Shadows of Deceit (7 page)

“Thank you, yes, a small beer, and do you want a top up?”

“Yes please.” Harry glanced up at the images in the bar mirror,

‘So that is Dermot, and I’m going to meet him before Andrew can formally introduce us.’

“Good health to you sir.”

The barman distracted Harry from his gaze as he acknowledged his drink. Harry remained sitting on the stool as he resumed his reflective surveillance of the others. The barman busied himself polishing the bar. Harry then noticed Dermot swaying towards him. He was a huge man, ‘must be twenty stone at least’ Harry thought. He came closer and stood at the bar; he was now breathless as he wheezed out a command,

“We’ll ‘ave another round of drinks put it on my tab. I’m going for a piss.”

There was no please or thank you Harry noticed. He watched him weave his way through the tables and chairs to the toilets. He was wearing an old dark blue suit with brown shoes which the trouser bottoms didn’t touch. The bulk of his expanding waistline had eliminated that sartorial nicety long ago.

“That’s Dermot?”

“Yep, that’s him, nice and polite as usual.”

The barman continued preparing a tray of drinks.

“What does he do for work?”

“He’s part owner of this place as well as being in some property or building business I think.”

“The other men, Beecham and Bunn?”

“They run a garage in town. Both are ex-police by the way.”

Harry sipped his drink and watched the two men reflected in the mirror talking to the women. Then he heard Dermot coughing loudly and turned to watch him emerge from the toilets. He walked slowly back to his chair whilst still buttoning his flies. Harry also noticed that he had part pissed himself, a wet stain was slowly spreading across his crotch. The barman followed him across to the table with the fresh drinks, collected the empties and returned. He poured a drink for Harry,

“This is your’s sir, a gift from Mr Cassidy’s table.”

Harry turned to look and raised his glass in acknowledgement. Dermot held his hand up to wave Harry across to their table,

“Don’t sit there all alone come and join us for a drink. What’s your name?”

“Harry, Harry Davies.”

Harry went across and sat down next to Dermot who was still breathing heavily after the exertion of walking back from the toilet.

“The name’s Cassidy - Dermot Cassidy.”

His voice was loud and coarse.

“You’re new around here?”

One of the other men enquired.

“I have been here before; the doorman recognised me and let me in.”

Dermot cut in, “Doorman? That’s Wemyss he owns this place. Doorman he says!” Dermot exchanged the joke with the other men.

“You’ve obviously had a good day. Are you celebrating?” Harry ventured.

Dermot answered,

“No not really, we just arrange to meet up here once a month. What business are you in?”

Harry quickly decided not to say too much,

“Well I’m in between at the moment; I’ve only just come up from the south. So I’m still looking.”

“What were you doing then; you know
- before?” Steve Beecham asked.

Harry repeated the story he had given to Andrew previously.

“Well, I was in a reserved occupation, engineering, but after being bombed out and injured I was released from duties for a while pending recovery. I’m well on the mend now so I may be called back for a medical in a month or so.”

Beecham leaned forward to get nearer to Harry,

“And before that, what did you do?”

“I also did some bouncing, you know clubs, places like this. Years before that I worked on various building sites as a labourer. Recently I just got a bit bored staying in London so, when I felt well enough, I thought I’d come up north for a while to fully recuperate. I haven’t been up this way for many a year.”

Dermot responded, his voice now wheezing again,

“Well, you never know, we might be able to assist you in the interim.”

“Sorry -” Harry said, turning towards Beecham, “– I’ve only introduced myself so far, and you are?”

Dermot’s two assistants introduced themselves to Harry. Tommy Bunn was a tall thin man with short, fine, grey hair. He had high cheekbones that made his stretched facial skin appear slightly sunken. His eyes were large, rounded and strikingly blue. He smiled readily and offered his hand immediately in friendship with a firm grip and thumb pressure applied between Harry’s knuckles. Harry also noticed one other curiosity. When Tommy spoke directly to someone he closed his eyes and moved his head as though he was reading the words projected onto his lids.

Harry turned to face the other man. Steve Beecham was also tall but strongly built. His face was rounded but his eyes appeared almost black, hooded and almond - shaped. He sported a thin black moustache on the lower edge of his top lip.

‘This guy’s fit,’ Harry thought.

His demeanour was more confrontational, somehow intimidating. He was late in offering his hand to shake and when he did, his grip was overly tight, his face gave no hint of any genuine friendship likely to develop. As he withdrew his hand, Steve gave a brief thin smile as he stared directly into Harry’s eyes. The remaining guests at the table continued drinking.

‘These are the hangers-on,’ Harry decided.

Tommy turned to face Harry,

“Have you any sporting interests?”

“I like most sports; I used to play rugby a lot, and a bit of boxing now and again.” Harry stopped as the barman came across.

“Mr Cassidy, your cars are here.”

“Time to go fellas.”

Dermot struggled to his feet and shook hands with Harry; the other two men quickly downed their drinks and stood up. Dermot led the way and they followed him out. The rest of the party also downed their drinks hoping that they might be asked to accompany them; but they were to be disappointed.

Harry was walking to the bar when Tommy came back into the lounge.

“Harry, Mr Cassidy has asked if you would like to accompany him.”

Harry decided to go; there might be a living to be made. He was more curious now than before. Andrew’s proposed introduction had been circumvented. Harry asked the barman to contact Eileen and explain where he was.

As the two men walked towards the reception area they became aware of an argument developing. Three drunken men in their late thirties were demanding to be let into the bar. One of them recognised Dermot.

“That’s the other bastard!”

Dermot tried to push his way to the waiting car but was stopped by one of the men,

“You, you fucking pig. You’re the one that threw us out of our house!”

The man took a wild swing but was pushed aside by Tommy and Steve. The other two drunks started to push forward to get at Dermot. Harry instinctively punched the first one hard on the nose, which caused him to fall to the floor moaning.

“Get out Dermot!” Harry shouted as he turned to confront the third assailant. Tommy and Steve ushered Dermot outside. A fight began, the third man lunged towards Harry and caught him on the chin; the impact made him crash heavily into the desk where Wemyss was sitting. Harry swiftly recovered his position and hit his attacker hard in the stomach before finishing the argument with a head butt that caused the aggressor to slump to the floor. Tommy and Steve quickly returned and roughly pushed all three men out into the street.

“Get out of here and don’t ever come back.” Steve shouted.

He then went over to the one who had slipped on the pavement and savagely kicked him several times in the back. Tommy held Steve and restrained him,

“That’s enough Steve, enough. He’s got your message.”

Steve slowly withdrew after one final kick.

“Enough Steve!”

Tommy pulled his partner away and turned to face Harry who was now standing in the doorway with Wemyss,

“Are you alright?”

“Yea, just a bit out of practice, I’ve hurt my fist though.”

Harry said rubbing his knuckles.

“Will you get the fuck out of here; I’m trying to run a decent club.”

Wemyss said as he checked his shirt cuffs,

“Be away with you now before other guests start arriving.”

“No problem, we’ll see you again soon.” Tommy said.

Outside they found Dermot already seated in his car. Harry was invited to sit with him. Tommy and Steve followed in another vehicle. As the cars pulled out into the traffic Harry noticed that the three attackers were moving away into the darkness.

“Thank you for that, you are useful.” Dermot said.

“You knew these men?”

“One of them I’ve seen before. I think he’s the son of one of my former tenants in Edinburgh. I run a letting business - you know flats and houses.”

Dermot shifted his bulk on the seat and continued,

“They were a bloody rough lot. Undesirables all of them.”

“I was glad to be of assistance. That’s a nice club there.”

Harry looked out of the window,

“By the way, where are we heading?”

“I’ve some business to arrange near the coast. Come along with us you might learn something.”

Harry recalled that Dermot and Andrew were working together on the Letting business so he decided to tease out a bit more information.

“You run this business on your own?”

“No, there’s a partner involved as well, a friend of mine I used to work with in England some years ago.”

‘This is where Andrew comes in’, Harry thought. He decided not to say that he knew him and that he had already started a part time job with him.

The two cars finally arrived at a small desolate seaside cottage. An older man with a strong Irish accent greeted them by the front door. Dermot did the introductions.

“This is Michael, Michael O’Shaughnessy. He looks after the cottage for us. Michael this is Harry, he’s joining us for the evening.”

The two men shook hands.

“Come on in, the fire’s lit so it’s not too cold. I’ve some drink and food and there’s plenty for everyone.”

Despite the initial show of friendliness Harry sensed that Michael’s eyes were suspiciously following him as he moved into the room and sat down next to Dermot. Tommy and Steve soon arrived and were greeted by Michael and shown in. They preferred to stand at the back by the drink’s table rather than sit by the fire. Michael retreated to a back room and prepared the food.

Tommy poured and served drinks to everyone,

“Good health!”

“Slainte.” Dermot said as he downed his drink in one and held the glass up.

“Another large one Tommy.”

Steve turned to face Harry,

“So what really is the truth about you then Harry lad? Are you on the run from someone?”

‘You bastard,’ Harry thought to himself, somewhat startled to be confronted in this way. He turned his head to reply to Steve.

“I’ve told you my story back at the club, or weren’t you listening?”

Dermot looked across angrily at Steve and shook his head indicating to him not to pursue the question any further. He then struggled to get to his feet,

“Steve pull me up, I need a piss again.”

Dermot scuffed his way towards the kitchen holding on to each piece of furniture as it came within his grasp. Steve moved back to where Tommy was standing and they chatted quietly about a newspaper article that they had read earlier. Harry was now convinced that his initial thoughts about Steve’s character had already proved to be accurate. Not a person to be trusted he thought. His first impression of him at the club was of a smiling assassin. He was someone not to be depended upon in any circumstance. But his private thoughts were quickly distracted by a muffled three-way conversation emanating from the kitchen. There was someone else in the cottage, but whom? The door opened and a younger man came into the room carrying some books and maps. Harry looked up and was astonished to see that it was the same person that Andrew had ‘entertained’ at his flat. The man nodded towards Steve and Tommy but became deeply embarrassed when he recognised Harry. Dermot followed him in, the stain on his trousers now fully replenished and spreading. “Harry.” Dermot said, “You wouldn’t know this fella, he’s my Son Darlath. Darlath this is Harry, our guest for the evening.”

Harry stood up and greeted him as a stranger. Darlath meekly shook hands trying not to maintain prolonged eye contact.

“Harry this boy of mine is one of the best. He keeps an eye on my affairs and reins me in sometimes when I get ahead of myself; he’s a good ‘un.”

Dermot dropped heavily back into his chair.

“Get a drink for the boy Steve.”

Steve reluctantly reached for a glass. He resented Darlath’s influence on his father and disliked ‘the boy’ intensely for being too well educated and astute.

Darlath cut in,

“It’s OK., leave it now Steve, I’ll have a drink with the food later.”