The Tale of the Wolf (The Kenino Wolf Series)

by Cyrus Chainey

  ‘Okay then, Wolfy, we’ll leave you to it ... hi, Tabs.’

  ‘Hi, Kelly.’

  ‘Come on, Leon,’ she ordered her husband. ‘Unless you want to help them?’

  Leon took one look and ran behind Kelly back into the club.

  Tabatha was laughing. ‘You’d think we weren’t welcome.’

  ‘I know. Oh well. Better go to Seedy Clarence. He won’t mind the extra guests.’

  When we reached Clarence's night had already set in and so far all we had was a name in Nikita Kruchenko and a missing sibling in Michael. The Longy investigation was not going well. Although getting Seedy Clarence could never be regarded as a bad day.

  We carried Frazer in and dumped him in the front room. Clarence and the goons were awake and struggling on the floor, but the ropes were too tight. Clarence’s eyes popped out when he saw me and Frazer. I popped the three of them again.

  Then we got The Beggar.

  ‘We need to put him in Clarence’s freezer,’ I said to Tabatha.

  We emptied the freezer of all its contents bagged them up and then squished in The Beggar. Clarence’s freezer wasn’t as big as Leon’s, just your standard domestic job. It was seriously hard work. There was much snapping and cracking as we crumpled him into the smaller space.

  Life had certainly changed a lot for me lately, but I was strangely happy. I’d told Tabatha I loved her and she’d reciprocated. Okay, it hadn’t been the most romantic of moments but at least I’d said it.

  By the time we’d finished, sweating and exhausted, I was in serious need of a beer. I grabbed two out of Clarence’s fridge and handed one to Tabatha.

  ‘Now what?’ she enquired.

  ‘We wait for Bosley.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, babes?’

  ‘For once, yeah. Cheers!’ I said clashing bottles.

  ‘Okay.’ She trusted me.

  We sat on the hall stairs drinking the beer and relaxing, just enjoying each other’s company and waited for Bosley.

  It didn’t take long for him to appear.

  ‘What’s this about?’ He demanded as soon as we let him in.

  ‘Did you bring the stuff?’

  ‘Yes. Now what’s this about? What the hell are you up to?’ Bosley had walked into the front room and seen our trussed up guests.

  ‘Entertaining,’ Tabatha smirked.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a rope and knots party.’

  ‘Is that Seedy Clarence?’

  ‘Yeah, and some hooligan called Scott Frazer. Did you bring the stuff, or did you just break into my yard for fun again?’

  ‘I brought the stuff.’ Bosley said it with such an air of shame that I almost felt sorry for him. Well almost. It was Bosley.

  Tabatha watched, bemused, as Bosley pulled out a blue carrier bag from under his jacket.

  ‘I can't believe I'm doing this. What am I doing? Why am I here?’

  ‘Now, now. No time for philosophy … work to be done.’

  Yes, I was enjoying it. Bosley was on my side and Tabatha loved me. Sometimes life’s not so bad. Okay, there's the whole murder aspect, but if you looked beyond that there's always a silver lining.

  ‘Right, we need to spread out the Charlie and the scales on the table.’ Tabatha took the bag from my hands smirking like a Cheshire cat. She knew Bosley, knew his love for me and was as equally amused as I was. Soulmates.

  I know I'd gone a bit soppy but love could change a man and I was in love.

  ‘I'll rub some up their nostrils make it look good,’ Tabatha said. Her professionalism was admirable.

  ‘This is a frame up, isn't it, Wolfy?’ Bosley said disgusted.

  ‘No, this is that shitbag Seedy Clarence, and Seedy Clarence’s goons. And that other unconscious fucker is Seedy Clarence’s master. He's called Scott Frazer. So no, Bosley, this isn't a stitch up. This is justice.’

  ‘Hmph.’ Bosley stifled a laugh. ‘Justice? Please! You are not telling me about justice.’

  ‘Well, you can always leave, Bosley. I'll give that gormless twat the tip-off that Seedy Clarence and his henchmen are doing a big Charlie deal. I'm sure Gormless would make an excellent detective inspector.’

  ‘Just hurry up.’

  ‘Okay then. So you don't want Gormless to get the call?’

  ‘He couldn't find his arse if you kicked him in it. So how do you know Clarence worked for this guy?’

  ‘Clarence told us.’ Tabatha piped in shoving the final dab of Charlie up Frazer’s nostrils.

  ‘And why did he do that, I wonder?’ Bosley said eyeing the dismembered dollies.

  ‘Tabatha's very persuasive,’ I said lovingly. ‘We finished?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Okay then, Bosley. We better go. Give it about an hour, then they should be waking up, and you can nab ’em. Say all that “you’re nicked” stuff that you coppers love.’

  ‘Just get out and take the ropes off. If they’re all tied up it will look wrong.’

  ‘Shit!’ I said realising we'd still left them tied. That's what comes from being a smartarse.

  Tabatha and I removed the ropes quickly and positioned the four round the table. Bosley didn't help. He had no gloves on and the few fingerprints he'd already created would be covered when he raided.

  ‘Oh, Bosley …’ I called back as we were just stepping out the front door.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think there’s a dead body in the freezer. I’m not sure … it’s all wrapped up in bin bags and I obviously wasn’t going to open it. But you might want to check that. Later!’

  Bosley didn’t even respond he just rushed straight to the kitchen. Tabatha was holding the laughter back so hard I thought she was going to burst a rib.

  ‘You take the piss, you really do. Where to now?’

  ‘I don’t know. Truthfully, after all that madness all we have is a name. That way,’ I indicated, meaning just to move. She pulled off and we headed into the night.

  We’d only been gone about ten minutes when my phone rang. It was Bosley.

  I was worried. ‘I forgot to mention,’ he said as soon as I answered. ‘I’ve found your friend’s brother.’

  ‘You’ve found Michael?’

  ‘I think so. I’ll know for sure in the morning. When it’s confirmed, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Brilliant, Bosley. How did you do it?’

  ‘I’m the police. It’s what we do.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Well done, Detective Inspector.’

  ‘I’m a DS.’

  ‘Not by tomorrow. Later.’

  ‘We’re going to see Michael?’ Tabatha had overheard the conversation.

  ‘As soon as Bosley confirms it.’

  ‘So what shall we do now?’ She said seductively.

  ‘I’m sure we can think of something.’ With that we went back to mine.

  Bosley filled me in later about his glorious bust of Seedy Clarence and Co.

  He had returned to the house an hour later, after an anonymous tip-off, mob-handed with as many blue bottles as he could raise.

  They burst through the door to Clarence’s making sure to cause as much damage as possible.

  Clarence and Co had just started to stir as the door came off. Realising what was up Clarence tried to make a dash while his goons felt up for a fight with the constables.

  It did not go well, as Bosley, the sly old bugger, had made sure to bring coppers who knew Seedy Clarence. As such much damage was caused all round.

  And although Bosley may not have liked the set-up, the raid produced a cache of illicit material which I state, for the record, had nothing to do with me.

  Between the S&M paraphernalia in the basement and the guns in the loft, Tabatha and I didn't really need to have bothered. There was enough of Clarence’s life to appease Bosley's conscience … and enough big blokes with size 10s and the ability to use them to appease mine.

  And, of course, the dollies all had to be destroyed beyond repair. Well someone had said that
's where the contraband was kept. And the police had to check, and had to check thoroughly by ripping them apart.

  I greatly enjoyed the bit of Bosley’s story, where Clarence cried like a little girl. I enjoyed it so much I made Bosley tell it twice. And Bosley informed me that I was right. It was a dead body in the freezer. And even more oddly, he said, it was The Beggar. I feigned ignorance and he feigned belief at my ignorance, and we left it at that.

  Thursday 10:30 a.m.

  With nothing to do but wait for Bosley, Tabatha and I decided to have a bit of a lie in, breakfast in bed and all the shenanigans. I was tucking into my toast when I was startled out of my leisurely respite by my front door banging, and I do mean banging. It was knocked so hard it sounded like the thing was going to come off. I leapt out of bed and grabbed the tranq gun. Tabatha grabbed the rifle. I moved up to the door and was just about to pop a dart through the letterbox when I heard Curtis bellow from the other side.

  ‘Wolfy, it’s me, Curtis. Open up. It’s an emergency.’ I opened the door and he strode straight in clutching his head and shaking. ‘Wolfy, we’ve been robbed. The rocks are gone.’

  ‘What?’ Tabatha screamed.

  ‘How d’ya know?’ I quickly flung in.

  ‘I’ve just come from the lock-up. They’re gone.’ Curtis had gone as pale as a sheet.

  ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘Um ... ah, Wolfy. I swear it’s not what you think.’ Curtis had just realised what the terror of not seeing the stones had made him forget. Namely, that he shouldn’t have been there. Tabatha clutched the rifle.

  ‘Tabatha, Wolfy … I swear on the Holy Bible, I swear on my mother’s life, I swear on my father, I swear I weren’t going to rob you. I just went to look.’ Curtis was near tears. ‘I just wanted to see them. Wolfy. Life’s been so hard lately and I just wanted to make sure that there was something in the future. Something good coming to me.’

  ‘Something’s coming alright.’ Tabatha said raising the rifle.

  ‘Tabatha, look please. If I took them why would I be here?’ It was a valid point.

  ‘Maybe you’re using your head.’ It was a point Tabatha wasn’t agreeing with.

  ‘I swear, I just wanted to look, just look just feel them in my hands.’ He crumpled on to the chair.

  ‘So, if you didn’t take them, who did?’ I queried.

  ‘You believe him?’ Tabatha directed her query at me.

  ‘I believe he didn’t take them. I not sure about this “I just wanted to feel them story.”’

  ‘I swear, Wolfy, that’s all it was. Wolfy, have I ever robbed you?’ Curtis was pleading.

  ‘No, in fairness, you haven’t.’

  ‘That don’t mean shit. You’ve never had anything worth stealing before.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Tabs.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘Yes okay. That’s not what matters now. What matters is who’s robbed us.’

  ‘Only three people knew we had them,’ Tabatha announced, ‘and I know I haven’t got them.’

  ‘Four people.’ I added before she remembered my early morning disappearance to get flowers.

  ‘The butler,’ Curtis piped in.

  ‘How did he know where they were hidden?’ Tabatha asked sceptically.

  ‘Maybe he followed us. Maybe, when we didn’t get nicked, he decided to pinch them back off us. I don’t know. All I do know is that this was dodgy from the start.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ Tabatha wasn’t convinced, she was still tempted to shoot Curtis and truss him up. I could see it her eyes.

  ‘First thing we need to do is find out who this Colin is, and what that place we knocked off was. When we know that, we’ll know what to do. Don’t worry, we’ll get them. I promise.’ The promise was more to Tabatha than Curtis.

  I just want to state for the record that I had no intention of robbing anybody. I love Tabatha and would happily have given her my whole cut. But between her and Curtis the greed was scary. I didn’t think Curtis was trying to rob us. He was just going to look. It’s the kind of nonsense he’d do. The problem was he would have taken one stone, from his portion. But he would have taken it. Nobody was willing to be patient, even me.

  ‘Let me phone Tommy.’ I said pulling out my phone. I’d been meaning to dig around anyway, which was why I’d told everyone to stash the rocks. It didn’t smell right.

  I told Tommy to get me as much info on the place we’d visited and whether there was a butler there called Colin.

  Bosley rang soon after I’d hung up and gave me Michael’s address.

  ‘Come on.’ I said to Tabatha. It’s time to get some answers.’

  ‘What about the diamonds?’

  ‘Tommy’s digging around. When he calls back we’ll know what to do. In the meantime, I’m doing right by Longy. Somebody ordered his death and I’m not letting them get away with it.’ I gave Tabatha a little guilt trip to get her mind off the stones. Or at the very least distract it for a bit.

  ‘I’m coming too,’ Curtis piped in.

  ‘Damn right, you’re coming.’ Tabatha sneered at him. ‘Just ’cos Wolfy may believe you, it don’t mean I do. You’re definitely coming. I ain’t letting you out of my sight. Gimme a sec. I want my bag.’

  Curtis looked at me and was just about to get into his ‘I swear …’ nonsense, when I cut him off. ‘Don’t ... Don’t say no more. I’ll know the truth soon enough.’

  Thursday 11:30 a.m.

  The three of us jumped in Betsy and headed to the address Bosley had given us, an estate in Tulse Hill. I didn't know it. It wasn't an address I'd seen before. But then Michael did have a different circle from me.

  The block was one of those red-brick estates that populate London; external balcony, concrete stairs, nondescript doors. Typical sink estate, although in fairness this one looked better and more peaceful than most.

  The address Bosley had given me was for number 40, the flat in the corner. We parked up and walked up the communal stairs. We had to walk all the way round to reach the flat.

  ‘This is it,’ Tabatha said pointing quietly.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Bosley.

  ‘Shit,’ Curtis said, instantly recognising Bosley and preparing to run.

  I grabbed Curtis’s arm to steady him.

  ‘I wondered whether you'd be here.’ I said smiling at Bosley

  ‘Please! Do you honestly think I'd leave you to it? God knows how it would turn out.’

  ‘Keep ’em guessing. That's my motto,’ I said, still holding Curtis, who still didn't know what was going on and was still going with flight as the appropriate instinct.

  ‘It wasn't a compliment, Mr Wolf.’

  ‘I know, but I took it as one anyway.’

  ‘Hmmph!’

  ‘After you,’ I said pointing at Bosley.

  ‘Oh god!’ Tabatha exclaimed reaching across and smashing the door knocker so hard that the glass shook. There wasn't any answer.

  ‘Do your police speech.’ I nudged Bosley.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Wolf. I know what I'm doing. This isn't my first time.’

  ‘It is mine,’ Curtis mumbled.

  ‘Open up, Michael. We know you’re in there. It's the police,’ Bosley said, trying not to fumble his words. Being in front of us was throwing Bosley off his stride. ‘I can't believe I’m doing this,’ he mumbled.

  We banged again and Bosley repeated his ‘we’re the police’ speech less convincingly than before.

  ‘Now what?’ Curtis said. He still had no idea what was going on and was half hoping we were going to say leave.

  ‘Well, as I don't have a warrant, there is nothing we can do. I’m not meant to be here and certainly not with you.’

  ‘So we might as well go in then,’ said Tabatha, pulling out a chisel and a hammer.

  Smack! One hit later and the lock was gone.

  ‘Oh my god! What are you doing?’ Bosley exclaimed

  ‘Opening the door,’ she replied. She was
in a real shitty mood. Understandable really.

  I heard the gunshot and then the glass broke. We dived for cover. A second shot, then a third.

  ‘Someone’s shooting,’ Curtis screamed stating the obvious.

  ‘Thanks, Sherlock. Michael, it’s Wolfy. Stop shooting!’ I shouted through the doorway.

  ‘Wolfy?’ It was a weak and feeble reply.

  ‘Yeah, Wolfy. Stop shooting.’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘No, but they’re cool. It’s just Tabs, Boom-Boom’s sister, and Curtis.’

  ‘I heard someone say police.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s Bosley. Don’t worry. He’s harmless.’ Bosley shot me a venomous glance I shrugged back. ‘Michael, I’m coming in. Don’t shoot me. I just want to talk. I want to know what happened to Longy.’

  ‘I killed him, Wolfy. It’s my fault Baba’s dead.’

  ‘I’m coming in.’ I stood up and pushed open the front door. Michael was in the hallway. No wonder nobody could find him. I’d known him for years and I’d never seen him look like that. He was bad; ‘I-live-on-the-streets-and-eat-out-of-a-bin’ bad.

  I walked in slowly, he was clutching the gun in his hand, the other three followed slowly behind me, Bosley first, then Tabatha, and last, and with much dragging at the back, Curtis.

  Michael’s clothes were true homeless man ragged. He had a wild beard on his face and was barefoot. He was filthy dirty and the smell coming from him was enough to make you choke. He looked like Robinson Crusoe on a bad day. I followed him deeper into the pit he was living in. We walked into the front room. It was empty: no furniture, curtains, carpet or even paint on the walls. He scrunched back into the corner and faced us. There were empty food wrappers and half-eaten scraps of his dustbin-acquired dinner in front of him.

  ‘What the hell’s going on, Michael?’ His eyes were wild. He looked like he hadn’t slept well in a very long time.

  ‘I killed Baba.’ He mumbled it.

  ‘No, you didn’t. It was a hitman called The Beggar.‘ I’d never really liked Michael. I didn’t dislike him, he just wasn’t my cup of tea. We knew each other, enough to talk but not to trust. I wouldn’t have sat down and had a drink with him. But then and there I felt such pity for him, such a sense of sadness. He was a bastard no doubt, but he’d suffered, suffered a lot.