by Nick Roteman
The front door opened and Freddy came in, and walking straight to the living room popped his head around the door. He was surprised to see Oli there on his own.
“Hello - ooh Oli sorry didn’t expect to see you here. Madam not in trouble already is she?”
Oli jumped to his feet. “Oh god hello, yes, I mean no, not at all...” he stopped but looked quite flustered.
“Sit, please sit,” Freddy said coming into the room. “It’s good to see you.”
He perched on the arm of the couch opposite.
“It’s actually great you being here Oli, I was going to pop in. Just want to ask you while she’s not here, how she’s doing, you know...” he paused.
“Very well, she is a great asset to our little library. Thank you for bringing her in, yes..., I just walked home with Auburn, but umm, I think I must get on, lots to do, you know.” He stood up again.
“But you haven’t finished your tea, sorry was I interrupting...?” Freddy conceded eyes wide.
“No, no, but I’m late, please say goodbye for me and thank her for the tea.”
Oli seemed in a hurry to leave, and just as Freddy closed the front door so Auburn burst out of her room and came rushing down the corridor.
“Was that Oli?” she called.
“Yes he had to suddenly leave, said he was late.” Freddy shrugged then spied her little box. “Hey what you got in there, looks interesting, show me.”
Auburn’s frown quickly changed into a grin as with a flourish she opened her box to reveal her assortment of brightly coloured condoms.
“Bloody hell, wasn’t expecting that!” he laughed. “Where on earth did you get those from? Oh well at least you’re practicing safe sex, though a bit on the adventurous side. Want to tell me more my dear cousin?”
Freddy followed her into the kitchen, where she placed her box on the table.
“I was going to ask him which one he liked, thought we could try it out sometime.”
“ Bloody hell Auburn!” Freddy exclaimed. “You can’t go asking a stranger that sort of question!”
“But I just want sex, it’s been ages, and I like him now, he’s funny and intelligent, sort of both, so what’s wrong? -I’m sure he likes me too.”
“I’m sure he is nice, but men like to do the chasing. You must be nice and polite to him and when he is ready he will ask you out, then perhaps after that...” he left the rest unsaid. He was shocked, but not embarrassed, it would take far more than that. Somehow, he was going to have to teach her the art of flirting. On second thoughts, perhaps that was a bridge too far - women, always nothing but trouble!
“Oh don’t get upset.” He implored, suddenly seeing her bottom lip start to quiver.
“Look let’s eat and I will try and explain, umm, how you can get your man, ok. I know it’s so difficult understanding human nature, but I promise to help you, if you’ll let me. It’s important to get it right, especially if you want to impress your man.”
Auburn’s bottom lip had begun to tremble, but she managed to control herself, and instead nodded solemnly back at Freddy.
“Ok,” she replied slowly, “but I want him to have sex with me by next weekend, so you had better teach me everything about flirting and quick!”
This was going to be a fun evening he thought as he started preparing supper, at least she was going to be taught by an expert in chatting up men!
Chapter Nine
Tom said his goodbyes to Alice and promised to be back very soon. He had told her he needed to meet up with his business partner Jerry and put an order in for their new computer software. They would need a small office to work out of, nothing fancy. Alice said she would transfer some more money into his bank account for the deposit and first quarters rent. He thanked her warmly, kissed her, and bade farewell. He stood by the open window waving at her until his train was out of sight of the station.
Feeling forlorn and lost Alice got back into her car, but instead of going home drove the few miles to the nearby Royal Horticultural Society gardens at Wisley, deciding a walk and a cup of herbal tea in such superb surroundings should brighten her up.
Tom threw his bag onto the bed, and decided to rummage through his closet for an outfit for tonight; it was time for some fun, he had money to burn, and an itch to scratch in his trousers. Tomorrow he would find his landlord, and pay him six months in advance; he could not wait to see his reaction, the nasty little creep.
Night had finally descended and Tom dressed smartly set off for a night’s fun. He decided to go more up market than his usual club, opting for Annabel’s, in the town centre.
The time was just approaching 1am and Tom was happily chatting to two gorgeous young men vying for his sole attention. He had yet to choose which one, although in fact that was not strictly true, his choice would have been a sandwich with them both, and he was using all his charm to secure this dream.
As he looked around he realised another man had joined his friends. This man pushed through them and glared at Tom.
“Yes, what’s your problem?”
“I need to talk to you, in private!” he replied, pushing back one of the young men so he could see him more clearly.
Tom gave this man the once over, and realised he had nothing to fear from him. He must have been in his early thirties, was about 5’11 tall, but of slight build with longish dark brown hair, and certainly no match for him.
The two men tried to push him back out of the way, but he was giving no ground, being stronger than he looked.
“Alright girls, give him space, yeah!” Tom shouted at them.
“I need to speak to you, in private,” The man repeated.
“Private! Just say what you have to bloody say then fuck off!”
“I’m Phil Charles!”
“So!”
“Alice’s brother.”
Tom smiled, “Well why didn’t you say. Give him some room. What can I get you to drink....Phil is it?”
“Thanks!” Phil replied. “But this is not a social chat, that’s why I said in private.”
“Sorry,” Tom said opening his huge hands as if in apology. “Not here I’m afraid, so just say what you’ve come to say right.”
“You’ve taken a huge amount off my sister to fund some business venture. I want to see some evidence of what you’ve done...”
“Do you now! Alice sent you?”
“Good lord no, but she told me all about you and your business, and I don’t trust you. Alice’s money is for her and her son, not you. Tomorrow I want details of everything, right!”
Tom thought fast, he needed time to come up with something this family intruder could believe, but it would take some time to concoct.
“Ok no problem, but I’ll need time.” Tom smiled his best smile, attempting to buy time.
“Tomorrow I want to see what you’re up to!”
“Ok meet me tomorrow, 1pm at the El Sombrero, it’s the restaurant on top of the pier, easy to find. Now a drink what you fancy?”
Phil shook his head. “Tomorrow 1pm.” He said moving away and quickly melting back into the crowd.
That had succinctly put the kibosh on his night’s action, so shortly after that Tom said goodbye to the boys and the club and left.
As soon as he got home, he was on the phone, and satisfied with that he rolled into bed alone. Damn that Phil, he didn’t even know she had a brother. But sleep eluded him as he tossed and turned in bed going over things in his mind. He thought about his hero Rubin Trodds. The only reason he had rented this crap house was its provenance, the home of the legend Trodds, and he still harboured a desire to emulate him in some way. What was it really like to kill someone while in the throes of ejaculating? That thought made him hard and desperate for sex, violent sex, tomorrow the boys had better be worried.
>
Phil turned up at the El Sombrero just before 1pm, to find Tom already there seated at a window table, drinking. While Tom ordered him a drink, and himself a refill, he allowed his gaze to roam around this weird but wonderful bar. On the ground floor at the entrance to the pier was an amusement arcade, but through a separate doorway on the left side and up a wide sweeping flight of stairs, one reached the first floor, and the bar, El Sombrero, just above the level of the pier. From the bar the panoramic view of the sea was magnificent, whatever the British weather. Inside one could definitely describe the El Sombrero as interesting. The interior had been designed to resemble a tropical island bar. Exotic flowers, small shrubs and miniature trees, sun-bleached comfortable chairs and tables, the odd parrot and attractive lighting, all added to the required atmosphere.
Over lunch, which was rudely curtailed by Phil walking off, Tom outlined his future business plans for his new venture. Phil was expecting to see written proof of these transactions, including some form of agreement from the bank, but Tom had brought nothing with him. Instead he claimed his business partner Jerry was working on these as he spoke, and tonight he and Jerry would produce all the necessary documents which he assured Phil, would fully satisfy all his questions.
Tom finished by saying that if he met him and Jerry tonight at the King George, which was near to where Jerry lived at say 9pm, all would be explained. It was at that juncture that Phil expressed his opinion of Tom by standing up and walking off.
Over his shoulder he growled back at Tom, “I’ll be there don’t be late, 9pm sharp. This is your last chance before I take extreme action matey.”
“And fuck you too!” Tom mouthed back as he downed his whisky sour and waved at a young passing waitress to refill it. She smiled and glided off to fetch his drink. She was pretty, he wondered if she had a brother, or a rich mother.
Phil entered the King George pub and glanced around, but he couldn’t see Tom, so he ordered a pint and chose a table in the corner, choosing to sit with his back to the wall so he was facing the door and wait.
He checked his watch again; 9.25, this was bloody intolerable, what the hell did this man think he was playing at? Right another ten minutes and he was off. He had meant what he had said earlier, if Tom did not show, then tomorrow he was off to see Alice and persuade her to come to the police with him. He was bloody positive Tom was nothing short of a conman, and it looked like tonight he had called his bluff. The moment Alice had mentioned Tom and how wonderful and helpful he had been, alarm bells had sounded, but for her sake he had given him the benefit of the doubt; there was no doubt now left in his mind.
He finished his drink and walked out. Taking a right turn down a short alleyway would cut off the long corner and bring him out onto Wellington Square only a stone’s throw from his hotel where he was staying the night. As he entered the alleyway he though he heard someone behind him; he couldn’t help himself, he had to look round. As he stopped to look behind him so a large man emerged out of the shadows and before Phil could do anything, he had been struck and felled to the ground. The big man, all of 6’3 and eighteen stones in weight, repeatedly kicked Phil until the screams stopped. Satisfied he bent down and stripped Phil of his wallet, phone, and car keys. That done he landed one final kick for luck and marched off out the alleyway and unseen disappeared into the night.
Big Jim marched down through one of the many gardens that were an integral part of the beauty of Bournemouth, and exited across the road from the Pier car park where he had left his car. He walked through the car park onto the promenade and along it onto the pier itself. The wind had come up, and as it was a cold breezy night, the pier was empty. Halfway along he stopped and after taking out the paper notes from Phil’s wallet, he threw it, his credit cards, the phone, and the car keys into the sea.
He pocketed the money, and pulling out his own mobile rang Tom.
“Job done my son, you owe me 600 smackers boy!”
Tom slightly concerned asked. “No problems, no one saw you?”
“Course not, what you take me for?”
“You left him alive Jimmy?”
“Another, say £400, rounds it up to a thousand, and it can be done, say the word boy! See you...” He switched off his mobile.
Chapter Ten
Alice was amazed at just how much spare time she seemed to have on her hands these days. She really missed Tom, and also with Peter away having fun, the house was too quiet; perhaps it was time to sell up and move. She switched on her computer and decided to check her emails, and maybe even surf the net, and waste some time, or perhaps she could order some new clothes or shoes, anything to while away an hour or two.
Opening her emails she was thrilled to have an email, this time from Hector Davide.
Hello Mrs Chandler,
May I introduce myself, I am Hector Davide, your son is staying here with my son Georgie. He is a marvellous lad and such fine manners - he has been brought up well to respect his elders.
I have taken the unusual step of offering him an internship, which would last for a period of a few months. It will greatly enhance his placing at University. But I do most sincerely apologise for not asking your permission in the first place - it was extremely impolite of me.
Please to get in touch with me if for any reason this arrangement is unacceptable.
I remain
Yours Sincerely,
Hector
She had absolutely no problems with it. Anything that might help with his job finding must be treated with...; she couldn’t think of the word she wanted, so anyway it was great or as Peter would probably say, ‘cool!’
She couldn’t wait to tell Tom and rang his mobile right away, but it went straight to voice mail, so she left a soppy message and wished him a peaceful night.
Alice thought about ringing Rachel to tell her the news, but felt rather deflated in not being able to talk to Tom, so instead she decided on sending Rachel a short email telling her what Peter was doing in Brazil, and how lucky he was. That done she gave up, switched off her computer and went upstairs to her bed. Turning on the TV, she flopped onto her bed to watch and within a few minutes, she was sound asleep.
Auburn had pestered Freddy daily until in desperation he gave in, helped her obtain her provisional driving licence, and signed her up for a series of lessons with a local driving school aptly named ‘A-Pass.’
Tonight she could barely sleep for tomorrow at 8am was her first lesson.
Three loud bangs on his front door, and Big Jim was out his chair and ready to thump whoever had the audacity to wake him up. He had not been to bed yet, despite it being after midnight. He was still pumped up from his successful mission, so much so that he had managed to devour in one sitting a bottle of finest malt whiskey, a present from Tom for some earlier help. Slumped in his armchair, the banging on his door had almost made him fall out of it; someone was going to be sorry.
As he opened his front door, he failed to see the truncheon, until it hit him first in the face, then repeatedly on the head. He fell back inside and she trod over him and was in. Stronger than she appeared she managed to drag his body away from the door and swiftly closed it behind her. His was one of 28 flats, bland, unfriendly, and with the other tenants matching that criteria in being truly unwelcoming; he would not be missed, he was scum. She had worn gloves and an apron over her clothes, the SOCCO team would discover no prints or tell-tale marks relating to her. He stirred and she hit him again and again, that sickening thud as the truncheon smashed down and through bone, excited her, and she did it again several times, then once more for luck.
Finished with her fun, she left the red mess that was all that was left of Big Jim and searched the flat just in case, making sure there was nothing incriminating amongst his belongings; there was not. Opening the front door she peered out, the coast was clear; she slipped out and was gone.<
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“An interesting night so far Ash eh! One beaten up and left for dead, another beaten up and dead! Suppose it would be too much to ask that they be connected?” Detective Inspector Simpson commented to his Sergeant Sara Ash, in his usual flippant way.
They were standing outside the A+E Department of Bournemouth General; outside so that DI Simpson could have a cigarette, one of at least twenty he lived on during the course of a day.
“When you’re ready, Sir,” the sarcasm was heavy in her tone. “I think we might be needed at the second, the murder,” she replied.
“Yes, yes, alright Ash, I’ve bloody earned this. Listening to a bloody junior doctor lecture us on police procedure, the little pratt, I could ring his bloody neck!”
“Yes that would help!”
Simpson trod on his cigarette butt and marched off towards their car.
“Well come on Sergeant,” he called out over his shoulder. “Don’t bloody dawdle, this is a murder case, you know!”
Sara Ash could have happily rung his neck, but like his smoking habit, she could have done that at least twenty times already this night; and it was going to be a long night, so there was still time.
“What are you bloody grinning at? If it’s wind again, wait till you’ve finished, don’t want it in the car, do we!”
Ash screwed up her face in disgust but said nothing, and opening the driver’s side door she got in.
They set off back to the other side of Bournemouth, the less affluent side, to the district known as Pokesdown.
“Do we have a name?” he asked.
Ash nodded. “Yes one James Quinn, better known as Big Jim. Done time for robbery, and been inside twice for violence. Beat one guy half to death because he owed £50!”
“What goes around, as they say....”
They fell into silence as Ash manipulated them through the traffic, surprisingly busy for so late, or early in the morning, to be more accurate.