Free Get Carter by Ted Lewis Page A

like?”
    “Well, blow me,” he said. “I never knew that.”
    “Funny isn’t it,” I said.
    “So what’re you doing? On your holidays?”
    “Visiting relatives.”
    “Relatives, eh? Very nice.”
    “It would be. If they were still living.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “A bereavement. There’s been a death in the family.”
    “Oh, what a shame. Nothing serious, I hope.”
    I gave him credit. His face was as straight as a poker.
    “Yes,” I said. “My brother. Car accident, you know.”
    “Oh, dear,” he said. “What a pity—here! Not that feller that went off top road? Monday?”
    “That’s right.”
    “No! Well, blow me. Would you believe it. Read about it in the paper, Tuesday night. And he was your brother, eh? Well, well. I mean, I read the name, but I never dreamt …”
    “Small world,” I said.
    He downed his drink.
    “Are you having another?” I said.
    He looked at his glass.
    “Well,” he said, “I shouldn’t.”
    I ordered more drinks. When they came I said: “Fancy sitting down?”
    “Well …” he said.
    “Come on,” I said, “we can talk about the old days.”
    I walked over to one of the tables at the back. He made a show of deciding whether or not to follow. He followed me, as I knew he would.
    I sat down and he sat down.
    “Cheers,” I said.
    He nodded, then drank. I looked at him.
    He looked exactly the way he’d looked last time I’d seen him. Five years ago. In the office at the Hamburg Club off Praed Street, standing behind Jimmy the Welshman who’d been sitting behind his big antique desk, well, not his desk, the desk which Tony Pinner had provided him with, and Jimmy the Welshman had beensweating like the fat pig he was. Myself and Jock Mitchell and Ted Shucksmith had been standing at the other side of the desk. Jimmy the Welshman’s sister, Eric’s girlfriend, had been lying on the floor crying, which is what she’d been doing ever since Jock had put her there in order to stop her screaming. There had been no boys left to help Jimmy because since five minutes and three hundred pounds ago, three of them had started working for us and a fourth one was lying in the toilet presently not working for anybody.
    “You’re out of a job, Jimmy,” I’d said to him. “How’s your pulling these days? You might have to brush up on it.”
    He’d managed to say, “What’s up?”
    “Everything,” I’d said. “This club isn’t owned by Tony any more. Neither is the Matador, or the Manhattan or The Spinning Wheel. They are now owned by certain parties who have instructed me to inform you that as from tonight the gaff is under new management.”
    He’d thought about that for a while. Then he’d sweated a bit more and he’d said:
    “I can’t leave. Tony’d kill me. You know what he’d do.”
    I’d smiled at him.
    “Get out, Jimmy,” I’d said. “Tony doesn’t care about you any more.”
    He’d sat there for a bit and then very quickly he’d got up from his desk almost knocking his chair over and he’d gone out. As he’d walked out, his sister had moaned at him but he’d stepped over her, not looking at her. After the door had closed, I’d said:
    “That leaves you, Eric.”
    “And the bird,” Jock’d said.
    “What happened to the others?” Eric had asked.
    “Seventy-five per cent are working for us.”
    “And me?”
    “Gerald still remembers Chiswick, Eric. He asked me to remind you about it.”
    Eric’s face had gone the colour of lemonade.
    “Gerald’s wife still has the marks, you know. I must admit they were very discreetly placed.”
    “And Jack’d know,” Jock’d said, then he’d wished he hadn’t because I’d looked at him.
    “It was her,” Eric’d said, indicating the girl on the floor. “It was her that wanted to do that. All I’d been told was to get hold of her and scare her, get Gerald rattled, you know. It was her that wanted to do that.”
    “Of course, Eric. And just let’s say that’s the truth. You