Watching You Chapters Thirteen and Fourteen

Chapter Thirteen

 

The policemen who called late that night had asked for a description. It had been difficult to see, she’d said, the streetlight overlooking the alley had been out. But nonetheless, she had a description: the man had definitely been tall and slender; she thought his hair had been dark and his top, white. In short, it had matched that of Carl Black as far as she was able, even if she hadn’t got a good look at him at all. She just knew it was him, though how could she tell the policemen that? How could she tell them about her belief in his psychic senses without making it seem like paranoia? How could she tell them of her unsettling experience down at the jetty? Of course, she couldn’t.

So she’d had to keep quiet about his identity. She’d thought about mentioning McCain; he’d likely back her up, particularly as he’d seemed incensed with Black himself. But she didn’t want to drag him into anything without his knowledge; first thing tomorrow, she’d call, he’d no doubt be worried by the incident and verify what she said. She could speak to the police later with McCain’s backing, and McCain’s statement, having once been a policeman, would no doubt add weight to her cause.

Joe had arrived in the middle of the police interview, later than normal. She’d guessed he hadn’t wanted to be the first one in, something to do with the ‘man thing’ she supposed. This meaning that men had every right to be out later than women. Typical of Joe really, he went well with the ark. 

He’d actually been attentive and concerned, as far as his inebriation would allow, at least during the policemen’s presence. When they had left, he’d impressed upon her the wisdom of getting a cab directly to the door and not trying to cheapskate on the fare by leaving it a couple of hundred yards short.

She hadn’t been able to argue with that, except, of course, she hadn’t been brought back in a cab, and that much she wasn’t prepared to divulge.

The two policemen had left to join others who had already begun searching the area. Joe, following his little lecture, had trudged up to bed, saying she should do the same. She’d agreed, but given it ten minutes or so, hoping that those ten minutes would do the trick, that he’d be asleep by the time she got up there, probably snoring his head off. One night, every so often, he’d grope for her, and she’d give in, not enjoying it one bit. Because although Joe had never so much as raised his hand to her, there was a marked aggression in his manner whenever he’d been drinking, and at night, he normally had. Tonight, she sensed by his step and speech that he’d had more than enough. Even one of the policemen had raised an eyebrow, not at his manner but at his state.

As luck would have it, he was well away by the time she got to bed, and yes, he was snoring, but thank heaven for small mercies.

Next morning, she rose early, it wasn’t so difficult, really, and it wasn’t Joe’s snoring that caused her lack of sleep. Sleep came in fits and starts, images of Carl Black flicking through her mind and dreams like quickly turning leaves of a book. Now, she needed to make that phone call, and a quick glance at Joe told her that he was still in the land of nod. He never worked weekends, so she didn’t expect him to rouse much before noon.

She went downstairs to phone McCain. It was early, but he wasn’t going to mind, not in the circumstances. But the phone just kept on ringing, and she was about to put the receiver down when he answered, his gentle brogue now throaty and rough.

‘Yeah, McCain.’

‘McCain, it’s me, Kelly. I need to talk to you.’

‘Be Jees, Kelly.’ There was a delay; an object sounded as though it had hit the floor, and she pictured him fumbling for the clock, ‘Can’t it wait?’

‘I was attacked last night, accosted in an alleyway after I left you. I managed to get away, but I think …’

‘Be Jees – attacked, you say. Were you hurt?’

‘No, in fact, I think he got more than he bargained for, but that’s not the point. McCain, I just know it was Carl Black.’

‘It can’t have been Black.’ McCain’s reply was snappy, abrupt.

Kelly frowned. McCain was dismissing her outright. Why?

“Why can’t it have been Black, McCain?’

The other end of the line was so quiet she thought he’d hung up.

‘McCain, did you hear what I said?’

‘A deep sigh. ‘I heard what you said, Kelly. It’s just that I’m dubious, is all. Are you sure? Did you get a good look?’

‘No.’ She paused. Her voice had that high tinny sound again. ‘Well, yes, in a way … the light wasn’t good, but he was tall, slender, dark-haired. I just know it was him.’

‘Have you told the police about this?’

‘Yes, of course. I wanted to tell them more, that I was sure it was Carl Black, that he followed me home, but I doubt that they’d believe me, not without your …’

‘Aw, come on now.’ McCain’s voice seemed to rise a touch, ‘You’re not telling me …’

‘McCain, you saw him on the jetty last night … you saw the effect it had on me … you were so incensed you went after him, gave him a piece of your mind, you said.’

‘Yeah, sure I did that, Kelly, but we can’t be putting two and two together and making five, now can we?’

Kelly swallowed; there seemed to be a hundred pounds of acid burning her throat, ‘So you won’t back me up, thanks, McCain.’

‘Look, hold on now … I didn’t say that. You know I’ll help, but don’t you see you’re going to need a whole lot more evidence before you can accuse the fella. Take it from me. I was a cop, you know. Listen, you’re off today, right?’

‘Right.’ Kelly felt hot breath funnelling through her nose.

‘Then meet me at two, the Plough out on the fen, you know it?’

‘What will I tell Joe?’

‘Fuck Joe, if this is important to you, you’ll do it, right?’

Kelly reeled at the sudden animosity in McCain’s voice and turned to stare right into the face of Joe.

‘Who are you talking to so early in the morning, might I ask?’

‘Just a colleague, that’s all.’

But Joe’s face was like thunder, and Kelly, replacing the receiver, all but froze.

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

The newcomer’s shadow spread across the room like a long thin snake, as he cast a dismissive glance at Hastings. He crushed the spent syringe beneath his feet, kicking the fragments across the room. His gaze rested on Black, where it lingered in the form of an unasked question. Black felt the steel of the stare but lifted his eyes only slowly to meet Main Man.

‘Where’s Bug?’ he asked at length. In the moonlight-flooded lounge, Main Man’s stare was accusing, as though he thought he knew the prat’s every move and was personally accountable for it.’

Black frowned, felt uncomfortable with the big man standing over him but wasn’t going to let it show. ‘How should I know; I’m not his keeper.’ He nodded sideways. ‘Ask Hastings.’ Main Man moved forward, and Black thought for a second he would be hauled to his feet. It didn’t pay to be insolent to the bloke, but he never gave ground to anybody, and he wasn’t starting now.

But it was Hastings that Main Man moved for, raising him to his feet with one large hand, Hastings’ drug-glazed eyes widening slightly. ‘Okay, supposing you tell me, where is the little creep?’

‘I ain’t rightly sure.’ Hastings coughed fluid to the floor, let out a nervous bark. ‘I reckon he went to the corner shop for some fags–’

‘Or on account of his own personal protection racket, eh? What’s your percentage, I wonder, for trying to con me?’

‘I ain’t getting nothing.’ Hastings’ face contorted, his voice rising a notch as the hand moved towards his throat, ‘I ain’t lying. I don’t get nothing.’

‘Alright, stop whingeing; strangely enough, I believe you. Buggins wouldn’t share … he’s too bloody greedy for that. Not if he thought he could get away with it.’ Main Man released his hold on Hastings, watched him slump back against the wall, then switched his gaze back to Black. ‘But he isn’t going to, is he Carl?’

‘Say again?’ Black tried to look his most impassive but wasn’t sure it was having the desired effect. A sudden chill had stirred the muggy evening air.

‘You heard what I said.’ Main Man’s voice was quiet, but that didn’t count for a thing; the tone said it all. ‘I’d wager a hundred quid he won’t show, and I reckon I know why … he launders the cash our ethnic friends give him to finance his own activities; now that’s not how I like things at all.’ He paused, cupped his hands, and lit a joint. ‘Well, it’s going to stop, stop right now because you’re going to find him – yes, that’s right, Carl, you – my own special envoy, and when you do, you’ll deliver a message.’

‘What message?’ Black tried to keep his voice firm, but it sounded as though he was bouncing on a trampoline.

‘You’ll tell him I want to see him, sooner rather than later. I’ll expect a call from him by midday, and one from you at least a couple of hours before that, telling me you’ve delivered my message.’    

Black looked away; outside, the breeze had risen, rustling the trees, creating more bizarre patterns on the floor, via the shards of glass hanging stubbornly in place. ‘What makes you think I know where to find him?’

You’ll find him because you’re smart, Black. I’ve got to give you that; there’s not much going on that you don’t know about, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as I say.

‘Buggins is becoming a maverick, and I regard mavericks as dangerous.’ Main Man swung his gaze towards the window, following Black’s eye, ‘There’s a wind getting up; don’t be catching a cold, now.’ He turned to go, then swung around quickly, his arm ramrod straight, forefinger extended. ‘And tell him if he tries to avoid me, there won’t be enough room in the whole fucking country to run.’

Black slid his head back against the wall, watching Main Man’s diminishing shadow as he climbed out through the window. Despite the dope he’d consumed, he felt tense; things were going from bad to worse. He thought a little of how the crew in that film, The Perfect Storm must have felt as they rode the final wave. Well, like it or lump it, he was going to have to ride it out, his decision had been made.

He had expected Bug to have been here tonight, that was the very reason he’d made this journey to the pits, and Bug seemed to have deliberately chosen not to show. He’d no doubt have made his nightly visit to the corner shop, and that was less than a quarter-mile away, rendering his actions even more deliberate.

He hadn’t known about Main Man’s visit; hell, he hadn’t expected that himself, but deliberate evasion was going to make Bug more elusive. He wasn’t scared of Main Man, at least he told himself as much, but he’d carry out the orders, nonetheless. It wouldn’t pay not to. He turned sideways to Hastings, lifting himself from the floor. ‘Where do you say he’s gone, Hastings, any idea?’

But Hastings was stoned, on a trip somewhere. Black hadn’t experienced the effect half as much, but then he hadn’t injected himself. He reached across, shaking Hastings firmly by the shoulders, ‘Whatddyasay?’

‘Forget it.’ Black released his grip, as through the broken glass came a couple of shadows, but Bug wasn’t one of them; the cackles of laughter told him that. Trish and Annie, the sound of their voices pierced his thoughts like one of their rusty needles.

‘Either of you two seen Bug?’

‘Nah, why do ya ask?’ The taller blonde one was Trish, always asking questions, always up for it too, but not tonight; he didn’t feel the urge, wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t in the mood for anything much, but tonight he’d follow his hunch and track down Bug, and tomorrow, he’d renew his acquaintance with the girl with the corn-coloured hair.