Family Business

by Michael Z. Lewin

  ‘How did Sally and I get in?’ Angelo asked as they walked down the street.

  ‘Checking for telephone faults,’ Gina said.

  The Shaylers’ two-storey house was in a small stone terrace, one of few on the street which had not yet had its front garden paved and its honey-coloured ground floor façade knocked into a shop display window. Angelo rang the doorbell while Gina stepped across a row of pansies. From beneath the prickly leaves of a Mahonia japonica she retrieved a black plastic box. ‘See,’ she said to Angelo. ‘Waterproof receiving equipment. Guaranteed.’

  Mrs Shayler opened the door. The first words she said were, ‘Water again last night.’ She invited Gina and Angelo to come in and they did. Just inside the door a telephone rested on a small table. Next to the phone was a vase of yellow freesias.

  To Gina’s eye, Mrs Shayler looked better than she had the day before despite the mug of water. Perhaps it was the fact that a plan had been agreed, that she expected relief from her uncertainty and ignorance. Gina and Angelo followed their client to a small, immaculate sitting-room. Angelo studied a series of ceramic cottage scenes on the mantelpiece.

  Mrs Shayler said, ‘I painted those.’

  ‘The detail is wonderful,’ Angelo said.

  ‘I use the second bedroom as a studio,’ Mrs Shayler said. ‘It’s a north light.’

  Gina opened the black plastic container. ‘There was a short call. Did you use the telephone last night?’

  Mrs Shayler shook her head. ‘Nobody did.’

  Gina played the tape and they all heard the dial tone, a number being dialled, and a telephone ringing. After ten rings the caller hung up. ‘Not you?’ Gina asked.

  Mrs Shayler shook her head. But instead of being fearful or panicky or angry, Mrs Shayler seemed shocked.

  Gina and Angelo exchanged glances. ‘Do you still want us to intercept your husband on his way home from work today?’ Angelo asked.

  Mrs Shayler nodded.

  ‘All right.’

  Gina said, ‘We’ll take this tape with us. By counting the clicks we’ll be able to work out the number he dialled.’

  Angelo said, ‘When we stop him, quoting the number will prove we’ve been watching him. We’ll put him under as much pressure as we can.’

  ‘Good,’ Mrs Shayler said without enthusiasm.

  Salvatore was in the office when Gina and Angelo returned. So too was a small man with a large moustache. Salvatore was watching the stranger attach wires to a computer terminal on Angelo’s desk. The wires emerged from a fresh hole in the office wall. ‘Welcome to the twentieth century, bubba,’ Salvatore said.

  The small man stood up. ‘Mr Angelo Lunghi?’ he asked brightly. ‘Mrs Gina Lunghi?’ He advanced on them, hand extended. ‘Ignatius White,’ he said. ‘Adrian Boiling asked me to get these computers up and running for you. Miss Lunghi said I should take the leads through the walls.’

  ‘Oh,’ Angelo said.

  ‘She’ll soon have the business on its feet,’ Ignatius White said. ‘And I’ll soon have your computers in working order. Will two o’clock be convenient for me to show you how everything works?’

  Salvatore, Gina and Angelo retreated to the kitchen. Angelo sat with his head in his hands. ‘Tea. I need tea,’ he said.

  Salvatore made coffee for himself and tea for the others while Gina went through the morning’s events with Mrs Shayler. Salvatore said, ‘We’ll head for The Circus about 4.30. OK, bubba?’

  Angelo said nothing.

  Gina said, ‘4.30’s good.’

  Salvatore sat and reported on his meeting with Bonnie the Regular.

  Bonnie had remembered the black-mac detective. ‘Only too well,’ she said, ‘I couldn’t get rid of him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Salvatore asked.

  ‘He was coming on to me.’

  ‘You really think so?’ Muffin said.

  Bonnie did not remove her eyes from Salvatore. ‘It got to closing time and I was afraid to leave. I thought, “This guy is going to follow me home. Oh fuck!” In the end I asked Phil to scarecrow for me.’

  ‘Phil?’ Salvatore said.

  ‘Bloke I know who was in the bar. He’ll do anything for me, but I’m not interested in him, not that way.’

  ‘In The Wizard of Oz, wasn’t the scarecrow the one who wanted a brain?’ Muffin said.

  ‘But even with Phil there,’ Bonnie said, ‘this so-called detective nearly came out with us.’

  ‘Are you saying you don’t think he really was a detective?’ Salvatore asked.

  ‘I didn’t believe a word he said. He showed me this picture, right? And I told him I’d never seen the woman. If he was the goods he’d have shoved off. That’s what you’d have done, isn’t it?’

  ‘I expect so,’ Salvatore said.

  ‘But this guy starts talking about what a mystery man he is and how important the case is. It was interesting for a while, for the sheer flannel. I don’t mind when someone spins me a good story, but this cloth-head couldn’t even do that. In two minutes he’s not looking me in the eyes, he’s focusing on my boobs. Now I know they’re good, but you expect a man to pretend, to be a little subtle. But this guy was drooling in my cleavage. It was obvious he wasn’t looking for the woman in the picture at all. It was a pure pick-up line. Only he wasn’t any good at it.’

  ‘How would you say he rated?’ Muffin asked. ‘From one to ten. Or should it be from one to a hundred?’

  Disdainfully, Bonnie said, ‘He was just creepy. To tell the truth, he scared me.’

  Salvatore said, ‘Cheryl thought he gave you a copy of the woman’s photograph.’

  ‘Yeah, he did.’

  ‘Do you still have it?’

  ‘I chucked it this morning. I found it in my bag.’

  ‘Did he tell you his name?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Bonnie the Regular said with a sneer. ‘Not his real name. But he said I could call him Clint. Clint! Clit, more like.’

  Salvatore smiled. Muffin did not. Bonnie asked Salvatore, ‘Does your sister understand the joke?’

  ‘What joke, honey?’ Muffin said. ‘You better explain it.’

  Salvatore said, ‘How about a phone number or an address?’

  ‘He wrote a phone number on the back of the picture,’ Bonnie said. ‘Get a life is what I say.’

  ‘This picture you threw away,’ Salvatore said, ‘might there be a way to retrieve it?’

  ‘Well,’ Bonnie said, ‘I can look for it in the rubbish when I go home. But I’m not going to do it tonight. I’ve had a hell of a hard day. I don’t intend to finish it off by rooting through orange peels and coffee grounds.’

  Muffin said, ‘What sort of rooting do you usually end the day with?’

  Gina said, ‘It sounds like your Muffin is the jealous type.’

  ‘If they aren’t before they meet me,’ Salvatore said, ‘they are afterwards.’

  ‘So what about the picture?’ Angelo asked.

  ‘I’m meeting Bonnie at the Rose and Crown tonight.’

  ‘And Muffin?’ Gina asked.

  ‘I invited her,’ Salvatore said. ‘But she says there’s something else she’s got to do.’

  The telephone rang. Angelo answered it.

  ‘Mr Lunghi!’ Adrian Boiling said brightly. ‘I promised I’d ring back on Friday, and I’m a man of my word. How are you liking our Telephone Interceptor? Great quality, isn’t it? And one hundred per cent reliable!’

  Because of routine work for other clients, it wasn’t until lunchtime that Gina was able to sit down with the cassette from the Shayler bug and work out the telephone number that Jack Shayler had dialled the night before. While she did so, Angelo made lunch.

  ‘What do you think?’ she said. ‘Shall I ring it? Or do we ask Charlie to find out what it is first?’

  ‘Ring it,’ Angelo said. He rose and said, ‘Shout through.’ He went to the nearest extension, which was in the hall outside Marie’s room.

  As he waited for Gina to dial, Ang
elo looked at Marie’s door. Impulsively he tried it. The door swung open, but when the entrance was eighteen inches wide Angelo suddenly felt resistance. Something on the floor was in the way. Angelo peered around the edge and discovered that a cardboard box was blocking the door’s natural movement. The box was filled with magazines and torn wrapping paper. It blocked the door because it was wedged in place by two other boxes.

  In fact, little of Marie’s floor was not covered by boxes, paper flowers, sheets of notepaper, open books, cast-aside clothes, plastic wrappers, family photographs, sea shells, dead plants or cuddly toys. There was no obvious way to the bed.

  Unexpectedly, Angelo found this collage of his daughter’s life comforting. It was very much her own place, settled and full of things that were precious to her. Not a place she might run away from easily. He pulled the door closed again. As he did so, Gina called, ‘It’s ringing.’ Angelo lifted the receiver.

  Almost immediately the telephone was answered. ‘Block Letter,’ a man said.

  ‘Who am I speaking to?’ Gina asked.

  ‘Howard,’ the man said.

  ‘May I speak to whoever is in charge, please?’

  ‘I’m in charge now,’ Howard said.

  ‘And you’re a printing firm?’ Gina asked.

  ‘That’s right,’ Howard said. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘What sort of printing do you undertake?’

  ‘You name it, I can do it,’ Howard said. ‘If I can’t do it myself, I can get it done, cheap. You won’t get it for less.’

  ‘Well,’ Gina said, ‘I’m ringing for Drumroll Double-Glazing.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘We are doing a promotion in your area. In order to demonstrate the quality of our plastic glass we’re replacing one window for free in selected premises.’

  ‘For free?’ Howard said.

  ‘Absolutely free, provided the window is less than twenty-four by forty-eight inches. Free, and with no obligation to make other purchases. A lot of the cowboy firms have strings attached, but not us. Might you be interested?’

  ‘I might,’ Howard said. ‘I got a window that size.’

  ‘May I just confirm your address, please?’

  Howard gave a street address.

  ‘Is that in the Walcot Street area?’ Gina asked.

  ‘No,’ Howard said. ‘It’s off the Lower Bristol Road. Do you know the railway arches?’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Gina said.

  ‘Wrong area?’ Howard said.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Howard said.

  ‘You’re being very understanding,’ Gina said.

  ‘I always try to be understanding,’ Howard said, ‘when I’m talking to a girl with as nice a voice as yours.’

  ‘For a minute I thought we were going to have to give him a free window,’ Angelo said as he spread tuna salad on a piece of bread.

  ‘Pass the butter, will you?’ Gina said. Angelo passed the butter. ‘Double-glazing might be a good sideline if we’ve got to expand the business to cater for Rosetta’s children.’

  Angelo spent two afternoon hours in the office with Ignatius White. For the first hour neither the telephone nor the fax provided relief from intense computer pedagogy. White would not even break for a cup of tea. ‘Tea and computers don’t mix,’ he told Angelo sternly. ‘Spilled tea wreaks havoc with a key pad.’

  When at last the telephone did ring, Angelo answered hopefully, but the caller was Adrian Boiling. ‘I’m not nagging, Mr Lunghi. I don’t run my business that way. I’d just like a word with my man, Mr White.’ Listening to White’s end of a short conversation, Angelo felt he was in a foreign country.

  When the call finally finished, Ignatius White’s eyes were bright and his moustache quivered. He said, ‘Miss Lunghi is certainly determined to put this place to rights.’

  ‘She is?’

  ‘I was speaking to her earlier and she is seriously considering taking the ISDN option. I just confirmed with Mr Boiling that we can provide it.’

  ‘You can?’

  ‘It’s a wise move, now that the telephone exchanges can handle it. ISDN makes the traditional modem obsolete, and it’s more reliable and secure as well as being faster. You can send an A4 fax in two seconds, Mr Lunghi. Or the picture of a suspect, and the print is laser quality. ISDN makes sense in a business like yours. You cut your modem-related phone bills by seventy-five per cent, you use fewer couriers and it comes with installation, training, helpline and twelve months’ personal support. Support,’ White repeated. ‘That’s our middle name.’

  After lunch Gina remained in the kitchen, so she heard Rosetta come up the stairs. ‘I didn’t know you were out,’ Gina said.

  ‘A little shopping,’ Rosetta said. ‘While Angelo is being trained.’

  ‘More computers?’ Gina asked.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Rosetta said. ‘A skirt. A blouse.’

  ‘Is there an occasion?’ Gina asked.

  Unable to contain the news, Rosetta said, ‘He’s asked me out!’

  ‘Rose!’ Gina said. ‘When? Tonight?’

  ‘No. Tomorrow. For lunch. And Gina,’ Rosetta said, ‘I think he likes me. I really think he likes me.’

  Salvatore and Angelo appeared in the kitchen at about 4.15. Salvatore said, ‘Gina, what’s up with Rosetta?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She came across to talk with the manic dwarf who was showing Angelo how to play the maracas on these new computers. Rose looked radiant. I’ve never seen her like that.’

  Angelo slumped into a chair.

  ‘Maybe you never looked,’ Gina said.

  ‘So what’s up?’ Salvatore said.

  ‘Your sister,’ Gina said, ‘is beginning to realize she’s attractive.’

  ‘Rose?’ Salvatore said. ‘Attractive?’

  ‘You’re impossible,’ Gina said to her brother-in-law.

  ‘How much is being attractive going to cost us?’ Angelo said tiredly.

  ‘And you sound just like your father,’ Gina said.

  The Old Man sat at his desk. He held a folder of documents but he wasn’t reading them. From their little kitchen Mama brought him out a cup of tea. She set it by the documents. ‘You ready for this?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah,’ he said.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘What else?’ the Old Man said. He did not turn around.

  Mama bent over the back of her husband’s chair and put her arms around his shoulders.

  At first the Old Man shrugged the touch off, not recognizing it as affection. Then he accepted the gesture.

  When Mama stood straight again the Old Man said, ‘What brought that on?’

  ‘Just thinking,’ Mama said. ‘Just thinking what a lovely, lovely family we have.’

  The Old Man nodded.

  ‘All of them,’ Mama said.

  ‘I told my parents I’ll be with you tomorrow,’ Marie said as she waited with Jenny at the bus stop after school.

  ‘So you’re going to do it, Marie?’ Jenny said.

  ‘Terry’s counting on me now,’ Marie said coolly. ‘I don’t want to let him down. You know what men are like when you disappoint them.’

  ‘Ooo, you’re so brave!’

  ‘Money’s money,’ Marie said, ‘no matter how you get it.’

  ‘But if you get caught …’ Jenny persisted. ‘If your parents find out …’

  ‘I’ll just run away with Terry,’ Marie said. ‘I’m sure he’d do the honourable thing.’

  ‘That’s not what Olive says,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Olive,’ Marie said. ‘Huh!’

  ‘My mum would roast me,’ Jenny said. ‘And my dad! He’d probably explode with flashing lights like one of the monsters in Hector’s games.’

  ‘I think we’re a little more mature than that in our household,’ Marie said.

  ‘But,’ Jenny said, ‘if you do get caught …?’

  ‘You keep talking about getting caught
. Why don’t you ask what I’m going to do with all that beautiful money?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Marie said in peals of giggles. ‘We can decide tomorrow night.’

  ‘Great!’

  ‘Where shall we go?’

  ‘Olive thinks they’re cracking down on IDs at the Cat and Fountain,’ Jenny said. ‘Her sister says the police came in the other night.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Marie said.

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘If the police are worrying about under-age drinking, it’ll keep their minds off other things.’

  ‘Oooo!’ Jenny said.

  Angelo and Salvatore stood waiting beneath the plane trees which canopied the middle of The Circus.

  ‘Papa says The Circus was modelled on the Colosseum in Rome,’ Angelo said. ‘Is that right?’

  Salvatore smiled. ‘Papa also says the carvings along the roofline are pineapples.’

  ‘Aren’t they?’

  ‘Acorns,’ Salvatore said.

  ‘Those are acorns?’

  ‘They have to do with the legend of leprous Prince Bladud and his pigs. His pigs liked acorns.’

  Angelo looked at the acorns again. Then he looked at his watch. ‘Nearly time.’ He counted to seven. ‘Now.’

  Both men looked to the door of Whitfield, Hare and O’Shea. It opened.

  ‘Huh!’ Angelo said.

  A woman emerged. She looked at the sky, and then closed the door behind her.

  Salvatore said, ‘Is that him, bubba?’

  ‘Surveillance has never been an exact science,’ Angelo said.

  Fifty seconds later Jack Shayler left his office.

  As they followed Shayler across the open space in front of the Assembly Rooms, Angelo said, ‘I want to see if he stops at the bench. If he does, we’ll do him there. If not, in the passage.’

  As Shayler approached the bench by the telephone at the end of Alfred Street he looked at his watch. He sat down.

  Within seconds Angelo and Salvatore sat either side of him. Shayler looked from one to the other. He was a pallid man with sandy hair that seemed a dusty outline to his face. He was clearly surprised by the imposing company. ‘We’ve been looking for you, Jack,’ Angelo said.