by Tom Trott
It continued, “whereas many have been quick to praise the work of the police, M. Todman, the owner of Todman Concrete who has been fighting a legal battle with those operating the marina construction site commented that the investigation would not have been broken without the help of private investigator Joseph Grabarz. Mr Grabarz said in a statement that he could neither confirm nor deny any involvement in the investigation, but that he considered the comments to be very flattering.”
Did I really? Well done, Thalia. I assumed it was Thalia, and not Murrows making things up. But no, I had been rude to him so he wouldn’t make up a nice thing like that.
It really was a very good statement, after all, discretion is my business. I never kiss and tell. It would be especially good if it lead to more clients like Monica Todman.
The next section was headlined “mass grave in kemptown”. This was a peculiar story. It stated that three men had been found injured and locked in a freezer in a Kemptown restaurant. The police had been alerted by an anonymous tip, and later discovered a shallow grave in the cellar that was suspected to contain the heavily decomposed remains of several unidentified persons. This investigation had only just begun and no doubt this story was going to run and run. I wouldn’t get to read about anything else for months.
Also in the cellar were more of the same prescription drugs, and a store of illegal firearms. And as if this wasn’t coincidental enough, the men matched the description of three men who committed an assault on a young woman in the Moulsecoomb area earlier this week. That was wrong of course, it was Bevendean.
The men were known to be involved in criminal activities, and although they had not yet commented on the circumstances of their chilly incarceration, sources close to the investigation believed that it was the result of a conflict between rival criminal organisations. The words “gang warfare” were used with barely disguised glee.
Finally, the fourteen-page special ended with a section titled “business magnate missing”, explaining that a joint-owner of the construction company, whom police were interested in speaking to, had disappeared. More sources close to the investigation believed that he may have fled the country to avoid prosecution.
And that was the end of it for today. TV listings next. Then what was on stage, then puzzles, classifieds, estate agent listings, restaurant vouchers, and sport.
All in all, I thought it had been a hell of a week for Brighton, and probably no one had noticed. With ink on my hands I folded up the paper and placed it in the bin where it belonged.
I slumped back in my chair, opened the third drawer down and fingered that brandy bottle. I wasn’t going to drink any, I just liked the feel of it.
What had I achieved? Well, the drug problem was gone. Until the next new drug arrived. Rory’s killers were going to jail, but I had no idea for how long, and quite what for. The notebook had been destroyed, so any hope of taking down the whole network had vanished. Someone would inherit it. Andy would have to change the names on his wall. And Robert Coward… well, I didn’t want to think about that.
I hadn’t made any progress on Max. But a week ago I didn’t think I was going to, and week later I hadn’t, so who cared. I’d get him one day. At the very least I had restored Rory’s reputation in the minds of the only three people who cared about him. I still couldn’t look Elaine in the eye, and I wasn’t looking forward to the funeral. But I had made him a nice memory, one to be enjoyed, not avoided. That was the real victory.
I spent the afternoon meeting the clients Thalia had lined up. They were a reliable, if not particularly diverting bunch of losers. They would pay the rent. I managed to get fifteen percent retainers out of three of them, which was more than enough for a trip to the cinema and dinner at Browns. The film was about some superhero nobly defending his city. Good on him, I thought.
With the dinner I treated Thalia. Cocktails or coffee, steak or lobster, you name it. It was my way of saying thank you without having to actually say it, and she repaid me by putting me on the spot.
‘So what am I, your secretary?’ she asked over a liqueur coffee.
‘If you want to be.’
‘It isn’t about what I want. What do you want me to be?’
I knew what she was asking, so I didn’t answer.
‘Just your secretary?’
She pushed even further with her eyebrows, and this wasn’t a situation where I could run away so I answered her honestly.
‘Thalia, I’d love to use you. Have you work for me, do the chores I don’t want to do. Then sleep with you, as I want, and feel no obligation to do anything more about it. How does that sound?’
She nodded, not in agreement, just in understanding.
‘You know, Joe, you’re a good man,’ she said, ‘just not a nice one.’ I thought that was about fair.
I had treated her to dinner and she treated me when we got back to mine. She was sleeping there temporarily until she could find a new place. It had better be temporary I told myself, I couldn’t spend my entire life in somewhere as clean as that office, I’m allergic. Although the job normally takes care of that.
Half an hour later, I was shook out of near-sleep by someone banging on the door. I tried to ignore it, hoping whoever the hell it was would give up and go away. They didn’t. Instead I might not have to open the door at the rate they were going, they might get through on their own.
I ran some water around my mouth and climbed up off the mattress. When I did open the door it was the last person I wanted to see.
‘You know, for a split second I thought we were on the same side,’ she shouted into my face.
She looked a bit manic. Tired. Her blonde hair sticking out unkempt. I have that effect on women eventually.
‘That was stupid of you,’ I growled, my voice still raw. ‘What changed your mind?’
‘Well I can’t exactly put Robert Coward in a jail cell, can I?’
I didn’t answer. Legal highs, a mass grave, a missing kingpin, no doubt she had a mess on her hands, and heaven knows what her bosses made of it all. Maybe they didn’t make anything of it, maybe they believed whatever they read in the papers. Anyway, I had done my job, now it was her turn. It wasn’t my fault she had chosen the one with more paperwork. I felt more sorry for Andy, I had fucked up his pyramid chart.
‘I know what you did,’ she intoned.
‘What’s the matter, Detective? You’ve never broken the rules before?’
‘I know what you did.’ She repeated it like a robot, the same tone as before.
I looked down the corridor. ‘You’re alone out there. Doesn’t seem like you know much.’
‘I know what you did!’ she shouted.
I looked her up and down. I have to say I was disappointed.
‘Yeah, well, I know what you did.’
‘I didn’t do anything!’ she screamed.
‘Exactly,’ I said. And I shut the door on her.
I drifted back to the mattress, trying to shut out the sound of her continuing to bang away.
‘I know what you did, Grabarz! I know what you did!’
It was no good, and against my best efforts I began to think about what I had done.
I could see myself piloting that enormous car through Kemptown’s tiny streets. Through the endless fog. There was not a soul in sight. I could get away with anything.
The wrong way down the Marina Way off ramp, and down the spiralling flyover. Into the ghost town. Towards the construction site. I drove the Rolls Royce right through the fence. Even leaving the lights on as I bundled Coward out of the boot. His bone showing through his worn-out old face. Teeth, tiny chattering things.
The storm raged as I dragged him through the concrete shell. Waves were crashing, wind howling, rain lashing. He struggled, but it was like a child kicking and screaming, clawing at the air.
We reached the marina wall. I held him there, backwards, his centre of gravity already over the water. If one big wave came we would both be swept away.
‘Tell me who he is!’ I screamed, the wind stealing most of the sound.
I couldn’t hear him over the sea crashing against the wall, but I could read ‘I can’t!’ in his lips. His silly shoes slipped on the edge, but I was holding his entire weight with one arm.
‘Tell me!’
‘He’ll kill me!’ I actually heard him that time. ‘You won’t.’
I felt a chill come over me, far colder than the sea below us, as I stared deep into his sockets.
‘Who told you that?’ I said. And I let go.
He slid down the marina wall, trying to find grip, something to stop it happening, but it was no good, and he plunged into the icy water. After a few seconds I saw him surface, but he was caught in a wave and slammed against the wall.
He didn’t resurface again.
joe grabarz will return in
CHoose your parents wisely
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tom Trott was born in Brighton. He started writing at Junior School, where he and a group of friends devised and performed comedy plays for school assemblies. Since leaving school and growing up to be a big boy, he has written a short comedy play that was performed at the Theatre Royal Brighton in May 2014 as part of the Brighton Festival; he has written a television pilot for the local Brighton channel; and he has won the Empire Award (thriller category) in the 2015 New York Screenplay Contest. He is the proverbial Brighton rock, and currently lives in the city with his wife.
If you have enjoyed this book, please bore everyone you meet at dinner parties, society functions, and bus shelters with how excellent it is. If you have not enjoyed this book, please keep that to yourself. Don’t forget to visit tomtrott.com, and for news of upcoming work, follow @tomtrottbooks on Facebook and Twitter.
Table of Contents
1 I Always Knew I’d Find You Dead One Day
2 What’s Different Now?
3 Just Another Dead Drug Dealer
4 Everyone Has To Pay Rent
5 The Little Sister
6 The Bastard Behind It All
7 Damn Powerful Women
8 Concrete Evidence
9 It Was Real To Us
10 As Slippery As Wet Soap
11 The Last Years Of Innocence
12 A Time To Do Things Properly
13Thick As Thieves
14 Storm Joseph
Last chapter Kiss And Tell