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Authors: Matt Bendoris
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picked up the
bill, thanked Chantal for her time and left with the excuse that
she had another meeting to go to. Really, she was desperate to head
to her favourite café, the Peccadillo.
Fifteen minutes later
she took her usual seat. She was particularly hungry this morning.
Dipping her link sausage into the yolk of her fried egg April
muttered out loud, ‘I blame X Factor and Pop Idol and all these
talent shows. Kids just want to turn up and be famous now. They
don’t want to do the years of hard graft to get there.’
The waitresses and
the regulars were used to April airing her thoughts in public, but
she drew some looks from those who didn’t know her.
‘Mind if I join in
your conversation?’ Connor beamed.
‘Oh,’ April laughed,
‘was I talking to myself again? I better stop that. People might
think I’m mad.’
‘There’s no “might”
about it, my batty old friend. Right, what have you got?’
April recounted her
meeting with Chantal Cameron. At the end Connor had just one
question: ‘How did Selina know Chantal was ripping her off unless
someone told her? I’m guessing it was the dealer and I have a funny
feeling I know who it is.’
15
Anchored Down
‘Oh, look
what the cat dragged in,’ roared Badger to a packed Anchorage bar
in Yoker’s Kelso Street.
Connor could see that
his old mentor was three sheets to the wind, which meant he’d
shifted a colossal amount of booze. Badger was rarely drunk –
more like constantly ‘topped up’, as Connor used to say.
The young
mentee – as he used to jokingly be called – was greeted
with a bear hug from his old mentor and proudly introduced to the
Anchorage regulars.
Connor then steered
his old friend to a quieter corner. ‘I need to meet the detective
in charge of the Seth case. Crosbie. Known as Bing. Doesn’t
frequent any boozers as far as I’m told.’
‘Crosbie, Crosbie,’
pondered Badger, ‘I’ve never heard of him. I’ll sort something out
for you. Anyway, how are things back at the ranch? Still hanging in
there by your fingertips, I see. Has that cunt Bent no’ been found
out yet?’
‘You’re just bitter
because he sacked you,’ Connor teased.
Badger pinched
Connor’s cheek hard in something that passed for affection before
announcing, ‘I’m off for a pish,’ and staggering off towards the
toilet.
One of Badger’s booze
buddies Wee Al approached Connor. Wee Al was around six feet four
with a ruddy drinker’s complexion like Badger’s. He plonked himself
down on the seat next to Connor and sighed, ‘He’s ill, you
know.’
Connor brushed it
off. ‘No wonder with the amount he drinks.’
‘No, he’s really
ill,’ Wee Al added, touching Connor’s hand to emphasise the point.
‘He speaks of you all the time. You’re like the son he never
had.’
Badger and his wife
Rita had never had children. He’d never explained why.
Wee Al continued, ‘He
thinks the world of you. He’s always banging on about “Elvis this”
and “Elvis that”. But he’s dying … that’s why he’s drinking
more than ever. He’s in pain.’
Connor felt a wave of
emotion crash over him. He’d never had a dad growing up and Badger
had become something of a father figure.
Badger returned
singing ‘Blue Suede Shoes’. ‘Come on, Elvis, geez a wee shake of
those snake hips,’ he demanded.
Connor needed to
speak to him in the cold light of day. He’d take his opportunity
tomorrow, hopefully, when Badger called with details on how to meet
Crosbie.
Osiris was
seriously hacked off. He’d spent the day travelling from one
faceless industrial unit to another for a day of meetings with
various depot managers. Because he was from head office he got
nothing but moans from the branch bosses about how they’d run
things differently. Osiris would put on his best sympathetic
expression but inwardly he was glad these morons were basically
nothing more than over-promoted truck drivers.
But that
bill, thanked Chantal for her time and left with the excuse that
she had another meeting to go to. Really, she was desperate to head
to her favourite café, the Peccadillo.
Fifteen minutes later
she took her usual seat. She was particularly hungry this morning.
Dipping her link sausage into the yolk of her fried egg April
muttered out loud, ‘I blame X Factor and Pop Idol and all these
talent shows. Kids just want to turn up and be famous now. They
don’t want to do the years of hard graft to get there.’
The waitresses and
the regulars were used to April airing her thoughts in public, but
she drew some looks from those who didn’t know her.
‘Mind if I join in
your conversation?’ Connor beamed.
‘Oh,’ April laughed,
‘was I talking to myself again? I better stop that. People might
think I’m mad.’
‘There’s no “might”
about it, my batty old friend. Right, what have you got?’
April recounted her
meeting with Chantal Cameron. At the end Connor had just one
question: ‘How did Selina know Chantal was ripping her off unless
someone told her? I’m guessing it was the dealer and I have a funny
feeling I know who it is.’
15
Anchored Down
‘Oh, look
what the cat dragged in,’ roared Badger to a packed Anchorage bar
in Yoker’s Kelso Street.
Connor could see that
his old mentor was three sheets to the wind, which meant he’d
shifted a colossal amount of booze. Badger was rarely drunk –
more like constantly ‘topped up’, as Connor used to say.
The young
mentee – as he used to jokingly be called – was greeted
with a bear hug from his old mentor and proudly introduced to the
Anchorage regulars.
Connor then steered
his old friend to a quieter corner. ‘I need to meet the detective
in charge of the Seth case. Crosbie. Known as Bing. Doesn’t
frequent any boozers as far as I’m told.’
‘Crosbie, Crosbie,’
pondered Badger, ‘I’ve never heard of him. I’ll sort something out
for you. Anyway, how are things back at the ranch? Still hanging in
there by your fingertips, I see. Has that cunt Bent no’ been found
out yet?’
‘You’re just bitter
because he sacked you,’ Connor teased.
Badger pinched
Connor’s cheek hard in something that passed for affection before
announcing, ‘I’m off for a pish,’ and staggering off towards the
toilet.
One of Badger’s booze
buddies Wee Al approached Connor. Wee Al was around six feet four
with a ruddy drinker’s complexion like Badger’s. He plonked himself
down on the seat next to Connor and sighed, ‘He’s ill, you
know.’
Connor brushed it
off. ‘No wonder with the amount he drinks.’
‘No, he’s really
ill,’ Wee Al added, touching Connor’s hand to emphasise the point.
‘He speaks of you all the time. You’re like the son he never
had.’
Badger and his wife
Rita had never had children. He’d never explained why.
Wee Al continued, ‘He
thinks the world of you. He’s always banging on about “Elvis this”
and “Elvis that”. But he’s dying … that’s why he’s drinking
more than ever. He’s in pain.’
Connor felt a wave of
emotion crash over him. He’d never had a dad growing up and Badger
had become something of a father figure.
Badger returned
singing ‘Blue Suede Shoes’. ‘Come on, Elvis, geez a wee shake of
those snake hips,’ he demanded.
Connor needed to
speak to him in the cold light of day. He’d take his opportunity
tomorrow, hopefully, when Badger called with details on how to meet
Crosbie.
Osiris was
seriously hacked off. He’d spent the day travelling from one
faceless industrial unit to another for a day of meetings with
various depot managers. Because he was from head office he got
nothing but moans from the branch bosses about how they’d run
things differently. Osiris would put on his best sympathetic
expression but inwardly he was glad these morons were basically
nothing more than over-promoted truck drivers.
But that
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