Read Online The Shift of Numbers by David Warrington - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Warrington
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over the note . “…How would y ou like to earn some more money? Let’s say, 50 pounds. ”
“My mam always told me not to talk to strange men. C ome on , Timmy. L et ’ s go to the shops.”
“Hold up , Walter. What would we have to do for 50 quid? ” a sked Tim , boldly. “ We ain’t going anywhere with you.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” s aid the man mildly with a wave of his hand . “A ll I want you to do is find something for me. That woman, your sister, took somethi ng of mine and I want it back. E asy money for you, I’m sure.”
“Well, what is i t ?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. All I will tell you is that it’s got the initials SNJ on it somewhere and it’s quite small. The rest you will have to figure out yourself.”
“Sounds stupid, why can’t you tell us?”
“Put simply, I don’t want you to know what it is, should you not find it. If you do find it, phone this number and leave a message, just a time, nothing else. I will meet you here with the money. Is that clear?”
“Yea h, I suppose 50 quid each is worth it …” r eplied Tim with a cheeky glint in his eye.
“I never said each.”
“Well I’m sure you can find someone else.” Tim turned to walk away.
“ Okay , okay . Hold up… 50 each it is, but not a word to anyone.” And with that he had vanished down the street into the rain.
“What a waste of time. W e don’t even know what he wants us to find for him ,” said Walter angrily.
Tim gazed thoughtfully at the ground. “Nah, it ’s not that hard. T hink about it. Grace stole it off him, but he can’t go to the police. W hy?”
“Dunno. ”
“He don’t want anyone to find out it ’ s gone missing. It’s small, val uable, with some initials on it; probably his , if he got it stole off him…” L ost in thought , for a few minutes , Tim wandered round the bus shelter until , finally , he came to a stop, looking directly at Walter with an air of tri umphant arrogance. “I bet you that fiver it ’ s his wedding ring.”
“How ’d you figure that?”
“Simple , ain’t it? ”
As soon as Tim got home , he waited until his sister had gone out before he carefully and silently set about burgling her room. It was too easy; in the top draw of her dresser he removed a small wooden music box. What was inside , however , surprised him momentarily and set his mind racing. Glinting in the light of his small bicycle lamp were about 30 wedding rings, all men’s. Quickly searching through them he found 1 bearing the initials SNJ and retreated to his room with his prize.
The next day, phoning the number and leaving a message , the 2 boys had met with the mysterious man and , without a word being spoken in expl anation, received their reward. 1 of Tim’s lastin g memories of the ‘Case of the Missing R ing’ , as Walter had termed it , occurred l ater that evening around the dinner table. Seated on mismatc hed chairs in their concret e palace, sat Tim, Grace and their mom and d ad. After finish ing supper, a weekly treat of fish and chips, Grace declared to the room that she was off out.
“You’re going out again?” exclaimed their dad , loudly .
“That ’s nearly every night this week,” c hirped in mom. “ I just don’t know where you find the money.”
Grace’s noc turnal wa nderings, though, were now as clear to Tim as that fancy bottled water they sold down the shops. His new knowledge , bubbling just under the surface of his mind, was forced out with the arrogance and innocence of youth : “Don’t you get it? It’s so obvious?”
“What’s so obvious?” Without waiting for a reply their mother turned to Grace, “You going down that night club again?”
“It ’ s none of your business , mom. I can go where I please.” Grace’s face betrayed her though, but only Tim could see it: f or a split second , before she went back to being angry , he caught a glimpse of sadness in her eyes.
“It is when you ’ r e
“My mam always told me not to talk to strange men. C ome on , Timmy. L et ’ s go to the shops.”
“Hold up , Walter. What would we have to do for 50 quid? ” a sked Tim , boldly. “ We ain’t going anywhere with you.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” s aid the man mildly with a wave of his hand . “A ll I want you to do is find something for me. That woman, your sister, took somethi ng of mine and I want it back. E asy money for you, I’m sure.”
“Well, what is i t ?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. All I will tell you is that it’s got the initials SNJ on it somewhere and it’s quite small. The rest you will have to figure out yourself.”
“Sounds stupid, why can’t you tell us?”
“Put simply, I don’t want you to know what it is, should you not find it. If you do find it, phone this number and leave a message, just a time, nothing else. I will meet you here with the money. Is that clear?”
“Yea h, I suppose 50 quid each is worth it …” r eplied Tim with a cheeky glint in his eye.
“I never said each.”
“Well I’m sure you can find someone else.” Tim turned to walk away.
“ Okay , okay . Hold up… 50 each it is, but not a word to anyone.” And with that he had vanished down the street into the rain.
“What a waste of time. W e don’t even know what he wants us to find for him ,” said Walter angrily.
Tim gazed thoughtfully at the ground. “Nah, it ’s not that hard. T hink about it. Grace stole it off him, but he can’t go to the police. W hy?”
“Dunno. ”
“He don’t want anyone to find out it ’ s gone missing. It’s small, val uable, with some initials on it; probably his , if he got it stole off him…” L ost in thought , for a few minutes , Tim wandered round the bus shelter until , finally , he came to a stop, looking directly at Walter with an air of tri umphant arrogance. “I bet you that fiver it ’ s his wedding ring.”
“How ’d you figure that?”
“Simple , ain’t it? ”
As soon as Tim got home , he waited until his sister had gone out before he carefully and silently set about burgling her room. It was too easy; in the top draw of her dresser he removed a small wooden music box. What was inside , however , surprised him momentarily and set his mind racing. Glinting in the light of his small bicycle lamp were about 30 wedding rings, all men’s. Quickly searching through them he found 1 bearing the initials SNJ and retreated to his room with his prize.
The next day, phoning the number and leaving a message , the 2 boys had met with the mysterious man and , without a word being spoken in expl anation, received their reward. 1 of Tim’s lastin g memories of the ‘Case of the Missing R ing’ , as Walter had termed it , occurred l ater that evening around the dinner table. Seated on mismatc hed chairs in their concret e palace, sat Tim, Grace and their mom and d ad. After finish ing supper, a weekly treat of fish and chips, Grace declared to the room that she was off out.
“You’re going out again?” exclaimed their dad , loudly .
“That ’s nearly every night this week,” c hirped in mom. “ I just don’t know where you find the money.”
Grace’s noc turnal wa nderings, though, were now as clear to Tim as that fancy bottled water they sold down the shops. His new knowledge , bubbling just under the surface of his mind, was forced out with the arrogance and innocence of youth : “Don’t you get it? It’s so obvious?”
“What’s so obvious?” Without waiting for a reply their mother turned to Grace, “You going down that night club again?”
“It ’ s none of your business , mom. I can go where I please.” Grace’s face betrayed her though, but only Tim could see it: f or a split second , before she went back to being angry , he caught a glimpse of sadness in her eyes.
“It is when you ’ r e
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