by E. Earle
The thugs.
I did a quick log.
The man was tall, thin and in his late fifties to early sixties. His face was pale, blue eyes set in a close shaven skull in a lined face that looked more used to scowling than smiling. However, it now wore a falsely pleasant expression as the man’s eyes drank in the sight of me. He wore a long black coat similar to that of the hooligans, but its fabric was more expensive looking, pristine and untouched. He wore it open, revealing a pin striped suit beneath, a pale pink tie tight around his neck, framed in a waistcoat that was more suited to high powered business meetings than for a pub awaiting festival goers.
“Ah, Miss Blackwell,” he said, his smile widening at my look of distaste at seeing the thugs again. “I take it you’ve met Boris and Becker?”
Jessica was standing behind the bar next to Brynn, Calloway nowhere in sight.
Typical, I thought. Just when you need your boarding copper, he’s buggered off.
I sneered at Thug #2 whose name was Boris. “New coat?” I said. “Or dry cleaned?”
He revealed a snarl of his own and would have lunged if the bald man hadn’t outstretched an arm in front of him “The Boss” I took it.
“Who are you?” I snapped; my anger and fear getting the better of me. Fury at having these men in my pub rose up and I fought to think clearly. I glanced at Brynn and saw he was having difficulty himself. He had grasped a towel and was wringing it for all of its worth. I wondered whether he was imagining the towel was someone’s neck…
“My apologies,” The Boss said. “I’m Patrick Marley.” He smiled. “Maybe you know my brother?”
Before I could gather in enough thoughts to open my mouth, Brynn was pushing past me to get towards The Boss. I grabbed his sleeve on impulse and yanked him back, forgetting my injuries. My cry of pain was what swung Brynn around more than the sight of the thugs jumping to The Boss’s defence.
He clutched my hands, as if that would help cure the pain and gently pushed me towards Jessica. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said, worry and anger etched onto his face. Still holding them, he looked at Patrick. “What do you want?” he spat. “Your idiots have already done enough damage here.”
Patrick laughed and the thugs joined in. “I hardly can believe that.” But the smile on his face said too much He knew what his thugs were capable of- what they could do, and what they had done.
“Where’s my brother?” Patrick asked tiredly. “I know you’re hiding him, O’Connell. And you, Miss Blackwell have been nothing but a nuisance.”
Old Marley was this man’s brother? They looked nothing alike! True, they did have the same pale blue eyes, but this man was at the peak of his career whilst poor Marley…
“We don’t know where your brother is,” I snapped at Patrick before Brynn could swear at him. “And even if we did, we wouldn’t tell you.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, as if expecting no less. “Yes, I thought you would say that.” He sighed then as if tired, and then a new glint came into his eyes. “Doing well with the business are we?” he asked, looking around himself.
My skin prickled. “Get out,” I said slowly, pulling my hands away from Brynn and forcing myself to not clench my fists. “Your brother isn’t here, we don’t know where he is- these two gremlins are barred as well.”
“Careful, Miss Blackwell,” he warned, tutting at me. “I have some excellent contacts who are always interested in taking over new businesses. In fact…” His hands passed over my shining bar, admiring the aged wood and the vintage bottles behind. “I would be very interested in taking this place myself…”
I laughed at him. “Nice threat,” I said. My voice suddenly took on an icy edge. “I will never be selling this place- to anyone. I would rather burn this place down than sell it to you!”
His eyes snapped onto mine, smiling as if I was a silly child. “What makes you think I would be buying it?” he grinned. “No, no, Miss Blackwell. You’ll be begging to give me this place for free to stop the hell that will come your way if you don’t tell me where my brother is.”
I clamped my lips shut, my hands shaking, sweating and definitely in need of fresh bandages. I would not pass out. I would not pass out!
“You better get out before I call the police,” Brynn growled, putting his hands on my shoulders, surprising me.
“Oh good God man,” Patrick laughed. “As if that would make a difference at all.” He turned and nodded to his cronies for them to walk away and open the door for him. Taking his time in getting to the exit, he turned one last time to me.
“If fire is the way you’d prefer to go, Miss Blackwell,” he crooned, “I know an Italian who would love to do the job.”
I was glad that Ben hadn’t been around when The Boss had turned up. I didn’t like to think they would do something to him to get back at me- especially now I knew that the Thug #2 had a special vendetta against him.
“Oh all the coats to shit on,” I murmured, rubbing my forehead, a headache blasting forth.
Brynn had been furious when Calloway had returned, but not as much as Calloway was at himself when he heard what had happened.
He had gone for a walk and to talk to his “sources” apparently. He had returned, smelling of coffee and I wondered how far he had had to drive for his Starbucks fix. He was a coffee fiend and our simple machine just didn’t seem to do the job for him. Coffee snob.
“Well if you think you can look after her so well then why does it matter if I was here?” Calloway growled.
“Because you’re a police officer!” snarled Brynn, their faces almost touching.
“I’m a Detective!”
“Enough!” I shouted standing up from my seat. Ben flicked his tail in annoyance at the chaos that had ensued. I hadn’t been able to fill him up to speed, but he had gotten most of the conversation when he had returned from hunting. “I don’t need looking after by either of you!”
Jessica was awkwardly prepping the kitchen with Charlotte- it was Jack’s day off today and he had called us ten minutes earlier to let us know that Donny was improving. It had broken up the tension between the staff a bit and I promised myself that we would send him a “Get Well” hamper of whiskey, chocolates and whatever else we could rustle up together.
“He’s just full of hot air,” I mumbled, trying to rid myself of his words of an ‘Italian friend.’ Rino? I half shut my eyes, as if letting in partial light would help my headache to dim down. If Brynn could Google me, then so could this man. There was nothing to say that he actually knew Rino.
Was there?
Who even was Patrick Marley? I pulled out my phone and did a quick Google search of my own whilst Calloway and Brynn bickered.
Whoa! I thought seeing the amount of images come up. Patrick Marley was not only featured in several newspapers as being an hotelier giant, he was also an acclaimed antique collector and trader.
“Well that’s at least something they’ve both got in common,” I grumbled under my breath. My eyes widened seeing a picture of him shaking hands with the Major of London and I forced myself to stop reading. Ok, he was the big bucks, so what?
I showed Brynn what I had found and he grimly confirmed. “He can create problems,” he said dragging my attention away from my phone. “I know what he’s like.”
I remembered then that Patrick had called Brynn by name. “You know him?”
He flashed me a shrewd look. “The entire town knows him.”
I took in his three-day stubble, his tight black t shirt and ripped jeans and cleared my throat. I wondered if he had given Model-Girl his number and then growled at myself that it didn’t even matter. What did I care?
He raised an eyebrow in question and then I realised that I was staring.
“He said the police wouldn’t help,” I said quickly.
Brynn’s jaw hardened in answer and then he threw Calloway a dirty look. Calloway crossed his arms knowingly.
“Why are you keeping the old man?” he asked Brynn.
“Why is there a big deal about telling him where his brother is?”
Before Brynn could fly off the handle, I explained the situation to Calloway. Whether or not he had much sympathy, I don’t know. By the end of it, Brynn looked even more frustrated and Ben lay bored on the bar.
I glanced at my watch. We had twenty minutes before opening. Jack had taken that morning’s surf class, but I was tense to get ready for the customers. We needed to get this conversation over and done with. Brynn was deep in thought and Calloway was preparing to launch into a “for your own good” lecture to me.
“What are we going to do then?” I sighed.
“Come home, sell this place?” Calloway threw in.
Ben hissed.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not selling!” I growled. “This place is getting back on its feet, we’re making money and I’m not going to be bullied out of it!”
“You have to come home sometime,” Calloway said quietly, his eyes fixating on mine. “You have a course to run.”
I bit back my reply and stared at him angrily. Trust him to say that. Brynn turned away and started stacking glasses onto shelves. An uncomfortable silence filled the air, choking me of any further words. Suddenly, I was exhausted all over again.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I muttered and saw Brynn’s shoulders relax slightly.
Calloway opened his mouth to say something else, but I raised a hand to shut him off. “Enough of that. What do you know about Rino?”
The room went quiet and Brynn slowly turned around.
Calloway’s expression darkened, looking as if he would like to talk about this subject anywhere else but here. “He’s been sighted in Bristol,” he finally said.
“When?”
“Last week.”
I let go of a painful breath. “That’s ok then.”
Calloway frowned. “Why?”
“Well he’s nowhere near here, is he?”
“That’s not the point!” Calloway snapped. “He’s closer than what he was!”
I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes briefly, trying to gain patience. “How is worrying about him going to make anything better?” I breathed finally. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is!”
“Well that’s just it!” He came towards me then in earnest. “Come back with me to Warwickshire and you won’t have to worry about anything, Ellena. I can-”
“You can what?” I snapped standing up. “You can protect me?”
He scowled at me. “I didn’t come down here to argue with you,” he growled. “I came down here because I care about you and you’re being stupid about all of this! Why risk Rino finding you? Why risk anything?”
“Because the cause is worth it!” I shouted.
We stared at each other for seconds, both furious with the other. There was no use. We were both stubborn and there was no way we were going to agree with each other.
I winced as he stormed off, slamming the door behind him. An awkward silence hung around us.
“What are you waiting for?” I snapped to Brynn and Jessica. “Let’s open up!”
It was a busy day, and I was glad. I threw myself into it, despite Brynn’s disapproval. One murderous glare at him and he shut his mouth. My hands hurt each time I pulled a pint, but the pain was good. It distracted me from thinking of all the other things I should have shot at the detective.
Ben mooched around the customers, enjoying the attention as always, and they ignored the sign of “Do not feed the cat” as always. People came towards me to say congratulations on throwing the canister out, and the papers soon went around with my mug on the front with updated news about the fire. Unfortunately, no one had told me about the previous newspaper reports but I found them whilst throwing out the rubbish.
“Good,” I mumbled, shoving the lid back down on the bin. “They can stay there too.”
Brynn attempted to talk to me a couple of times but I simply wasn’t in the mood. It was a relief when he took over the afternoon surfing session and I could get some respite. He was annoyed that I didn’t want to talk and that I insisted on working, but stamped out his frustration on the waves. I glanced out at the window minutes later to watch him walk with a party of people along the beach. I still wanted a lesson, but the thought of Brynn telling me what to do was impossible to stomach.
Plus, I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of him.
God, I really had a problem.
Ben meowed indignantly as I scooped him up and took him into my room, plonking him down on my bed just as ungraciously.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as I went to shut the door. “I’m in a rotten mood.”
We spoke about the day’s events, our musings and my frustrations. Calloway still hadn’t come back and Ben suggested that maybe he had gone back to the Midlands.
The thought of it for some reason made me go cold, so despite our rules on respecting guests’ privacy, I sneaked into his room to find his baggage still there.
The room smelt of his mint shower gel and aftershave. I stood there for a few seconds, breathing it in, remembering our time together and suddenly feeling homesick. His bed was made and a bottle of whiskey stood on the bedside table next to his own alarm clock. He never used to make his bed before, but after nagging he had changed his ways.
Seeing it now in its immaculate state made me feel miserable for some reason.
My stomach rumbled and I wondered when the last time I ate was. Brynn had brought me up a baguette last night but I had simply took one bite out of it and felt sick. I had lost weight these past couple of weeks and you could tell. Frowning, I stepped backwards from Calloway’s room and right into him.
“Find anything interesting?” his voice rumbled behind me.
Heart panicking, I swung round to see him watching me with interest. I swallowed, wondering how long he had been standing there and then straightened up.
“I just came up to see if you wanted a sandwich or something,” I snapped at him.
He pointedly looked down at the keys in my hand and I shrugged. “You thought I’d locked myself in?”
I put my hands on my hips, eager to change the subject. “Where have you been?”
His expression darkened and he stepped forwards, forcing me back into his room. I scowled at him as he shut the door, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Come back with me,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because what is happening here isn’t right!” I snapped, so angry at everything all of a sudden. Barry leaving this place to me, me forcing my way out of the dirt, Rino escaping, and now having an hotelier bully trying to force people to give him what was theirs. “I have a chance to change this, Arthur- I can help-”
Suddenly his hands were on my upper arms and he gave me a little shake. “You can’t save everyone, Ellie!” he snarled. “When are you going to start looking out for yourself? You don’t have nine lives!”
No, I thought. But I have Ben.
“I’d rather do something,” I said slowly, “and regret it, than regret not doing it at all.”
He stared at me, his eyes losing some of their hope, their brightness and he released me. “Yeah? Well, this is something you’re definitely going to regret.”
Calloway left that afternoon, and there wasn’t enough rum or catnip in the world to make me feel better.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, I decided to drive myself back to the small fishing town where Old Marley’s museum was. I needed to remind myself what I was fighting for.
I managed to escape Brynn as he came back from his surfing lesson.
“Wait a minute and I’ll come with you,” he said, peeling himself out of his wetsuit.
I had mumbled something and waited until he tottered up to the last unscathed outbuilding where our surfing tack was, before I ran to my Fiat Punto. Ben had just managed to jump in after me before I slammed the door and sped off.
“You know,
you could have had my tail off,” Ben meowed sulkily.
I rolled my eyes. “But I didn’t.” I glanced at his belly and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been eating the bacon again, haven’t you?”
Ben hissed at me in reply and I laughed.
The sun beamed down on us as we walked through the town, ignoring the looks from the locals. Some of them waved and then I realised they probably recognised me from the paper- if not that, pretty much everyone knew Ben by now. Word got around fast in a small place.
I used to find it annoying having people whisper about me and Ben, but there was something different about this place. People called out good morning to each other, even if they didn’t know that person. It made me feel lighter in spirit and soon I stopped trying to avoid the eye contact of people and started to wave back.
Old Marley’s Museum soon came into view and I was surprised when I saw both doors open. I glanced around and could see no one about. Old Marley’s was slightly separated from the town and was shielded by view from all of the overgrowth. It was a shame, because the building’s architecture really was lovely under all that foliage.
“Hello?” I called, wondering if Brynn had gotten there first. I hadn’t seen his truck in the small car park. Could he have parked somewhere else? My nerves started to prickle, instincts screaming that something wasn’t right.
“Stay back,” I said quietly to Ben as I stepped towards the door.
“They were here,” he hissed, ears going back as he raised a paw in mid step. “I can smell them.”
“They? Who’s they?” I looked at the ground and saw the broken sign of Old Marley’s Museum along with tyre marks. I frowned and then stepped through the door. My jaw hit the ground. Everything was gone.
“Shit, what the hell?” I literally jumped inside and searched for any sight of an antique- but there was nothing. Everything had been taken, and the rubble had been left behind. Glass cases had been smashed, fishing nets torn from the walls and the wooden mural of the mermaid being the only thing left. It lay in a state of concussion in the corner of the room, the mermaid’s face distorted in the dirt into a mask of fury.