An Accident Waiting to Happen

by Vincent Banville

  I was standing admiring the array on the table when my mobile phone began ringing. I clicked it on.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Blaine?’

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘Bertie Boyer here. Did you get a result with those plonkers?’

  ‘The Polonskis?’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘I did go to see them. But they gave me a different version of how things stand than you did.’

  ‘Well, they would, wouldn’t they? You didn’t think they’d put their hands up to threatening me just because you stuck your ugly mug in, did you?’

  I took a deep breath and counted to three. To keep my temper, I promised myself I’d bite one of his ears off the next time I saw him.

  As calmly as possible I said, ‘They told me you owed them money. For work they did in the club. Painting and decorating and the like.’

  ‘You’ve been here. You’ve seen what they did. Would you pay them? If I hadn’t moved fast they’d have painted me purple. As well as the walls, the ceiling, the floor …’

  ‘You didn’t tell them to do it that way?’

  ‘I asked for something tasteful. A little of this, a little of that. After all, it’s a high-class joint.’

  ‘I know, you’ve told me already. Only the beautiful and the best go there. But to get back to matters at hand, if you owe them you’ll have to pay up. That’s the way it works.’

  ‘To hell with that. They’ve threatened to burn the place down. I want you down here tonight to keep an eye on things. I’ve paid you good money, now earn it.’

  ‘My car’s broken down.’

  ‘Then get a taxi. Walk, run, crawl, but be here. We open for business at eleven. Maybe you’ll strike it lucky with one of the girls. I doubt it though, with a kisser like yours.’

  He rang off before I could come up with a suitable reply. I considered flinging the phone at the wall, but the thought of the expense of buying a new one stopped me. He was a nasty little git, but it was true that I’d taken his money. Unlike him, I believed in paying my debts.

  The women of the house had thawed out in front of the fire. Annie was half asleep in an armchair, while Emily was doing her Winnie the Pooh jigsaw. I sat down on the floor beside her, but every time I tried to fit a piece she slapped my hand away. She had her mother’s temper.

  When the food arrived, we ate it straight from the containers. I opened a bottle of wine, and Emily drank black currant juice. I felt good, sitting there in the bosom of my family. But the rain continued beating on the window, and the knowledge that I’d have to go out in it later on kept me on edge. If I’d known what was in store for me, I’d have locked all the doors, drawn all the curtains and stayed indoors with my loved ones till morning.

  Chapter Eleven

  At the weekend, Temple Bar is really jumping. To earn some extra money I sometimes do bouncer at one of the clubs. It is not an enjoyable experience. Stag and hen parties are the worst, the men looking for fights, the women loud and behaving in a most unladylike fashion.

  This Thursday night, probably because of the rain, things were rather quiet. The street musician was still playing his violin outside the Purple Pussy. He was a tall thin guy with long hair and a scraggy beard. I dropped a pound coin into his tray and, when he grinned at me, he showed me purple gums and no teeth.

  It was just coming up to twelve o’clock and a small queue had formed at the door. A burly individual with a shaved head stood with his back to the entrance. He let people in or kept them out as the mood took him. When I made to go past him, he placed a large hand on my chest and pushed me back.

  ‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ he asked, squinting his eyes.

  ‘I’m one of the male strip team,’ I told him. ‘The ladies inside can’t wait to get their hands on my parts.’

  He stood back and looked me up and down.

  ‘Oh yeah? Well, I haven’t been told nothing about this. Have you some kind of pass?’

  ‘Pass? No pass. But you could ring Bertie on your mobile and tell him Blaine is here. He’ll vouch for me.’

  A change came over him when I mentioned Bertie’s name. He gave me a grin only a little less horrible than the street musician’s, and said, ‘You know the boss? Why didn’t you say so in the first place?’

  ‘You didn’t give me a chance.’

  Again I started to go past him and again he put his hand out to stop me.

  ‘What is it now?’

  ‘I’ve often thought I could do that strippin’ business,’ he said. ‘How d’you get into it?’

  This time it was my turn to look him up and down.

  ‘You’ve got to have a beautiful body for starters. Give me a call when you’ve lost a few pounds, had your nose straightened and your ears pinned back. And see if you can do something about those teeth, fill in the gaps maybe …’

  Before the penny dropped that I was having him on, I pushed past him and went inside. Dance music was making the walls bulge, and a number of couples were staggering about to its beat. I made for the bar. Denise was serving behind it, wearing spangles and a g-string. I ordered a club soda, then stood with my back to the counter and gazed around the room. Most of the people present were sitting at tables. They looked older than the usual types one saw in such places. I counted three guys in evening suits who could have been the doorman’s brothers. They were standing about, trying to look as if they didn’t work there.

  Why hadn’t Bertie sent a couple of them to warn off the Polonskis? I wondered. He already had them on a salary. Didn’t make sense for him to pay me, when he had his own hard men already at hand. Probably the best way to find out would be to ask him.

  I went towards the bead curtain that gave access to his office, but was again stopped in my tracks by one of the hired help. This guy had a crew cut and a chest like the side of a large building.

  He said something to me that I couldn’t hear above the din of the thumping music. Just at that moment, though, the curtain was pushed aside and Bertie’s other half, Gertie, stuck her head out. She looked from one to the other of us, then nodded at the bouncer. He took his hand away and I followed Gertie on through and back in the direction of the office. She hadn’t lost any weight since I’d last seen her. If there was a mud-wrestling contest for women, she’d win it hands down.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bertie was sitting in the same chair behind the same desk. He was all done up in evening wear, white shirt gleaming, dicky bow poking out from under his chin. He reminded me of a ventriloquist’s dummy.

  Gertie placed herself in her usual position on the sofa. She had so many chins she appeared to have a ladder up to her face. I wondered if Bertie climbed it in order to give her a kiss.

  ‘So,’ he now said, ‘what’s up? Have you put those foreign guys in hospital yet? Or am I still to expect a visit from them tonight?’

  ‘Tonight’s the night?’

  ‘Could be. The time for talking is well over.’

  I sat down on the same chair I’d used that morning and crossed my legs. I adjusted the crease in my trousers, leaned back, wished I had a cigarette. All the while Bertie watched me, with a look on his face as if someone had placed a week-old mackerel under his nose.

  ‘Who the hell asked you to sit down?’ he demanded. ‘You should be outside waiting for the Polookas to show up. With their cans of kerosene and their oily rags. We could all go up in flames and you’d still be here admiring the shine on your shoes.’

  I gazed across at Gertie. She raised an eyebrow and made a face. It takes a lot for me to lose my temper, but I was pretty near breaking point at that moment. Controlling myself with an effort, I said, ‘Why’d you hire me in the first place? You’ve a collection of goons working for you who’d do the job much better than me. I’d imagine they’d enjoy breaking bones and dishing out a few cuts and bruises.’

  There was a fine silver box on Bertie’s desk. He opened the lid of this and took out a cigar. It was long enough
to poke a rat out from under a hedge. He bit off one end, then lit the other. Puffing manfully he blew out clouds of blue smoke. It was hard to know if he was smoking the cigar or the cigar was smoking him.

  Through the smoke he said, ‘Short of bringing the fuzz in on this, I wanted some kind of official action taken. You were the next best thing to the pigs. I could’ve sent my men over, but it’s them that would’ve ended up in the slammer. You must have a licence of some kind …’

  ‘But it doesn’t entitle me to beat people up.’

  ‘Aw, I was only rattling your chain about that. All I wanted was for you to talk to them. Make them see sense. The rest was me having a little joke.’

  ‘You really think they’ll try to burn your place down?’

  ‘Who knows?’

  I watched him throw burning ash from his cigar on the floor, as if he meant to get in first and do the job himself. Gertie noticed it too.

  She said, ‘Will you watch what you’re doing? There’s an ashtray on the desk. Use it. For a little man you dirty up the place something awful.’

  Throwing more ash on the floor, Bertie said, ‘Watch your mouth. You’re getting a bit too cheeky lately.’

  Gertie laughed.

  ‘What are you going to do, put me across your knee and spank me?’

  ‘You’d be so lucky.’

  The vision of the huge Gertie lying across Bertie’s little legs helped to banish my bad humour. I was feeling quite cheerful again as I stood up to go.

  ‘Where’re you off to now?’ Bertie asked sourly.

  ‘I’m going to do what you told me. Walk around and keep an eye out for fire bugs. That’s what you paid me for and that’s what I’m about to do. In the meantime, you’d better stick that cigar in a bucket of water. Otherwise you might do the job yourself and save the Polonskis the trouble.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  I did stroll around for a while, giving Denise the eye and getting in the way of the bouncers. The only result of this was that I drank too much beer and got a pounding headache from the thundering music. None of the Polonski family showed up and the only trouble was caused by an elderly man who got drunk and threw up over one of the waitresses.

  I signed off at three a.m. and went home. I couldn’t get a taxi, so I walked. The rain had stopped and there was a backbone of stars down the length of the sky. In Phibsboro, St Peter’s church was floodlit, but all its doors were closed and locked. No refuge there for someone in need.

  Likewise my house on the Cabra road, closed and locked that is. I let myself in and crept up the stairs. The friendly ghost that also lived there kept pace with me as I climbed. Emily was in her cot, Annie in our big double bed. She groaned when I slipped in beside her, and slapped at my cold hand when I placed it on her bare shoulder.

  I lay and listened to her gentle snoring, her breath fluttering against my face. This was where I liked to be, in bed with my beloved. And the wind had got up again and brought more rain, beating it against the window. What bliss to be inside, out of its reach.

  But my bliss didn’t last long. I was just sliding into sleep when the loud bleeping of my mobile phone hammered into the quiet room. Annie sat bolt upright, while Emily let out a roar that probably scared even the friendly ghost. Half falling out of bed, I crawled on my hands and knees to the chair over which I’d draped my jacket.

  While Annie switched on the light and went to soothe Emily, I pressed the receive button. A voice with a slight foreign accent said, ‘Blaine, is that you?’

  ‘It is now, but when my wife gets her hands on me I’ll be the late Blaine.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Never mind. What is it you want? And who are you, anyway?’

  ‘It’s Abraham Polonski. My son Leo is missing and I can’t find him.’

  ‘Maybe he’s with Bo-Peep’s sheep. Or living next door to Alice.’

  ‘Alice?’

  I gave Annie an I-can’t-help-it look, then sat on the chair, cradling my chin on my hand.

  ‘How long has Leo been missing?’ I said into the phone. ‘And why d’you feel I can help you find him?’

  ‘I think he’s been kidnapped by Bertie Boyer. You seemed to believe me today when you came to my house. Go to Boyer and tell him he can keep my money. Only give me back my son.’

  ‘But why would he take your son in the first place?’

  ‘Leo is not patient like me. Perhaps he went to Boyer and made more threats against him. Offered to do him harm.’

  ‘He’d do that?’

  ‘He has a temper. But he is not a bad boy. It’s just that he gets frustrated.’

  ‘And you’re afraid Boyer and his thugs will try to teach him a lesson?’

  ‘There is that possibility.’

  Having met Boyer and his hard men I had to agree that he might be on the right track there. I remembered the long cigar and could imagine the damage it would do if the burning end were pressed against someone’s face or neck.

  ‘You’ll go there and plead for my son’s release?’ the voice from the phone asked.

  ‘To the nightclub?’

  ‘Isn’t that the most likely place to find them?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Then it’s settled. I wait to hear from you.’

  The phone clicked off before I could agree or disagree. Another right mess you’ve got yourself into, I said into the now silent instrument. Although by the look on Annie’s face, as she held the crying Emily, it was a good idea to get out of there as fast as possible.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Once again I trudged through the rain, which was coming down as hard as ever. Along the Cabra Road onto the North Circular. Then by the Mater Hospital, its lighted windows like holes in the darkness of the night.

  I had jammed one of Emily’s plastic rain hats onto my head and was sporting a bright yellow cape. It was something like Clint Eastwood used to wear in those spaghetti westerns he made when he and I were much younger. As I passed along O’Connell Street, two drunks got a great laugh out of my appearance. ‘Look, it’s Big Bird,’ they shouted, falling about the place.

  I made it to Temple Bar and the front of the Purple Pussy nightclub. There was no sign of life. Even the busker with the fiddle had gone home to bed. I put my ear to the door and listened. All I could hear was the pitter-patter of the rain as it bounced off my plastic hat.

  It was time to do a bit of exploring. I went around the side of the building, lighting my way with the flashlight I’d been wise enough to bring. More dustbins, and a large rat who looked quite put out at the fact that I’d disturbed him. There was a metal door, but it was securely locked. However, a window with a wire grille over it looked more promising.

  After much pulling, dragging and swearing, I managed to prise the grille back far enough to see that the window was not fully closed. I got my fingers under it and pushed it far enough up to allow me to wriggle in. The flashlight showed me that I was in the corridor that led to Bertie Boyer’s private quarters.

  It was in darkness, so I had to be careful as I moved along it. There was a light under the door of Bertie’s office. I went forward and put my ear to it. I could hear a murmur of voices, but couldn’t make out anything that was being said.

  What to do? Should I just barge in? Accuse Bertie of kidnapping young Leo Polonski and demand to have him sent back to his grieving father? Or should I adopt a softly-softly approach? Beat around the bush a bit before asking Bertie if he knew anything about the whereabouts of young Leo?

  My problem was solved when the door suddenly opened and a guy with a cannonball for a head looked out at me. It was hard to say which of us was the more surprised. My first instinct was to turn and run for my life, but then I decided to brazen it out.

  Bertie was again sitting behind his desk, looking more than ever like a midget with overblown ideas of his own importance. Gertie was on the sofa, this time eating a banana. There were two hard men in tuxedos, as well as the guy behind me breathing down
my neck.

  But it was the sight of Leo Polonski, sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, which caught my attention. His hands were handcuffed behind him and he was slumped sideways, his head on his chest. There was a small pool of what looked like blood on the carpet beside the chair.

  Gertie nearly choked on the banana when she saw me, while Bertie and the two hard men broke into guffaws of laughter. ‘I know, I know, I look like Big Bird,’ I said. ‘I’ve been told that already.’ Pointing at the silent Leo, I asked, ‘Is he dead or only taking time out?’

  ‘Don’t worry about him,’ Bertie said, when he’d got his breath back. ‘He’ll be all right after a few weeks in hospital. Why don’t you come and sit down? We were just talking about you, as it happens. And now here you are, as large as life and twice as comical.’

  I made to take off my cape and the guy behind me put his large hands on my shoulders.

  ‘Keep it on,’ he growled. ‘You won’t be able to move around as fast with that thing on you.’

  ‘Can I at least take off the hat?’ I asked. ‘It’s squeezing my brains so much I can’t think.’

  ‘What d’you want to think for?’ said Bertie. ‘Look at Gertie there, she’s never had a thought in her life and it hasn’t done her any harm.’

  Gertie gave him the finger, using the half-eaten banana. ‘Up yours, squirt,’ she said, before cramming the rest of the fruit into her mouth.

  The guy with his hands on my shoulders moved me forward, and pushed me down onto a chair beside Leo Polonski. Then he stood back, but not too far that he couldn’t catch hold of me if I tried to leap over the desk and bite Bertie’s ear off. I prised Emily’s hat off my head and held it in my lap. Maybe if things got really rough I’d be able to use it as a weapon and beat someone unconscious with it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘So,’ Bertie said, like a chairman bringing a meeting to order. ‘I didn’t expect you to show up. What brought you here, anyway?’