Boiling Point

by Frank Lean

  ‘He who dares, wins,’ Harrow said loftily.

  ‘Win?’ I said. ‘All you’re going to win is a thump in the face.’

  ‘Now then, young David, you seem to have cornered the market in bruises. I’m sure there are none left for me.’

  ‘How did you find us?’

  ‘Oh come. Your petite amie here told me that you were bound for our great coastal resort and there are few enough first-class hotels here.’

  ‘Why, Clyde?’ Janine asked angrily. ‘What makes you think that you’re entitled to burst into a private family holiday?’

  ‘Holiday certainly, but a family holiday I would dispute. I was speaking to Henry Talbot just last week . . .’

  ‘What!’ Janine gasped. She suddenly looked stricken.

  ‘Yes, the unfortunate chap is pining to see his offspring. I can sympathise. It’s a position I’ve been in myself more than once. It was naughty of you to let me think that young David here was the father of these delightful children.’

  Janine responded by gathering up the children and heading for the stairs. ‘Pay the bill, Dave, we’re leaving at once,’ she ordered.

  ‘Clyde, you’re a bastard,’ I snarled at Harrow. ‘I’ve never claimed that I was the children’s father.’ I pushed back my seat and stood up. Clyde recoiled. At nearby tables, knives and forks were lowered. Clyde, of course, was recognised wherever he went. How could he avoid it, dressed as he was like a clown escaped from the Tower Circus? People were gaping at him, but even assuming I could summon the energy I don’t think the management would have been thrilled to see the famous celeb wrestling on the carpet on which Prime Ministers had so recently trodden.

  ‘Now steady on,’ he cautioned. ‘We’ve been through all this stuff about bastards before. You don’t want to make a scene and it was you I came to see, not Janine.’ He then delved into the jacket of his gold lamé blazer and thrust a sheet of paper under my nose. ‘Read this,’ he commanded.

  It was a letter from the board of Alhambra TV terminating Clyde’s contract forthwith. It was dated yesterday. While I read, Clyde busied himself by devouring the substantial remains of our breakfast.

  ‘There!’ he said triumphantly, stuffing a rasher from Janine’s plate into his mouth. ‘I can read the guilt in your body language. I think some explanations are in order, don’t you? All I could glean from the top floor is that Brandon Carlyle’s demanding my poor old head on a dish. Something or somebody must have set him off. Somebody not a million miles from me now.’

  I sat down heavily. The Full English Breakfast was congealing in my stomach.

  ‘You’ve not made it a secret that you’re after his job. One of your little female friends probably ratted on you.’

  ‘I think not. The callipygian Lauren, my production assistant, has had her cards as well. Great is the lamentation in the house of Harrow.’

  ‘Swallowed a dictionary, have you?’

  ‘Callipygian, a girl who bears her charms behind her, to the rear, as it were. It’s sad how poorly educated you younger men are.’

  ‘What university did you attend, then?’

  ‘The university of life, where I learned that the only way to deal with swine like Carlyle is to get your retaliation in first.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Yes, young David, and you needn’t pretend that you’re impervious to the claims of our lower nature. I saw you giving Lauren an appraising look.’

  ‘Clyde, if you lay your mucky little fingers on Janine’s nether regions again I’ll break them off, always assuming that she doesn’t do it herself.’

  Unusually for him, Clyde coloured slightly at this. I didn’t know what Janine did to him at Nico Central but it must have been humiliating.

  ‘Let’s get back to matters in hand,’ he said quickly. ‘Namely Brandon Carlyle . . . Unfortunately, he seems to have momentarily gained an advantage and you’re involved in some way.’

  ‘So you’re no longer able to threaten to turn me into a public laughing stock.’

  ‘Dear lad . . . at least you’re a lad who’s cost me dear . . . you’ll be making a serious mistake if you underestimate the capacity of Clyde Harrow to bounce back from adversity. Now tell me, did you locate Marti King and put my proposition to her?’ All the time he was speaking Clyde was industriously clearing Janine, Lloyd and Jenny’s plates, vacuuming the left-overs down his outsize gullet.

  ‘She must be the one who got you sacked,’ I said. Then I told him about Marti’s promise to have his show relegated to the wee small hours.

  ‘Incompetent fool!’ he spluttered, before starting on the remaining toast and jam. ‘Your whole thesis that Ms King was at odds with her relatives must be at fault if she retains such influence with Brandon Carlyle.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I admitted, ‘but you don’t know it was like that. She may have mentioned it in passing and Brandon drew his own conclusions.’

  ‘It’ll cost him dear. He’ll have to compensate me for my remaining contract. Dave, my friend, do me a favour. Take your plate round the buffet again. I’m temporarily out of funds.’

  I looked at his fat, creased face. There were flecks of egg yolk and jam round his lips. He flashed me a crooked smile. What do you do with someone who demands favours while insulting you?

  ‘Get your own, fat boy,’ I said, mildly enough.

  Clyde looked far more upset by this rebuff than by anything I’d said so far. For a moment I thought he was actually going to cry. I signalled a waiter and asked him to put a breakfast for Clyde on my bill. Clyde was out of his seat before the words had left my mouth.

  He returned moments later with enough food for a family of seven and proceeded to eat ravenously. I got up to leave.

  ‘No, don’t go,’ he grunted. His cheeks were straining to contain the food in his mouth.

  ‘I was going to take the kids to the zoo for a look at the animals being fed but now I don’t think I’ll bother,’ I told him.

  ‘Listen, pimpo-lad,’ he said. ‘I think light is beginning to dawn. I admit that by sending you along the primrose path of dalliance to Miss Marti I may have erred.’

  ‘I didn’t see Marti just on your say so and I’ll have less about the path of dalliance if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Hah!’ the fat old fraud said shrewdly. ‘Do I detect an outbreak of guilty conscience here? You can’t hide anything from a puff’d and reckless libertine like me. Hamlet, act one, scene three, sport.’

  I tried to give him a hard stare but he smiled back at me so sweetly that I couldn’t hold the frown.

  ‘Clyde, I wish you’d mind your own business,’ I muttered in exasperation, ‘and leave off the Shakespeare.’

  ‘I can’t, old lad,’ he said with a sigh. He then proceeded to chew the food in his mouth and swallow it, while shovelling more onto his fork. How he managed to eat and speak at the same time was something of a marvel. ‘There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will, Ham . . .’

  ‘. . . Thanks, that’s quite enough ham for one morning,’ I said, getting to my feet.

  ‘Stay!’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll keep it brief. I know it upsets you modern lads to be subjected to someone who has superior powers of expression.’

  ‘Vanity of vanities,’ I said, turning to go. ‘That’s in the Bible somewhere.’

  ‘I apologise. Stay a moment, you may hear something to your advantage.’

  ‘Do you really know Henry Talbot?’ I asked. ‘Or was that something a researcher dug up for you and you decided to throw in Janine’s face?’

  ‘My words may have been rash but the woman needs bringing down a peg. And yes, I have met Talbot. A sorry, miserable wretch he is too. Why the woman ever saw anything in him . . . he lacks the solidity that you and I share.’

  ‘Speak for yourself, Clyde, and get to the point.’

  ‘The point is this . . . I am turned out of a job in which I’ve demonstrated extreme competence, and turned out, I may add, by a man who could well be involved
in two murders which the police show no signs of bringing home to his door.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, unless you, my young friend, are able to bring down this monster who sits enthroned amid his ill-gotten gains . . .’

  ‘Which monster? Yourself?’

  ‘You know who I mean.’

  ‘And you’re threatening me again, are you? I hope you remember what happened last time.’

  ‘That was unfortunate, I admit that. I shouldn’t have brought up the issue of abuse but at least it shows that Miss Marti is far from being at odds with the Carlyles. You yourself told me that you think Vince King holds some fatal threat over the accursed brood. Get him released and all may yet be well for me at Alhambra. I won’t be the first to return in triumph to the scene of his disgrace.’

  ‘I get him released, just like that?’

  ‘You’re my last hope.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I murmured. ‘What was the threat you were going to use?’

  ‘Threat?’ he said vaguely. ‘Oh, no threat, Dave. Henry Talbot is desperate for a chance to see his children. I offered to let him spend time with some of mine but apparently blood calls to blood. I advised him to take no hasty steps.’

  For once, Clyde took his eyes off his food and held my gaze as he spoke. Beneath all the bluster and bragging he was a cool customer.

  ‘I don’t know whether to believe you or not, Clyde, but you’d better believe this. If Henry Talbot does harm to Janine because of something you’ve said it won’t just be your fingers that get broken.’

  ‘Strong words from a man who looks as if he’s come off worst in an argument with a bus. All I’m asking is that you continue the course you’ve set and find something that puts Carlyle where he belongs. Lovely Marti must be blackmailing the family with the threat of her daddy being released. All you need do is find the proof that he’s innocent and then you’ll have the same hold she has.’

  ‘I’ve thought of that.’

  ‘With a single bound, you’ll be free and so shall I.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Have you thought that friend Levy might have been the one who ordered the hit on Lou Olley? If Levy was more of a friend to Marti than he was to Brandon maybe he had Olley terminated before Olley could terminate Marti.’

  ‘Rave on,’ I told him.

  The red roses remained forlorn and disregarded where Janine had flung them.

  It took me twenty minutes to get Janine, the children and the luggage loaded into the car. There was no sign of pursuit from Clyde though we did spot Lauren chewing gum and leaning against his shiny new Toyota Land-Cruiser. She smiled at me. I pinched myself to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. What was I doing providing breakfasts for a man who drove around in a mobile sin-bin with room service attached?

  ‘Don’t say anything!’ Janine said as we drove out of the car park. ‘That pig, he’s even brought his floozy with him. Look at the size of her arse, and then he’s got the cheek to touch mine.’

  ‘Cheek’s the word, all right. Clyde’s a one-off, but he may have stroked his last bottom. He’s come a cropper at Alhambra. They’ve flung him out and he expects me to help him get back in.’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to be soft enough to lift a finger for him.’

  ‘No, dear,’ I said wearily.

  Say what you like about Blackpool, but I would advise anyone who’s thinking of lying low to consider it. We were able to check into a self-catering flat in a palatial former miners’ rest home within half an hour of leaving the hotel. There wasn’t much fuss about names or identities when we paid for the week in advance.

  ‘How would you fancy another tram ride,’ I said to the children when we emerged onto the Promenade.

  They both responded enthusiastically but Janine looked at me with narrowed eyes. ‘You’re up to something, aren’t you?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Just combining a little business with pleasure,’ I said evenly.

  She shook her head but then resolutely painted a smile onto her face. I knew she wanted to get the most out of her week at the seaside.

  41

  A FEW MINUTES later we were trundling northwards along the Promenade in one of the green and cream antiques that Blackpool Corporation considers suitable for public transport. We passed the North Pier and the miles of golden sand on our left. The day had improved but there was still a fierce breeze. Seagulls were having trouble staying air-borne. I knew how they felt. All my bruises seemed to have stiffened up. We clanked past sand-blown shelter after sand-blown shelter each with its complement of geriatric cases clinging to each other for protection from the wind.

  I tried to harness the children’s enthusiasm to my project by extolling the wonders of Fleetwood to them. ‘There’s a clock in the middle of the street, and fishing boats and a museum.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘They have these lozenges that the fishermen used to suck on cold nights called Fishermen’s Friends. They’re wonderful.’

  ‘Why?’ Lloyd demanded.

  ‘They set your throat on fire. Really warm you up,’ I explained.

  He gave me a very sceptical look.

  The children soon tired of listening to me. There was plenty to see along the eight miles between Blackpool and Fleetwood. The tide was out. The sun was gleaming on the foreshore and the children became completely absorbed in the passing scene.

  ‘So what did that old maniac really want?’ Janine asked me quietly. ‘I know apologies are the last thing on his dirty little mind.’

  ‘I don’t know. You’ve certainly spilled some of the wind out of his sails. What did you do to him?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘He’s got it in for you. It can’t be the first, or the five hundredth time, a woman’s turned balky with Clyde but he’s not taking it well.’

  ‘Turned balky? What a nerve! I’m not a horse to be saddled and controlled by some man.’

  ‘It was just an expression, Janine.’

  ‘All I did was to pour some iced water down his trousers.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘His passions seemed to be inflamed so I pulled open those baggy trousers he wears and poured a large jug of ice-cold water onto the seat of his problem. I got a round of applause from the other diners.’

  ‘Not from Clyde, you didn’t. I don’t know whether he was lying or not, but he seems to have been in contact with your ex-husband.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked miserably.

  ‘Again, nothing’s certain but I think he was implying that if I didn’t help him with his problems he’d do what he could to make the situation with Henry worse.’

  ‘What can he do?’

  ‘Clyde could do a lot in a mean way. He isn’t mean all the time but occasionally he lets his evil inclinations get the better of him.’

  ‘But still . . .’

  ‘Janine, he’s been in your flat. He’s talked to the children about their schools. He knows the situation between you and me. He knows we’re here in Blackpool. The least he can do is to point Henry in the right direction. Worst of all, he knows how to put a spin on things so that we’ll come out in a bad light. He’s crafty behind that pose of his, and he’s desperate.’

  Janine was thoughtful for a while.

  ‘I don’t think the children are in any danger,’ I told her. ‘I’d take them to my parents’ place if they were, but we registered under a false name and no one’s likely to find us even if they were looking.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but will you help Clyde?’

  ‘It’s not Clyde I’m helping but myself. For my own peace of mind and maybe even personal safety I’d like to know what Marti King is up to.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Dave! Ever the seeker after truth, aren’t you? Pull the other one. You’re interested in the woman, period!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Obsessed, then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, what happened in London?’
/>   ‘When I met Marti she was very friendly . . .’

  ‘Hah!’

  ‘She was after something . . .’

  ‘I’ll bet she was.’

  ‘She wanted to know if I had “Object X”.’

  ‘Spare me the Bondery, James!’

  I spared her a thin smile. Object X was a surmise but I now knew that Marti hadn’t summoned me to London just so she could look into my bonny blue eyes.

  ‘That’s my name for the thing Sam Levy was tortured for . . . the thing someone searched my flat and office for.’

  ‘You never said your office was searched.’

  ‘The alarms were by-passed and it was bugged as well. When Marti found I hadn’t got the mystery object she turned the friendship off like a tap.’

  Janine studied my face for a moment. I hadn’t told any lies.

  ‘What’s your definition of being very friendly, Dave?’ she asked. ‘I take it that you mean she wasn’t balky? Is that it?’ She’d gone pale but there were two little red patches on her cheeks.

  ‘It was only physical, it didn’t mean anything,’ I said unconvincingly.

  ‘You and Clyde make a good pair,’ she said angrily.

  ‘Yes, and so did you and Clyde.’

  ‘That was just a mistake. I soon put him straight but I bet you’re still letching after Marti.’

  ‘No.’

  We rode on in silence past Thornton Cleveleys. We were nearing Fleetwood before she spoke again. ‘It looks as if we’re stuck with each other, Dave. Would it make any difference to you if we got married?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll think about it, then.’

  ‘I can buy you a ring in Blackpool.’

  ‘I said I’d think about it, Dave.’

  ‘Right, only trying to show willing.’

  We rode in silence for the rest of the way.

  Fleetwood is as sweet and innocent a spot to commit murder in as any place you could find at the end of an eight-mile tram ride from Blackpool. The yacht ‘Spirit of the Hills’ was sitting at its mooring as quiet and empty as a fired gun. It was obvious that no one had been near it for some time.

  I tried my luck at the Portakabin of the marina superintendent. I told him that I was making enquiries on behalf of Almond’s sister-in-law which wasn’t exactly a lie but not the entire truth either. This is what I managed to glean . . .