It was cold and it was Christmas. So cold that on the streets of Brixton the police were forced to hold each other's hands to keep warm. Too cold even to commit adultery and that was bad for business. I'm a private investigator by the way. Which is another way of saying I'm mostly unemployed. I make my money from sleazy divorce cases but these days nobody gets married so why should they care about infidelity. So the bottom line is when it comes to work I'll take just about anything.
Sitting in my flat, I shivered. The power key needed recharging. There was nothing to eat and I was so filthy my own socks didn't want to know me. Times were hard but this isn't going to be one of those stories. Instead I decided to put my coat on and go to the office. Then I realised that I was already wearing it and that I had been sleeping in it all night. That was one problem solved. All I needed now was a shave.
My office used to be in Brixton. It had been a small room above the local McDonalds. It had been handy when I wanted something to eat and besides someone had told me that after the riots this area could only go up. I had either been misinformed or my nerve had cracked. At any rate low finances had forced me to take premises in the Stockwell area.
I fumbled for the key. The sign on the door read A1 DETECTIVES though I was the only one. I figured it would be the first name that clients would notice in the phonebook but some people just didn't know their alphabet. Today, however, the gamble paid off because waiting inside the door was a letter. More important, it had a twenty-pound note nestling with it. I hadn't seen one for such a long time that I didn't know whether to spend it or plant it. I glanced at the letter. That was all it took to read 'Three o'clock Shepherd's Market. Pink carnation. 'Looking at the space on the wrist where my watch used to be I knew I had time to kill so I decided to go downstairs and have a bite to eat. I had a burger. After all these months my stomach wouldn't have been able to take anything else.
As I ate I congratulated myself on my luck and wondered what I would have to do to earn it. Shepherd's Market was a hangout for what used to be called 'Ladies of the Night', only nowadays they were as busy during the day. The guidebooks said that it was best approached from Curzon Street but that wasn't true if you happened to be a tourist. The best way was via Piccadilly Circus. Then you could combine it with a trip to the Royal Academy and satisfy both mind and body.
He was sat at one of the Bistro tables though I don't know why he bothered with the carnation. He was the fattest man I had ever seen.
'You're on time Sir,' he said, 'I like that. Yes I do. Sit down Sir sit down. I always believe that business should be conducted over hard liquor, don't you?'
Something in the cast of his eye caused me to ignore the pleasantry.
'So long as I don't have to pay. I'm down to my last twenty pounds.'
He roared with laughter, more like a sewer than a drain.' I like that Sir, by God I like that. I can see that we are going to get along famously. Come now, drink up and let's talk.'
I didn't need telling twice but despite what he said he left his own drink untouched, content to watch me as he explained the job.
'I want you to collect a bird.'
'What sort of bird?'
'Come come Sir. It's Christmas. What sort of bird would it be but a turkey.'
'They sell them around the corner. I'll. get you. one after another drink.'
He laughed again A fat man's laugh that culminated in a breathless wheeze. I didn't like him but right now he was the only game in town.
'Oh I like a man with wit, by Gad Sir, yes I do, but this as you have no doubt perceived is no ordinary bird. The man who gets it must be resourceful and discrete. For the person willing to display these qualities I am willing to pay, shall we say, £10,000 in coin of the realm.'
'Once I've managed to get my jaw off the table I' d like to ask you if this is strictly legal. Not that I mind if it isn't. It's just that I don't fancy a new career as the tobacco baron of D wing with the money I'm about to earn.'
'You're cautious Sir, I can see that. Would you be less cautious for £15,000?'
'I can be downright careless for £20,000.'
'Come now, £17,500 and no more haggling.'
I sipped my drink. 'So how do I go about getting this bird?'
'Nothing simpler. At about 4.30 this lady - he handed me a photograph - will be arriving at Earls Court station. You go to the platform where the trains arrive from Heathrow. Under cover of the crowds she will. hand you the, ER, package.'
'Sounds easy,' I said.
'Easy for a man of your obvious talents. Come Sir, do we have a. deal or not?'
We had.
'Good, good. I shall meet you at your office. Shall we say six o'clock?'
I took the tube. It wasn't far. I got there early and waited. She was on time. I suppose I should have expected an airhostess. She was wearing a tartan uniform and would have looked pretty if her make up hadn't caused her suntan to look like it had been dusted with talcum powder. I moved towards her.
'I believe you have something for me?'
'Did the Fat man send you?'
'Yes.'
'Not here. It's too risky. Come to this address in half an hour.'
'But.....' I didn't have a chance to say any more. Didn't have the chance to ask her what she thought the concept of time meant to a man who had pawned his watch. Instead I was left, standing on a. platform, all alone in a crowd, holding a note.
Earl's Court has romantic associations that are richly undeserved. To me, it was the perfect place for an airline hostess with a dodgy package to hide herself away. The flat where she lived was in a densely parked street. The building had an answerphone service and enough names to put the U.N. to shame. I tried the bell with her name on it. I smiled. I don't think that she started out in life with the name Brenda 0'Caledonian. There was no reply. After trying about five other names someone finally let me in.
As I climbed up the stairs my pulse quickened. Something was wrong;. Her door was open. I walked in. The smell of death was in the air. At first I thought that it was the turkey but then I saw her, lying in the corner, with some character bending over her with. a knife. He was a little guy who looked like I always imagined Armenians would and he moved fast. It didn't do him any good. I kicked the knife out of his hand before he could push it up through my abdomen into my heart. Then I hit him again and again until the cold rage inside me subsided.
As he lay there, unconscious, my first instinct was to grab the turkey and beat it out of there fast. Then I stopped to think. The turkey was in a local supermarket bag. It had been bought in London by a hostess who had just arrived from Istanbul. I glanced at her body. For the first time I noticed that she had actually been strangled. So why the knife? Then it all began to fit. She must have been carrying something that she was going to put inside the turkey. It didn't take much guessing to realise that only drugs would be worth, £17,500 to a Fat man. She must have carried them inside her. I took hold of the knife. There must have been a lot of laws against what I was about to do but when you're poor you can't afford to be squeamish. After an hour's of digging, probing and puking I emerged with fifty little egg condoms and complete admiration for the flexibility of female anatomy. I shovelled the condoms into the supermarket bag with the turkey and left.
As walked down the stairway I reviewed the situation. I was looking at a long sentence, maybe even life if I didn't offload this stuff quick. It was late when I got back to my office. Much later than we agreed. I'd gone back to my room to clean up and collect my thoughts. Now it was time to trade with the Fat man. The door was open. The lock hadn't needed much forcing but then, usually, I had little to hide.
'You're late Sir. I was beginning to get a. little concerned.'
He sat in the corner. A great black shadow with greedy, birdlike eyes.
'We made a deal, ' I said, ' I always stick by that , but you weren't quite frank with me about the dangers involved.'
I threw the, by now, stuffed turkey carcass onto my desk. The force of the impact caused some of the contents to spill out. The Fat man gasped, his eyes growing brighter but he did not speak immediately. Instead he paused to gain some control to his voice. Then he said,
'You have done well Sir, very well.'
'Yeah. I'm glad you're pleased because I think that my fee should be increased to twenty thousand. '
For a second I thought that he'd jumped on me but then I realised that it was just the old. blackjack from behind routine. That was about all the realising that I was capable of as I hit the ground.
When I awoke I was staring upwards at the desk where the turkey lay. Two figures were around it. One was Fatso and the other was the Armenian. So, he'd got his revenge. I made a mental note to make it a best out of three contest.
Both of them were staring at the turkey with a mixture of love and greed in their eyes. But this was one bird that was definitely not for eating. Frantically the Fat man tore at the carcass with a penknife to get at the prize within. Then he started rubbing some of the powder in his pudgy fingers and putting it to his lips. Suddenly, his face reddened.
'FAKE,' he tore at the package with his bare hands, 'FAKE FAKE FAKE FAKE FAKE ! ! !'
He collapsed. on the desk, sobbing, worn out from his efforts. White dust filled the room. It could almost have been baking day, what with. the turkey and all. The Armenian leaned forward and tasted a sample.
'You fool,' he hissed,' it was Istanbul. They got suspicious in Istanbul and made a switch.'
For a while neither of them spoke. They were too upset. Then, slowly, the Fat man sat up, breathed in, just as slowly and smiled to himself .
'Very well then.0ur path leads across the sea. Come shall we continue the alliance?'
The Armenian nodded.
'Then we have no time to lose.' And with that they both got up. It was then that the Fat man noticed me.
'Well Sir, you're not dead after all. I'm glad. My friend is inclined to be hasty but I'm afraid that £20 will have to be adequate recompense f or your trouble unIess of course you would like to accompany us. A trouble shared as they say, but then no, I suppose in. the circumstances you wouldn't. Adieu then.'
They walked out of the room and that was the last I saw of them. stood up and picked up the phone to make an anonymous call to the police.
'You should be able to pick them up at the airport.' I said.
I went over to the window and turned the events over in my mind. Now it may have been the bump I got on the head, or perhaps it was the boots and the red scarf .Maybe it was the white hair and the beard or the sound of bells that I heard just after they left but I had the feeling that the police would be looking in the wrong place. Drug dealing is a. business where the stakes are high but it's a rotten world where even Santa Claus wants his cut. Still, I reflected, it was stupid of him not to guess that the packages had been switched much nearer to home than Istanbul. I poured myself a drink and continued to stare out of the window. It looked like rain but I didn't need a weatherman to know that snow was about to hit the streets for Christmas.