This is part three of the Furtive Glance for part one click here and part two click here
Parker’s was nearly empty
when I came back in to settle my bill. The city workers had called it a night
and I knew I should do the same. But what harm could one last drink do? And a
drink would help me think and right now I needed to think. There was something
wrong with this case, something that just didn’t add up. The dame had asked me
to find the kid, but there was no mystery there. The kid was with his dad, okay
maybe not at the family home but she didn’t need to give a private detective a
bundle of cash to work out where he was and if she thought I’d help snatch the
kid back, she had another thing coming.
Andrews had given me the low
down on the Georgievs, he told me they owned nothing but controlled everything;
they oiled the machine of the underworld. Cupcakes was their only ‘legit’
business; the rest was a shady web of connections and influences. I put my hand into my jacket pocked and
fingered the money the broad had given me. I hadn’t counted it, but it was a
lot. Was it enough to get me embroiled with the most dangerous gang in town?
I longed for a cigarette, but
my smoking days were far behind me. I closed my eyes and pinched my nose, when
I opened them again I was not alone. To the left of me was the barman from
Cupcakes on my right Santa, the goon I’d followed earlier in the evening. The
fun was about to start.
‘Hristo is unhappy you turned town his hospitality.’ the
barman said, referring to the drink I’d left untouched on the bar. ‘He’d like
to extend the hand of friendship to you personally.’
‘Thanks.’ I said cordially, ‘but I was just on my way
home.’
‘I think you should find time for Mr Georgiev.’ said
Santa, menace in his voice.
‘Let’s go then.’ I said taking trying to take charge of a
situation I was no longer in control of.
The two henchmen led me back
to Cupcakes. I tried to make conversation on the way, but Santa wasn’t
interested in hearing my advice on following someone.
If it were possible, the girls
in the bar looked even bored now then they were before while the clientele had
changed from frustrated husbands to hard-core sleazebags.
They led me through to a
backroom, where I came face to face with Hristo Georgiev.
He was shorter than I
expected, but still a bear of a man. It was the hair that stood out, literally.
Thick, wiry hair on his arms, on his face on his chest, on his neck. I imagined his back was like the black
forest.
‘I hear you’ve been asking too many questions.’ he said
without too much of an accent.
‘I only asked one.’ I replied. The look he gave me, made
it quite clear that one was one too many.
‘Stanley Archer’ I winced. I hated when people did that.
‘It’s Archer Stanley’ I corrected him. He looked confused
for a moment.
‘Archer Stanley,’ he started again, ‘don’t get yourself involved in something you
don’t understand.’ He seemed to know a lot about me. Maybe Santa was better at
his job than I thought.
‘Now tell me what the lady paid you, I’ll double it and
no one will get hurt.’
‘Client confidentiality.’ I said, sounding braver than I
felt.
‘I’ll give you 24 hours , Mr Arc…Mr Stanley. 24 hours to
make the right decision.’ We both knew
what he meant.
As I walked home, my heart
beating and adrenalin pumping, I was aware I was being watched. I knew who it
was but I played the game; a little bit of cat and mouse, before turning a
corner and waiting for my shadow. As expected, she came round the corner not expecting
me to be standing there. She let out a little yelp.
‘What do you want lady?’ I said, my voice sharper than it
needed to be. She looked at me with anger in her eyes.
‘I
want to know what that pig wanted with you.’ She said.
We were close to a late night bar
called Dacey’s, I nodded towards it.
‘Drink’ I said.
‘Drink’ she agreed and we both headed into the bar.
For part four click here
Maggie’s Milkman my novel is
For part four click here
Maggie’s Milkman my novel is
Available on Amazon.com
and
Smashwords (best price)
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