DEAD UNLUCKY: A Joe Box Story

by Jim Reeves

  Joe stepped back, a look of disbelief on his face, ‘You’re joking, right?’

  Eileen reached behind her dress and did something. The dress slid slowly to the floor. She was wearing very brief panties, an all-over tan, a seductive smile and nothing else. ‘Do I look like I’m joking?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Joe admitted. He tried to keep the catch out of his voice but failed.

  Eileen unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders. In spite of his revulsion, Joe felt himself responding as she pressed herself against him. He told himself he didn’t owe Bill Pearson any loyalty and, in a way, it would be like giving George Bishop the finger, although, it wasn’t his finger that was in the air at that moment.

  Suddenly, they were kissing, eagerly, fervently as they fell across the settee with Eileen tearing at his clothes. She pulled away from him smiling. Then she took his hand and led him up the stairs leading to the gallery. She pushed him onto the bed and slid on top of him. He smiled to himself at the thought of the thousands of pounds crushed beneath them. Must be the most expensive piece of action in town tonight. Eileen’s love making was fast, frantic, frenetic and very noisy. It was over all too soon for Joe. At least the neighbours will be impressed he thought as he lay gasping for breath. He looked at Eileen lying beside him. ‘You got a train to catch?’

  She smiled. ‘Was I too eager?’

  ‘Seemed like you were in a hurry,’ he said.

  Eileen nodded. ‘I’ve been waiting here for a couple of hours. I think I was a little steamed up.’ She got up from the bed and hurried down the stairs.

  Joe watched as she dressed. She was quick and efficient like she’d done this kind of thing many times before. Maybe she was just feeling guilty. Somehow, Joe didn’t think so.

  ‘We should do this again sometime,’ she smiled, looking up at him as soon as she was ready to go.

  Joe thought about it for a moment. ‘Maybe not,’ he said doubtfully. Eileen shrugged indifferently and headed for the hallway. The front door slammed and Joe was alone. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, not quite believing what had just happened. After a few seconds he heaved himself off the bed, went down the stairs and crossed to the window to look down at the street. He was just in time to see Eileen climb into a red Audi A6. He watched her drive to the end of the street and turn the corner. He poured himself another whisky and sank down on the settee, still lost in his thoughts. After a few minutes of self-loathing, he went to the bathroom and took a shower, long and hot. Then he dragged himself back up to the gallery and fell onto the bed. He slept almost immediately.

  Chapter 43

  Joe raised his head, decided he didn’t like the experience and let it drop back on the pillow. He regretted that immediately and wondered why a swarm of bees were settling their differences inside his head.

  He peeled himself slowly off the bed and limped down the stairs as he remembered the events of the night before. At least he’d got rid of the wallets connecting him to Bishop. It didn’t really seem worth the pain though. He still had the gun and the briefcase and no real idea of what to do with them. He couldn’t decide if the union with Eileen Pearson had really happened or if it was just some kind of nightmare. He set the coffee machine going then sank on the settee with his head in his hands. He saw the two whisky glasses on the coffee table. One smeared with lipstick. Then he knew for sure. It really had happened.

  After a couple of cups of strong coffee, a slice of toast and a long shower he was almost ready to face the world. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to face the police again, just yet. He had some business to attend to first.

  He had pulled on his coat and was heading for the door when the telephone rang. He hesitated, undecided whether to answer it. Phone calls didn’t seem to bring him good news lately. But it could be Sally. It might even be Penny. Curiosity got the better of him and he picked up the phone.

  ‘Hello, he grunted.

  ‘Joe, it’s me, Eileen.’ She sounded bright and cheerful.

  He groaned inwardly. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked.

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘I don’t see any reason why,’ Joe said flatly. He was tempted to hang up but instinct told him he probably needed to hear what was coming.

  ‘I really think we do,’ said Eileen. She sounded serious and obviously wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  ‘What about?’

  The lady got straight to the point. ‘Money.’

  Here it comes, after all. Joe thought. The big squeeze.

  ‘What about money?’ he asked.

  ‘You have some. I want some,’ Eileen told him. ‘Simple really.’

  ‘All I have is a few sticks of Ikea furniture and the clothes I stand up in,’ he said. Not quite true, but it made the point.

  ‘You have your apartment.’

  ‘I’m mortgaged up to the hilt,’ Joe told her. ‘You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘I’m sure you can help me. You’re a very resourceful man. You’ve already proved that.’ Joe didn’t answer. She was making the running. He wanted to see where she was going, what she had to say. ‘What about Bishop’s money?’ Eileen finally asked.

  ‘What money?’

  ‘People are saying his safe was cleaned out. I would think he kept quite a lot of cash in it.’

  ‘You’re still assuming I was there,’ Joe said.

  ‘Seems like a pretty good bet,’ she said, and he knew she was smiling.

  ‘So run with it,’ Joe told her. ‘See where it gets you.’ He tried to sound indifferent but it didn’t have the desired effect.

  ‘You know from experience I can be very convincing,’ said Eileen. ‘If I go to the police, they’ll give you an awful lot of grief. There may not be enough to get a conviction on what I know, but I’m pretty sure I could start them digging for more. Who knows what they might find?’

  ‘I’ve already talked to the police. There’s no problem. You don’t have anything they don’t already know.’ Joe wasn’t sure that was true but he tried to make it sound convincing. But, whatever he said to Eileen, he was still nervous about police involvement. He knew she was right. He could deny everything but, at the very least, he would get an awful lot of grief, especially if that young dickhead, DC Prior was involved.

  ‘I think maybe we should meet, to discuss this,’ Eileen said. ‘Phones can be so impersonal. And you never know who might be listening.’

  It occurred to Joe, that she might have a point. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Come here. You know where I live.’

  ‘I think not,’ Eileen said. ‘After what happened to George and his boys, I prefer to meet you in a very public place. I’ll a lot feel safer that way.’

  ‘When and where?’ Joe asked brusquely.

  Eileen suggested the Selfridge’s store in the Bull Ring Centre. ‘You can meet me in the Pret-a-Manger coffee shop on the ground floor’

  ‘It’ll be crowded,’ Joe said.

  ‘That’s the whole idea,’ she said. ‘Find a table and save me a seat,’ she told him. ‘Joe,’ she paused for a moment. ‘Don’t forget the money. All of it.’

  ‘You don’t know how much there is,’ Joe pointed out.

  ‘I’m sure I can trust you,’ she said. ‘We must be talking thousands. Don’t disappoint me.’

  She wanted to meet him later that day but Joe told her he had the money hidden in a safe place and would need time to get it. She accepted that and they arranged to meet at

  Pret-a-Manger the following morning at 11:00am.

  *****

  Joe leaned on the bell outside Penny’s flat. She looked surprised when she opened the door and not particularly pleased.

  ‘You should have called first,’ she told him as he followed her inside.

  ‘You busy?’ asked Joe

  ‘I’m off out in a few minutes.’

  ‘Seeing your boyfriend?’

  ‘No,’ said Penny sourly.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m not stopping long,’ J
oe told her.

  ‘You recovered from the other night?’ asked Penny.

  ‘More or less,’ shrugged Joe. ‘Could do with a bit of TLC though.’

  ‘Couldn’t we all,’ said Penny, rolling her eyes. ‘I can offer you a coffee if that would help.’

  ‘That would be good. You all right for time?’

  Penny nodded and switched the kettle on. Joe looked around the room and saw the kittens in the basket. ‘How are they doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Pretty good,’ Penny told him.

  ‘Matter of fact, I was wondering if you’d got one to spare,’ said Joe.

  ‘For you?’ gasped Penny, incredulously.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Joe shook his head. ‘But I know where there’s a good home going for one of them.’

  ‘I don’t know if they’re ready to leave their Mum yet,’ Penny frowned.

  ‘It’d be well looked after by a very careful owner.’

  Penny considers for a moment.

  ‘You can’t keep them forever,’ Joe told her.

  ‘I suppose not,’ she said slowly. ‘Which one would you want?’

  Joe leaned over the basket and pointed at one of the kittens.

  ‘Is he a boy or a girl?’

  ‘A boy,’ said Penny.

  ‘I’ll have him then, if it’s OK with you,’ said Joe.

  Penny grimaced ‘I don’t know what his Mum will say.’

  ‘Do you want me to have a word?’ asked Joe.

  ‘I don’t want her having nightmares,’ said Penny.

  *****

  Joe inspected house numbers as he walked down a street of Victorian terraced houses. He stopped outside one of the houses and checked the address on a piece of paper before ringing the bell. After a long delay, he rang the bell again.

  The door opened almost immediately and Mrs Roberts looked out. ‘All right, all right, what’s the panic?’ she asked.

  ‘No panic,’ Joe smiled.

  She looked suspiciously at Joe. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’m Joe Box. We met at Maggie Dancer’s office a few days ago. Remember?’

  She remembered slowly. ‘You’re that scruffy looking bugger.’

  Joe smiled self-effacingly ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Have you found my cat yet?’ asked Mrs Roberts.

  ‘No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.’ Joe was glad to lie this time.

  ‘What’re you doing here then? You should be out looking for him?’

  ‘Could I come in for a few minutes?’

  Mrs Roberts eyed him warily then opened the door wider to let him in.

  ‘You’d better come through.’ Joe followed her down a narrow hall to a small living room at the back of the house. ‘Are you after another photograph?’ asked Mrs Roberts.

  Joe shook his head. ‘Tell you truth, I’m after a bit of a favour.’

  Mrs Roberts looked at him suspiciously.

  ‘I’m not lending you money, if that’s what you want.’

  Joe looked hurt.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Roberts. Hilda. Can I call you Hilda?’

  ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘I saw it in your file at the office,’ Joe told her. ‘You’re a regular customer.’

  ‘Fat lot of good it’s done me this time. Getting fobbed off with you,’ she sighed.

  ‘I’ve been doing my best,’ Joe assured her. ‘I’ve covered a lot of ground looking for Tregorran. And I don’t want to borrow money off you. Not unless you’ve won the Lottery.’

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea? I’ve just made a pot,’ Mrs Roberts managed a smile.

  ‘Could be a life saver,’ nodded Joe.

  ‘You’d better sit down,’ said Mrs Roberts pouring two cups of tea.

  Joe sat in one of two armchairs. Mrs Roberts put the cup of tea on a small table beside him.

  ‘I suppose you’ll want a biscuit?’ she asked.

  ‘That’d be nice,’ said Joe. He looked round the room while she scurried off into the kitchen. The furniture was old. The wallpaper was probably older. The floor was covered in linoleum. A threadbare carpet square covered the centre of the room.

  Mrs Roberts returned carrying a biscuit tin. She offered Joe a biscuit which he accepted gratefully. Then she sat opposite him.

  ‘So what is it you want if it’s not money?’

  Joe hesitated then pulled the kitten out from inside his raincoat.

  ‘It’s a lot to ask, but I was wondering if you could look after this little fellow for me.’

  Mrs Roberts stared wide eyed at the kitten. Instantly captivated. ‘Oh,’ she gasped with surprise.

  ‘A friend of mine gave him to me,’ Joe explained. ‘But you know how it is. I’m out working most of the time. I can’t really look after him properly.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mrs Roberts gasped again, beaming at the kitten.

  ‘He’s very friendly,’ Joe told her. ‘I thought with you being a bit of an expert, you’d know what to do. Maybe I can have him back when he’s a bit older.’

  Mrs Roberts leaned forward, took the kitten from Joe and held him close to her face. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked. Her eyes glistened.

  ‘Eric,’ said Joe.

  ‘That’s a funny name for a cat,’ she frowned.

  ‘I think it suits him,’ said Joe.

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Couple of weeks, I think,’ said Joe.

  Mrs Roberts smiled at the kitten.

  ‘Hello Eric. You’re a handsome little chap aren’t you.’

  ‘So will it be all right?’ asked Joe. ‘Will you look after him for me?’

  Mrs Roberts darted him a look. ‘Of course I will.’ She looked back at Eric and smiled. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of you.’

  Joe pulled a tin of cat food out of his raincoat pocket and put it on the table. ‘I brought this in case you needed it.’

  Mrs Roberts looked at the tin of food, then at Joe. Her face softened and she was suddenly tearful.

  ‘I’ll look after him, don’t you worry.’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘I know you will,’ Joe smiled.

  ‘Have another cup of tea,’ said Mrs Roberts, hurriedly dabbing her eyes.

  ‘I should be going,’ said Joe. ‘Wouldn’t want your boyfriend finding me here. He might get the wrong idea.’

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Mrs Roberts shrieked with laughter. ‘Chance would be a fine thing.’

  ‘Girl like you,’ grinned Joe. ‘They must be queuing up.’

  ‘Cheeky devil,’ laughed Mrs Roberts as she topped his cup up. ‘How long have you been working with Maggie Dancer?’

  ‘I’m not any more,’ said Joe. ‘I left.’

  ‘That was quick.’

  ‘It was just for a trial period but it didn’t work out,’ Joe told her.

  ‘Oh, I am sorry.’

  ‘Me too,’ nodded Joe. ‘I was looking forward to it.’

  ‘I thought she had her eye on you,’ Mrs Roberts told him.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Joe smiled.

  ‘I know so,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘I can always tell.’

  ‘Behave yourself,’ Joe laughed. He stood up. ‘I’d better be off.’ He walked through to the hall. Mrs Roberts followed him, still holding the kitten. ‘Take good care of Eric, Mrs Roberts,’ he said as he reached the door.

  ‘You can call me Hilda,’ she smiled.

  She gave him a little wave as he walked off up the street.

  ‘Life ain’t all bad,’ he muttered as he waved back.

  *****

  When he got back home he dug out Chinese Pete’s mobile from behind a row of paperbacks on his bookshelf. It was the one thing he had overlooked when he was getting rid of the other evidence. After Eileen’s phone call, he was glad he still had it.

  He looked up a number in the phone book, entered it into the mobile and listened as it rang.

  ‘Can you put me through to DC Prior,’ he said. There was a pause as somebody at the other end spoke. ‘No. It has to be DC P
rior I talk to, it’s pretty important,’ Joe said. He waited for a long time. He wondered if this was going to work out. Suddenly DC Prior’s voice came down the line. Joe sat up. He assumed that calls to the police would all be recorded as a matter of routine and tried to alter his voice as he spoke.

  ‘You want information about the George Bishop killing?’ he whispered softly. ‘Be at the Bull Ring Centre car park exit, tomorrow morning at 11:00.’ He listened. ‘Don’t tell me your troubles just be there or be somewhere else.’ He listened again. ‘I’ll need a number to call you on when things start to kick off,’ he said. He listened and scribbled a number down. ‘Be there,’ he whispered. Then he ended the call and switched off the mobile.

  Prior had been telling him that he needed more information before he could set something up. Having met him, Joe was pretty sure he would have people in place. He wouldn’t be able to resist.

  Chapter 44

  ‘I’m not in love, so don’t forget it. It’s just a silly phase I’m going through . . . .’ Joe cruised through the old 10cc song with eyes closed. He raised his near empty whisky glass to acknowledge the smattering of applause at the end of the song then leaned back and closed his eyes for a few seconds. It was late in the evening and he was tired.

  ‘Hello again,’ a female voice said.

  Joe opened his eyes to see Maggie Dancer staring at him.

  ‘As I live and breathe, Maggie Dancer,’ he smiled. ‘What’s a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?’

  ‘Are you a Dylan fan?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘When he’s not looking,’ Joe nodded.

  ‘I thought I’d catch your act,’ she told him.

  ‘And?’

  ‘You’re not bad for an old guy.’

  ‘You’ve got a way with words,’ Joe said drily.

  ‘You’re quite the romantic aren’t you?’

  ‘Am I?’ Joe sounded almost offended.

  ‘The songs you sing. Every one, a love song.’

  ‘You’ve got to please the punters,’ Joe said.

  ‘Why can’t you admit you like them?’

  ‘I wouldn’t sing them if I didn’t like them.’

  ‘It’s all an act with you, isn’t it?’