Read Online Sure and Certain Death by Barbara Nadel - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Nadel
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Plaistow.’
‘Oh, Barking Road,’ the younger man said to the older. ‘Fred, he’s that darkie undertaker.’
‘Oh!’ Fred Dickens smiled, showing me very quickly his complete absence of teeth. ‘Oh, you’re that one who runs about when raids are on, ain’t you?’
I do, and so I didn’t bother to deny it. After all, even if people are roaring drunk they generally deserve the truth about matters. I run out into the street when bombs start to fall because I fear being buried alive. I make no secret of it.
‘Mr Dickens,’ I said.
‘Mate, do you have any drink about you?’ the other, presumably Ronnie Arnold, asked me.
‘I don’t, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘Although I can offer you and Mr Dickens a fag.’
Fred Dickens’s drink-sodden face assumed a serious expression. ‘You got Passing Clouds or something else posh, have you?’ he said.
I put my hand in my jacket pocket and took out a packet of Capstan Full Strength. ‘No . . .’
‘Oh, Capstans’ll do lovely!’ Ronnie Arnold said as he leaned across and took two fags from my packet.
‘I’ll have some of them!’ Fred Dickens said. But as his mate began to shakily light up one of his smokes, I withdrew my hand and the fags to one side for a moment.
‘Mr Dickens,’ I said, ‘I know that you’ve recently lost your wife . . .’
‘Gi’us a fag!’ Fred Dickens pushed against me, trying to grab the Capstans from my hand.
‘Mr Dickens, you’re still in mourning, I know . . .’
‘You gonna give me a fag then, wog?’
Ronnie was smoking contentedly away in his own little booze-soaked world. But Fred was getting aggressive. One thing that he wasn’t, however, was upset, at least not visibly so, about his late departed wife.
Still holding the fags out of his reach, I said, ‘Mr Dickens, what school did your wife go to when she was a kid?’
‘What school?’ Still looking up at the Capstans, he licked his dried-out lips and then said, ‘Why do you want to know where Violet went to school?’
‘I just do,’ I said. I didn’t want to have to stay and talk to these two for any longer than was necessary. Fred obviously wasn’t mourning his wife any more and I needed to carry on trying to find out if any connections existed between the Ripper murder victims – and maybe my sister Nancy too.
‘Why’d you want to know?’
‘If you tell me, truthfully,’ I said as I held the packet of fags up in front of him, just a little out of his reach, ‘you can have the whole packet.’
He stared at me for a bit then. Small black eyes surrounded by bloodshot whites tried, without success, to stare in what he probably imagined was a menacing way at me. But then he just caved in as drunks tend to do and said, ‘New City Road School. Give!’
I gave him the Capstans, which he shoved into the pocket of his jacket so quickly I almost didn’t see them go. I hadn’t wanted that particular answer, but I was glad nevertheless to have some sort of reply, even if it made me suspicious of and anxious about my sister. I was just about to go when Ronnie Arnold piped up and said, ‘Ripper done another one last night.’
‘What?’
‘Ripper,’ the red-headed man said. ‘Killed another woman last night.’
I leaned towards him and said, ‘Where? How do you know?’
‘Tilly talked about it,’ Fred Dickens said. ‘Talking nonsense!’ Then he turned to Ronnie Arnold, slapped him on the arm and said, ‘She’s a drunk! What you listen to her for? You should keep away from Tilly, like I told you!’
‘Fuck off!’
They started to fight.
I didn’t know who Tilly was or how she knew what these men claimed that she did. But I wasn’t going to find anything more out from either of them and so I left. I didn’t have long to wait to discover what the truth of the matter was, however. As soon as I got back into the shop, Doris pulled me to one side and said, ‘Mr H, a woman’s been killed up Plashet. They say she’s had her
‘Oh, Barking Road,’ the younger man said to the older. ‘Fred, he’s that darkie undertaker.’
‘Oh!’ Fred Dickens smiled, showing me very quickly his complete absence of teeth. ‘Oh, you’re that one who runs about when raids are on, ain’t you?’
I do, and so I didn’t bother to deny it. After all, even if people are roaring drunk they generally deserve the truth about matters. I run out into the street when bombs start to fall because I fear being buried alive. I make no secret of it.
‘Mr Dickens,’ I said.
‘Mate, do you have any drink about you?’ the other, presumably Ronnie Arnold, asked me.
‘I don’t, I’m afraid,’ I said. ‘Although I can offer you and Mr Dickens a fag.’
Fred Dickens’s drink-sodden face assumed a serious expression. ‘You got Passing Clouds or something else posh, have you?’ he said.
I put my hand in my jacket pocket and took out a packet of Capstan Full Strength. ‘No . . .’
‘Oh, Capstans’ll do lovely!’ Ronnie Arnold said as he leaned across and took two fags from my packet.
‘I’ll have some of them!’ Fred Dickens said. But as his mate began to shakily light up one of his smokes, I withdrew my hand and the fags to one side for a moment.
‘Mr Dickens,’ I said, ‘I know that you’ve recently lost your wife . . .’
‘Gi’us a fag!’ Fred Dickens pushed against me, trying to grab the Capstans from my hand.
‘Mr Dickens, you’re still in mourning, I know . . .’
‘You gonna give me a fag then, wog?’
Ronnie was smoking contentedly away in his own little booze-soaked world. But Fred was getting aggressive. One thing that he wasn’t, however, was upset, at least not visibly so, about his late departed wife.
Still holding the fags out of his reach, I said, ‘Mr Dickens, what school did your wife go to when she was a kid?’
‘What school?’ Still looking up at the Capstans, he licked his dried-out lips and then said, ‘Why do you want to know where Violet went to school?’
‘I just do,’ I said. I didn’t want to have to stay and talk to these two for any longer than was necessary. Fred obviously wasn’t mourning his wife any more and I needed to carry on trying to find out if any connections existed between the Ripper murder victims – and maybe my sister Nancy too.
‘Why’d you want to know?’
‘If you tell me, truthfully,’ I said as I held the packet of fags up in front of him, just a little out of his reach, ‘you can have the whole packet.’
He stared at me for a bit then. Small black eyes surrounded by bloodshot whites tried, without success, to stare in what he probably imagined was a menacing way at me. But then he just caved in as drunks tend to do and said, ‘New City Road School. Give!’
I gave him the Capstans, which he shoved into the pocket of his jacket so quickly I almost didn’t see them go. I hadn’t wanted that particular answer, but I was glad nevertheless to have some sort of reply, even if it made me suspicious of and anxious about my sister. I was just about to go when Ronnie Arnold piped up and said, ‘Ripper done another one last night.’
‘What?’
‘Ripper,’ the red-headed man said. ‘Killed another woman last night.’
I leaned towards him and said, ‘Where? How do you know?’
‘Tilly talked about it,’ Fred Dickens said. ‘Talking nonsense!’ Then he turned to Ronnie Arnold, slapped him on the arm and said, ‘She’s a drunk! What you listen to her for? You should keep away from Tilly, like I told you!’
‘Fuck off!’
They started to fight.
I didn’t know who Tilly was or how she knew what these men claimed that she did. But I wasn’t going to find anything more out from either of them and so I left. I didn’t have long to wait to discover what the truth of the matter was, however. As soon as I got back into the shop, Doris pulled me to one side and said, ‘Mr H, a woman’s been killed up Plashet. They say she’s had her
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