what he had witnessed in Bishop’s office. He reached the entrance to Maggie Dancer’s office and slowly climbed the stairs. He wasn’t going to tell her what had happened to Tregorran. It wouldn’t help anybody and, if he was honest, he knew Bishop had been right. The cat would still be alive but for Joe. Some kind of detective he was.
He pushed open the door and entered without knocking.
Maggie looked up from reading some notes. ‘You’re back. Any news?’
Joe shook his head. He walked across the room and sat down facing Maggie.
‘You got a drink here?’
‘I’ve got coffee or tea.’
A brief smiled cracked Joe’s face. ‘Not quite what I had in mind.’
‘You all right?’ asked Maggie.
‘Never better,’ Joe lied.
‘You don’t look all right.’
‘You were probably right the other day. Maybe I’m too old for this job.’
‘Really?’ Maggie looked surprised.
‘I think you should be looking for somebody younger,’ Joe said. ‘I’m jacking it in.’
‘You surprise me,’ Maggie told
him. ‘I thought you’d got more staying power than that.’
‘You and me both,’ Joe said. ‘We were wrong. It’s too hot for me.’
‘I think I’m actually disappointed,’ said Maggie. She leaned back in her chair and studied Joe’s face.
‘You’ll get over it,’ Joe assured her. ‘I’ve disappointed a lot of women in my time. They all get over it.’
‘Would you like a coffee anyway?’
‘Why not,’ smiled Joe. ‘Black and strong.’
Maggie poured two cups of coffee. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ she said.
‘What might that be?’ asked Joe.
‘I won’t know if you don’t tell me.’
Maggie put a cup of coffee on the desk in front of Joe then returned to her seat behind the desk. She looks at him waiting for an answer.
‘You took me on trial and I failed.’ Joe shrugged.
‘There’s more to it than that,’ said Maggie.
‘Truth is, I think I would get too personally involved,’ Joe said. ‘If somebody got a bad result, I’d suffer with them.’
‘Has something happened that I should know about?’
Joe stared at Maggie but he couldn’t tell her the truth. ‘Like you said the other day, there’s no need to rush into things,’ he said. ‘You take a good look around. You’ll find somebody better. No problem.’ He sipped the coffee. ‘Pity,’ he sighed. ‘You make pretty good coffee.’
Chapter 11
Joe’s performance at the piano was morose and lifeless. His usual repartee and banter with the audience was noticeably absent as he trotted out a series of old standards. He was doing all that he had to do, but not a lot more. He was drinking more than usual as well.
Patti Birch obviously noticed. She wandered over as he took a break and sipped a whisky. ‘You alright?’ she asked.
‘Alive and breathing,’ he said mournfully.
‘That bad?’
‘Had a bad day,’ Joe nodded.
‘I can tell. Anything you want to talk about?’
‘Talking doesn’t always help.’
‘Maybe you should take the rest of the night off,’ Patti suggested.
Joe looked surprised. ‘Who would entertain the customers?’
‘Do you really think you’ll be missed?’ asked Patti.
Joe thought about that.
‘Am I that bad tonight?’
‘Worse,’ Patti told him. She looked at him askance, ‘I had a phone call about you today.’
Joe looked at her and waited.
‘George Bishop,’ Patti continued. ‘Said he offered you a job. Is that what’s bothering you?’
‘Did he tell you I turned him down?’
‘No. He said he was hoping you’d accept his offer.’
‘Not a chance,’ Joe said. ‘I already told him that.’
‘He’s not somebody who takes ‘No’ for an answer very easily,’ said Patti.
‘He’d better learn fast,’ Joe said. ‘I don’t like the man. End of story.’
‘He thinks you’re short of funds and could be tempted,’ said Patti.
‘He talks too much.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It never came up.’ Joe shrugged.
‘I could use you here for another couple of nights a week if it would help,’ said Patti.
‘Really?’ Joe brightened.
‘People always ask about you when you’re not here,’ she told him. ‘What about Wednesday and Thursday nights?’
‘Sounds good,’ Joe said. ‘It’d help with the rent.’ He smiled for the first time since he arrived at the club.
‘Start next week then,’ said Patti. ‘How come you were talking to George Bishop anyway?’
‘That’s a very long and complicated story,’ Joe told her. ‘Maybe I can tell you later. I think I ought to sing a couple more songs first.
Patti smiled. ‘Enjoy yourself.’
Joe did just that. His chat with Patti seemed to have lifted a weight from his shoulders. He ran through several of his favourites with renewed gusto. Elvis would have been proud.
Chapter 12
Joe walked the short distance from the Blue Parrott to the Fat Katz Club mildly soused. His chat with Patti Birch had helped lift his mood but he had been greatly shocked by what had happened to the cat and had drunk a few too many whiskies to nullify the memory. He was overcome by guilt. There was no doubt that the cat had died because of him. If he hadn’t followed it into the club, nothing would have happened. If he’d taken up Bishop’s job offer the cat would have lived.
He was going to go ahead and deliver the package for Bishop. Otherwise Bishop would have to have the ‘last word’ as he put it. Which would probably mean a serious slapping from the irrepressible Vince. Besides which, the five hundred quid would keep Joe going in rent money a little while longer and ducking out on the deal wouldn’t help the cat.
He hadn’t fully decided what to do about Tregorran. He hadn’t lied to Maggie Dancer when he gave his reasons for quitting. He’d just chosen his words carefully and been economical with the truth. Should he go back and tell Maggie the full story or just pretend he’d never found the cat and get on with the rest of his life? Either way, the cat wasn’t going home to Mrs Roberts, which made Joe feel bad. He was going to miss working for Maggie Dancer as well. That could have been a lot of fun.
It was nearly three in the morning and the street was quiet apart from an occasional shout, or laughter from a passing taxi.
As Joe neared the front entrance of the Fat Katz Club he saw a Jaguar XF parked by the curb. Vince was standing next to it. He saw Joe approaching and signalled towards the club entrance. Bishop appeared and looked down the street towards Joe. He was carrying a small CD case big enough to hold about ten CDs.
‘Right on time,’ Bishop grinned as Joe reached the entrance. ‘I like that.’
Joe didn’t respond. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. He looked at the CD case.
‘That for me?’
‘Yes.’ Bishop grabbed the holdall from Joe, unzipped it and pushed the CD case inside.
Then Bishop handed the holdall back to Joe. ‘Just make sure you don’t lose it. You’ll be met at the airport. Hand over the CDs and that’s it. Job done. Have you got your passport?’ Joe nodded and patted his pocket. Bishop offered him a folded sheet of paper. ‘These are your flight details.’
‘Is there some kind of password?’ asked Joe.
‘What do you want a bleeding password for?’ Bishop frowned.
‘How will I know who to give it to?’
‘Don’t worry. He’ll know you,’ smiled Bishop.
‘What happened to the cat?’ asked Joe.
‘Did you want to give it a send-off?’ Bishop laughed and Vince joined in.
‘Where is it?’ asked Joe.
‘Incinerator,’ Bishop said. ‘Best thing. Health and safety and all that.’
Joe looked at Vince. ‘Is he safe on the road?’
Vince stiffened and glared at Joe.
Bishop laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let him have the motor if he wasn’t. It’ll be a chance for you two to get to know each other better.
‘I can’t wait,’ Joe said as he opened the passenger door and slid into the car.
Bishop bent down to speak as Vince got into the driving seat. ‘This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.’
‘I doubt that,’ Joe said.
‘You never know,’ grinned Bishop. ‘I might just make you an offer you can’t refuse when you get back.’ He laughed loudly as he slammed the car door. Vince joined in the laughter although Joe didn’t get the joke.
The car pulled away from the curb and headed towards the city centre. Joe dropped the holdall on the floor between his feet and leaned back into the sumptuous leather. What a pity that a shit like Bishop owned a car like this while Joe had a serial MOT failure rotting away in his lock-up garage.
Within a coup
le of minutes they were travelling along the Expressway out of the city. Vince negotiated Spaghetti Junction and they travelled south on the M6.
‘How long does it take to get to Stansted?’ Joe asked.
Vince glanced across at him but didn’t answer. He stared back at the road ahead.
Joe shrugged. He guessed it would probably be about two hours. He closed his eyes and leaned back. May as well get some kip, he decided.
Chapter 13
Joe woke with a start when Vince poked him hard in the ribs. The car was parked at the drop off point for departing passengers .The bright lights of the terminal building made him squint as he eased upright and looked at his watch. Ten past five. Two hours had been about right. Despite the opulence of the car, he ached as he pushed open the door and clambered stiffly out onto the footpath. He turned and bent down to pick up the holdall and speak to Vince.
‘So I’ll see you tomorrow night.’
Vince didn’t reply, he just smirked at Joe. Joe shrugged and slammed the door. The car immediately pulled away from the kerb causing an approaching car to brake sharply. Joe stared after the speeding Jaguar. Vince hadn’t uttered a single word during the entire journey. It occurred to Joe that he hadn’t heard Vince speak since they had met. Definitely the strong silent type.
The airport was heaving with people hurrying backwards and forwards looking anxiously at screens for flight information. Joe soon found his check-in desk. He had no luggage to check in so it was easy. The girl behind the desk was an attractive blonde but she looked hot and harassed so Joe decided to settle for the easy life and forget the usual chat-up lines. He received his boarding card and was directed to Gate 50.
Chapter 14
The flight was free seating and there was an undignified scramble for seats when the boarding gate was finally opened. Joe boarded via the rear steps. He found a row of empty seats, pushed his raincoat and bag into the overhead locker and sat down next to the window seat. He closed his eyes and leaned back as the boarding hub-hub continued at full pelt.
Somebody moved into the row next to him. He opened his eyes to see an attractive woman stowing her hand luggage overhead. Probably in her early forties, she was tanned and had a short, almost boyish haircut. There was nothing boyish about her figure however and Joe found himself giving her marks out of ten. Old habits die hard.