Her Last Call To Louis MacNeice (8 page)

‘There’s Sharon, she could do with a few quid. Here’s her address, tell her you’re my pal.’

‘Right. You won’t feel the urge to blab about our little transaction?’

‘Aw, for God’s sake, I’m a pro.’

‘And you’re healthy – best to remain so.’

‘I’m a bit offended Cooper.’

‘That’ll pass, two broken legs would take longer.’

And then, I’d swear I saw Cassie on the upper floor. Jimmy said, ‘You OK’

But then she was gone.

‘Yeah, thought I saw someone I knew.’

‘You know wot they say, sit here long enough, you’ll see everyone you ever knew.’

‘I’m afraid you might be right – take care.’

‘Or heavy weapons, am I correct.’

‘Keep it in mind … later.’

I went into Burger King, ordered a whopper and a giant coke. Get the killing junk full in my stomach. Asked the guy to leave out the sauce and, of course, the burger came shitpiled with it. I was about to go through the routine when I saw David Letterman watching me. You know, the talk show, I’d been getting it on the late-night cable. Course it wasn’t him but wow, a dead ringer. He smiled and I shrugged, wot else. Found a table where he wasn’t in my line of vision. Bit down on the whopper and, sure as Sundays, the sauce shot out the side. Looked up, there he was, smile in place, said, ‘I had you going, you did a double take.’

‘Yank accent – jeez, another one.’

He said, ‘The way I see it – he looks like me. Am I right?’

Took a hit of the coke and it was sweet, I’ll give it that, even the ice.

‘Might I sit down – I’m Cassie’s brother.’

I finished the food, pushed the debris away, said, ‘You’re here for the shoplifting, I believe the season’s started.’

‘I need your help.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Let’s call me David.’

‘Wot – all of us?’

‘Mr Cooper – oh yes, I know who you are. You may be the only one who can help her.’

‘Sorry pal, I’m up to me arse in aggravation, plus – no offence but that lady’s beyond help.’

‘No no no! She’s obsessed with you and you can use that to persuade her to return home. We can get treatment.’

‘Hey David, you deaf or just stupid. I said – I didn’t say – hey maybe we’ve room to negotiate.’

‘I know where you’re coming from Mr Cooper. But it’s not a choice thing, she’s volatile and, OK, I’m going to play straight with you. I believe she may have pushed a woman under a train in New York.’

‘What … jeez … Laura …’

‘Laura? Who’s that? The woman was my fiancée. Cassie doesn’t like people close to her – loved ones – she doesn’t share.’

I couldn’t take it in. What was running through my mind was this family who looked like stars – Letterman and Sarah Miles. I asked, ‘Who do yer parents resemble – Bogie and Bacall?’

And he laughed. ‘They’re Mom and Pop Diner, Mr and Mrs Ordinary, Citizens of Nerd City. You getting this?’

The door of the restaurant was kicked in, the three Yahoos came dribblin’. In their late twenties, they’d the uniform of denim jackets, combat trousers, scarves and filthy trainers. If grunge was gone, they hadn’t heard. The personification of the urban hooligan to be found on every High Street, more common than litter and as nasty as tax. Intimidation is the party tune. Amid guffaws, obscenities and horseplay, they collected their grub and sprawled at the table next to us.

Naturally. This is your life! I said, ‘The ambience at Burger King isn’t to their palate.’

And now began the obligatory food fight, flicking fries and buns all over. He said, ‘Gotta hang a right.’

And was up and over to them. He put both hands, palms outspread on their table. This put a thug to his left, to his right, and directly facing him. His accent seemed like a roar.

‘Hi guys.’

‘Wotcha want fooker … Yank fooker.’

Course this led to a wild repartee and chorus.

‘Yeah, the fook you want wanker.’

‘Are you guys the real thing – lager louts’ (he pronounced it lowts) – ‘we’ve got broadcasts on you back home.’

‘Fook off wanker – put me shoe in yer arsehole – how d’ya like that then eh. Want yer fookin’ teeth up yer backside, yah wanker?’

He stood back, gave a huge smile and charaded a light bulb going off over his head, answered, ‘I know that word – you guys are implying I’m a self-abuser – have I got it right? But let me demonstrate what it is I actually do with my hands, OK?’

He bent slightly, then shot out both elbows to crash into noses left and right, then gave a bounce, gripped the table and headbutted number three. The sound of bones crackin’ was loud. He pulled back and came over to me, asked, ‘How’d I do?’

‘Lemme put it this way – can I buy you a drink.’

As we got out of there, a round of applause followed us. I’d say it did wonders for Letterman’s ratings.

We went to The Swan on Bayswater Road. I wanted away from my own manor. I ordered Scotch and he had Scotch rocks. I asked, ‘You’ve got some moves, where’d you learn ’em?’

‘Marine Corps.’

But he was staring at the painting behind the bar and the barman said, ‘This pub has been here since Bayswater Road was a lane leading from the Courts in Uxbridge to Marble Arch.’

When David showed no recognition, the guy continued, ‘Marble Arch, or as it was then, Tyburn, where they hung ’em! The condemned man and his escort would have a final drink here. See, that’s what the painting shows.’

‘One for the road.’

The barman gave a sour laugh.

‘Didn’t have to worry about being over the limit, know wot I mean.’

David looked him full in the face, said, ‘I believe I catch your drift.’

Enough with the history I thought and moved us to a table, said, ‘Cheers.’

‘Whatever’

‘So David, what do you do?’

‘I’m a poet.’

‘Wot?’

‘Ever listen to Stevie Nicks?’

‘Not unless it’s absolutely unavoidable.’

‘She said – “they are poets of nothingness”.’

‘Are you any good?’

‘Well, there isn’t anyone good enough to know if I’m hot or not.’

‘You should meet the Doc, he’d know. But a poet – bit like being a shepherd in London.’

He took out a pack of Camels, a Zippo, cranked it, blew out a batch of smoke, coughed, said, ‘Hits the goddamn spot I think.’

‘I thought Americans were violently anti-nicotine.’

‘I like one of your writers, the Martin Amis guy, one of his characters wants a cigarette even when he’s smoking one.’

‘Sounds like madness to me.’

‘Hey, what I did say – I said I was a poet – did you hear me say I was sane, did I run that by you. Amis reckons cigarettes are a relaxant and writers are the great un-relaxed.’

‘David, I could give a toss whether you smoke through your arse.’

‘Whoa, testy – I’m only making conversation here, OK’

‘What about yer sister, wot am I to …?’

‘Lemme play a hunch here – you did her a good turn?’

He laughed loud, said, ‘I imagine John Dillinger said similar as he walked outa the Bijou Theatre and into the guns.’

‘I’m not Dillinger.’

‘And heavens-to-Betsie, neither was Warren Oates but go figure. I made a shit-pile of bucks back in the manic ’80s when Ginko was hoodwinkin’ Wall Street. But heck, what have I got to show for it – a crazy sister, some property, and a heap of bad poetry.’

‘You’d be different poor?’

‘I probably wouldn’t admit to the poetry. Next time she gets in touch – and she will – call me, any hour. Hell, call anyway, how would that be. Here’s my card.’

‘Aston Towers.’

‘Yeah, impressive huh?’

As we left, he said, ‘My old man, he was like … fifty-five when they had me. Yeah, on his deathbed he said, “Sorry I was old.”’

I didn’t know how to respond so I said, ‘Just like my old man.’

‘He said the same?’

‘No, he said … Argh …’

Thought of something, then thought … check it out. Called, ‘Em … David … Dave, wait up.’

Calling your own name, you feel like a horse’s ass. He had the same thought as he answered in a high-pitched voice, ‘Yes David.’

Shades of Tiny Tim and other obscenities.

‘Cassie’s daughter, wot’s the story.’

He shook his head. Not good, said, ‘There is no daughter. She had an abortion when she was nineteen … a botched job. After, she began exhibiting signs of psychosis. Then she invented a daughter and to explain her absence, she added abduction, not by aliens but Moroccans. Hardly an X-File but certainly spooky.’

I said more to meself, ‘No Ariana.’

He gave me a playful puck to my shoulder. Jesus, I loved that! And said, ‘No more eagles either but is that really such a bad thing.’

I said, ‘She needs help.’

‘Yo … Mister Cooper … didn’t I just run that by you … didn’t I just goddamn park in that space … pay attention … alright.’

And then he was gone.

Of all the things I was doing then, paying attention was definitely not one of them.

I didn’t head for home till late in the evening. Turning from Clapham Road, coming along Ashmole Estate, I saw the fire engines. The entrance to my street was cordoned off but I could see the blaze clearly. My house was in full flame and I thought, ‘Jeez, lucky I removed the guns and ammunition else it’d have taken out at least three firemen.’

I parked and walked towards the police line. A cop said, ‘No passage here Sir, please go round.’

‘That’s my home.’

Standing a piece further down was Noble, the flames reflecting off his face, making it glow. He was wearing the grubby raincoat, turned to greet me, ‘Mr Cooper, come through.’

As if I had a choice. He said, ‘What rotten luck eh, the decorators are hardly out the door. You’re covered I presume.’

‘With wot?’

‘Insurance man! Good heavens, you are insured?’

‘Of course, I’m a citizen.’

‘You’ll be devastated all the same, I can read it in your face.’

His smirk was blatant.

‘As long as it gives heat to the neighbours, can we really call it a total loss.’

He took my arm, whispered, ‘It’s too early to say for sure but it might be deliberate.’

I shook his hand off, said, ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘Ah Mr Cooper, I have many shortcomings, that’s not one I’m prone to.’

‘Who’d torch my house, Noble.’

‘I was hoping you’d answer that.’

‘No idea.’

‘I must say I admire your stoicism. Most people, they’d be in a highly emotional state.’

‘I must be in shock, wouldn’t you say. Drawing on your vast well of human experience, don’t you think.’

‘But the basics. Where will you stay?’

‘Don’t worry about me Noble.’

He moved right into my face, I could smell mints, ‘But I do – you’re almost family, what with the amount of time I think about you.’

‘I’m touched.’

‘And if not now, you will be. You’ll be sorry to hear our Sergeant Quinn had an accident. Come now Mr Cooper, you can’t have forgotten him. I know he thinks of you, if not fondly, at least persistently.’

‘Car accident was it?’

‘Sporting mishap actually.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah, two sports with baseball bats did a number on his legs. What you might term – a bad break.’

‘I didn’t reply but he read my face, said, ‘Ah, you think I’m being facetious … no. You can tell me, strictly off the record, man to man.’

‘OK – I think you’re a prick and a bad bastard to boot. Being a cop you’ve been trained to it but, I think you were born a nasty piece of work.’

He was delighted, leastways his face was all lit up, answered, ‘Good, excellent. I relish frankness and let me reciprocate. I’ve checked up on you, did yer stretch for
GBH
, a hard man. But I’m gonna have you Cooper, oh yeah. You took out the wrong cop, I’m not so easy.’

‘Hey shithead, if I went after Quinn, I wouldn’t need help.’

‘See, yer hard like I said. Near time for you to go travellin’ – yer mate has fucked yer business, yer home is gone … oh yes, and I’ll be there, count on it.’

I pushed him aside, said, ‘I hope that’s a promise.’

And walked away. I didn’t look at my ex-house, I could feel the heat. Went to the pub and ignored Lisa’s barrage of questions, ‘Was that your house!…’

Got a large Scotch and a corner to sulk.

No way in the world did I believe the fire was an Act of God. Course, I knew He was capable, the evidence was my life but I didn’t think He could be bothered. I tried to remember what Cassie had said in her letter, something about no longer writing to me at that address as I wouldn’t be able to receive mail. Exhibit A for the prosecution, pretty damning. Plus, she was a total friggin’ nutter. Then there was the cops. Capable of anything but I wasn’t convinced. Arson seemed a tad extreme when they’d countless methods to put me in the frame. The jury was out on them. The third possibility was the worst, I really didn’t want to even consider it. Doc.

Ruthless and reckless enough to urge on my doubts about the bank job. He sure needed the cash and, if I had a similar motivation? Yeah, it was possible. I took a long belt of the Scotch and thought about Cassie pushing Laura under the train. Jeez, if Doc knew I was indirectly responsible – fuck, I’d have to shelve that.

I heard, ‘You have the appearance of a man with a new lease of apathy.’

Think of the Doc and the devil appears, or something to that effect. I said, ‘Very quotable, almost deep.’

‘But not me own. Samuel Beckett it was, but at least ’tis the same country. What’s all this about a fire?’

‘Didn’t take long to reach you Doc.’

‘And aren’t you my best mate, curled up in a corner like a whipped dog. Sure they had to call me.’

‘Things are going down the shitter and fast.’

‘You’ll come home with me.’

‘No … no, I don’t think that’s too clever. Noble’s on the prowl and why make it easy for the bastard.’

‘Ah don’t mind him, the scut, he’s like a boy whistlin’ in the dark.’

‘He’s about to blow the flamin’ whistle on me.’

Doc pushed in beside me, put his arm on my shoulder, said, ‘Coop, listen boyo, they still need the oul reliable called evidence and there’s not a bit of it. C’mon, I’ll buy you a pint.’

‘I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch tomorrow, we’ll finalise the job details, OK.’