What woman could argue against such reasoning? ‘Okay, Cobb, let’s forget it for now and have some breakfast.’ She went to the table and began clearing away her papers. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll clear this lot away.’
‘No, don’t bother on my account,’ he replied ‘I think I’ll just head out. Got some things to do today.’
‘But what about breakfast? Won Lungh is just about to bring it in.’
‘That’s all right, don’t bother. I’m not really hungry at the moment, I’ll er … get something later,’ he told her. ‘Bye then.’ He came over to the table to kiss her but as she stood up to kiss him back she knocked over the inkwell, which fortunately missed her Book of Shadows but went all over her written pages.
‘Damn!’ she cursed, snatching up her papers before they could soak up the ink.
‘Look, you deal with that, I’ll see you later,’ he told her and left the drawing room.
She grabbed the blotting paper and tried to undo the damage. ‘But you can’t go out without any breakf-’ she stopped talking as she realised she was speaking to a closed door. She sat down and her shoulders sagged. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed.
***
As Cobb went about his business; he stopped off first at his nearest gun shop. When he had been cleaning his gun the night before, he had noticed that the firing pin was wearing down (he’d had it for years) and took it in to get it replaced. They looked at it and then told him to come back later that day, as it was a simple job, it would be done by then.
Then he went back to the Temple of Our Lady and after speaking to the priest, was shown where Lefty, the grave digger could be found.
He came upon the grave digger sitting at the end of a freshly dug grave, sipping a mug of tea. Cobb had obviously come upon him as he was enjoying his ‘elevenses’. The poor man was one of life’s unfortunates as, not only did he have a hunchback, but his face was misshapen. One side was badly disfigured, the skin sagged like a melted candle, and only the eye on the other side appeared to be functioning properly.
‘Nice grave,’ said Cobb by way of greeting.
‘Thank you thir,’ the grave digger replied.
Oh dear, he’s got a lisp as well. Which of the Gods did your parents annoy? Cobb wondered. ‘So you’re Lefty, pleased to meet you. I’m a private detective, name’s Rufus Cobb, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.’
‘About graveth?’
‘No, I was just being polite, although I’m sure you do dig very fine graves,’ he assured him.
‘One doth oneth betht, thir.’
‘So, been here long?’
‘About two hourth, thir.’
‘No, I meant have you worked here at the temple, long?’
‘Ah, I thee, about thixth yearth, thir. The workth not too hard, I dig graveth and do a bit of handiwork around the temple. The prietht ith a good man and let’th me thleep in the vethtry.’
‘And that’s all you do, dig graveth, I mean graves … you don’t do any bell ringing?’
Lefty pointed at the temple steeple. ‘We don’t even have a bell, thir. No, I jutht do the grave digging and fixth a few thingth around the plathe. Why do you athk?’
Does nobody read books any more, wondered Cobb. ‘No matter,’ he replied. ‘Just wondering. So, how is the grave digging business?’
‘Not too bad at the moment. We’ve jutht had a thevere winter, tho lotth of older people popped their clogth during that. It will be thpring thoon and that ith uthually the beginning of the cholera theason ath it getth warmer, but now that everyone ith thplathing out on that new, fanthy, indoor plumbing, that theemth to be an end to thothe outbreakth.’
‘Never mind,’ Cobb consoled him. ‘Maybe we’ll have a nice smallpox epidemic.’
‘One can only hope, thir,’ he agreed gloomily. ‘Anyway, what did you want to athk me about?’
Cobb took out his notebook. ‘Ah yes, I’m trying to track down a man with a heavy limp who has been seen around Spitalfields Market. I was told that you’d been seen with him. Do you know who I’m talking about?’
‘I have met a man who limpth becauthe he hath a wooden leg but all I know about him ith hith name’th Gerald, I’m afraid. My mate Ginger introduthed uth. The next time I saw him I wath on my own and we pathed a few wordth but that’th all. If you want to know more about him, you’ll have to athk Ginger.’
And where can I find Ginger?’
‘When he’th not working, he’th uthually in the Dogfight and Thtarfith pub, near Thpitalfieldth Market.’
‘The Dogfight and Thtarfith pub near Thpitalfieldth Market?’ repeated Cobb, puzzled. ‘Oh, you mean the Dogfight and Starfish pub, near Spitalfields Market.’
‘That’th what I thaid, the Dogfight and Thtarfith pub, near Thpitalfieldth Market.’
‘Of course you did, sorry.’ He jotted the name of the pub down in his notepad and returned it to his pocket.
‘Will that be all, thir? I have to finith thith grave by tonight. It’th needed for tomorrow.’
‘Yes, that will be all. Thank you for your time. Here, have a drink on me.’ He slipped Lefty a few bob for a drink and left the graveyard.
***
Cobb took a horse drawn Omnibus back to Thpitalfieldth … er … Spitalfields Market and looked around until he found the Dogfight and Starfish pub. He went in and looked around the place but he couldn’t see anyone with a hook. So he thought he’d have a pint while he was waiting.
Further down the bar there were four younger guys. They weren’t porters from the market so they must live around here. And, as in a lot of these little community pubs they were very territorial, they seemed to take offence to outsiders coming into what they considered their pub.
It manifested itself in the usual way, the tentative probes of sarcastic comments to see if the victim was going to flee, stand there and take it or respond in kind. At which point they usually relied on their superiority in numbers to win the day.
Then, once they saw that Cobb wasn’t running away, they took it up a notch to the not so subtle threats of what would happen if he hung around.
Cobb was familiar with that sort of behaviour and knew that there was only one way to deal with it.
When you’re in a situation where a fight is brewing, there are two possible outcomes, either a fight breaks out or it doesn’t. If the other guy is just spoiling for a fight and there’s no way of talking him out of it, then that only leaves a certain course of action.
Cobb was by nature an easy going bloke who didn’t particularly like violence but one thing he had learned pounding the beat on the streets of the seedier parts of Londum was, that to win a fight quickly, you had to be scarier than your opponent.
You had to convince him that what you were possibly going to do to him would be much worse and far more painful than anything he could do to you.
To do this successfully you first had to assure him of this verbally, in a believable manner. If this didn’t work … then you had to prove it to him.
Cobb had found that if it had to come to violence, then the first few blows should be as hard and painful and debilitating as possible, to avoid a long drawn out fight. So, if someone was facing him with a broken bottle, Cobb would have no compunction about cracking him over the head with his truncheon and knocking him to the floor, rather than wrestling him to the ground and trying to disarm him.
Then there was the other possible outcome of course, a fight doesn’t break out.
This can be achieved by either backing down and apologising and hoping the other guy accepts it, or as previously stated, you make him so scared that he backs down.
Cobb walked up to the four young lads. Fortunately for him, he was around the six-foot mark with shoulders to match, which was always useful in situations like this. He was several inches taller than the largest of them. ‘Okay, which one is it?’ he asked.
‘Waddya mean?’ replied one of them.
‘Which one do I have to hit?’
&nbs
p; ‘What?’
‘Look, let me explain how this works. In a situation like this there is usually one of you who is, pardon the expression, the “Brains” behind the outfit. He’s usually the one that stands in the background and goads the others into a fight. He usually doesn’t take part himself, just eggs the others on. So, I can save us all a lot of time and trouble if I just give him a smack now, and the rest of us can get on with our drinks in peace, all right?
‘I’m guessing it’s you,’ he said to one particularly, weasely looking chap, standing behind the others.
‘Now wait a minute,’ said Weasel-face, ‘there’s no need to be like that. We were just funning, didn’t mean any harm. No need to take on like that.’
‘So you don’t want me to smash your head on the counter then?’ asked Cobb.
‘Well … no, I’d rather you didn’t. We were only having a laugh,’ he replied, anxiously.
‘Oh … all right then, you can keep your teeth for now,’ Cobb replied. ‘I’ll just go over there and drink my pint in peace then. If you change your mind, give me a shout,’ he said with a smile. He turned to go and then turned back, which made them flinch. ‘By the way, do you know a bloke that comes in here, has a hook for a hand.’
‘Yeah,’ said Weasel-face. ‘That’ll be old Ginger that will. He comes in here regular, like. Be in later I s’pose.’
Cobb left them alone and moved back down the bar, chuckling to himself. It’s like I always say, he thought, You can get more with a kind word and a threat of violence, than you can with just a kind word.
***
Cobb found a table and sat there for a long time, waiting for Ginger to turn up. He was just contemplating taking his life in his hands and trying the pub grub, when Ginger came in. At least he assumed it was Ginger, he only had one hand and a hook for the other. Of course he could be wrong, he reasoned, possibly lots of one-handed men came in here. For all he knew they had a club. Perhaps they banded together and bought pairs of gloves.
Just to confirm that it was Ginger, one of the four he had spoken to earlier caught his eye and nodded at the newcomer. Obviously they were trying to stay in his good books. Nice to see they’ve learnt their lesson, he thought, maybe they’ll think twice before trying it on with a stranger, next time.
He let the one handed man buy his drink and get a table before he went to speak to him.
He dropped into the chair next to him, all smiling and friendly and said, ‘Hi, you’re Ginger, aren’t you? I thought so, Lefty told me I’d find you in here.’
‘Who are you?’ asked Ginger
‘Sorry, forgetting my manners, name’s Rufus Cobb. How are you?’ he held out his hand.
Ginger looked at his own hand, holding a pint and his hook and said, ‘You’ll excuse me if I don’t shake hands.’
‘No that’s all right. So how are things?’
‘Waddya want?’
‘Sorry, should have said … I’m looking for a bloke with a wooden leg, his name’s Gerald. I spoke to Lefty and he said that you knew Gerald and could point me in the right direction.’
‘Lefty said that did he?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. He said you’d know how to get in touch with him.’
‘Why do you want to get in touch with Gerald?’
‘I can put some business his way.’
‘Worthwhile business?’
‘Yeah, there’s probably enough to go around for everyone,’ Cobb said suggestively, sliding a banknote across the table.
Despite any ideas that Ginger may have had of not betraying a colleague by telling a stranger where he could find him, the offer of money put paid to any misgivings. ‘Well I guess if Lefty put you onto me, you must be all right. His name’s Captain Gerald James, he’s a retired skipper. He’s living in a lodging house over on Cross Street, number forty-seven I think.’
‘Cross Street, forty-seven, got it. Thanks.’ He slid another banknote across the table and left the pub.
***
On the way home, Cobb stopped off at the gunsmith’s. His gun was ready and waiting and Cobb gratefully paid them and put it in his pocket.
As he left the shop and made his way down the street, he noticed across the road The Redemption Army band playing and collecting donations. They were a non-denominational religious order, organised on military lines. But like all things, when you gave someone a uniform and a bit of power they sometimes got carried away. Cobb knew that the Redemption Army had a militant wing that was sometimes a bit more forceful in their fundraising.
When he was on the force, he had heard that occasionally they had been charged for raising donations at the point of a gun, “Demanding charity with menaces” it had been called. They had also been known to round up homeless people, forcibly take them to their soup kitchen and make them drink soup at gunpoint. Well meaning but misguided, Cobb had always considered them.
He took a shortcut down a side alley and as he neared the far end, a shortish man stepped out of the shadows brandishing a knife.
‘Give me all your money!’ he demanded.
Cobb held his hands out in front of him, palms facing the man. ‘Whoa! Easy there, no need to get violent, I’ll give you everything I’ve got.’
‘Good. Let’s see the money … now!’ he said, waving the knife menacingly.
‘Here, you can have it all. I haven’t got much …’ he said reaching into his pocket, ‘… in fact all I have is this!’ he said, producing his gun, which he pointed at the robber. ‘Now then, drop that knife and in fact … you give me all your money.’ Of course, the gun was empty but the robber didn’t know that.
The man dropped the knife and said incredulously, ‘You can’t do that … that’s not fair! I’m supposed to be robbing you!’
‘What are you gonna do,’ asked Cobb, ‘call the police? Now take your money out and drop it on the floor.’
Grumbling the man emptied out all his pockets and put it on the ground before Cobb.
‘Now get on your way before I give you a clip round the ear,’ Cobb ordered him.
Muttering, the man took himself off up the alley.
Cobb picked up the money and the knife. Bending down he leaned the knife at an angle against the wall then he stamped on it hard, to break the blade, in case the robber came back to reclaim his weapon.
Cobb went back down the alley from where he had come and crossing the road to the Redemption Army band, he put the money he had taken off the robber into their collecting tin.
‘May the Gods bless you sir,’ said the soldier playing the tambourine.
‘Oh, I’m sure they will one day, I’m sure they will,’ Cobb replied cheerfully and made his way down the street.
Thornton’s not Well
When Cobb got home, he tried to sit down next to Adele to tell her about the attempted robbery when Lucifer the cat lashed out at him, claws drawn. He and the cat hated each other but it had belonged to his dead wife Esme, so he had kept it, despite the fact they didn’t get along.
Cobb got exasperated at the “furry ball of death” as he called Lucifer. ‘Why do we have to have a cat? Why can’t we have something exotic and exciting like … a monkey?’
‘You can’t have a monkey in this house! Are you mad? Those things are messy and do their business wherever they fancy, they will ruin the place. You can’t buy a monkey!’
‘All right, all right, I wasn’t going to buy a monkey …’
‘Good.’
‘I was going to rent one.’
‘No!’
‘Spoilsport.’
Cobb got grumpy and sat down across the room, to read the paper. ‘What are we having for dinner?’
‘Gloves,’ she replied.
‘Eh?’
‘I thought we’d have some finger food.’
Cobb laughed. ‘All right, you win, I’m sorry … I’m just having a strange day, that’s all.’
She sat down next to him, ‘I forgive you, you old grouch.’
As
Cobb and Adele sat there making up, Columbine appeared again before them. Cobb got up quickly and grabbed the poker from beside the fireplace.
‘No, wait!’ said Columbine. ‘Please, let me talk to you.’
Cobb brandished the poker but Adele put her hand on his arm and said, ‘Cobb, let’s hear what she has to say.’
Cobb slowly lowered the poker. ‘Go on then, what do you want?’
‘I want to apologise for the way I behaved on my last visit. And for the way I treated you,’ she said to Adele. ‘It was wrong. I tried to order you to help Harlequin but I realise now that I had no right to do that. And Miss Curran, I blamed you for getting Harlequin into trouble but Cobb was right, it was his own fault that he did it. Okay, I was wrong and I’m sorry. Can we start again?’
Cobb looked at Adele; she nodded to him so he said to Columbine, ‘Go on, we’re listening.’
‘I’ve come back to ask you, no to beg you, for your help. I accepted that he was being punished and sent to that world and I’d never see him again. But now he that is in trouble, I just know that if we don’t get him out of there soon, then he will die in that Gods forsaken place.’
‘And your point is?’ said Cobb, which earned him a dig in the ribs from Adele.
‘I’m asking you Cobb, will you please go to that Universe and bring him back, you’re the only one that can do it.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Because I love him and if he were to die … well I just don’t know what I’d do.’
‘Well, can’t you just go and get him?’ he asked.
‘No I can’t. There has been a block put on that dimension by the Gods. If I or any of my kind attempts to go there, then we just get bounced back to where we started. I know, I’ve tried, time and time again. I cannot go there, that’s why I need you.’
‘Look I’m sorry,’ Cobb replied, ‘but I can’t help you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because of the very reason you want him out of there, it is too dangerous a place to be. I don’t want to risk it, thank you very much.’
The Londum Omnibus Volume One (The Londum Series Book 4) Page 50