Рон Гуларт - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 127, No. 5. Whole No. 777, May 2006

Calum presumed he was referring to the humiliating episode at the rear of the off-licence in Dartmouth Park, but he had no desire for a repeat performance and, besides, he had something else to keep him occupied now. He took another bite and continued to ignore them, looking off down the street towards Camden Town.

“What’s the matter, can’t you hear us or something?” asked Tusk.

“He must think he’s too good for us now,” said Match, his head poking out of his dark hood like a poisonous tortoise.

Still Calum ignored them, drinking from the Coke.

“I reckon the police must’ve put the frighteners on him or something,” said Tusk.

“Turned him back into a child,” agreed Match.

“Won’t be the first time. Still, it’s like riding a bike. He wants to get back in the saddle, it shouldn’t be too hard...”

“If he leaves it much longer he’s going to need those whatchamacallits, those little wheels on the back...”

“Stabilisers,” said Tusk. “Kiddie wheels.”

“If he leaves it much longer he’s going to need stabilisers...”

Calum listened to the barrage of jibes in silence. On the one hand it hurt him, his friends attacking him like that, but on the other he just wanted them to leave so that he could get on with the mural. He finished the bagel, drained the Coke, and then put the scrunched-up clingfilm into the open mouth of the can. He stood and walked across to the curb and stuffed the can into one of the bulging black bin liners piled there like boulders.

“You coming with us, then?” asked Match. “Finish what we started the other night... You can hold the knife...”

“I have to finish the mural,” said Calum, uncomfortable.

“That’s all right, we can wait,” said Tusk.

“It might be awhile...”

“We have to wait until it gets dark, anyway,” said Tusk.

“I don’t know... Perhaps some other time,” said Calum.

“Come on,” said Tusk, a note of pleading in his voice.

“Oh, forget him,” snapped Match, stamping his foot. “He’s not going to come with us, he’s just pissing us about. He’s gone over to the other side. Painting, for Christ’s sake... I bet he’s not even getting paid for it...”

“That’s not the point...” started Calum, frowning.

“Child,” Match shouted him down, rattling his fist at the shutter. “Pissing about with a big fat colouring book...”

A smirk creased Tusk’s face.

“What do we care,” said Match. “You know if we get caught we’re going to say that you were with us anyway.”

This time DS Marnie Stone came to the flat herself. She said hello to Calum and his mother, accepted the offer of coffee, and then asked Calum where he had been the night before.

“I was here,” muttered Calum, looking at the floor.

“You were here all night?”

“I finished working on the mural when it started to get dark and then I came straight back here.”

“And what time would that have been?”

“I don’t know,” replied Calum, shrugging. “I suppose it must’ve been about nine or so. Quarter past... I don’t know.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Half-past, then,” said Calum. “I don’t have a watch but I’m sure it was no later than about half-past nine...”

“You stop and talk to anyone on the way home?”

Calum shook his head.

“Or call in at any of the shops?”

Calum shook his head again.

“All right, let’s come at it from another direction,” said Marnie, looking out across the estate for a moment. “You know the old ironmonger’s on Kentish Town Road? It’s about two or three doors down from the cafe you’ve been working on...”

“Yeah, I know it,” said Calum.

“You ever been in there?”

“I suppose I must’ve been at some point. Getting new locks and stuff after we’ve been broken into...”

“So you’ll be familiar with the layout of the place?”

“I suppose so,” shrugged Calum.

“Does that include the office in the back?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The place was broken into last night, Calum,” said Marnie, leaning forward in her chair. “A large amount of cash was stolen from the office. Cash and a lot of other stuff.”

Calum kept quiet, averted his eyes.

“You know anything about that?”

Calum shook his head. “No.”

“You’re positive about that?”

“Sure I’m positive,” muttered Calum.

“All right, then, what about Match and Tusk?”

“What about them?”

“They’re your friends, Calum, your comrades in arms. You must know if they had anything to do with it...”

“I haven’t seen them in a couple of days,” said Calum.

“You didn’t talk to them last night?”

Calum shook his head again, glanced hard at Marnie in confirmation.

“All right,” said Marnie, sighing. “Let’s look at what we’ve got, shall we: A known thief starts working on a mural in a cafe down on Kentish Town Road and just a few hours later an ironmonger’s shop a couple of doors down from there gets broken into — so that’s just a coincidence, is it, Calum?”

“Suppose it must be,” said Calum, shrugging.

“We like Match and Tusk for this one,” said Marnie. “You case the place for them, Calum? You tell them how to get in?”

Calum kept silent, his attention focussed on the floor.

Marnie shook her head and looked out of the window across the estate. “All right, I’ll leave it there for now,” she said after a short time, getting up to leave. “But just so you know... I don’t think you were there last night, Calum, but I do think that your two friends were, and it’s just a matter of time before I find the proof. If you don’t want to help me then that’s your decision. But when we do nail them, don’t kid yourself that they’ll think we figured it all out by ourselves...”

Although he was at first pleased with himself for not telling the police that Match and Tusk had been around earlier the afternoon before, the following morning Calum awoke to find it troubling him like a burgeoning toothache. On the one hand he still felt a little proud that he had not offered up Match and Tusk to DS Stone, a solid feature of his culture, he knew, but on the other he knew that it was just a matter of time before she arrested them and that when she did so it was almost inevitable that he would be lumped into the gang as the third man. And although he did not like to think about what that might mean, at best he knew that he would not be allowed to continue with the murals.

The dilemma continued to trouble him long after he returned to school, but a couple of weeks later he saw his chance to get out of the situation on what he saw as his own terms.

On the strength of his work at the cafe, word spread and he was soon offered another commission, this time to paint a large mural on the side of a car wash at the foot of Camden Road. The wall faced the traffic coming down the hill, a huge area, and after agreeing to the design he set to work on it one weekend.

But just as Calum might have predicted, Match and Tusk turned up late on the third night that he was there. He had just completed the background and was about to start on the figures in the cars he had painted — the mural was on a side wall of the car wash and Calum had created a full-scale cartoon version of it as if the wall were made of glass: In the centre of the wall he had drawn a giant foam-and-rain machine with a grime-streaked car going in one end and a bright clean car coming out of the other — and the sight of his friends made his heart sink in his chest. But Match and Tusk seemed to have lost some of their fire, poking Calum with sullen and blunt jibes as if taunting him had become a bore, and it did not take him long to get rid of them. Watching them walk across Camden Road, Calum felt a smile touch his face.