DEAD UNLUCKY: A Joe Box Story

by Jim Reeves

  ‘We’re talking about it on Monday,’ Joe said. ‘Nothing’s decided yet.’

  ‘If you do, make sure you behave yourself. She’s a friend of mine,’ Austin said.|

  ‘A good friend?’ asked Joe, raising his eyebrows.

  Austin shot Joe a warning glance. ‘Don’t cross the line.’ His expression and tone changed slightly. Joe wasn’t sure if it was a request or a warning but he was sure he was going to comply. He didn’t want Austin on his case any time in the future.

  Austin drained his cup, then stood up. He smiled and offered Joe his hand. ‘Enjoy the rest of your day.’ They shook hands then he turned and walked away.

  Joe watched him go then closed his eyes and tilted his head, letting the morning sun warm him. His hand rested on the briefcase beside him.

  Chapter 47

  Joe arrived at Selfridge’s half an hour before he was due to meet Eileen Pearson. He took the escalator up to the men’s floor and browsed around for a few minutes. He saw an expensive cashmere sweater that he liked and draped it over his arm as he continued to wander. A pair of designer jeans caught his eye. Normally, his interest would have ended when he saw the price tag, but today was different so he took them off the rack. He found two shirts that he liked and added them to his collection then went to the cash point to pay.

  A smiling young lady folded the clothes neatly and put them into a bright yellow bag. Joe would have preferred a quieter colour but life was never easy. He pulled several twenties from his raincoat pocket and paid cash. The lady was a real looker. If he’d had more time he’d have stayed to chat but he still had things to do before he met Eileen.

  He found the gents toilet and shut himself inside an empty cubicle. Once there he transferred the envelope of cash from the briefcase to the Selfridge’s bag. Unable to resist, he grabbed a handful of twenty pound notes from the case and dropped them into the bag as well. That left a little over seven thousand pounds in the case. That should take some explaining when the police saw it. Joe closed the case and left the toilet before heading for the ground floor.

  Pret-a-Manger was busy, as he knew it would be. There wasn’t a vacant table where he and Eileen would be able to exchange sweet nothings. He looked at his watch. Quarter to eleven. He circled Pret-a-Manger several times. He was starting to feel conspicuous when a middle-aged couple laden with shopping apparently decided that enough was enough and started to gather their bags to depart. A low barrier separated Joe from where the couple had been seated. He was tempted to vault the barrier but thought that might be against local rules of etiquette. Also, he might not make it, which could be embarrassing. He hurried to where there was a gap in the barrier, slipped through the gap and turned towards the table. A young man was ahead of him and Joe realised he was homing in on the same table. Joe tapped the young man on the shoulder.

  ‘Look,’ Joe said pointing upwards. As the young man stopped to look up, Joe sidestepped him and reached the table first.

  ‘That’s my table,’ protested the irate young man, standing over Joe.

  ‘Sorry mate.’ Joe shrugged.

  It looked like his new found adversary was going to make an issue of it. He didn’t look like he was going to back down. Joe didn’t want to attract attention, and was about to give up the seat when another couple a few feet away got up to leave. The young man decided to take their table before he lost out again. He sat down but continued to glare at Joe.

  Joe looked at his watch. Two minutes to eleven. He sipped a black coffee and hoped Eileen wasn’t going to be late.

  She arrived right on time and sat opposite him, looking cool, elegant and just a little too sure of herself. Joe didn’t return her smile.

  ‘That was quite a performance.’ She told him.

  ‘What was?’

  ‘Getting this table. I was watching from up there.’ She pointed to the floor above that overlooked the ground floor. ‘I was quite impressed.’

  Joe didn’t answer. A waitress approached the table. Eileen smiled at her.

  ‘Nothing for me, thank you. I’m not staying long.’ The waitress departed and Eileen looked down at the Selfridge’s bag. ‘I hope you haven’t been spending too much of my money.’

  Joe shrugged. ‘What’s all this cloak and dagger stuff? I know where you live. I can pay you a visit anytime.’

  Eileen smiled. ‘I thought the moment of parting with the cash might be too painful for you. I’m sure when you’ve had time to calm down and consider, you’ll realise it’s not worth any more grief for either of us.’ She looked down at the briefcase. ‘Is that for me?’

  Joe pushed the case along the floor towards her. ‘Help yourself.’

  Eileen took the handle and leaned across the table before rising. ‘Stay seated until I’m out of sight. If you try to follow me, I’ll scream blue murder.’ She smiled sweetly, puckered her lips and blew him a kiss as she stood up to go.

  Eileen hurried to the escalator in the middle of the floor and travelled upwards. Joe had gambled that she would use the multi-storey car park. That was why he had told Prior to cover the car park exit. He knew she wouldn’t want to be on foot when she left him. It looked like he’d guessed right. Access to the car park was from the upper floor.

  She’d certainly planned things well, having him sitting where she could see him until she was well clear. The car park had several levels. Eileen would almost certainly be parked on the same level as the footbridge that led from the store to the car park. She had probably paid for her ticket before she met him. There was fifteen minutes leeway between payment time and exit. So she could be on her way pretty quickly.

  As she reached the top of the escalator she smiled down at Joe and waved. He hoped she would resist the temptation to look inside the case before she was safely clear. He was pretty sure she would wait. She wouldn’t want to hang around in case he decided to follow. As soon as she disappeared out of sight Joe took Chinese Pete’s mobile phone from his pocket and entered the number that Prior had given him. He was still wearing gloves which made the task a little more difficult. He tore one glove off and tried again.

  The call was answered immediately. ‘A lady driving a red Audi A6 will be at the car park exit in the next few minutes,’ Joe whispered into the mobile. ‘I really think you should take a look inside her briefcase.’ He was pretty sure she would be in the red Audi. She would want to be driving something she was comfortable with in case things didn’t go according to plan. Joe ended the call, switched off the mobile and stood up to leave. He took the Selfridge’s bag with him.

  Common sense told Joe he should put some distance between himself and whatever was going to happen, as quickly as possible. If Eileen talked too soon, he might get trapped in the Bull Ring Centre. The Centre had been closed before when security alerts had happened. He hurried towards the exit hoping he looked just like any other Saturday shopper.

  Chapter 48

  Joe approached Mrs Roberts’s front door, looking up and down the street as he did so. With no one in sight he walked up the short path and pushed the envelope containing five hundred pounds through the letter box. Then he turned and walked quickly away, turning left towards the city centre at the end of the street.

  As he walked across Centenary Square, a well soused, down-and-out lurched unsteadily towards Joe. ‘Can you spare a quid Mister?’ he asked hopefully.

  Joe dug his hand into the Selfridge’s bag, fished out a twenty pound note and pushed it towards the startled vagrant. ‘Keep the change,’ he said as he veered past the guy and continued on his way.

  He turned into a side street and dropped Chinese Pete’s mobile into the gutter, close to a drain. He looked around. Nobody was close by so he stamped hard on the mobile breaking it into several pieces. Then he used his foot to sweep the pieces into the drain. He peeled off his gloves and pushed them into his pocket as he walked away.

  He stopped off at the Brindley Place coffee shop to gather his thoughts. The money would have kept lot of wolv
es from his door for a very long time to come. He was mildly pissed off at parting with it. He consoled himself with the thought of how much trouble he would have been in if the police had ever found the money. Dave Austin seemed prepared to give him some leeway but nothing was certain where the law was concerned and he certainly didn’t trust DC Prior not to come knocking on his door one day soon.

  Come to think of it. The police might be knocking on his door at that very moment. If they had picked Eileen up, it wouldn’t have taken her long to point them in his direction.

  He knew she would scream his name from the rooftops when she realised he had set her up. She would tell them he had given her the briefcase and deny all knowledge of its contents, but could she explain why he gave it to her? Would she say she had been blackmailing him? Knowing Eileen, he guessed she would come up with some plausible story. He knew, for sure, he would be hearing from the police but he would just shake his head and look bewildered. Yes, he had done a job for Bishop. Yes, Eileen Pearson had hired him to look for her husband but he hardly knew her. He had no idea what she was talking about. He just had to keep shaking his head and stick to his story. All of the physical evidence that pointed to him was gone. There was nothing to prove that he had visited Bishop the night he died. Eileen Pearson didn’t know much that the police didn’t already know. Just the fact that Bishop had sent Joe potentially, to his death, which might give Joe a motive. But could she tell the police that? How would she explain why she knew? And if she did tell them, could she prove it? Would she want to implicate herself in another crime?

  She was the one carrying the briefcase. Joe had thoroughly cleaned the outside of the case, but the inside would probably be covered in Bishop’s prints. As well as the cash, the gun that had shot Vince was in the case. No prints, but the same gun, none-the-less. The noxious CD was in there. And the whisky glass, still with Eileen’s lipstick, DNA and fingerprints on it, would, match the other glasses in Bishop’s office. Joe had deliberately given her the glass when he thought she was going to try blackmail in his flat. He’d decided he was wrong when she threw him in the sack and ravaged him. Then he had assumed that he was just another notch on the bedpost. It was just lucky he was a slob and still hadn’t got around to washing the glass before he got her phone call.

  He knew Eileen could be a very convincing liar. He’d seen her in action. This time was different. She would be telling the truth when she denied all knowledge of the contents of the briefcase. He wasn’t sure how she would cope with the truth. She would bluster. She would panic. But she would have no convincing answers. She would look like she was lying. The more Joe thought about it the more he thought she was in big trouble. The briefcase, the cash, the gun, the glass, the money and the CD. She was holding all the evidence. How would she explain that away?

  She could get put away for a very long time. Maybe, as they weren’t too fond of Bishop, they might not lean too hard on her. Her best chance was if she had a concrete alibi. Maybe she’d been screwing somebody’s husband on the night Bishop died.

  Joe smiled when he imagined Eileen’s initial look of indignation when she had been stopped. She wouldn’t want them to look inside the case. She thought it contained thousands of pounds in cash. She couldn’t let them see that but he knew Prior wouldn’t take ‘no’ for answer, no matter how much Eileen protested. He would have given a lot to see her panic when the briefcase was finally opened and she saw what was inside and realised she’d been set up. Whatever happened, she would have learned that it didn’t pay to mess with him. He doubted he would hear from her again.

  Joe’s thoughts wandered to Betine back in Eichl. She would probably have heard the news about Otto Braun by now. Maybe about Bruno as well. He wondered what she would be thinking. It mattered to him. He was surprised how much it mattered. Maybe he would give her a call to let her know he was safely home. He had promised he would and he owed her that much, at least. He would definitely give her a call as soon as he got home, he decided. They would talk awhile, make polite conversation, promise to keep in touch then he would hang up and he would leave it at that. End of story. But how can you end something that never really got started? Some things just weren’t meant to be. He smiled ruefully. Here comes another broken heart. It wouldn’t be the first time. Probably wouldn’t be the last. He’d get over it. He always did.

  He sipped the last of his coffee. It was cold and he grimaced at the dregs at the bottom of the cup. Time to go.

  He wandered further along Broad Street, stopping occasionally in front of a brightly lit shop window, not really seeing what was on display. He knew he was putting off the inevitable. He assumed the police would be waiting for him when he got home. Eileen Pearson would have told all when she saw the contents of George Bishop’s briefcase. What else could she do?

  Joe just had to get his story straight and stick to it come what may. The police would only have Eileen’s word against his. He would agree that he knew her and had tried unsuccessfully to find her husband. He would even admit that he had met her in Selfridge’s and had a coffee with her that very day. But, as for the rest? He wouldn’t know what she was talking about. He could side-step and soft-shoe-shuffle all night long if he had to. He’d been doing it most of his life.

  Daylight had faded. The sky was slate grey when Joe turned into his street. He paused and scanned the street. All was quiet. Nothing moved. He wouldn’t have said he was disappointed, but he had expected some kind of welcoming committee, for sure. Maybe not a full SWAT team. Maybe not even a couple of squad cars bathing the street with their blue lights. But he had thought that the over-zealous DC Prior, at least, might have been waiting on his doorstep.

  Maybe police procedures just don’t move that fast, he guessed as he walked down the street. Maybe the police had missed Eileen Pearson when she left the car park. Not very likely unless she was in a different car. Maybe they’d picked her up but she hadn’t given them his name. Even less likely.

  Whatever, he shrugged as he walked towards the apartment building. Suddenly, he didn’t care anymore.

  Joe went quickly up the steps, typed in the code on the keypad and entered the building. He didn’t bother with the lift but went up the stairs two at a time.

  He reached his apartment and leaned against the door for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Nobody was waiting there either. He knew they would come. Nothing was more certain. When they did, he would be ready. If they had anything on him, they would charge him. Otherwise, he would just stick to his story. Eileen Pearson was in deep mire, for sure, but Joe wasn’t going to lose any sleep over that. She deserved everything she got and then some.

  He glanced at his watch and started to peel off his clothes. Time for a shower before he headed for the Blue Parrott. He needed to wash away the sweat and grime after his tour of the city.

  He stepped into the cubicle and turned the water on as hot as he could take it. It felt good. He closed his eyes, leant back against the tiles and sang softly as the water washed over him.

  I knew a man Bojangles and he’d dance for you

  In worn out shoes

  The silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants

  That old soft shoe

  He’d jump so high, he’d jump so high

  Then he’d lightly touch down

  Mister Bojangles

  Mister Bojangles . . . . .