0330431900 by Alex Shearer

Author:Alex Shearer [Shearer, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macmillan Publishers UK
Published: 2010-11-30T07:00:00+00:00

Padded Cell

The room was large and high ceilinged; there were two sofas to sit on, several well-upholstered easy chairs and, in a corner, by a window, was a grand piano.

Deet looked around admiringly.

‘There’s money here, kid,’ he whispered, though Tarrin could see that quite plainly for himself.

Deet went on looking at all the signs of affluence – the expensive furniture, the paintings on the wall, the thick carpets, the deep, comfortable sofas. This was the place to be, he told himself, these were the kind of people to do business with, this was where the money was, and he deserved to be right there with it.

Tarrin went to look at the piano.

‘Don’t touch nothing, kid,’ Deet warned – quite unnecessarily, for Tarrin had no intention of touching anything. He knew how to act in other people’s houses. He had been in enough of them.

He was intrigued by the book of music which sat on the grand piano.

‘Waltzes and Preludes’, the cover read, ‘by Richard Hartinger’.

Tarrin walked away from the piano and went to look at the bookcases. They filled one wall, all the way from floor to ceiling; there was a ladder in place to take you to the top.

There was a line of books on one of the lower shelves, which was just about at Tarrin’s eye level. He read the titles, none of which meant anything to him, but he saw that the author’s name was R. Hartinger. He wondered if it was the same Hartinger who had written the waltzes and preludes and, if that was so, was he also the same R. Hartinger as the man whose house they were in, and who they were waiting to see?

He moved on, to look at some of the paintings on the walls. In among those by other artists were some abstracts and some more conventional landscapes and portraits. They had all been executed by one R. Hartinger.

Then Tarrin looked at Deet and wondered what he was up to. Deet was sitting on the edge of his chair – though he could have easily sunk back into it and let the comfort and softness swallow him up. His hands were together and he was digging the thumbnail of one hand into a fingernail on the another. He looked tense and nervous and vaguely untrustworthy. But, then, he always did.

Deet saw Tarrin looking at him, and he winked.

‘This could be our big score, kid,’ he whispered. ‘So don’t worry about nothing. Whichever way it happens or whatever how it seems. You just have faith in your uncle Deet and remember he’s always looking out for you. Right?’

Tarrin nodded. He sat down opposite Deet on one of the sofas. He could have easily sat next to him, but he didn’t want to.

‘How long do they want me for, Deet?’

Deet gave a thin smile. ‘That’s the big question, kid. That’s the big, big, question.’

‘An hour?’

Deet grinned, but didn’t explain why it was funny. ‘Could be, kid.’

‘Longer?’

‘Could be longer. Have to see.’

‘For the whole evening?’

‘Maybe.

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