Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 (17 page)

‘Yeah, well, that’s why I got ‘em to bring you in while I’m off-duty, so we can have this chat, and I can put you right. As I’m off duty I can’t touch you. Far as anyone else knows this conversation never took place. My reputation is intact, and you can lie low for a few weeks until this whole thing blows over. What do you say?’

‘It’s neat, Jimmy, I’ll give you that. A real win-win.’

Cartwright bit down hard on his cigar. ‘A warning, though, Eddie. From now on, I’m on duty twenty-four hours a fucking day. Every fucking day. And you fuck with me once more, take it as a promise I’ll make arrangements. I really can’t show any more favouritism. I do it for you – everybody’ll expect it.’

‘You’ve been more than fair.’

‘I hope so. It’d be a shame to have you whacked.’

‘You’d never forgive yourself.’

Jimmy stood up. ‘Right, well as it’s my night off, I’m going to make the most of it.’ He nodded at Tommy. ‘See our friend gets home safely.’

I held up my hand. ‘No need to go to any trouble on my account. I’ll see myself home.’

There was a grin from Jimmy. ‘Nonsense. It’s the least I can do, seeing as you’ve been so
co-operative
.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sunday – 01:21

Silence had given me safe passage during the car ride to the casino and so it proved on the way home. As already demonstrated, Tommy had grown weary of my friendly banter. I was too tired to talk anyway. Exhaustion and a dull ache were all I could feel. R & R and plenty of it was what I craved. Most importantly, sleep.

Passing by the Old Bridge, I knew it would be close to two by the time I got home, assuming no unscheduled detours through Forley Forest. And whether it was the dog tiredness or otherwise, those old Cherokee sensors were strangely muted. It was more DEF-CON none than one. Danger didn’t just feel remote, it was on vacation in Ecuador. I still kept a corner eye on my happy-go-lucky travelling companion, but he seemed content to keep his eyes staring straight ahead, perhaps into oblivion. I hoped it wasn’t mine.

As the fatigue covered me like a low cloud, my mind ambled through what was left of my first case. If Jimmy really did know of Clegg’s death and my part in his downfall, why was he so relaxed? It could only point to my theory about Jimmy being correct. If he’d had some involvement in the blackmail scam, for whatever gain, then confirmation that the accusing fingers of Porson and Clegg had turned to dust could only be good news. He was in the clear, with a crack at another – and hopefully less evangelical – Mayor. His overbearing interest in me could only be down to paranoia about the likely fall-out.

The bigger question was the identity of the jokers who’d jumped me at Clegg’s flat. The first guy seemed remarkably similar to the pond-life who’d stalked me from the police station. The other guy was clearly in cahoots with the first. I was sure they weren’t Jimmy’s men. I was less sure of their role in Clegg’s death. Were they still there when he arrived? Given the police timings, Clegg couldn’t have been far behind me, in which case they must have still been there. And it was better than evens that they’d provided the tip off. So who were they?

And what had Clegg come to tell me? What did he know about Helen Porson? It could have been a lead. And what about Tony Porson? The guy was holding out on me; I could sense it.

I was all out of answers. And I didn’t know where to begin next. I didn’t even know if I wanted to.

The R63 cruised to a halt in Meanwood Avenue, thankfully a few doors down from my house. As I stepped from the car to the pavement, I looked down the street and saw light spilling out from our kitchen blinds. That was the start of the bad news.

More followed as I heard Tommy’s door open and close. I wasn’t much in the mood for a goodnight kiss. Certainly not tongues. He’d bite the friggin’ thing off.

I met him on the pavement. ‘Thanks for the lift, Tommy.’

 ‘I’m to see yer safely to yer door.’ He couldn’t resist a sneer.

‘I think I can manage from here.’ I aimed a haphazard thumb towards my house. ‘I’d invite you in, but it’s late and, well, Mum’s funny about strangers. And stranglers, as it goes.’

Tommy flexed his huge fist. ‘Boss said I wasn’t to touch yer.’

‘That’s all right. I don’t kiss on a first date either.’

There was a small guttural sound from him that approximated to a laugh. I had just turned to go when he stepped forward.

‘No hard feelings, eh?’ He extended his right hand.

‘None at all. One day we’ll laugh about it.’

‘Sure.’ He kept his hand outstretched, raising it higher.

I hesitated, wondering how to avoid the ol’ bone crusher routine. I moved forward slightly, intending to pat his arm and keep a respectable distance, but Tommy lunged forward and I felt his left fist come thundering into my midriff. His favourite party trick. I groaned in desperate pain, almost blacking out.

He laughed, louder this time. ‘Don’t tell Jimmy.’

I staggered back, winded, gripping a fence to steady myself. A succession of deep-chested coughs followed. ‘Secret’s safe with me,’ I wheezed.

‘Good.’ Tommy edged backwards. After a long smile he turned and strode off with a strut in his step.

I watched and waited as he got back in his car. My pain transmuted to fury as the Merc started up and accelerated away. I dragged myself into the middle of the road, waved my fist and bellowed after him. ‘You shit-for-brains, freak-faced fuck-wit.’

The car went into a full emergency stop routine and came to a halt halfway down Meanwood Avenue. Squeezing my sides I stood up straight and stared at the stilled, brooding Mercedes. I might have been battered and bruised but I stood my ground. The car waited for twenty long seconds and then slithered off.

No one fucks with Eddie G.

The reception committee was waiting when I got inside the house: Mum, Debbie and Bob Jones. I limped into the kitchen and held up apologetic hands. The reaction on their faces mixed rage and relief in roughly equal proportions. Their eyes flicked in sequence between the two.

‘I’ve been so worried,’ said Mum, holding out her hands. ‘What have they done to you? I’ve been going frantic and then Bob told me you were on your way home, and then you didn’t turn up, and then ... Thank God you’re safe now.’

Debbie shook her head. ‘You look terrible. Really dreadful.’

‘Easy with the compliments. My knees might give way.’

‘I just meant–’ She tried to explain, but couldn’t.

‘It’s okay. I’m fine.’

Mum started with the tears. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if ...’

I tried to smile. ‘Don’t worry, everything’s fine. I’m like Captain Scarlett: indestructible. That’s me, right, Bob?’

Bob nodded his head once. ‘That’s right, lad.’

Mum finally came over and put her arms around me. I could feel her wet cheek on mine. Despite the tiredness, I summoned up enough strength to hug her back. Truth to tell, I felt a bit of a heel. It was bad enough putting myself through it.

Mum tightened her grip around my chest, nearly crushing out of me what life I still had. She sobbed. ‘Let this go, Edward, for my sake.’

Debbie joined in. ‘You have to drop it.’

Lifting my head, I looked over at Bob. A similar appeal rested on his face.

I kissed Mum’s head and spoke quietly. ‘You win. I quit.’

A huge weight seemed to lift from my shoulders as the words came out, and all my aches subsided. I couldn’t figure out where the words had come from and right then I didn’t really care. Which was a shame, you know, because I could have been a contender.

‘I’m desperate for a shower.’

‘I’ll get you a cup of tea,’ said Mum. ‘And a sandwich. I’ll bring it up when you’re ready.’

‘Thanks.’ I smiled at her and trudged through to the hall.

As I climbed the stairs, thinking only of hot water and cotton sheets, I felt a friendly vibration in my jacket pocket. I stopped and took out my phone. My eyes didn’t want to adjust to the screen at first. But there it was: a text from Kate.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sunday – 07:10

A smooth bunny-hop took my Santa Cruz Superlight over the defender spikes and into Northside Comp’s upper car park. Having chained my hot wheels to the railings, I jogged over to the main entrance.

Parked outside, and on time, were my hotter wheels. I got in and clunked the door.

‘Where to, handsome?’ said Kate.

I looked down at the GPS on my phone. ‘We have latitude fifty-three point three degrees north and longitude two point six four degrees west. I suggest a bearing–’

‘Where to, dickhead?’ She pulled a face. ‘In road speak?’

‘M60.’

‘M60?’

‘Yep.
Manc
bound.’ I pointed ahead, in no particular direction.

‘Because?’

‘I’ll tell you on the way.’

She nodded. ‘In that case, good choice.’

‘I thought so.’ I tapped her far knee through her jeans. ‘It’s not just for dancing, gorgeous. It works the accelerator pedal, too.’

Kate feigned a swipe at my chest, and just the flinch hurt. My ribs took a second hit as the lurch from the wheelspin sped us away from Northside Comp – and all those bad memories.

As the song goes, I can smile at the old days. But soon, we’d be over those and far away.

~

Tony Porson’s detached Victorian house was on Broadway, just off Hale Road. The address had been on an invitation I’d found during my clandestine shakedown at Helen Porson’s house.

Kate bagged a parking space a few doors down, and we pulled over. With my jacket collar up, Aviators on and baseball cap down, I slid lower in the car seat. The wait had begun. My body ached, and I felt drained. A snooze seemed an even bet, but Kate was around to upset the odds.

‘So,’ she said, after settling herself for the wait, ‘you really think he’s involved?’

I noticed how Kate’s knitwear top shape-shifted around her curves as she spoke. I didn’t adjust my set. ‘You mean, do I think he topped his mum?’

‘No, I mean … well, why are we outside his house?’

‘Well, it’s in sight of the famous Hale Bar & Grill for a kick-off.’

Kate lifted her head, as if scanning the horizon for sizzling rib-eye, and then she looked at me. ‘And?’

‘Truth to tell, I don’t know. He’s hiding something, though.’

Her eyebrows arched. ‘In his house?’

‘Could be.’

‘So we wait for him to leave and then what? Break in?’