Flank Street

by A. J. Sendall

  There was no point in rousting her, or getting tough and pissing her off. We needed to be tight and in-sync for the meeting. If it went tits-up, I’d be in as much shit as she would.

  I sat on the bed beside her and gave her a sideways look. ‘Do you remember your lines? Have you still got the story straight in your head?’

  ‘Sure, but I keep getting the feeling we’ve missed something, some part that will trip us up. That guy Ray, Mitchell’s sidekick, he might look like a thug, but he has the reputation of being a borderline bloody psychic: like he can smell a lie before it’s been told. He’s the one who scares me most. Mitchell’s no slug either.’

  Beyond the floor-to-ceiling window, day was turning into night. Most honest people would be at home at the end of the day, the others getting ready to start their life at night. In a few hours, I had to meet underworld hard men, pitch lies, think on my feet, and try to stay a move ahead.

  ‘Has there been anything in the papers?’

  Her words broke my thoughts and I took a five-beat to respond.

  ‘There was a small report in one of the tabloids about a suspicious fire. It’s too early for the jacks to release information about finding a body with no forehead. They’ll sit on that for twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Are you nervous? About meeting Mitchell, I mean,’ she asked slowly.

  ‘On edge might be a better way to say it—being on edge is good; it keeps you sharp, your mind fast—but nervous, no. Nervous is the last thing I need to be in front of them. It’s okay if you appear a bit frightened; they would expect that. If you’re too confident or cocky,’ I said, prodding her with my finger, ‘they’ll sense something’s not right. Keep in mind you’ve just escaped the clutches of a misogynist blackmailer by killing him. You should be shaken up ‘

  She turned and looked up at me. ‘I am.’

  ‘Funny way of showing it.’ I stood, laced my fingers and stretched my arms above my head, cracking my knuckles. ‘I’m going back to Frankie’s. Take a cab and be there by nine-thirty. Okay?’

  ‘Why don’t you stay, then we can go together?’

  ‘I just think it best if we don’t. We’ll meet back here later. I’ll need to close up the bar, so it’ll be about three. I’ll try not to wake you.’

  I opened the room safe and took out the Makarov. Then locked it again, leaving the Beretta there.

  ‘I could bring that with me if you like, Micky.’

  I tossed her a sardonic smile and left with a warning not to be late.

  She wasn’t late, but arrived just after nine. She must have been home, or maybe shopping, because she was dressed in a simple, elegant dress and low shoes, which she hadn’t been carrying with her. There was no make-up and she’d tied her hair back in a short ponytail. The effect was good. She did look kind of vulnerable. It struck me how she could adapt and change to any given situation: Carol the chameleon.

  As she approached the bar, I poured her a Jameson on ice and watered it down. ‘You’re looking good. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Thanks, Micky, I’m fine.’ She left and sat in an empty booth, instead of sitting at the bar as she usually would.

  The bar was quite full, normal for Friday night. I kept one eye on her and the other on the wall clock. She sat for a while, just looking around and smoking a cigarette. As I was pouring drinks for a group of four guys standing at the bar, one of them drifted away and approached her. He was obviously making a play for her, probably trying his well-worn pickup line. She smiled, shook her head, and nodded towards me. When he joined his pals at the bar, he gave me a long look, as if expecting a challenge or admonishment. I smiled, shook my head, and nodded at Carol, leaving him confused.

  By nine-thirty, Carol was on her third drink. Lenny came in via the front door, looked around, took in Carol sitting alone, me behind the bar, and no Mitchell or Ray. He passed through the bar gate and indicated to me to follow him. I found him waiting by the cellar door.

  ‘What the fuck’s going on? I thought you were supposed to deal with her.’

  ‘Lenny, I work this bar for you. The other thing is between Mitchell and me. Anything else?’

  ‘Just don’t go causing any trouble or I’ll fucking fire you.’

  I’d had enough of being threatened in the past week. ‘You don’t have to do that, Lenny. I quit. Bash it up your thin arse.’

  He held my stare until I walked back into the bar. Meagan was rushed off her feet. I served a couple waiting near the gate, telling them they were on the house because of the wait, and then joined Meagan at the other end.

  ‘Lenny seems to be in a shitty mood again.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘All this week: must have been missing you.’

  ‘He’ll have to get used to it. I’m out of here.’

  ‘What? Again?’

  ‘Permanently this time; you should as well. You’re way too good for this place.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Long story; maybe I’ll tell you over some shots one night.’ I laid my hand on the small of her back, pulled her close, and kissed her affectionately on the lips. ‘Stay well, Meagan.’

  She looked sad and confused as I turned and left her, but by the time I sat in the booth with Carol, she was joking with a group of customers.

  Carol looked at me and then looked at Meagan. ‘Taking the night off: not helping your mate behind the bar?’

  ‘Just quit.’

  She turned and looked, as if to gauge if I was serious. ‘Right now, right here?’

  ‘With our new arrangement, I figured I wouldn’t need to work for a Lenny any longer.’

  She drew heavily on her cigarette. ‘We have to get through tonight yet.’

  ‘Look unsettled, and grateful to me, your heroic rescuer. They’re mainly interested in that Makarov; killing you was a bonus, but doesn’t make good business sense.’

  Lenny was helping Meagan behind the bar. He would occasionally flick me a killer look, but he couldn’t throw me out with Mitchell coming. Pinklips was sitting on a stool doing her best to look sexy and aloof. It wasn’t working. I wondered what Lenny saw in her, and then dismissed it as irrelevant.

  It was five to ten when the big Islander walked in ahead of Ray and Mitchell. He went to the bar, Mitchell and Ray came and sat opposite us in the booth.

  Ray glared at me. ‘What the fuck is she doing still breathing?’

  ‘You still want me to kill her? Just say—I’ll have it fixed before midnight—but it wasn’t her. You told me to recover a gun and kill the blackmailer. You’ve got the gun and the blackmailer is dead.’

  I laid the Makarov in its plastic bag on the table, just as the Islander brought drinks and sat down. Ray scowled as he scooped it up and dropped it into a pocket.

  Mitchell looked at Carol and spoke for the first time.

  ‘What happened?’

  Carol told the story perfectly, showing emotion at the appropriate times, looking scared and vulnerable. It was a stellar performance, complete with trembling fingers as she chained cigarettes and looked around.

  Ray didn’t look convinced, and was watching Mitchell, who was studying Carol.

  ‘There’s more,’ I said as her head dropped to avoid Mitchell’s stare.

  Mitchell turned his eyes on me. ‘And that would be?’

  ‘There’s a book. A book with some incriminating evidence that I guess Hedges was going to use next.’ Carol was trying to hide the surprise and avoid Ray’s interrogative stare.

  ‘Where is it?’ Mitchell said.

  ‘Upstairs.’

  ‘Get it,’ Ray said without taking his eyes off Carol. She was struggling under the weight of his stare as he tried to crack her.

  The Islander stood as I did and followed me through the bar gate. Lenny was coming back in at the same time and started to block my way, then looked up at the big shadow behind me.

  ‘Sorry, Sonny.’ He lowered his gaze and stepped to one side. Sonny didn’t need to say a word. Hi
s size and demeanour was enough for Lenny. He followed me up to what had been home until an hour ago. When I reached into the cupboard, he gripped my arm and pulled me gently away from the cupboard, reached in and pulled out the rucksack.

  ‘This it?’ he asked.

  I nodded. We went back down and he handed the rucksack to Ray, who took out the book and handed it to Mitchell. Mitchell spent five minutes silently flicking from page to page of the journal, his facial expression never changing. Eventually he closed it and handed it back to Ray.

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘In his office.’

  ‘You had time to search his house before setting fire to it?’ Ray said.

  I shrugged and raised my palms. ‘It’s what I do. I like to steal things.’

  ‘Where’s his gun, the one she shot him with?’

  ‘Probably still in his hand. I tried to make it look like a suicide. It was a bit hard,’ I turned, giving Carol a look of rebuke, ‘seeing as he’d been shot through the back of the neck.’

  Mitchell looked at me for a count of ten. ‘Okay, Micky DeWitt, this leaves your slate clean.’

  He turned his attention to Carol. ‘I don’t know whether to believe you or not.’

  She swallowed the remainder of her Scotch and waited for him to continue. Ray leaned forward and fixed her with a steady stare, his thick hands resting on the table, his eyes never blinking.

  I thought she’d crumble.

  Eventually Mitchell continued. ‘You’ve been around The Cross for a long time, haven’t you? What is it, fifteen, twenty years?’

  ‘Long enough to know trying to extort Johno would get me killed. Hedges is... was... a fucking scumbag. I don’t know what was in that book Micky just gave you, but I can tell it’s damning. That should be enough to tell you what sort of person he was, and as you said, I’ve been around here a long time. I know the rules. I know how to stay out of trouble. That prick threatened to kill my parents. It’s the only reason I made the calls. What was I supposed to do?’ She dropped her chin on cue, with a slight pout of her unpainted lips. I was almost proud of her. Mitchell leaned back in his seat, considering what to do with her.

  ‘Why didn’t you come to me or Ray?’ When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘Well?’

  She raised her head and there were tears, real tears.

  ‘I was frightened, all right. I was fucking frightened. I thought he’d have them killed by that animal Reed.’

  Mitchell watched her, looked at Ray, who shrugged, then back at Carol. ‘I’m going to give you the benefit, Carol, but if I ever find out you’ve been lying to me, I’ll kill them. Understood?’

  She nodded gently and pushed the tears away with the heel of her hand. I could have applauded.

  Mitchell stood, Ray and Sonny quickly followed suit. ‘There’s just one more thing,’ I said as I crushed my cigarette out. Mitchell stopped, turned and looked at me ‘Lenny’s skimming two large a week, off the top. Just thought you should know. Call it goodwill.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Mitchell asked, sitting opposite me again.

  ‘He told me. He had to when I started running the place and doing the books. I just thought it was a tax dodge. When I found out he’s just a front man, I knew it wasn’t.’

  Mitchell’s jaw tightened. Ray looked at Sonny and nodded towards the bar. The Islander went and said something close to Lenny’s ear and they both left the bar towards the staff area.

  ‘So you’ve been running this place? Doing all the books and running it?’

  I answered with a shrug.

  ‘From now on,’ Mitchell said, ‘this is your bar. You answer to Ray or me: nobody else. There’s a five grand kick every Friday. Meagan handles that.’ He stood again. ‘Anything else? Any other revelations?’

  ‘Just one. Meagan is a great asset; Lenny’s had her on minimum wage. She needs a bump.’

  ‘I thought I just told you this is your bar. Just fucking do it. Keep the customers happy, the alcohol flowing, and the jacks out.’

  He walked to the door with Ray in tow.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Carol hissed, ‘Was Lenny really skimming?’

  ‘Lenny’s been a grifter his whole sorry life. Take a cab back to the hotel. I’ll see you there around three.’ She started to say something, but I was on my feet and heading to my bar.

  Meagan and I dropped several shots after close, making up for lost days. When I told her Lenny was gone, that I was her boss now, she threw her head back and laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘I’m just not sure I can take you seriously as my boss.’

  ‘Why? Because you’ve screwed me?’

  She still had a huge grin on her face, but didn’t say anything. I was missing something, but let it go. I was surprised she didn’t ask more about why—and what happened. Meagan had been around Kings Cross bars a long time, plus she was the pay-off connection for Ray, so she knew the score.

  It was already three by the time Meagan left and I’d cashed up. The upstairs bedroom was temptingly close, but I was anxious to get with Carol, and to recover the second book and the Beretta from the room safe. I still had the Reeds to deal with. I would feel safer with that 9mm tucked into my belt.

  When I arrived at the suite, the room was dark, other than filtered light entering through the windows. In the low light, I could see her sleeping. There was no smell of alcohol, as I had feared, and the room was tidy. I peeled off my shoes and stood beside her bed. Her breathing was deep and regular, her face relaxed. She stirred, and fell back into sleep. I dropped my clothes and lay exhausted on the other bed. Sleep didn’t come for a long time, but when it did, I died.

  The House at Dover Heights

  I was guiding the yacht through water too shallow for her to float, yet somehow we kept moving forward. The boulders on the bottom were clearly visible from the helm, and the scouring sound of steel over rock resonated through the hull. The narrow channel we were navigating, with its trickle of water, wound serpentine to a distant horizon. Somebody called out, perhaps a voice from the shore, the words muffled. Then it came again, this time calling my name ... ‘Micky ... breakfast’s here ... coffee’s made.’

  It was a dream I’d had many times, the sailor version of skating on thin ice. My head felt three feet thick as I stumbled to the shower. The water blasting my face pulled me into the present and my thoughts formed and cleared.

  ‘You were dead to the world.’

  She was braced in the doorway, a cup in one hand, the other hanging in the pocket of her robe.

  ‘Pour me some of that. I’ll be right out.’

  She stood and watched as I towelled off, leaving only when I lifted the lid.

  I scrubbed the taste of alcohol and cigarettes out of my mouth and joined her in the lounge. The coffee was rich and thick, and almost justified the cost. Breakfast on the table; it looked as if she’d ordered two of everything, which was fine. I was starving and couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. We devoured the food with little more than appreciative grunts, and again her appetite astounded me.

  After mopping up the last of the egg and sauce with bread, she pushed her plate away, gave a satisfied groan, and lit a cigarette. She pushed her cup across the table. ‘Pour me some more coffee, please, Micky.’ She was using her soft, seductive voice, which I’d come to learn meant the start of manipulation of one kind or another. She sat gazing out of the windows that overlooked the harbour. I refilled both cups.

  ‘What’s it like to just sail away, to leave all the shit behind and start a fresh, new life?’

  ‘Look at me, Carol.’

  She turned her gaze from the window to me, her brows arched in expectation.

  ‘This is what happens. This; you end up in another city with another dame in another shit-fight. Don’t go romanticising about starting over. It doesn’t always work out peachy. Know what I mean?’

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ she said softly. ‘I know we go
t off to a rocky start, but things will get better from now on. Once the dust settles, we can start to make some real money, you and I working together, just like we planned.’

  She was making me nervous with her calm, sultry voice, her use of the word ‘we’, and the take-me-to-bed look in her eyes. Life with Carol would be like a continuing chess match of move and counter-move, elucidation and strategy.

  Looking at her across a table littered with dirty plates and bowls, watching as she placed the tip of a cigarette between her lips, drawing gently before slowly parting her lips again and taking it away, watching the twin spirals start from her delicate nose, I thought, game on.

  All my life I’d needed to live close to the edge, to feel the rush of danger, had accepted the addiction of uncertainty and the rejection of mediocrity, and here it all was in one sensual package, wrapped in a loose robe and making bedroom-eyes at me. Sometimes we consciously make decisions for all the wrong reasons, and this was one of them, but I couldn’t do anything else.

  She could tell. I don’t know how. Maybe I was giving off signals she could read. She smiled, crushed the remains of her cigarette into a plate, stood and walked towards the bedroom, dropping her robe as she went.

  She came into Frankie’s late one night, about a week after selling the lie to Mitchell, sat at the bar drawing looks from half the males in the place. She’d had her hair done, was wearing a silk dress that hugged her chest and hung from her firm butt. Her face was made-up, accentuating high cheeks and seductive eyes. Meagan stepped in quickly to serve her with her usual Jameson on ice.

  For fifteen minutes, I kept my distance. During a quiet period, I poured two whiskeys and laid one in front of her. ‘Hello, stranger.’

  She gave me a sultry look for a five-beat. ‘Hello yourself. I’ve been waiting for you to call me. When you didn’t, I thought I’d better make the first move. How have you been, Micky? Been keeping busy?’ Her gaze fell upon Meagan.

  ‘Letting the dust settle. Acting normal and getting my bar in order. You?’