Howard Linskey: The Drop

‘I’m not worried about Cartwright. I’ve known him for years and he’s fucked either way son. It looks like someone’s killed him and taken my money. That’s my guess and, if it’s not that, it means he’s so stupid he’s stolen it himself, and I’ll bloody kill him. Don’t worry about Cartwright, worry about yourself because the Drop is your responsibility. I thought I’d made that pretty clear. Now you get out there and you find Cartwright or you find his body. I want to know who’s behind this and I want my fucking money back – then I am going to let Finney cut whoever’s responsible into tiny pieces while they are still breathing. You have got two days to sort this mess out. I want my cash back on this desk on Monday morning. Nobody takes from me, nobody, you know that!’

Christ, my heart sank on hearing that. I already knew my chances of finding Cartwright, or his rotting carcass, and Bobby’s money by Monday were slim to none, but I was definitely not going to tell Bobby Mahoney that right now. If I did, I reckoned he would have killed me, so I took the path of least resistance and bought myself some time.

‘Yeah Bobby I know that. Leave it with me. I’m on it.’

‘Go on then,’ he said and I didn’t wait to be told twice, ‘and take Finney with you.’

Finney lumbered after me, which I could have done without. I needed some time on my own to think, but now I’d got Finney with me I was going to have to start making enquiries, darting round the city on a Friday night like a lunatic. Jesus, where would I even begin?

‘Where to?’ asked Finney as soon as we’d left the room. I was starting to get the funny feeling he was secretly enjoying this. The ‘whiz kid’, as he used to refer to me when I first joined the team, had been firmly put in his place and was clearly shitting himself at the prospect of a good kicking or worse. I had no idea ‘where to’.

‘Simple,’ I said with as much nonchalance as I could muster under the circumstances, ‘known associates,’ he frowned at me like his simple brain couldn’t quite digest the concept, ‘Cartwright’s nearest and dearest. We quiz them all. Let’s get the car.’

I was keen to halt his questions about my plans. I didn’t have any.

When we were back in the car Finney asked, ‘where first?’ ‘Jesmond,’ I told him, thinking on my feet, ‘there’s a side street just off Osborne Road. Cartwright shacks up there with his bird, what’s-her-name, Amanda something, the one who used to be a stripper way back when?’

‘Mandy McCauley,’ he told me. I was surprised he knew her full name. ‘Used to take it all off in a back room at the Sunbeam Strip in the eighties before they closed it down. I couldn’t believe it when Cartwright took her on full time.’

‘Why, what’s wrong with her?’

‘You mean apart from showing her growler to every man in Newcastle?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘apart from that.’

‘Well she shagged virtually the entire crew,’ he told me, ‘no actually, I tell a lie, she did shag the entire crew. If you hadn’t have been in short trousers back then you’d have got your end away too. If she turned up anywhere with George after it was like…’ he seemed lost for a suitable phrase.

‘An old boyfriends’ reunion?’ I offered.

‘Yeah, well no, not really. None of us ever took her out. You didn’t have to with Mand,’ and he chuckled, ‘she didn’t seem to mind. Though, to tell you the truth, it was like chucking a Smartie tube up the Tyne Tunnel.’ Finney laughed harder, ‘I dunno,’ he said reflectively, ‘maybe he felt sorry for her.’

‘Or maybe he just had a bigger cock than you,’ but he didn’t laugh at that. Instead he just pressed the accelerator more firmly and we sped closer to Jesmond.

Whatever looks Mandy McCauley once had, she’d lost them. The woman that answered the door in her dressing gown might have taken her clothes off for money twenty years ago but these days you’d have paid her to leave them on. She was an overweight, badly made up specimen with a cig in her nicotine-stained hand trailing smoke up into her bloodshot eyes. ‘Finney,’ she said unhappily, ‘and you,’ I wondered if she’d forgotten my name. She took a deep breath and when she spoke once more her voice was harsh, ‘what have you done with him you bastards!’

She eventually let us in, once I’d persuaded her we were looking for Cartwright too. The house was shabbier than I would have expected, the white flock wallpaper in the hall turning brown and peeling in a corner.

‘Wipe your fucking feet,’ she ordered.

‘Watch your dirty mouth Mandy or you’ll get a slap,’ Finney told her. It was moving to see these two lovers reunited. ‘Now where is he?’

We followed her into a grubby little front room with a high ceiling, a three-bar electric heater and a large sofa that sagged under my weight when I sat down. When Finney sat next to me I swear I felt a spring snap under him. Mandy sat on a battered armchair and crossed her legs primly, which to me seemed like locking the door after the entire stable has bolted, ‘I don’t know,’ she said with some feeling, ‘I thought he was with you or…’

‘You thought we’d hurt him?’ I said reasonably.

She flicked her cig into an ashtray, set it down and pulled the sleeves of her dressing gown taut so they half covered her hands. It wasn’t cold in the room. It was a nervous gesture ‘I s’pose.’

‘Well, you would,’ I said, ‘if he’s not been around. How long has he been missing?’

‘Three days,’ and saying it aloud set her off. Her lip quivered and the tears formed, ‘Geordie’s never been away for more than a night, not ever.’ North east men christened George are always known as ‘Geordie’ and George Cartwright was no exception.

‘When you last saw him where he was he off to?’

‘The office. He said he had to see the accountant then he had a trip but he’d be back that night, late.’

‘Collecting the Drop,’ said Finney almost to himself. Cartwright would have collected it from Northam, our bent accountant. He was just like a real accountant. The difference was he knew where all the dirty money came from and he never, ever wanted your signature on anything.

‘Only he didn’t come back, did he?’ she said accusingly.

‘Was he okay when he left?’ I asked her, ‘not upset about anything, worried?’

‘No’

‘Not acting different in any way you can remember?’

‘I’ve just told you!’

‘Mandy,’ warned Finney. I got the feeling he would have liked an excuse to belt her one. Maybe he was still smarting about that cock joke.

‘It’s alright,’ I assured him, ‘I think we’re done. We’ll get in touch with you as soon as we find him Mandy. You make sure you contact us if you hear from him. You’ve got the number for the club?’

She nodded. We were leaving when she suddenly said, ‘has something bad happened to him?’ looking like she was going mad with worry. Her eyes met mine imploringly. There was love there, for Cartwright, somewhere deep down, beneath all the fake toughness that comes from a fucked-up life, ‘tell me the truth.’

‘The truth?’ I asked and she nodded, ‘I dunno Mandy. I really don’t.’

We headed back into the city and I had a bit more time to think. I stared out of the window as the concrete walls of the underpass sped by. I’d known seeing Mandy was likely to be a dead-end but I had to check her out in case she knew something, though I was no nearer solving the mystery of George ‘Geordie’ Cartwright’s disappearance than before. I couldn’t fathom it. Like Bobby had said, he’d known Cartwright for years and he didn’t strike me as being a man who was dumb or greedy enough to steal from his employer, particularly an employer like Bobby. But, if it wasn’t him, then who would have the temerity, the sheer fucking brass balls to take money away from Bobby Mahoney. If it was someone who knew about the Drop, and there can’t have been many, then it made even less sense. You wouldn’t want to steal that money believe me. Not for all the shit it would land you in.