Howard Linskey - The Dead

‘So you were with the firm?’ I asked.

‘Not really,’ he admitted, ‘I mean we all were a bit, you had to be, but I was on the outside looking in. I did some stuff for Bobby now and then but nowt that would really get me into bother with the law. I remember your dad though. I remember him well.’ And, just when I thought all I was going to get was some pointless reminiscences he added, ‘And I saw him the day before he disappeared. I reckon I must have been one of the last to see him in fact and it was all very strange like.’

He had to stop for breath again — the delay was frustrating.

‘What was so strange about it?’

‘Your dad bought a car from Hunter. He went from being broke one day to minted the next but there was nothing unusual about that, if he was in on one of Bobby’s jobs.’

‘My father never actually worked for Bobby,’ I told him, because that’s what everybody had always told me.

‘He was never a full member of the crew, but he did jobs.’

‘You reckon?’ I wasn’t so sure about this, but he was.

‘I’m telling you man. He did stuff for Bobby, on and off like, that’s how he started people out, to see how they got on. You didn’t just sign up overnight. You had to prove yourself before you got the big wedge.’

‘How do you know all this, if you weren’t a full member of the crew?’

‘Because Hunter was my gaffer for years and I saw them all come and go.’ It was a reasonable enough explanation but I had still never heard anything about my dad working for the firm before.

‘So what did he do for Bobby then?’

‘Whatever needed doing. You ought to know what that means.’ I did and didn’t need it spelling out. ‘Anyway, your dad bought the car from Hunter but when he headed south the next day, he left it behind.’

‘Eh?’

‘It was a Cortina Mark 2, only a couple of years old. Nice motor for the time. He paid cash. I was there and I watched Hunter count it out, then they shook hands on the deal.’

All of a sudden he seemed to be finding his breath. It was as if the excitement of telling his story had overridden his condition for a while.

‘Alan said he would come back and collect it later, because he had some business to sort out in town first, but he never came back for the car. It stayed on the forecourt. Later on, everybody was saying that Alan Blake had left the city and gone down south for a job in London. Didn’t even stop long enough to collect his wife and bairn he was in that much of a hurry.’

‘If he’d done something for Bobby, summat worth the cost of a car, the law could have been sniffing round,’ I offered, ‘maybe that’s why he left so quickly.’

That would explain why my dad skipped town and left ma and Danny behind and why he might have had to stay away for a couple of years, if it was something serious.

‘But here’s the bit that doesn’t ring true. They said he went on the train. Now, if he was planning a new life, with or without his wife and bairn, would he really buy a Ford Cortina one day and a train ticket the next, no matter how flush he was?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘he wouldn’t. What happened to the car?’

‘It stayed on the forecourt for weeks, then Hunter sold it.’

‘You mean he sold it again?’

‘Aye that’s exactly what I mean.’

‘And there’s no way my da could have returned later and got his money back?’ I knew Hunter well enough to know that last bit was unlikely.

‘Hunter? No chance, he was tight as arseholes,’ he shook his head. ‘I worked there all day and he never came back. I thought it was odd when he didn’t collect his new car because the next day was a Sunday and we weren’t even open on a Sunday. You weren’t allowed to be, back then.’

‘And you never said anything at the time,’ I asked, ‘to Hunter, I mean, or anybody else who was spreading this story about my dad leaving on a train?’

‘I did ask Hunter about it, yeah, stupidly.’

‘Why? What did he do?’

‘Nothing,’ he replied, ‘but then that nutter Jerry Lemon came up to us the next Saturday neet when I was having a few pints in town, he telt me I had a big mouth. He said “Careless talk costs lives”, you knaa, like that old poster in the war. He telt me to remember that, if I wanted to keep my teeth.’

Jerry would often go around threatening people on Bobby’s behalf, so this fella asking questions about my dad’s car must have meant something. Maybe that was why he had to leave Newcastle. Had he upset Jerry Lemon or did he somehow manage to tread on Bobby’s toes? Whatever happened it can’t have been too serious but it was big enough for him to quit town in a hurry, and for him to stay away for a good while.

‘So you stopped asking?’

‘God yes,’ he said, ‘it was none of my business.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘I suppose it wasn’t, but Jerry Lemon’s long dead.’

‘Aye, well, if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you now, would I?’

‘Fair enough,’ I told him. ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’

‘Well, it’s obvious isn’t it,’ he said, then added, ‘they must have killed him.’

‘That’s one way of interpreting it,’ I admitted, but I knew what he didn’t. My dad had fled the city right enough and now I was closer to understanding the reasons why, but he had still been in contact with my ma for years after. I wasn’t even born when my dad jumped on that train and headed south, but the old timer wasn’t to know that.

‘Can you think of any reason why he might have fallen out with Jerry?’

He opened his mouth to speak, but his breath caught in his throat again and the coughing started up once more. I waited and tried to be patient but I wasn’t expecting much from him if I was honest. The business with the car was intriguing enough but the old git didn’t have the full story, so I doubted he would shed any further light on the mystery.

When he finally finished coughing he told me, ‘Aye, I knaa all right,’ and he seemed puzzled that I didn’t.

‘Well,’ I told him, ‘out with it then.’

‘It was ‘cos of the job they did together. The one that went wrong.’

‘The one that went wrong?’ I repeated dumbly, trying to get my head round it, ‘what job was that then?’

‘The robbery of the Stuart amp; Brown payroll,’ he said, ‘haddaway man, you must have heard of that one? You know, the engineering company?’

I shook my head. ‘So you’re saying my dad was in on a wages snatch?’ He nodded. ‘And it went pear-shaped?’ He nodded again.

‘Well, you could say that.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘It was ‘cos of your dad,’ he told me.

‘Why what did he do?’

‘He buggered off, didn’t he?’ the old bloke told me, ‘and he took all of the money with him.’

I just about managed to get the words out. I managed to say, ‘Thanks, that’s useful.’

‘Useful enough?’ he asked me, his eyes pleading.

‘You’ll want paying for it,’ I said. ‘I don’t have it on me but you’ll get some bunce. If you think of anything else to tell me then you’ve got my number.’

‘Champion,’ he said.

I kept the presence of mind to tell him who to see for his money. He seemed satisfied with that and shuffled away. I gave Palmer the nod so he knew it was all okay and I walked off too, crossing the bridge until I was on the Gateshead side. Palmer would follow me at a discreet distance, but he knew when to leave me alone.

I walked slowly up to the Baltic Mill. Normally, I like this lovingly-restored building, but today I barely glanced at it. I bought a ticket and walked inside, mooching around in there for a while, pretending to look at the paintings while I thought this through.