Timothy Lea - Timothy Lea's Complete Confessions

‘You can’t blackmail me.’

‘I’m not blackmailing you. I’m telling you. You should be grateful to me for giving you a chance to get out of this dump. Look at it! I’m amazed it hasn’t fallen down without the other two buildings to support it.’

‘You’re a nice bloke to do business with, aren’t you?’ Sid’s fists have folded into bunches of bananas and there is a look in his eye like the outbreak of World War III.

‘I’ve heard about the kind of guests you’re taking now. Down to football teams, isn’t it? I suppose if they can’t afford the YMCA they come here.’

‘Rugby teams, not football teams.’ The words come from one of Fatso’s mates and are spoken without warmth. Since the speaker is about six foot eight inches tall they encourage attention.

‘Rugby teams,’ says Rat Features.

‘And we never stay at the YMCA. The YWCA, now that’s different.’ Mr Big is advancing towards Rigby as if he wants to use him to practise tying knots.

‘Of course.’

‘Piss off,’ says Sid, falling in beside the incredible hulk.

‘Dinner time tomorrow,’ squeaks Rigby, breaking the World Backward-walking record. ‘If you don’t agree to my terms, I’ll turn my boys loose on the site.’

‘Getoutofit!’

Rigby flashes into his Rolls like he is only let out of it on a spring. The windows are a smokey-blue colour so we cannot see him through them. Nobody expresses a sense of loss.

‘We’ll see him tomorrow,’ says the big guy. There is a note of anticipation in his voice that I do not appreciate at the time.

‘What are we going to do, Sid?’ I say.

‘I don’t know, Timmy. It just depends on what kind of offer he finally makes.’ But, from the expression on Sid’s face I know that he has as good as chucked in the sponge.

One person who remains cheerful is Miss Ruperts. When I next see her, she squeezes my arm affectionately and draws me closer. She opens her mouth to speak and I feel that it must conceal the entrance to a whisky still.

‘He’s so kind and thoughtful, isn’t he?’ she says.

‘Who?’

‘Doctor Carboy. Or Walter as he allows me to call him. Do you know he’s going to have all my jewellery valued free?’

I look at her mitts and they are indeed ringless.

‘Very nice.’ It is isn’t it? Doctor Carboy has now completely replenished the items that were lost when his luggage failed to turn up and the local tradespeople must be very grateful for his custom. He has also consumed gallons of booze and exotic goodies in the privacy of his suite. All in all, a man well versed in the art of chucking money about. Now he has taken Miss Ruperts’ jewellery–hey! Wait a minute. I detach myself from Miss Ruperts and move swiftly to Sid’s side. He is in his office slamming shut a large ledger and beginning to slide despairing hands over his mush.

‘Sid,’ I say, trying to sound very relaxed about the whole thing, ‘has it occurred to you that Doctor Carboy might be a conman?’ Sid pauses for a moment, then continues to slide despairing hands over his mush.

‘Not until you mentioned it,’ he says. ‘Now it seems the most natural thing in the world. That’s all we need, isn’t it? A conman. Very nice. When did you first become suspicious?’

I tell Sid about the ring-valuing and he shakes his head.

‘He just might be on the level,’ he says hopefully. ‘Come on, we’d better go and talk to Miss Ruperts. I’ve been trying to keep out of her way but I suppose–’

‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ says Miss Ruperts reproachfully when we interrupt her trying to find room for a couple of ice cubes in a jumbo slug of scotch.

‘I’ve been very busy,’ says Sid, lamely. ‘Now–’

‘Now,’ says Miss Ruperts, riding over him professionally. ‘Now that you’re here at last. There’s something I want to say to you–’

‘Yes, but–’

‘Doctor Carboy.’

‘Oh.’ Sid’s cakehole closes slowly.

‘A wonderful man and a wonderful doctor. He has performed miracles for me in the short time he has been here. Not one of your killjoys,’ she raises her glass to the absent Doctor C. and knocks back a Bogart-sized swig. Sid winces. ‘Now, what I have been vainly trying to tell you for the last few days is that I have inherited an extraordinarily large sum of money,’ she pauses while Sid and I gulp. ‘Some relation I hardly knew I had. Made a fortune in rubber. Quite remarkable what he did with it. The rubber I mean.’ Sid nods understandingly. ‘Now, I am very happy here, and so is my friend Mrs Caitley, but neither of us is getting any younger,’ she takes another giant swig, ‘and what I was thinking is that it might well be a good idea to turn the hotel into a clinic under the supervision of Doctor Carboy. In that way the interests of many of the more elderly members of the staff could be preserved and you would still have a profitable investment. Possibly a much more profitable investment.’

‘And you would be prepared to put some of your money into the venture, would you, Miss Ruperts?’ Sid’s tone could be described as pleading.

‘With Doctor Carboy at the helm I would have no qualms about putting my money into anything.’

‘It sounds a marvellous idea, Miss Ruperts. I have considered something like it myself. But are you certain that Doctor Carboy is the right man? Does he really have the–’

‘Without Doctor Carboy I would not consider putting up a penny.’ Miss Ruperts bangs down her empty glass on the table and the ice cubes land in it a couple of seconds later.

‘Well, it’s certainly a very interesting idea, isn’t it, Timmy?’

‘Very interesting, Sid.’

‘We’d better go and have a word about it, hadn’t we, Timmy?’

‘Yes, Sid.’

‘Have you–er, mentioned your idea to Doctor Carboy yet, Miss Ruperts?’

‘No. I thought it right that I should speak with you first.’

‘Very thoughtful of you. Does he–er, know about your good fortune?’

‘The inheritance? No. I didn’t want to appear ostentatious.’

‘Very sensible,’ says Sid, having no idea what she is on about. ‘Well, we’ll come back to you very soon.’

When we get to Carboy’s room it is empty–and I mean empty. Even the toothmugs have gone and there is no trace of all the booze we have carted up there.

‘Oh my gawd.’ Sid sinks down on the bed, a beaten man.

‘Hey, Sid, look!’ A freshly stubbed fag end is still smoking in one of the ash trays. ‘He must have only just left.’

Sid beats me to the door leading to the back stairs by a short head and it is a good race to lose. He storms through and promptly dives over a bulky suitcase waiting on the top step. At the same instant an empty-handed Carboy appears, presumably coming back to collect his last load of swag. He is a cool bastard because he carefully steps over the suitcase and extends a helping hand to Sid.

‘My goodness me. You nearly took a nasty tumble, didn’t you? Very unpleasant.’ He indicates the suitcase. ‘I rather think that this case contains some of the items that were stolen from my room.’

‘Really,’ says Sid.

‘Yes, I returned a few minutes ago to find it ransacked. You really will have to tighten up on your security precautions.’

‘We have it very much in mind,’ says Sid, wincing as he tries to lift the suitcase. ‘Blimey, the bloke certainly stashed some stuff away, didn’t he?’

‘Indeed, indeed. But I suspect that there is even more somewhere. I think I’ll take another look round the yard to see if I can spot what he’s done with it.’

‘We’ll come with you,’ says Sid quickly. ‘Mr Lea is our house detective, you know.’

‘Really. You want to keep on your toes, young man. Wouldn’t it be better if you–er, rang the police?’