A Cold Moon

by Mike Price

  Kenton had seen the twitch in the curtains and knew he was being watched. He deliberately sat in the car longer than he had first intended. Psychologically, he hoped that being there would add to the implied threat he had left with her. It was not always brute force that got results; he had learnt that at the detention centres in Iraq.

  He turned the key in the ignition and headed back to Coventry. His first port of call was the hotel he had checked out of earlier that morning.

  The girl at the reception remembered him and when he explained that he needed to stay another night to complete a business deal, there was no problem in finding a room. What he did not realise was that as most of the hotel guests were commercial travellers, they usually left Friday mornings and the hotel was virtually empty.

  Picking the keys from the desk, he went to his room and made himself a cup of coffee. He needed to talk to Martin, not just to update him, but also ask a few pertinent questions. The phone rang without reply until Martin’s message service cut in.

  “Fuck!” he said just before the voice said ‘please speak after the tone’.

  “Martin, this is Stan Kenton, I really need to speak to you, can you ring me back? In case you don’t come back to me tonight, I’ll give you a brief update. I went to see that guy Shakespeare but he was out, spoke to his wife and I think she is hiding something, denied all knowledge of the cigarette case but I know she’s lying. I told her there was a reward and left my card for her husband to phone me tomorrow morning. I’m staying in Coventry tonight and will go over to see him in the morning. If there’s any chance of meeting you in Kenilworth tomorrow, I will hopefully be able to give you your property back. Give me a ring.”

  The last sentence was more of an order than a request, Kenton was feeling more and more he was being used, and did not like it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Will arrived home at about nine thirty, too late to go to the pub for his regular Friday night with the lads. He was exhausted, and although not a big drinker, was desperately in need of a drink now. The call from his father had worried him as soon as he got it. His dad knew Friday was Will’s night out and would never have tried to alter that under normal circumstances, and, anyway, they would be seeing each other the next day for Leicester’s game.

  His father would not explain over the phone, just said he had to talk to him. Will had been worried all day, and had rung to tell Julie he would go and see his father straight from school.

  Will’s dad had recently retired and was planning to go on his first cruise that summer, and Will had wondered if a problem had arisen over the holiday plans, but soon cast that thought aside. His father would not have bothered him over something like that, however important it might have seemed, no this was obviously more serious. It had been on Will’s mind all day and he had struggled to concentrate on the needs of the children at school.

  Try as he might, he could not get away from the thought that it must be something to do with his father’s health, but that did not make sense, his father was as fit as a fiddle; he had not needed treatment of any sort, other than the odd cold, for over ten years and even then, it was for a cracked bone in his arm following an accident at work.

  He had arrived at his parents’ home within in half an hour of leaving school. His mother, as always, was in the kitchen. His father let him in and Will followed him into the living room.

  “Dad, what’s the problem?” Will had not meant to be so abrupt, but after worrying all day, it just burst out.

  “Sit down. Just take your time, don’t rush me.”

  Will could see the strain in his father’s eyes and his chest tightened with the fear of what he would tell him.

  “I’ve been told that I have bowel cancer and I need to have an operation as soon as possible. I…”

  “What… when… how…?” Will interrupted his father.

  “Listen and I’ll tell you. I did a routine test; you know the sort that they send in the post for bowel cancer screening. Your mother kept badgering me to do it, though I have to say I wasn’t keen. Anyway, I sent it off and after a couple of weeks had a letter back asking me to go to the hospital for further tests. I didn’t say anything at the time because I thought it was just routine procedure. Well, this week I’ve been to see the consultant and he told me I need an operation as soon as possible.”

  “Have they told you what the prognosis is? Is it curable? Will this operation get rid of it?”

  “You know as much as I do. I’ve contacted the hospital and they have told me that I am on the waiting list for the op and that it should be very soon. I just wanted to tell you what’s happening and didn’t want to be talking about this on the way to a football match. The Foxes are far more important!” He laughed at his attempt at a joke. Will did not find it amusing.

  “Dad, for Christ’s sake, be serious.”

  “Look, I’m sorry to drag you over here, but your mum wanted me to tell you straight away just in case I got a quick call to the hospital. She didn’t want you to suddenly find I was in there.”

  “Bloody right too.”

  As he spoke, his mother came into the room with a tray holding three cups of tea.

  “He’s told you then?” she said as she put the tray on the table and passed the two men their cups.

  “Yes, has the doctor said anything to you?”

  His mother looked at him and shook her head, but her eyes said something else, she was holding something back, something she didn’t want to say in front of her husband. Will knew that look and knew he would have to talk to her on her own.

  After the initial shock of his father’s news had subsided, they spent the next couple of hours chatting about their beloved Leicester and whether they would make it two promotions in consecutive years.

  Will looked at his watch, it was after eight and Julie would be waiting for him to have dinner.

  “Dad, I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow. It looks like you’ll miss the last games of the season if this op comes though; but at least you’ll have the summer to convalesce and be back fit for next season when, hopefully, we’ll be playing the likes of United. I’ll just pop in the kitchen and say goodbye to Mum.”

  He got up and walked through to the kitchen.

  “What are you holding back?” he whispered so that his father could not hear.

  “I’ve spoken to the consultant and he tells me that your father needs an operation urgently. If the operation is successful and they can remove the cancer, then he will be okay but if, when they open him up it’s gone too far, then they give him only a few months. We won’t know until he has the operation.”

  A tear rolled down her cheeks, and Will put his arms around her and squeezed. His father’s optimism had allayed his initial worries, but now his mother had brought those fears back again.

  “I’ve asked the consultant not to tell your father just how bad it is; you know how he hates hospitals. It will make him more depressed and I think he needs to feel confident that he will be fully cured.”

  Will nodded his agreement, if his father thought that he might not survive then he would go into the operation with a totally negative attitude, he was half pint empty man not a half pint full.

  Will drove back home feeling washed out, the shock of what he had been told hitting him hard. His father was only sixty-five, far too young to die. The word die hit him like a kick in the head and he cried all the way back to Kenilworth.

  He opened the door and Julie, hearing the key in the lock, called out from the kitchen.

  “I’m in here. God I’m glad you’re back, a man called and…” She stopped mid-sentence. Will had walked into the kitchen and she could see straight away by the redness around his eyes that he had been crying. “What’s up? Is something wrong with your mum or dad? What is it, you look awful?”

  Will slumped into a chair.

  “Can you pour me a large whisky?”

  She looked worried. Will rarely drank at home, other than a glass of w
ine with their meal, he was not a spirit drinker. She poured the drink and waited while he drank it, draining the measure in one go.

  “It’s Dad, he’s got bowel cancer and needs an operation. He doesn’t know how bad it is. Mum says the doctors say it’s a fifty-fifty chance that they will be successful when they operate.” The words came out in a rush as though he had to get something off his chest.

  “Oh, Will, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you want another drink?”

  “I’ll be alright, just need to get my head around things; it’s a bit of shock. We’ve just got to be positive, if there’s a fifty percent chance that he might die then there’s a fifty percent chance he will survive.”

  She smiled at him; he had always had a positive attitude to life the exact opposite of his father. She poured him another drink even though he had shaken his head when she asked him if he wanted another. He took the glass but this time sipped it slowly.

  “Sorry, love, you started to tell me something when I came in, about a man. What man?”

  “I had a visit this afternoon, not long after getting back from work. He asked for you and I explained you would be out all evening. He then asked if he could speak to me, said he was a private investigator and he thought you might be able to help him with a case he was working on. Well, I checked his ID and then let him. At first, he was quite charming, and went out of his way to reassure me that he was genuine.”

  “So what did he want?”

  “Be patient and I’ll tell you. He wanted that bloody cigarette case! He said he was representing the owner; that a young lad had stolen the case, and he had tracked him down and promised that there would be no prosecution if the lad returned it. Apparently, the young man buried it in a panic and had intended to go back and dig it up, then sell it. When he went with him to retrieve the case, it had disappeared. He wondered if you had found it whilst out looking for buried treasure and that there was a reward for its return.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said no, you had found nothing.”

  “Why?”

  “His story did not ring true; don’t forget we’ve seen the photograph.”

  “Did you ask how much the reward was?”

  “No, because that would have given the impression that you did have it. Anyway, I wanted to buy some time so I could talk to you and we could decide what to do for the best.”

  “Yes, good idea. Did he leave a card to get in touch with him?”

  “Yes.” She handed him Kenton’s card. “I’m worried though, because when I told him that you had not got the case, he suddenly turned quite nasty, almost threatening. He did not actually issue a threat but his voice went cold when he said he would be back and ‘it would be in your best interest if you remembered finding it’. It frightened me and when he left he was outside for about ten minutes sitting in his car. Do you think we should call the police?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps we should just wait for his call tomorrow and be done with it. After all, it’s none of our business and what two consenting adults do together is up to them. It’s not my cup of tea, but each to their own.”

  For the first time that evening, they both smiled. If that was a cup of tea, give me coffee every time, he thought to himself.

  She put her arms around him. As long as she did not have to speak to that man again, then Will was probably right, the sooner they got rid of the cigarette case the better. If there was a reward as well, then that was a bonus.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Maddy looked around the apartment; it was smaller than she had imagined, but as she only intended to ever spend the one night there, she was sure she could suffer the inconvenience. She had driven up from London, having left the boutique at three to give her enough time to find the place, shower and change, before attending the ‘Question Time’ debate with Martin. He had given her a spare key as he was at the office with Tony and would not be back until about six.

  Although only staying the one night, that was the promise she had made to Martin, she had still brought a case that most people would use for a week’s holiday. She had not been able to make up her mind what to wear and had brought three separate outfits with her. There was plenty of time to spare before she needed to get ready, so made herself a gin and tonic, and sat down to put her feet up for five minutes.

  She thought that it would be a shame that in just a couple of weeks, the election would be over and Martin would not need to visit Kenilworth again. She was convinced he had no chance of getting elected, which was a pity as his frequent jaunts up the motorway had provided ample opportunities for her extra curricula activities.

  As she sipped her drink, she thought of the previous evening when Peter had taken her to a little Italian restaurant he knew near Cockfosters tube station. They had gone in his car as there was less chance of anyone recognising them, her car having personalised number plates. When they had finished their meal, she had put her coat on and while he settled the bill, she had excused herself to go to the ladies. Outside, they walked back to the car which had been parked in the station car park. Once inside the car, Maddy had undone her coat buttons, to reveal she was naked except for her stockings and shoes!

  She remembered the look on his face and the panic in his eyes in case anyone was looking. She did not care and lowered the seat so that she was almost lying flat, the coat falling at her sides. She had covered herself whilst they negotiated their exit from the car park, but once on the main road, had let the coat slip open again. Poor Peter struggled to concentrate on driving and look at her at the same time. She had taken her dress and underwear off when she excused herself, and this was her little thank you for the meal. It had not taken Peter long to drive back to Maddy’s flat. He had parked the car and they had walked to the lift, her coat streaming out behind her not caring who might be watching. They had got into the lift and he had been unable to hold back any longer, and had pressed her against the side of the lift and taken her. The lift soon reached her floor, too soon in fact and he had to quickly rearrange himself as they got out. Fortunately, no one was about and she had almost fallen into the flat she was laughing so much. What had started in the lift was finished in the hallway.

  Maddy smiled to herself as she recalled the evening. It had not stopped there, they had made love three times that night and now she was exhausted. She just hoped that ‘Question Time’ would prove to be just as exhausting for Martin!

  Martin had picked up the message from Kenton but had not been able to reply straight away as he had been busy with Tony. When he returned to the apartment, he had parked the car in the basement and tried to ring Kenton. There had been no answer so he left a message saying he would be tied up all evening and would contact him the next day, but would not be able to meet him as his wife was with him this weekend.

  He took the lift up to the second floor and walked along the corridor to his front door. He had not heard from Maddy all day, and just hoped and prayed that she was there; having told Tony and his staff that she was coming; it would be humiliating if she let him down. The key turned in the lock, and as he opened the door, he could hear the hum of the shower pump and he let out a sigh of relief.

  Maddy came out of the shower, the towel tied around her head like a turban being the only thing that she was wearing.

  “It’s a bloody good job I’m on my own,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly, darling, if you’d had friends with you I would have secured their votes.” She smiled at him, and walked across the hall and kissed him. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes please, but not too strong, I’ll need my wits about me if I’m going to make an impression.”

  She walked into the main room, and into the kitchen area where the glasses were kept and poured him a gin and tonic.

  “Thanks,” he said taking the glass off her.

  He looked down at her body, admiring her beautiful curves, flat stomach and firm breasts. He must have been mad to neglect her for that
little bastard Joe. He realised that, now more than ever, he needed her.

  “Do you fancy a quickie?” he asked as he reached out and stroked her breast.

  “Martin!” she said in mock horror. “This is not like you.”

  Her nipples had responded to his touch and were now firm, all previous thoughts of tiredness left her as she pressed her body next to his.

  With her help, he quickly shed his clothes and carried her into the bedroom.

  “Darling, you do realise we are christening your new bed, don’t you?” She was on top of him now, the towel having been tossed aside, her hair still wet as it fell around his face.

  A momentary pang of guilt went through him at her remark as he thought of previous encounters on this very same bed, but he quickly blotted them from his mind. He would have to learn to eradicate those thoughts permanently!

  Their lovemaking was intense but short-lived. He had climaxed quickly and had left her wanting more, but despite her entreaties, he was unable to continue.

  “Christ, look at the time, we’d better get ready,” he said by way of an excuse.

  Though Maddy was disappointed, she consoled herself with the thought that the previous night she had climaxed three times, so was not exactly unsatisfied.

  By seven o’clock, they were in the back room of the hall that doubled as a dressing room when amateur plays were put on and a hospitality room for meetings. Tonight, it was filled with the five candidates who had declared so far, their agents and invited guests. The Coventry Evening Telegraph had provided a bar and canapés for them, and it was noticeable that the five candidates on the panel were all drinking mineral water.

  The political editor of the paper was to chair the meeting and was now introducing himself to them whilst the audience was slowly filing in.

  He came up to Martin and held out his hand.