by Neal Bircher
The food arrived, and both men tucked in heartily. It was a couple of minutes before Nolan was first to look up from his plate.
“So, Dave, are you going to stay around for a bit, or do you think you should head on up to Belfast?”
Ferriby finished chewing and swallowing a large mouthful of sausage and egg.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to be getting back tomorrow. Do you think it’s worth looking around the pubs here this evening? … This soda bread stuff is really good, by the way.”
“Good. Well, I don’t think you’ll get anything out of asking around. Most likely anybody who knows him isn’t the type that wants to speak to the likes of us. It was a bit of luck that one of our boys remembered having seen him with your woman at the Mermaid, and then we got him on the CCTV from the shop opposite. He was wearing the same gear you know as he was in the bus video. And anyways, we had a good look around all of the pubs last night, and if he was going to be drinking any night, then you’d think he would be on Saturday.”
“True enough. Not got much to go on in Belfast though, have we?”
Nolan shook his head thoughtfully.
“What say we have a look around the pubs that are open now, and then I drive you up to Belfast? I’ll call up a DI that I know there too, see if we can get you any help finding a Kelly who works in a bookies.”
Ferriby had folded up a half slice of toast and then used it to mop up the residue of egg yolk and tomato ketchup from his plate. He consumed it enthusiastically, then brushed his hands together and wiped them with his serviette.
“That was good!” he commented, before answering Nolan’s question. “Yep, that sounds like a plan.”
He wondered whether Nolan could detect how much his previous enthusiasm had been diminished by Margaret McVie’s disappointing “revelations”. He was certainly hoping for something more – finding Michael Kelly drinking in the Mermaid would have been the perfect result. But on the other hand the trip hadn’t been all bad: He’d got himself a nice couple of days away from the office, he’d got to see Northern Ireland, and there was still a chance of him getting to locate Michael Kelly. He was also enjoying the company of Craig Nolan. He had known that he was going to like the Northern Irishman from the moment the two of them had begun exchanging emails. And the helpful tone of those notes had been more than matched by Nolan and his team’s willingness and positive attitude when Ferriby had met them in person. It was heart-warming when anybody made a genuine effort to be helpful in his profession, and it was far from a given that other police officers would do so, especially if they were part of another “service”.
Craig Nolan interrupted Ferriby’s thoughts. “Sorry if we’ve dragged you over here on a wild goose chase.”
Ferriby responded instantaneously. “No, don’t apologise. I really appreciate your efforts, thanks, Craig.” He took a final swig of the large mug of tea that had come with his meal. “All the same, I think you might be right: I’m starting to get a nasty feeling that we might never find the little shit.”
Baby Joy for Granny Gail
Gail Timson, the grandmother who sparked a nationwide police hunt when she skipped bail last year, is expecting a baby. Mrs Timson (40) disappeared with her friend and colleague, Nicholas Hale (34), in October after both had been questioned about the death of Mrs Timson’s husband.
Barry Timson (41) was found in the Grand Union canal in Norling, west London, on September 18th. He had been shot in the chest.
Scotland
Mrs Timson, who became popularly known as “Granny Gail”, and Mr Hale, who both lived in Norling, returned home shortly before Christmas, after spending the intervening time travelling between hotels and guest houses in Scotland and the north of England. They have both now been released from bail.
Delighted
Mrs Timson, who has two teenage children by her late husband is said to be “delighted” at the news. When asked about speculation that the baby was conceived during her time at large with Mr Hale, Mrs Timson refused to comment on how far she was into her term of pregnancy, or on the identity of the baby’s father.
Accident
A third person who was arrested in connection with Mr Timson’s death, Michael Kelly (34), also from Norling, has since died in a road accident in County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland.
Police inquiries are continuing.
Noddy
Gail slid her fingers slowly from her lover’s neck, up and across the back of his newly-cropped hair. A gorgeous tingling sensation rippled through her whole body.
Although it was springtime already, huge snowflakes were falling from the night sky, silently casting a pristine white blanket over the village.
Inside her cottage Gail was cosy and warm.
Her TV flickered quietly in a corner of the room. Gail had missed the end of the film she’d been watching, lost in better thoughts. She gently kissed her lover’s ear. He turned to kiss her on the lips. The kiss lingered, and Gail knew that they would soon be making love. She shivered with blissful contentment. Life was now so good. In fact, as far as she was concerned, it was perfect.
She kissed her lover’s forehead, and then kissed his ear again, softly whispering the words “I love you” as she did so.
Then she moved her head back, and turned his face towards her with her hands. She gazed into his smiling eyes.
“And I love your hair like this, too.” She ran her fingers through it again as she spoke. “Have you ever had it so short before?”
Nick laughed, “No, not quite so severe. Didn’t I ever tell you that years ago I used to have it really long? It went all curly when I was at college too. My mates called me ‘Noddy’, because they reckoned I looked like Noddy Holder, from Slade!”
Murder
“’Scuse me, mate, have you got a light?” He was a large man and had positioned himself so that he took up much of the footpath.
“…Sorry, no – I don’t smoke.”
The man manoeuvred himself to become still more difficult to pass.
“Don’t smoke, eh? So what other vices have you got then?” His facial features weren’t clear in the dark, but his drunken voice was slurred and menacing.
“Sorry, I’ve got to be getting home.”
A diesel-engined car approached from behind the large man and splashed noisily by, sending a fine spray of dirty rain water over both men’s faces.
“I know who you are, you know.” Then, after a pause: “You’re the cunt who’s screwing my missus. You was on the canal bank with her earlier.”
Another pause – a long one – and then, quietly: “No, you must be getting me mixed up with somebody else. Sorry, I really do have to ...”
“You fucking wanker!”
Nick
Noddy shoved a half-full ashtray out of the way to place his gun carefully on the grimy coffee table for his brother, James, to inspect.
James raised his eyebrows. He’d never actually seen a gun at such close quarters before, not a proper gun, made for killing people. He took a drag on his cigarette. “It’s not very big, is it?” he observed.
“No, it’s not,” Noddy replied, “and that’s the point.” He picked up the gun and handed it proudly to his brother. “It’s designed for a woman to use, so it’s small and light.”
James nodded and blew out cigarette smoke as he weighed the gun hesitantly in his hand.
Noddy continued, “It’s OK, I’ve taken the bullets out. It looks nice, doesn’t it?”
James continued to nod, “I like the pearly bits; it looks like an antique.”
“Yep, it’s pretty old. Hopefully if I get caught with it they’ll think it’s a cigarette lighter!” He took it back and placed it back on the table. Then he cleared his throat and didn’t look at James as he added, “Don’t tell mum and dad, whatever you do, will you?”
“No, no, of course not.”
“Cheers. It was quite cool buying it. I had to meet up with this bloke in a room above a rough pub.
It was like a scene from a film. I got hold of him through someone I knew at the bookies.”
James frowned. “Do you actually take it out with you then?”
“Yes, I do.” Noddy answered with apologetic enthusiasm. “Like I said, it’s small and light. It’s dead easy to carry around.” And he slipped it into his donkey jacket pocket to demonstrate. “It’s a good feeling to know it’s there, to be honest. I’ll probably want it even more when I move up to London; I’d imagine there’s even more scumbags with knives up there.”
James was less enthusiastic. “Do you really think that you need it then?”
Noddy turned to look his younger brother in the eye and say sombrely, “I just think that maybe Rob would still be alive today if he’d been able to defend himself.”
James stubbed out his cigarette, and left a respectful pause, before asking, “And what about those yobs in Leicester … would you have used it then?”
Noddy’s first thought was that yes, of course he would. But he gave it a few moments while he composed a more considered response. “Hopefully I’d have been able to get the gun out and they would have run off. But if one of them had made a lunge with a knife … then who knows.”
“Well, Nick, I just hope that you don’t have to use it. You’re not likely to come out of it very well if you’re the one holding the smoking gun.”
The brothers were both watching James’ cigarette end smouldering in its ashtray.
“True. But sometimes doing the wrong thing might just beat the alternative.”
…
Another car passed, this time from the other direction. Its headlights briefly picked out the man’s raging wide eyes … and a large blade glinting in his right hand.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Neal Bircher is an established writer for radio, live comedy, and a variety of motoring publications. InLove Sex Work Murder – his first full-length novel – he has produced the kind of book that he himself would choose to read: a compelling story of ordinary people whose lives are transformed by dramatic but entirely realistic events.
He is working on a second novel, Council House Scum:a tale of culture clashes, treachery, violence, and friendship on a deprived English housing estate.
[email protected]
www.facebook.com/pages/Neal-Bircher-Author/638132949655478
All feedback gratefully received.