A Cold Moon

by Mike Price

  Having received the confirmation from Martin, he had wasted no time in setting about sorting out his ‘bit of trouble’. Although he had a couple of other jobs on the go, there was nothing that demanded his attention immediately, so had decided the sooner he made contact with Joe the better.

  Joe had been taken aback when Kenton phoned him and explained that Martin had asked him to act as the intermediary in paying for the return of the photograph. Joe was surprised Martin had told anyone else about their relationship, thinking that would have been the last thing he wanted to do.

  “Did he tell you I want ten grand?” Joe asked.

  “Yes, I will have it by Wednesday, but I will need to see proof you have the picture before I am prepared to hand it over. I can be in Coventry on Wednesday afternoon, can you meet me then?”

  “Where are you phoning from?”

  “London.”

  “Yeah, no problem. Are you coming by train or driving?”

  “Driving, give me your post code; I have a satnav so I can come straight to you.”

  “I’ll give you the code but I don’t want to meet at my home. There’s a pub just around the corner The Butts Retreat, opposite Coventry Rugby Club, I’ll meet you there.”

  Kenton wrote the code down and made a mental note to check out exactly where the boy lived in case he needed to make a return call sometime in the future.

  “Right, I’ll see you at the pub on Wednesday at four. I’ll ring your mobile when I get there, okay?”

  “No problem.”

  The boy sounded pleased with himself, Kenton thought, he may not feel so happy when I’ve finished with him.

  He reported back to Martin that he had made contact and had arranged to meet Joe that Wednesday. He did not ask for any money as he was confident the boy would hand over the photograph with a little ‘persuasion’.

  Kenton pulled into the car park of the pub and switched off the engine. Taking his mobile out of its hands-free harness in the car, he scrolled down until Joe’s number came up and pressed send. The phone rang a few times before automatically going to answer phone. He was not happy. If that little bastard was messing him around, he would have to teach him a lesson. Kenton was meticulous and slackness or prevarication in others irritated him more than anything else. He sat in his car drumming his fingers on the wheel, wondering why the lad was not answering. He looked at his watch; it was five minutes to four. He waited until dead on four o’clock and tried the number again. This time the boy answered.

  “I’m here,” Kenton said tersely.

  “Where?”

  “In the car park, a blue Megan, it’s the only bloody car there for Christ’s sake,” his irritation getting the better of him.

  Kenton looked in his mirror and saw a young man approaching the car. He had expected a schoolboy, this lad looked about nineteen, tall and well built, maybe he wasn’t Joe. The young man came up to the car and tapped the window. Kenton opened the door and got out. If anything happened, sitting in his car, he was at a disadvantage.

  “I’m Joe,” the lad said.

  “Stan Kenton.” Kenton did not offer his hand; this was not a social call. “Have you got the picture with you?”

  “No, it’s somewhere safe, but I can take you to it.”

  “Okay.” Kenton turned to lock the car door.

  “It’s not around here, we need to drive to the place.”

  “Get in then,” Kenton ordered.

  Joe had a light haversack on his back, and before getting into the car, slipped his arms out of the straps and slung it on the back seat.

  “What’s in the bag?” Kenton was curious; he liked to know exactly what he was dealing with.

  “It’s only a trowel; the picture’s buried in a secret place.”

  Kenton looked quizzical, how on earth could you bury a picture and not ruin it.

  “Where are we heading for?” he asked the boy.

  “Kenilworth,” he replied.

  He pulled out of the car park, and followed Joe’s directions to the ring road then out of the city past the station and a large park on the left hand side and up to traffic lights. The signpost indicated Kenilworth was straight over the lights.

  “How far is it?” Kenton asked.

  Joe had not uttered a word other than give directions since he got in the car.

  “Only a couple of miles, it’s a straight road into the town until you hit some traffic lights then turn left, about a hundred yards down that road there’s a park, Abbey Fields, go into the car park.”

  Neither said another word until Kenton had turned left at the lights in Kenilworth and had nearly driven past the entrance to the park, had not Joe shouted to him to pull up.

  He steered the car in to a free space and switched off the engine.

  “Now where do we go?”

  “You’ll see, but before I take you there, have you got the money?”

  Kenton reached inside his jacket and pulled out a large manila envelope, it was about an inch thick.

  “There’s two hundred fifty pound notes in there all neatly wrapped, straight from the bank. So come on I’m interested to know how you buried a photo and expect it not to have rotted away.”

  “The answer to that is simple, I put it in a silver cigarette case. Didn’t Martin tell you I had that?” The lad sneered feeling very superior at the man’s apparent lack of any common sense.

  Kenton had picked up the attitude of the boy and thought even more this lad needed a lesson in manners if nothing else. Joe got out of the car, opened the rear door and grabbed his haversack. He slammed the door shut and indicated that Kenton should follow him. All the time Kenton was struggling to keep his temper, the boy’s arrogance was getting under his skin but he knew he had to stay calm and not let Joe rile him, this was a job and he was a professional.

  He followed the boy along the path towards a play area where empty swings were swaying in the wind, any children having by now left for their tea. Apart from a couple of people exercising their dogs, the park was empty, even the cafeteria was closed. Joe walked past the play area and stopped next to the hedge that ran across the park. He had put his haversack down on the grass next to what looked like an old lamp standard, but without the lamp.

  “It’s buried at the base of this pole,” he said to Kenton. “It’s only a few inches deep, won’t take long.”

  Joe had the trowel in his hand and had started to scrape away the turf surrounding the base of the pole. It came away easily as though it had only just been laid. He thought it odd as he remembered he taken a lot of trouble to stamp the turf down so that it would not look as though it had ever been disturbed in the first place. He continued digging, expecting to hear the sound of the metal trowel hitting the case, but nothing. He dug some more, widening the area so that the hole got larger and larger.

  Kenton stood about a yard away watching the lad dig; he seemed to get more agitated the more he dug.

  “What’s the problem?” Kenton asked.

  “I don’t understand, it’s not here.” The lad looked at Kenton in disbelief, he had now dug a hole about two feet in diameter and at least a foot deep but had nothing to show for it.

  “Look, son, are you pulling my pisser? I thought you said it was buried here, are you sure you remembered the right spot.”

  “Yes, yes, this is the spot. I don’t understand, no one saw me bury it, I made sure of that.” He was panicking now; without the picture, it was only his word against Martin’s if he tried to expose him.

  Kenton looked at the boy and realised that he was telling the truth, after all, there was no benefit in lying, the lad was not expecting to get ten thousand pounds just for digging up a cigarette case.

  “So it would seem that you have nothing to blackmail my client with,” Kenton sneered as he spoke; he was enjoying the boy’s discomfort.

  “But what about the money? I promise I won’t go to the press with my story if you pay me.”

  Kenton laughed. “You re
ally are pathetic, go to the press, my client will deny it and without proof, no paper in the land would print it. It would be your word against Mr De Glanville’s and we both know who will be believed, don’t we?”

  He reached in his pocket and withdrew the manila envelope.

  “Here, take this for your trouble.” He threw the package to the lad who caught it and tore it open like an animal would tear at its prey.

  The look of horror mixed with shock when the boy pulled out what he thought would be fifty-pound notes, but turned out to be nothing but scrap paper, neatly cut to banknote sizes, brought a smile to Kenton’s face.

  “You fucking bastard.” Joe’s face was bright red with rage. “You can’t do that, we had a deal.”

  “Yes, and you didn’t keep your end of it, did you? Now listen, sonny, you got too big for your boots, you’re playing out of your league, just go home and lick your wounds.”

  “Come on, then you can drop me back to the city?”

  Kenton let out a laugh; he could not believe the gall of the boy.

  “You also need a lesson in manners and I think a little while to cool off so I’m going to let you walk home.”

  Without another word, Kenton turned and walked back to the car. He was still chuckling to himself as he opened the door. In the distance, he could see Joe standing next to the excavation he had dug.

  Kenton drove slowly back to Coventry, the events in the park had complicated what he thought would be a straightforward job. It seemed obvious that the boy had indeed buried the photo in the park and someone unknown had come across it. What bothered Kenton was if that person was a potential blackmailer or not, or if not knowing who the participants in the photograph were, would just throw it away and keep the case. He decided he needed to try and discover who had taken the case, and that would mean going back to the park and asking a few questions, but that would have to wait for the next day.

  As he drove back to Coventry retracing the route he had taken out, he found himself passing a park, now on his right hand side, and as the road curved round taking him towards the ring road, he noticed a couple of hotels on his right and pulled into the car park of the first one. It was a small hotel, the sort he preferred, that looked as though it catered mainly for commercial travellers, it was ideal.

  He booked in for two nights, not sure whether that would be enough, but knowing he had to be in London on Saturday afternoon. It would have to do, if he didn’t find anything out over the next two days, he could always come back.

  He went to his room and thought back on his encounter with Joe. He smiled again at the thought of the boy and how he had still expected to be paid even though he had lost his ‘evidence’. Typical little chancer, thinking he could make a fast buck. Kenton had been right when he guessed the boy was playing a lone hand and even if they had found the picture, there had been no chance of actually paying any money over. He would have just scared the kid to death and that would have been that. Kenton had handled a lot tougher characters than Joe and had always come out on top.

  He lay back on the bed and dozed for about an hour, waking up to find that it was seven thirty. He took a shower and as he hadn’t brought a full change of clothes with him, only a couple of spare shirts, he had to stay in the grey suit he had worn all day. In a way, it was useful, he fitted the image of a rep up in the area on business, in fact, just what he was.

  Kenton ate in the hotel restaurant, and being teetotal retired to his bedroom to watch television before going to sleep. He wanted an early night as he had decided to spend the next day at the park and needed to be there as soon as it opened.

  He was up at seven, finished breakfast and was in the car park for eight. He had been surprised by how busy the dining room had been, it seemed everyone had the same idea as him.

  Although it was early, the roads were busy with early morning commuters making their way into the city. However, most of the traffic was going in the opposite direction to him, that is until he crossed the main A45 road when he suddenly got caught in traffic heading for Leamington and Warwick. It was not far to the park and he recognised buildings he had passed the previous day, so knew he was going in the right direction. He turned the corner at the traffic lights and this time remembered to slow down in time for the entrance to the park.

  Fortunately, it was not raining, but the weather was not exactly warm and the thought crossed his mind that maybe the mums would not be out with their children if there was no sun. He locked the car, and strolled along the path towards the play area and past it to the post. The hole Joe had dug the day before was still there, looking like a miniature bomb crater amongst the unspoilt turf. He looked around, hoping to see some sign of life, but apart from a man throwing a stick for his dog, there was no one. He hoped the dog owner would make his way past him so that he could speak to him, he did not really want to go chasing people across the park to ask his questions, he wanted to appear more casual.

  While he was pondering what to do next, a white van pulled up to the cafeteria and the driver got out, went to the back of the vehicle, and, opening the doors, started to unload some boxes. Kenton strolled across to him.

  “Good morning, do you work here?” Kenton asked the man.

  “Sorry, mate, I just deliver here, they usually open up about nine thirty to ten. I think they please themselves, nobody seems to check up on them.” He looked at Kenton then suddenly realised he might have said the wrong thing. “You’re not from the council, are you? I was only joking about the opening times.”

  Kenton grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m not from the council. I’m just trying to find someone who might have found a valuable cigarette case a friend of mine, thinks he lost around here. There’s a reward for it if I can find the person who found it,” he added the last bit in the hope that even if the driver knew nothing, word would get around about the reward.

  “Can’t help you there, I’m sorry, but when they open up, one of the girls might have seen something.”

  Kenton looked around, one or two people had come along the path, but they had all being walking at a brisk pace, as though using the park as a route to work. He really wanted the strollers or the mums with pushchairs. The sort of people who would not mind being stopped and asked for their help.

  Eventually, two girls in their early twenties arrived at the cafeteria, and unbolted the shutters to reveal a counter stacked with crisps and chocolate bars. Kenton watched as they took the boxes the delivery driver had left and opened them. Inside were freshly made sandwiches and cakes, which the girls transferred to the display cabinets below the counter. He made a move to talk to them, thinking he would get short shrift if he disturbed their preparations, instead, he sat on the bench opposite and watched fascinated as they went about what was obviously a well-rehearsed routine.

  Kenton had learnt, from his days in the army, the need for patience. Not overreacting, but waiting for the right moment, had saved his life on more than one occasion. He was in no hurry; he had all day and tomorrow if needed.

  The girls had finally unpacked everything and after a quick wipe down of the serving counter looked at each other as if waiting for a reward for their efforts. Kenton rose from his seat and walked up to the counter.

  “Can I have a cup of tea please, strong no sugar?”

  “Will you serve the gentleman, Sandra? I’ve just got to nip out the back.”

  The girl called Sandra nodded and held a cup under the water boiler that was sizzling away at the rear of the booth.

  “Help yourself to milk,” she said, as she pushed the mug of steaming tea towards Kenton.

  He looked around, and then spied a basket, with cartons of milk piled in it, at the end of the counter.

  “That will be two pounds fifty please.”

  He reached in his pocket pulled out some change and counted out the right amount. The tea was piping hot and there was no way he could drink it yet. He made no move to leave the counter, which prompted Sandra to ask if there was
anything else he wanted. This was just the opportunity he was looking for and he seized it with both hands.

  “Well, you might be able to help, do you work here every day?”

  “Yes, me and Di, except for holidays, of course. Why do you ask?”

  “A friend of mine has lost a very valuable cigarette case, well, its sentimental value more than just money, and he is convinced he lost it in this park, somewhere around here he thinks. The last time he remembers using it was when he stopped for a smoke over by that post. He’d been exercising his dog and stopped for a rest. I just wondered if you or your friend might have seen someone pick it up, or if it had been handed in to you.”

  Kenton realised his story was a bit long winded, but wanted it to sound as plausible as possible. It was a long shot that anyone would hand it in, he had little faith in the honesty of the human race.

  As he spoke, the other girl, Di, returned and Sandra repeated Kenton’s story to her. She shook her head when Sandra posed the question. Sandra turned to Kenton, an apologetic look on her face.

  “Sorry, we can’t help you, but if you leave your name and phone number, if we hear anything, I’ll give you a ring.”

  Kenton took out one of his business cards and ringed his mobile number, and handed it to her with a curt ‘thank you’.

  He returned to the bench seat and finished his mug of tea. This was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  As the morning slowly approached midday, one or two mothers with small children drifted in to the playing area. Kenton noticed, as they passed, they all seemed to give him the same half-curious, half-worried look and the thought struck him that he must look strange, a man in a suit sitting for ages just watching the mums and their kids. The last thing he wanted was someone reporting him as a suspected paedophile. He had spoken to a couple of the mums, repeating his story of his friend’s loss, but none had known anything and had not really been interested in talking to him. He thought that maybe he was wasting his time. If someone had gone to the trouble of digging down to find the case, then they must have some idea of its value.