Bike trip to Kent
Talent show2 / If you don’t know what it is don’t take it / Is it a Sliding Doors moment if you’ve crowbarred the doors open?
Billy slept a hard, dreamless & awoke in the late morning. He was dazed from the trauma of the knife injury, the late night, he hadn’t smoked for quite a while & generally confused by his new surroundings. He was in good company as many other weekend visitors to Brixton are left dazed from the night before, many end up flapping around on the pavement like fish far from water. . .
“Morning. Morning”. He heard Dave step through the front door.
“Where’d you go?” asked Jess.
“A quick shopping trip, I’ve just been round to Lidl’s supermarket. I wasn’t expecting visitors so I’ve got nothing in. One of the strange things about Brixton is, for all the talk about it vibrancy the whole place is pretty much dead on a Sunday morning. You can go quite late in the morning and hardly see a soul. Many of the Newsagents don’t open until gone 10 am. The only people your likely to see are predominantly afro-Caribbean off to church in their Sunday best.
“It much like that in Forrest Hill. It seems the whole of godless south east London sleeps late on Sunday.”
“The only place open is Lidl. It’s also handy as it’s just over the fence at the bottom of the garden & it provides great fun at this time of year as it has the only space locally big enough for kids to set of fireworks. In the build up to bonfire night you get enormous bangs at all hours of the day and night. It keeps you on your toes, when we first moved in Em was certain it was gunfire.” He laughed. “I guess it all depends on your perception of risk & danger and whether you live in cloud cuckoo land, thinking the local kids come to the back of Lidl to have cowboys and Indians shoot ups.” He laughed again at his vision of stetsons, feather headdresses & hoodies roaming the tarmac car park taking pot shots at each other. Billy joined them in the kitchen stirred into action by the gurgling of the percolator and the aroma of fresh coffee.
Dave was in the process of cooking a curious breakfast of German sausages and tinned fish after which they readied themselves for the bike trip. Billy was uncertain what good the journey will be & was somewhat reticent to go. Finding it a bit awkward getting the helmet on over his bandages Billy asks Dave “ I’m not sure quite why we are doing this”
“A new angle of approach is required Doctor Watson”.
“You require something more substantial in you honorable quest against the gutter press & I am here to assist you, Sir. And besides it’ll be fun! It’s a nice day for a bike ride, we’ll go down to wherever it’s the wind shaking the cobwebs from our hair, clearing our minds and arrive ready to reconnoitre the enemy position”.
“You’ll deploy your physic powers and I will use my more tried and trusted methods. What’d ya say?”
“OK.”
Good man. Do you have a mobile phone? Leave it on & leave it here. Jess can you call it at around 3.30 today? The GPS will place Billy here – should there be any trouble further down the line.’
As Dave and Billy ready themselves to head off Jess says she’ll take a trip into the city to see Emma at the Camp against Capitalism.
“OK” said Dave, reminder her of what PJO’Rourke said about the Occupy protesters, ‘The useless in pursuit of the pointless. . .’ He laughed again. “Billy, leave your phone with, Maya, the woman upstairs and get her to call somebody from your contacts at about five-ish, if she can. We’ll be back by seven or eight. See you then.”
They travelled out along the south circular past Billy’s flat in Havelock Mews, Catford police station, over the M25 and out into the north Downs of Kent. Finally the journey took them past Brands Hatch racetrack and into the village of West Queensdown.
They pulled in at a pub, The Game Cock on the exit route of the village.
Dismounting Dave asked, “How’s the psyching stuff going?”
‘Nothing’ replied Billy, ‘Nothing helpful yet anyway. I think I’ve been enjoying the ride too much’.
‘Oh well, at least that’s something. Let’s get a bite to eat maybe something will turn up. This place looks alright, eh?’
As they entered the pub and approached the bar the barman greeted “How’s it going?”
“Good! Always good. How’s it with you today?”
The guy behind the bar gave a standard congenial response but within minutes Dave had struck up a cheery rapport with him. It was a slow Sunday afternoon in the pub.
“We are just passing through. We came and had a look at Brands Hatch. Saw this place & liked the look of it”
“Right”.
Dave asks “What are the main attraction round here, aside from the race track?”
“Nothing.”
“There must be some celebrities, somebody of notoriety, a famous murderer or criminal or, heaven forbid, somebody in the entertainment business’.
“Well if you’re interested in criminals Kenneth Noye of Brink’s-Mat robbery lived up on School Lane where he stabbed a copper to death 1985”.
“Whoa. That nutter? I’m on a gentle Sunday drive, you know. I’ve just a passing casual interest, not some weird obsession. I don’t wonna end up dead. A Wiki stat.”
As they ate the Sunday roast, Dave continued chatting with the Barman when he passed near their table and after they had finished he returned the plates to the bar the barman said.
“Well there’s also a bent copper lived here”
“That’s more like it, as long as he’s only a petty criminal, that’s fine with me. What his name?”
“Livery.”
“Never heard of him.” Lied Dave.
“He was at Catford nick. The word is he was involved with the murder of private detective. Then turned his hand to fitting people up and selling the story to the tabloids”.
“Sounds tasty & quite contemporary. It’s very fashionable to be a bent copper fraternising with components of a corrupt media. Where’s his gaffe?”
“It’s on Kingsingfield Road a cul-de-sac just behind this place.”
“Does it have any distinguishing features?”
“Yeah, you can’t miss it. It’s got a ridiculous concrete dog drinking from a fountain in the middle of the lawn.”
“Nice, I’ll look out for it.”
“I take it the copper got sent down for this murder?”
“No. But they locked him up for possessing indecent images of children”.
“Ew. I’m not sure I wanna get involved in that. But Thanks any way.”
Dave and Billy set off for the car park. On reaching the door Dave called back “Now, be lucky!”
Walking to the bike Dave said, “That went well. At least we have a picture of the place”.
“Yeah. What was it a concrete dog drinking at a fountain? Sounds pretty cheesy”.
“It should be easily enough to find the place. When we do, we’ll park up and then take a look around. Keep your helmet and let me know if suspect or see anything. OK?”
“Yup!”
They drove the short distance to Kingsingfield Road, which was composed of large detached houses, with a predominance of bungalows, set back from the road with large spacious drives but little physical security in the forms of fences or railings. What security there was more ornamental than functional. Clearly there was a low level of crime in this neighbourhood. There sure enough was the ridiculous dog drinking at the fountain at Livery’s house. Dave stops around the corner, hiding the bike on the pavement between one of the few high walls and a transit van.
“I’ve not see any wheelchair users around” said Dave “This looks fairly strait forward, I go around the back of the house”.
Brazenly Dave strolled down the middle of the pebbled drive and disappeared. The late afternoon light was fading into dusk. About a minute later the security alarm began ringing reverberating around the road. Billy’s anxiety rocketed. The alarm was silenced within 30 seconds and Dave appeared at the front door beckoning Billy in.
They stood on a thick, dark red patterned carpet in the hall.
“How did you get in?”
“Through their patio doors”.
“I gather you’ve done this sort of thing before”
“Yeah, a couple of times. Some places are more…” Dave said, reaching for the word “secure . . than this place. Easy eh? Gives me a bit of a buzz actually. I’ve still got it.” Dave grinned behind his visor.
What do you think we are looking for?’ asked Billy. “You’d have thought the police would have noticed anything incriminating when they searched the place for the CP.”
“Maybe. Maybe not mused Dave looking at carving he had picked up from the desk. “My first impression is somebody has been around recently. It was easy to come in through patio doors as they had tied the blind to latch suggesting they are still living here. Therefore they could be back at any moment – so be ready to look sharp. I’m guessing this person is his wife. It seems quite likely that he used to work computer for the download so the police never needed to come round here & even if they did they’d turn a blind eye, in a professional capacity, to anything incriminating they might see”.
Dave carefully replaced the carving and scanned the rest of the study. “For a copper it looks like he’s doing alright but what is all this other stuff? Looks like museum pieces to me.”
“Maybe it is. Or it could be occult stuff. . . ”
“Or both” quipped Dave.
Billy to looked round the room for some connection to the recent past. Billy took pictures with a small compact digital camera, as his eyes fell upon a photograph, he felt a glimmer of recognition. He picked up framed photo from the desk, he immediately felt the talent take hold. At that moment the light of a car’s headlights crossed the room. Billy saw flames, an intense, white light. Billy withdrew from the flames, as he did so he was able to see shadows, adding fuel to the fire. They were pleased. They’d done it. They were burning the evidence. Billy could also see another observer. The old man turned and stared directly at him. Billy was white & rigid. His head tilted backward as if he was looking for something on the ceiling. “Billy. Billy.” Whispered Dave urgently. “Billy. They’re back. Billy! Come on”. Dave heard the sound of a key in the lock. Dave backed through the patio door and bundling Billy out. With is hand over Billy’s mouth he maneuvered him over to the shadows provided by the garage and fence. Billy was still clutching the photo. They waited in the darkness. “Billy! Billy? Are back with us Billy?” A nod.
“Somebody has come home. Time to split. Don’t make a sound”
Another nod. Billy felt the picture frame slide from his hand.
“Better get rid of this”. Dave said taking the photo. The stiff cardboard back had worked loose. Something was tapped inside. Dave removed it, folded up the picture & put them in his back pocket before silently placing the frame on top of a bin. Within seconds they were back on the road. Dave was pushing the bike into the less well-lit part of the road. He started up the bike & gestured for Billy to get on. As they rode Billy felt a buzz of excitement, they had got away with it! There was also more than a tinge of worry.
He sensed the evidence relating Livery & the media to Williams’s murder had been torched & once again on the astral plane he had run into that evil old man again. Who is? Is he protecting Livery and if so why? The cool night air pressing on them as they cut their way back to London chilled Billy to his spine.
Brixton debrief
It took just under an hour to get back to Brixton. Just after bike mounted the pavement in front of Dave’s place, Jess opened the front door clearly relieved to see the pair of them. In the comparative isolation of the pillion passenger Billy’s mind had been racing a mile-a-minute. Revisiting the events of the day and trying to piece them together with what he already knew. He was almost unable to speak with excitement when he removed the helmet.
Dave took of his crash helmet and gave Bill abroad grin. “Enjoy that? Was it informative?”
“What happened Dave? I just remember picking up the picture”
“Man it was like Voodoo. You went white and rigid as a board. Right at the moment the ol’ lady turned up! I could have killed you myself”
“What? What the fuck!” Jess couldn’t believe hear ears, “Come you two. Stop the bullshit and get inside”.
Dave described the chat with the barman, the ridiculous concrete dog, how he got into the house & the artifacts strewn around Livery’s study. Billy showed them the pictures he’d taken. He never went any where with out the camera and the lead up upload them to a computer, the most essential piece of kit for the professional artist. Dave recounted how Billy went into a trance when he picked up the picture & how he extricated Billy & himself, finally prizing the trip-inducing object away from the addict’s clutch.
Dave removed the photo that set Billy off from his pocket and put it on the table. It was a black and white picture of Livery and another middle aged white man. There was no suggestion of fire. Billy told them he got a time-shot off the picture and saw them burning the evidence Williams had put together against them. He then said “The man in the picture Livery was there. This guy, usually older than he looks in this picture, is everywhere I go each time I astral travel. Right from the beginning, but I’ve got no idea who he is.”
“Well, he looks real enough here as his young self” said Dave.
After they had been over it enough time to know day off by heart & inside out. Dave turned to Billy “So what’s the significance of the key?”
Eh? Jess and Billy said in unison.
While you we away with the fairies I took the picture from you. The back of it had come off and I found this tapped inside”. Dave held up a door key. The other two stared in disbelief.
“Show me” demanded Billy
Grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat Dave moved to pass it over.
Jess started to say “Is that wise?”
On touching the key Billy turned pale and slipped into a trance, again. . . .
Latter after they’d got Billy into bed still in a trance like state & still clutching the key. Dave and Emma are sitting at the kitchen. “I’m not sure about Billy’s what’s he call it?”
“Talent?”
“Yeah. I mean I could have told you that they would probably burn incriminating evidence. But in that house today he froze, rigid like in a weird frozen fit or something. He should get some pills for it. Get it straightened it out.”
“I see your point but he might have something, I‘ve seen enough weird inexplainable stuff these passed few days to last a lifetime of campfire ghost stories . . .”
She looked over to the bathroom door in the corner of the kitchen. Beyond it the small bathroom window was visible. “Do you remember how your cat used to sit on the bathroom windowsill meowing to be let in?”
“Freddy? Yeah of course. Why do you ask?”
“Billy asked me about it today.”
“But he’s been gone years. Must have been a different cat.”
“An all black one with a silent meow?”
“Freddy . . . what happened to you?” thought Dave.
They went to bed in silence. Back in West Queensdown, Mrs Livery wife does/not report the breaking but not the loss of picture. She’s pleased to see the back of it.
