Weekend in Weighton Final Amazon version 12-12-12 (23 page)

‘You find anything?’

‘Only a key.’ He paused. ‘We didn’t get long to look. Kip heard a noise and we had to leave.’

‘A noise?’

‘Yes. Outside.’

‘What was it?’

‘We didn’t stay to find out.’

‘Did you see anyone when you left?’

‘We were careful on the way out. But on the road walking away, yes, we saw someone.’

‘Who?’

There was a broad smile from Kip. ‘The man who grabbed you. The big man.’

My mind felt like a Catherine wheel in a tornado. The connecting pieces which had fallen sweetly into place were suddenly exploding.

‘The big knuckle-headed guy?’ I held up my hand to indicate very big.

‘Sure,’ said Kip. ‘He was getting out of a car. With a smaller guy.’

‘In a fancy suit?’

Kip nodded.

Enter Jimmy C to the crime scene. So Helen Porson was telling the truth. And if Elaine had been alive when the Nkongos left, maybe Helen was right and Cartwright had applied the coup de grip.

I turned my attention back to Robert. ‘What made you think the key was important?’

He shrugged again. ‘It had an address label. I thought it might connect to my mother.’

‘And where did it connect?’

‘The flat. The one where you found us.’

I smiled at Kip. ‘Scene of the next accident, hey? Either a pantomime is missing a villain or you’re on a hot-streak.’

The all-action hero sat back and stared, his eyes full of rage.

Kate cleared her throat. ‘If you don’t mind, Robert,’ she said, smiling sweetly, ‘I have a question.’

‘Yes?’

‘Why did you follow Ed from the police station?’

‘After we left the house we were concerned for Mrs Porson. I went to the hospital to see if she had been taken there. And Kip went to the police station. He waited a long time, but then saw Mr Eddie being brought in by the police and followed him when he left. He only wanted information.’

Kate smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you.’

Robert leaned over and squeezed my wrist. ‘Now it is your turn.’

‘Yeah, it’s comin’ up after the break, my friend. But we haven’t had your full and frank yet. What happened after you jumped me at the flat?’ I eyed Kip. ‘You and I may be quits on the Punch ‘n’ Judy show, but what did you do to Mr Clegg, the man who arrived at the flat after me?’

Before Kip could speak, Robert held up a hand. He looked at Kate, then me. ‘It was an accident, just as you say.’

‘They say one accident is careless. But two in two days? That’s some weird voodoo goin’ down, right there.’

‘I have already told you, Helen Porson was alive and breathing when we left. I swear.’ He tented his fingers. ‘Mr Clegg, he saw us standing over you, and he attacked us. We defended. He tried to break my arm. Kip had no choice: he hit him with a lamp.’ Robert looked into my eyes and spoke calmly. ‘It was an accident. If we had meant to kill him, we would have killed you.’

I studied his face and thought it over. My instinct told me he was telling the truth. And the Cleggster wading in like that to save a non-voter? A politician living and dying by his own manifesto. Only in Weighton, citizens.

‘Now you must tell me about my mother,’ declared Robert.

This was where it might get a bit rough. But into every life a little squall must fall. Especially when you play the long con.

‘Here’s the thing, Robert.’ I took a deep breath and tried to keep the karma. ‘I do know exactly where your mother is.’

I turned and looked at Kate. She nodded, and there was the beautiful straight face I was counting on.

‘We were with her this morning. This very morning.’ I pointed an index finger downwards for emphasis. ‘She asked us to find you.’

Kip was already bristling.

‘Go on,’ said Robert.

‘She wants to meet you.’

‘But?’ prompted Kip, his eyes not bothering to battle the bulge.

‘It has to be done her way. I’m to bring her to you.’

Kip immediately stood, shrugging off any attempt by his brother to haul him back.

‘Once again he’s lying.’

He had a point, but I couldn’t back down. Rule number one of Eddie G’s conflict resolution manual: if in doubt, apply more front.

I rose slowly to my feet and gave him a zonal stare. ‘I may not be wearing a black belt today, Fizz Bomb, but be advised I have a shitload to choose from. Savvy?’

Kip compressed his fists into balls and lifted his chin. The African stand-off was on. I narrowed my eyes and studied my opponent for any sign of attack, whistling a lonesome Morricone tune in my head. The tension between us radiated through the unoriginal beams and bounced back to the original carpets. For the first time – maybe ever in the Mayflower – a nonplussed “Cider Bill” let the edge of his newspaper go and relinquished his rictus-like grip on his pint. Following Bill’s lead, the landlord lifted his head from his Sunday paper and suddenly appeared more interested in Weighton’s breaking news.

Kip’s expression was brooding, but he stood stiffly and made no move. Kate dug her nails into me. I didn’t move either, even though it hurt.

The rolling tumbleweeds were finally becalmed by Kate’s firm voice. ‘Okay, boys, I think you can sit down now.’ She gave us both a stunted smile then addressed Robert. ‘If you want to know the truth about your mother, this is the only way.’

Robert nodded and looked up at his brother. Kip’s stare remained unbroken.

‘She’s right,’ I said. ‘Those were Elaine’s instructions. Take it or leave it.’

‘I knew you could not be trusted,’ growled Kip, his voice rising. ‘You will regret this.’

I tipped my head from side to side. ‘Do I sense another accident coming on?’

Behind us, the landlord swung open the bar hatch. He had a phone in one hand and a cricket bat in the other. ‘Time to take it outside fellas, or I call the police.’

‘We’re going,’ I said. ‘The Five-O's have had enough of my time already.’

Robert caught my eye. ‘The meeting?’ he asked.

‘Be at the Town Hall – six o’clock sharp.’

I held my hand out to Kate. She took it and stood beside me.

‘My mother will be with you?’ pressed Robert. The question was aimed at Kate more than me.

‘We’ll all be there,’ I said quickly. I stuck out my hand and he stood to shake it firmly, his eyes not leaving mine.

Kate and I turned to leave, but Kip moved around the table and half-blocked our way.

‘If you are not there, I will find you.’

I eased Kate ahead of me and stood toe to toe with Kip.

‘I’ll alert the Coast Guard,’ I said.

Kip tried a shirt grab, but my block and flat-palm strike pushed him away. Robert stepped between us and held his brother to one side. Mister Landlord started to practice his cover drive in the background, the message clear.

‘See you at six,’ I said, moving away. ‘And I suggest you vacate.’ My over-the-shoulder glance fell on the landlord. ‘Or you might be hitting six before you know it.’

I joined Kate at the door and we headed out into a warm blast of Weighton sunshine. The damp heat swamped us, but I was way past perspiring. The con was still on.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sunday – 16:05

As Kate drove me back to Northside Comp, we agreed a plan. Well, I told her the plan, and she went quiet. When objections came, they came like a cavalry charge. In the end I had to overrule her. Not because I knew better, but I did know more. After her wedge of protest, Kate signed up to the grand master plan. The deal we struck entailed Kate meeting Hobbs and giving him the gist of our diamond defence. If everything worked out, Kate and Hobbs would collect Helen Porson and get back to town in time for my reunion with the Nkongos. To ensure Hobbs played nice, I told Kate not to reveal our meeting place until she got a “cool running” text from me.

It was going to be beautiful: ‘Hobbs, meet Kip’, ‘Kip, meet Bugg’, ‘everyone say “so long” to Eddie’. Whether Hobbs tweeted an “APB” on Jimmy would be his
call. As long as I didn’t point any fingers in the “Beezleboss” direction, I was home and hosed. Ain’t that the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but.

Kate’s alternative had us going straight to the police station and whistling Dixie. Do not pass go, do not collect Helen Porson and – despite the best efforts of my brief – go straight to jail. I knew we couldn’t risk it. Jimmy’s men on the inside would be, well, inside. And outside, his stormtroopers would have the place staked. Either way, it could only lead to a world of pain. And my ribs had lost their taste for Tom’s knuckle sauce.

Not that I looked forward to seeing Bugg on a Sunday afternoon, either. Or ever again, if you want the actuality.

Under my plan, while Kate made parley with Hobbs, I intended to stay blessed and stay out of trouble. Well, that’s what I told her. Actually, I needed to work on plan B. “B” bein’ for Bob.

Aside from an over-generous pension, Bob’s other essential police benefit was to fix the rota so he was off on Sundays. Nothing religious in it for Big Bob, just Sunday lunch and live footy on the telly. So I knew he’d be home, and I figured a quick sortie to his downtown plod-à-terre would buy me some back-up.

The grand plan was afoot, and with Kate carrying out most of the execution, what could go wrong?

Back at Northside Comp the good news kept coming: my bike still stood where I’d left it. Sunshine glinted off its lime green frame, winking at the pair of us as we strolled across the playground. Before we reached the far railings, Kate stopped and looked around.

‘I didn’t realise the memories this place would bring back,’ she said, mid-twirl.

‘Good or bad?’

‘Both.’ She shrugged. ‘And everything in between.’

‘I’m in between, right?’

‘That you are.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘You remember that silly game we used to play? Where we only spoke in song lyrics?’

I smiled and nodded.

 ‘You could keep it going until home time,’ she went on.

‘Those were the days my friend.’

Kate boomed out a natural laugh. ‘I thought they’d never end.’ She reached out a hand to touch mine, her thumb rubbing the inside of my palm. ‘What would’ve happened do you think, if … you know, I hadn’t left?’

I looked over at the windows of what had been my first form classroom. Only bad memories there. ‘It don’t do to dwell. The past is another pub. Isn’t that what they say?’

‘Not ‘til you just said it.’

I squeezed her hand. ‘I hate to break up the reverie, Kate, but my bike needs me. And we have a timetable that makes NASA’s shuttle launch look like an open mic night.’

‘Okay,’ she said, pulling away.

I hadn’t noticed before, but as she turned, I saw her eyes were like sinking boats.