Between Two Thieves Read online

  “Steve!” snapped the cocksure man. “You need to shut up before your mouth runs away and you get your arse kicked.”

  “You back off,” barked Dan. A fierce look appeared in the cocky guy’s eyes, but the look in Dan’s dark eyes was fiercer still. Robbo folded his arms and the girl smirked in admiration.

  “Steve can tell us whatever he likes,” said Dan.

  “I was just saying he should think of the consequences, that’s all.”

  “But I like Carl,” said Steve. “He looked after me. I just mean there might be more to it than it seems.”

  “Please go on,” said Eva.

  “These vigils of his. That’s what he called them. Sometimes he used to go down the airport. Sometimes he used to drive down to Tilbury docks. Sometimes to the beach. He didn’t tell me about all of it, but what if he was onto something. He thought they were fighting for God. He took risks. What if he got in someone’s way...?”

  “You mean the drug dealers?” said Eva.

  “Yeah. Whoever ships ‘em in. That would have been a very risky business.”

  Dan frowned. He looked at Eva and nodded his head.

  “That sounds like a possibility.”

  “Yeah?” said Robbo. “Well, you’d better hope you’re wrong about that, Steve, or you just might have put your own head on the block.”

  “Only if one of you goes and snitches on him,” said Dan. “At least he wants to help.”

  “Steve?! He’s got no good in him,” said Robbo, laughing. Even the woman with the eyes for Dan started snickering. “He just needs his meds. You’re lucky he didn’t start spouting on about his other conspiracy theories as well. If he did, you’d still be here at midnight

  “Does anyone else in there have any other ideas about what happened to Mr Renton?” said Eva.

  “There is no one else in this gaff,” said Robbo. “The cat’s away so the mice and all that. We’re the only hold-outs left.”

  “Then what about staff?” said Eva. “Does anyone else work here besides Carl Renton?”

  “Yeah. Colin works here too,” said Steve. “Colin Boyd. He’ll have his work cut out with the smackheads up the road. They’re harder to deal with than us lot.”

  “Harder than you, Steve?” said the girl, with a wicked smile.

  “That lot?” said Steve. “They’re shiftier than the forty thieves. Most of ‘em are thieves an’ all.”

  “That mouth of yours, Steve...” said Robbo, sucking his teeth.

  “Then maybe we should speak to the people in the other house too,” said Eva.

  Robbo gave Eva a prolonged look then transferred his gaze to Dan.

  “Yeah, maybe you should,” said Robbo, with a smarmy grin.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” said Dan. He winked at Robbo, confirming the added edge in his words were just for him. As Eva and Dan turned away, the red-haired girl made an “ooooo-oooooh!” sound, and broke into a wheezy laugh.

  “He doesn’t frighten me,” said Robbo.

  “Yes he does,” said Steve. Nervous Steve smiled and walked back into the house.

  “What did you make of that?” said Dan as they walked away.

  “That you wanted to knock that guy’s head off,” said Eva.

  “That goes without saying. I met a ton of people like him back in the day. Nothing changes among those on the lowest rung of the ladder. But I meant that guy’s story, about what could have happened to Carl Renton.”

  “Like you said,” Eva replied. “I think it sounds plausible. The volunteer types – the Christians you knew at the foodbank. Some of them were like that, right?”

  “Like...?”

  “Sold out to the cause. Like they would have risked everything for their faith. Maybe even their lives.”

  “There were a few. For some it was a hobby, for others just a day job. That was plain to see. But for half of them, there was nowhere else they’d have rather been. Like old time Billy Grahams, or Victorian missionaries who would cry tears for the love of God. I had no idea those kind of people still existed until I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “I suppose it must have been heartening, in its way.”

  “It was, and yet at the same time I found it weird. Even so, you couldn’t fault those people. They helped us because they believed it was the right thing to do. And yes, I think Carl Renton could have been exactly that type of person.”

  “Which means he’s probably been putting his life at risk for weeks, maybe even years, trying to face down these drug dealers.”

  “Hmmm,” said Dan. “Not smart, I agree. I saw volunteer guys do the very same thing at The Refuge. They tried to take on the dealers once or twice. I admired their guts, but I also thought they were dumb as hell. They had nothing to back them up but blind faith.”

  “You have to admire that, Dan.”

  “I know you do,” said Dan.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Deep down you’ve got that same kind of hope, haven’t you? That’s where your tenacity comes from.”

  “And you don’t?” said Eva.

  “Not quite. I’ve got something. Whatever it is, it tells me I’ve got to fight like hell to see any kind of justice in this world.”

  “I know what you mean.” She gave Dan a forlorn smile. “I think it goes with the job.”

  Dan’s eyes landed on the Alfa as it came into view. The glare of the sunlight on the windscreen faded and he saw there was no one inside.

  “Eva, they’re not in the car.”

  “What?” said Eva.

  “Mark and Joanne. They’re gone.”

  Eva looked into the Alfa and saw Dan was right. Her half smile dropped right off her face.

  Up ahead, where there had been a cluster of malingerers outside the other house, the street was now empty.

  Eva’s throat tightened. Dan started walking at a determined pace.

  Joanne walked into the narrow front hallway of the compact terraced house, following the tight chicane of a corridor past the stairwell towards the back rooms. Mark followed close behind Joanne, as two large-eyed men who smelt of cigarette smoke and acrid body odour pushed up close behind him. He found both men frightening. They were almost animalistic. Their thoughts seemed to be written across their strained, electric eyes and one of them was sharper than the other. From the moment they had arrived at the house, the men only had eyes for Joanne, and one of them stared at her so much it felt vulgar. He looked her up and down, his eyes flicking between her face and her legs like he was watching a sporting spectacle. Joanne acted like she didn’t notice. Either that or she was playing dumb. Mark guessed all women had to do that to some degree. Like every man was a potential sex pest in waiting. Ahead of her, two more led the way. A girl with a skull-like face, her hair tied back into a severe black and silver ponytail and another skeletal man who reminded Mark of a bygone Brazilian footballer way past his sell by date. They led the way deeper into the belly of the house. It felt like they were being escorted to the dungeon for terror and interrogation, and who knew? Perhaps they were. Mark’s eyes flitted past the health and safety notices on the wall and the signs about not stealing food. He saw notices about house meetings and prayer groups and key worker appointments, and didn’t like any of it. Even the house smelt odd. It smelt of cooking grease, baked beans, sweat and cheap disinfectant.

  “So everyone here is in recovery?” said Joanne.

  “Yeah,” said the frail Brazilian lookalike, in a rough voice. “Recovery from crack, heroin, meth, you name it, we’ve all been on it in here.”

  “How far into your recovery are you?” said Mark. He knew the question sounded bad as soon as he’d said it. He felt one of the men behind him leaning over his shoulder and turned back to see the second lanky guy leering at Joanne’s backside as she walked. The guy gave Mark a toothy yellow grin, as if to say, ‘Can’t blame me, can you?’ Mark frowned but didn’t say a word. They were outnumbered, and on unknown territory. He shifted his body to block the guy
’s view. The other man with the shifty eyes chuckled.

  They walked into a small dining room decked with cheap brown carpet where a second-hand dining table had been turned into a meeting table. There was a flipchart arranged by the bay window and a garden door at the back. Mark was relieved to see a man with some kind of authority sitting with his legs crossed at the table, with an impish, sweaty fifty-something guy in a tracksuit sitting beside him. The rehab worker’s authority was denoted by his clipboard and glasses. Other than that, he had little else to give them any hope of protection from the rehab clients. The man was blond haired, frail looking, and bespectacled with tension all over his face. The guy looked edgier than anyone else in the house.

  “Who are these people, Ken?” said the man, looking up at Mark and Joanne with an expression of confusion and irritation.

  The Brazilian guy answered. “Think they need to see you, Colin.”

  The guy sitting with Colin beamed at Joanne. “If she moves in can I move in with her?”

  The others laughed.

  “Sorry but my living arrangements are already sorted, thanks,” said Joanne. She took Mark’s arm by way of a statement. A second later and all the guys in the room were looking at him, and Joanne was oblivious but Mark felt himself beginning to sweat as much as the rest of them.

  “I didn’t know we were due any visitors today,” said Colin, the man with the clipboard. He adjusted his spectacles on his thin nose. “Look. It’s really not convenient. We’re going to have an urgent house meeting in a minute. So, which agency are you from?”

  Joanne misunderstood. “Agency?” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Wherever you’re from, you still have to call ahead and arrange an appointment to see us.”

  “Yeah,” said the Brazilian. “And by then this house probably won’t even be here.”

  “Why did you say that?” said Joanne. She turned to look into the man’s dark, glassy eyes. A faint twinkle appeared a moment later, like his brain was on a go slow.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll still be here,” said Colin, but he didn’t sound convinced. Mark noticed the silver crucifix around his neck.

  “Carl Renton, the man behind this outfit has gone walkies,” said the woman.

  “Vanished,” said the Brazilian. “Which means this place will probably vanish soon too,” he said.

  “You don’t know that,” said Colin. “This is a charity. There are processes, procedures, the trustees too. The house can’t just disappear. Don’t panic.”

  “Oh yeah?” said the woman, with a hard edge in her voice. “Then why do you look so spooked, eh, Colin? Is it because you think you’re out of a job?”

  Colin sighed. His mouth twitched. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be provided for no matter what happens.”

  “The Good Lord provides,” said the Brazilian type. “Preach it, bruv.” The men behind Mark laughed out loud. There was no way of knowing whether the man was being facetious or not. It seemed Colin couldn’t tell either.

  “Are you from the newspapers?” said Colin, studying Mark and Joanne anew. “I don’t recognise you two from the mental health circuit.”

  “We’re not on the mental health circuit,” said Mark. Whatever that was... “We’re from a private investigations agency.”

  There was a briefest silence followed by snorts of laughter and derision.

  “You two? Private investigators,” said one of the men behind them. “Do me a favour? You’ve read too many comics.”

  “No,” said another, who nudged Mark in the back. “He’s the one reading the comics,” said one of the men behind them. “She looks capable of anything.”

  “Leave her alone,” said Mark, wheeling round.

  “Oooooooh!” said the shifty one. “The geek fancies a tussle.”

  “Eddie, stop it!” said Colin. “Okay. Emergency house meeting in two minutes. I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are, but frankly, this isn’t the time. I can’t speak to anyone about the situation here until I’ve spoken to the trustees.”

  “So can I take it that you really don’t know what’s happened to Mr Renton?” said Joanne.

  The man took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “No... no, I don’t. I only wish I did. Now, please, I need to get this house in order. You’ll have to leave. I mean it. I can barely get a hold of the clients as it is, without having any more problems to deal with.”

  “Okay. We’re going. But just one thing,” said Joanne. “What do you think could have happened to him? Where do you think he might be now, for instance?”

  The man shook his head. “Sorry. I just don’t know.”

  But a voice from behind Mark’s shoulder caught their attention. The shifty looking one with the sharp eyes looked at them and there was an unpleasant smile on his face.

  “I told Carl he was playing with fire. This rehab lark. This is a game for ex-junkies. Hard people who’ve been there and know how the cookie crumbles. Carl is just a big softy. I told him straight.” The guy had two small little dark eyes set close together over a narrow nose.

  “Eddie, stop talking!” snapped Colin. “Don’t say another word until we’ve had our house meeting.”

  “Why not? The pretty one is asking all the questions. We’re not going to see anything like her around here again.” Eddie turned his sharp eyes back to Joanne. Mark felt the hackles rising on the back of his neck. If he was big enough, tough enough, Mark would have told them all where to go. In recovery or not, they were still rogues, one and all. The man kept talking, his eyes on Joanne the whole time.

  “Carl asked me how I got switched onto brown. Heroin. I told him and Carl got all angry and said he wanted to meet these dealers face to face, to show them the harm they were doing. He said that at my interview when I joined the house. And I know he said the same to others. Did he say that to you, Ken?”

  “Oh yeah,” said the slow-witted one standing beside him. “He said it at every interview. He meant it too, like. It’s like he had a death wish.”

  “A life wish,” corrected Colin. “Carl wants to save lives.”

  “By risking his own? Now that is the dumbest thing I ever heard,” said Eddie.

  Colin stood up. “You’ll have to leave now, please.” He gestured to the housemates as if to say ‘can you see what I have to deal with?’ and Joanne nodded.

  “Thanks. We might be back.”

  “By appointment only,” said Colin.

  “Or any time you like,” wheezed Ken, to laughs all round.

  Mark tugged Joanne’s arm. “Come on. We learned something, didn’t we?”

  “Back to reading comics, eh?” said Eddie. Mark ignored him, but Joanne gave the man a sharp look as she passed him in the corridor. He didn’t make it easy for her to slide past.

  “Thanks again,” she called. But the clipboard guy didn’t respond. Instead, as they made their way along the corridor, they found the man with the sharp eyes, and the other man – the one who stared, following close behind. Mark turned back. “You’ve got a house meeting to go to,” he said.

  “It’s a free country,” said Eddie. “And Colin’s really not worth listening to. Not when you two are here. You look much more fun.”

  The man called Ken laughed, but his eyes were all over Joanne now. Even Joanne seemed to notice, and Mark saw the revulsion on her face as she withdrew and pressed herself to his side.

  “We’re going now,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t be like that. We don’t get many visitors in here,” said sharp-eyed Eddie. The other man was quiet. But Mark didn’t like the hungry look in his eyes, nor the way he kept gulping and swallowing. Like a man starving for a good meal.

  “We’re still going,” said Mark.

  “You’re going alright,” said Eddie. “No trouble there at all. You can just turn around and walk out of that door and no one here will say a word. Get back to reading your comics, son.”

  The other man laughed out loud. Mark slid his arm around Joanne’s shou
lders and started to turn her away towards the front door.

  “Come on. Let’s go,” he said.

  As he spoke, a big bony hand landed on Joanne’s other arm, and she was pulled back. It was Eddie. The man beside him was champing at the bit. A glimmer of panic showed in Joanne’s eyes.

  “Let her go!” said Mark. “You’re making a big mistake.”

  “No, sunshine. You’re making the mistake.”

  “If I call out – or if she screams, you’ll be in trouble then,” said Mark. “You’d get evicted. Lose your chance at getting clean, all because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  Eddie’s grim smile widened and the man shook his head.

  “See? That’s where people like you... and those other idiots from the agencies don’t understand people like me and Ken here...” The man leaned forward. The smell of his rotten, tobacco infused breath filled both their faces. For the first time, Mark noticed the small dot on his cheek wasn’t a mole. It was a prison tattoo.

  “Not all of us want help. You know the thing is with brown. Heroin, I mean... It’s the best thing in the world. Seriously. It’s so moreish. Once you pop you just can’t stop, and I don’t even want to. No one who’s ever had that buzz ever really wants to stop, not deep down. They might be able to convince themselves for a bit, but really, all they want is the next hit. And me? I only live here because Renton offered me a bed. That’s all. I’m not giving up anything. Get me?”

  “Then you shouldn’t be wasting their time,” said Joanne.

  “She’s a sassy little mare, isn’t she?” said Eddie, and squeezed her arm. “I’m not wasting anybody’s time, darling. Carl Renton isn’t coming back. Anyone with any common sense can see what happened. Dealers don’t muck around because they can’t afford to, sweetheart, and poor old Carl Renton thought he could take on anyone. Shame to say it, but he was wrong.” Eddie squeezed her shoulder and Ken laughed like a drain.

  “Get your hand off me or I’ll scream,” said Joanne.

  “Think that’ll work, do you? Colin is as weak as a mouse. He isn’t going to do a damn thing whether you scream or not. The man’s already quit. I can see it his eyes. So why don’t you just come upstairs with me and my mate for a little while, and who knows, maybe I’ll even show you why brown is so very, very nice.”