3 Inspector Hobbes and the Gold Diggers (29 page)

She shook her head and I told her what I’d heard.

‘It might,’ she said, looking serious, ‘have become unpleasant, if he’d recognised me.’

‘I’ll walk with you back to the museum,’ I said, as we left the bar, ‘but then I really must warn Sid. He’s a nice old va … chap and I wouldn’t want him to get hurt.’

‘You must,’ she said, ‘but, please, be careful when you’re out. Denny Barker is a really dangerous man and he won’t be happy that you’ve bested him twice. Next time he sees you, there’s no knowing what he might do.’ She squeezed my hand very gently, for which I was grateful.

I tried to look nonchalant and hoped Hobbes would be around next time I met Denny, although I hadn’t much liked Sir Gerald’s confidence in his man. Besides, there was always the possibility that I’d be on my own, probably down some dark alley, when next I bumped into him. I almost wished I’d finished my cocktail, for after one of those, anything would be bearable.

The weather hadn’t turned any warmer and few people were out and about. There being no sign of Denny or Sir Gerald, I started to relax. We were just passing the end of Blackdog Street when I heard a familiar voice.

‘Hi, Andy,’ said Kathy, enormous in her red Puffa jacket, smiling as she approached, ‘Where are you going to take me this afternoon?’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Umm …’

‘Who’s this?’ asked Kathy.

‘Oh … Right, I should introduce you. Kathy, this is Daphne. Daphne … this is … umm … Kathy.’

Daphne nodded. Kathy did not. I squirmed.

‘I’m glad you two have met,’ I said, with a feeble smile. ‘Kathy is staying with us at the moment and I’ve been showing her around.’

‘I see,’ said Daphne.

‘Daphne works at the museum,’ I said.

‘So, shouldn’t she be
at work?’
asked Kathy.

‘Yes, I probably should,’ said Daphne. ‘I’ll see you around, Andy. Nice to have met you … Kathy.’

‘Ditto.’

‘Take care,’ I said.

As Daphne turned away, Kathy, heavy with scent, enveloped me in a massive, suffocating bear hug, which was about as welcome as it would have been from a real bear and I was just as powerless. I couldn’t understand why she was doing it. She really wasn’t my type, if she was anybody’s, and her sudden show of affection was as puzzling as it was alarming. Still, part of me felt sorry for her, even though I wished she hadn’t just turned up, or, in fact, come into our lives at all.

‘Have you seen Daddy?’ she asked on releasing me.

‘I did before lunch. He’d lost Rupert.’

‘I knew he should have slammed that punk in jail. He kept me awake all night.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘And I’m sorry I was a little sharp this morning. I was tired and cold and the coffee hadn’t kicked in. I’m not at my best without a strong black one in me.’

‘That’s alright. I’m not at my best when I’m tired either. Still … umm … I don’t throw mugs.’

‘Well, I didn’t hit you, did I?’

‘Not with the mug … but you might have done.’

‘Might have wins no prizes. I wouldn’t have a cow about it.’

‘I won’t.’

Smiling, she hugged me again. I tried not to breathe in the scent fumes, which wasn’t too difficult as she was squeezing so tightly. All I could do was hope I wouldn’t be crushed like an empty beer can and that Daphne couldn’t see this unseemly behaviour. When at last she let me go I stepped out of reach.

‘Right,’ she said, ‘since my daddy is nowhere to be found, I’m relying on you to show me a good time. How about it, Big Boy?’

‘What?’ I said, caught off guard. ‘I … umm … don’t know what to suggest.’

‘Well, what d’ya normally do for kicks in this neck of the woods?’

‘There’s not much to do on a cold afternoon. You’ve seen the church and the museum.’

‘Too true.’

‘Well, I sometimes used to go for a drink.’

‘Why the heck not? What’s the wildest place in town, buddy?’

‘Oh … probably the Feathers. There’s usually something happening down the Feathers.’

‘Great, let’s go.’

‘I must warn you it’s a bit grotty and the landlord is … well … umm … different, and it can sometimes be dangerous there.’

‘It sounds fun.’

We set off, although I wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea, but it had been my best shot at short notice and there was no place quite like the Feathers and she had allowed no time for any other suggestions. I just hoped Hobbes would forgive me. She kept squeezing my sore hand, talking and laughing, as if she were the happiest woman in the world. I really did not understand her.

Even the first sight of the Feathers, all peeling paint and grubby windows, didn’t dampen her spirits. As we approached the front door it opened, a young man flew out and landed with a splat and a curse on the pavement. Picking himself up, he wiped a smear of blood from his nose and swaggered away as if well satisfied with his experience.

Plucking up courage, I ushered her inside, where Featherlight was resting one of his bellies on the bar, and wiping his hands on his stained and torn vest.

‘Caplet,’ he said, ‘didn’t I tell you not to show your ugly face in here again?’

‘No, I don’t think you did.’

‘Well I bloody should’ve. Who’s the lady?’

‘This is Kathy.’

‘A fine looking bit of skirt. You’re a lucky bastard.’

Kathy giggled and patted me heartily on the back. As I stumbled towards the bar, Billy’s head appeared.

‘Wotcha, Andy. The usual?’

‘Please … and what would you like, Kathy?’

‘I’ll have a Margarita.’

‘Not in here you won’t,’ said Featherlight, mopping up a puddle of spilled beer with his vest.

‘Well, what can a girl drink round here?’

Billy grinned. ‘Beer or white wine. I wouldn’t trust the spirits.’

‘Gimme a beer then, buster.’

‘Bitter? A pint?’

‘Sure … whatever.’

Billy poured the drinks, raising his eyebrows when I handed him actual money, but saying nothing to embarrass me. A large gulp of lager, cool and crisp, washed away the cocktail’s hideous residue.

Kathy took a hefty swig of her bitter, frowned and shrugged. ‘What the heck is this?’

‘Hedbury Best Bitter,’ said Billy.

‘Jeez! What’s their worst bitter like? It’s warm and it tastes like … I don’t know what the heck it tastes like. Is there something wrong with it?’

I cringed, expecting Featherlight to explode at the slur. Billy reached under the counter for the steel helmet he’d taken to wearing in times of crisis as Featherlight turned to face her.

‘She didn’t mean it,’ I said. ‘She’s just not used to British beer. She’s from America.’

Featherlight’s habitual frown had been replaced by a smile, showing off a mouthful of large, insanitary teeth. ‘I can tell where she’s from, Caplet. You think I’m so daft I can’t place an American accent?’

‘No … I was just pointing it out.’

‘Well, don’t. Sit down, shut up, and drink, while I talk to the young lady.’

Taking my glass to a sticky seat, I sat at an even stickier table as Billy removed his helmet. Featherlight, drawing up a barstool, wiped it with his vest in what was, for him, a gallant gesture.

‘Have a seat, miss,’ he said, giving a low bow.

She sat as requested and, to give her some credit, without a shudder.

‘Can I offer you something different?’ asked Featherlight, gesturing at her beer.

Billy’s mouth dropped open at this unprecedented offer.

She shook her head. ‘No thanks, buddy. I’ll get used to it.’

‘Well then, Miss Kathy,’ said Featherlight, ‘what brings an American beauty to my humble establishment?’

‘It was Andy’s suggestion.’

‘Well, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m grateful to him. It’s not often we get a genuine American lady in here, but he shouldn’t have brought you. This can be a rough place.’

Kathy smiled. ‘It looks fine to me and I reckon you’re big and tough enough to protect a gal should there be any rough stuff.’

He inclined his head. ‘I guess you’re right at that. But,’ he said, glaring at his customers, ‘don’t any of you lot think of trying anything.’

There was an outbreak of mumbled denials and much head shaking among the half-dozen or so desperate drinkers.

Featherlight, nodding, turned back to Kathy, still maintaining his disconcerting smile. ‘Are you here on holiday?’

‘Not exactly. I’m visiting family.’

‘Caplet?’

‘No, he’s just been kind enough to show me around town.’

‘Mrs Goodfellow, then?’

‘No.’

‘Who?’

‘Inspector Hobbes is my daddy.’

‘Hobbes?’ Featherlight raised his hairy eyebrows. ‘I didn’t think he had it in him.’

‘Do you know him?’

‘Yes, Miss Kathy. We go way back.’

‘I bet you do. You remind me of him a little, except of course, you’re much better looking.’

Featherlight’s face took on an even ruddier tint than normal and his smile broadened.

I sat, elbows on the table, open-mouthed, for, although I could think of many words to describe him, good-looking was not one that sprang immediately to mind, even in comparison to Hobbes. Like me, Billy was watching, wide-eyed and engrossed by the show. Unlike me, he was not recovering from a toxic cocktail, and the fact that I was enjoying gulping down lager at the Feathers proved just how awful it had been. Still, as my mouth and throat recovered, I was able to concentrate on my kiss with Daphne and felt well-disposed to Featherlight for taking Kathy off my hands, allowing me time to indulge my memory. The trouble was, something kept nagging, a vague, guilty feeling, as if I ought to be doing something urgent. The day’s events churned through my head in a random stream until a stray thought snagged my conscience. Knocking back what was left of my drink, I peeled myself off the seat.

‘I’ve just thought of something,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to go.’

I ran from the pub to warn Sid.

18

I was legging it towards Grossman’s Bank, skilfully weaving between shoppers and charity collectors, hoping I wasn’t already too late, when a thought stopped me outside a tea shop. What if Sid was not at the bank? Might he not be at home? Or enjoying lunch somewhere? Or was he somewhere else entirely? After deliberating, panting from the run for a minute or two, I reasoned that I should try his house first, because if he was there, he was likely to be on his own, whereas there would be other people at the bank, not to mention some sort of security. I set off again, just as a little, white-haired old lady stepped out of the tea shop. Tripping over the wheeled basket she was towing, knocking it over, I landed in the gutter. I picked myself up, apologising, retrieved her spilled groceries and listened to a long and bitter lecture, criticising the young people of today. Although at other times I might have been flattered to be considered young, I had a job to do and, turning away with a final word of apology, I ran.

‘Stop thief!’ she cried.

I was still holding her handbag. Stopping, apologising again, I threw it back and fled.

Reaching Doubtful Street, I stood outside Sid’s house, ringing the bell and pounding on the door, without a response. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and headed for the bank at a gentle jog, there being no gallop left in me.

When I was halfway down The Shambles, the bank already in sight, a big hand seized my shoulder and dragged me into an alley, nearly causing my heart to burst from my chest.

‘Don’t hurt me,’ I said, cringing.

Hobbes’s deep chuckle gave me instant comfort.

‘Oh, it’s you. What’s up?’ I asked.

‘We’ve been told to look for someone fitting your description. The suspect allegedly mugged an old lady before hurling her own handbag at her, striking her a blow on the head.’

‘I hit her on the head? Is she alright? I didn’t mean it.’

‘So it was you. I suspected as much and, no doubt, you’ll be pleased to know the lady is fine, apart from being extremely annoyed with the youth of today, by which she means you. Tell me what happened.’

I explained, adding what I’d overheard at lunch and why I’d been in such a hurry.

‘It could only happen to you, Andy.’ He laughed and paused for a moment, his face screwed up with thought. ‘However, your information is revealing. Things are finally starting to make sense.’

‘What things?’

‘The robbery, the rocks, Hugh Duckworth’s death.’

‘Not to me they’re not. Tell me what rocks?’

‘Rocking chairs?’

‘No, I mean, what rocks are you talking about?’

‘The ones I took from Sir Gerald’s mine.’

‘I thought you said they were just ordinary ones.’

‘They are, which is precisely why they are so important.’

I scratched my head. Conversations with Hobbes didn’t always make sense.