Cherringham--Last Train to London by Neil Richards

Author:Neil Richards [Costello 1, Matthew 1, Richards 2, Neil 2]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-3-8387-4837-5
Publisher: Bastei Entertainment
Published: 2015-08-18T16:00:00+00:00

11. The Tattoo

Before he got onto the road, and left Chipping Norton, Jack called Sarah and arranged to meet at Huffington’s to compare notes.

Though still warm enough with the top down, off to the east the English weather was acting true to form, with grey clouds gathering, ready for an assault on the Cotswolds.

In a way, he liked that changeability. Mood-wise, Jack realised that it suited him.

He had BBC Radio Gloucestershire on as he drove – and that was another thing he had grown used to, becoming interested in the local political stories.

The accents, the tone of the reporting, all starting to seem normal now that he had left behind NYC’s in-your-face twenty-four/seven newscasts and sports stations.

Sports. An obsession everywhere, even though the games change.

Though when he went back to New York, he did want to be sure to catch a game in CitiField before the Mets were once again – most likely – banished from any World Series hopes.

Get a hot dog with everything. Chill, sautéed onions, mustard, relish. An icy, cold beer.

Yeah …

There were definitely some things he missed.

He hit the dual carriageway that led south, weaving its way back to Cherringham, when his phone – sitting on the seat beside him – chirped.

He picked it up, answered. Might be hard to hear with the wind whipping, so he held it close.

“Hello?”

“Jack – Eddie Morgan. How you doing, you old bastard?”

And Jack laughed, hearing the voice of his old friend and fellow detective, still working the desks at One Police Plaza. For a few minutes they shared news and talked about their families.

Jack left out anything about his amateur detective work. Eddie was a by-the-book detective, a lifer who wouldn’t find anything like that at all appropriate.

He learned news of Eddie’s eldest child, who taught Middle School and whose wife was expecting their first child in November.

Eddie’s pride was immense.

Then, more quickly, just a few words about Eddie’s youngest, a troubled boy who Eddie always struggled to know how to deal with.

Life is never a clean and clear ride for anyone.

Jack told Eddie about Cherringham – his boat, the fishing, the martinis.

Then: “Thought you’d be back in a flash. Jack Brennan, living in a quiet English village, away from the crime and grime of the city? No way.”

Not exactly away from crime, Jack thought.

“So Jack, that thing you sent me. That tattoo? You’re right – we did see that pop up when working the mobs in Brighton.”

Back in the nineties, Brighton had become an outpost for thousands of Russian and East European émigrés. Flashy clubs sprung up, vodka on ice, caviar that you could get nowhere else.

And as mobs are wont to do, there were shakedowns. Rackets. And people who suddenly disappeared. Took a while to get that under control …

“Some of the guys who showed up dead had the same tattoo. We had thought maybe it was gang-related. So I did some research for you.”

A sign ahead indicated the narrow road that would lead to the north end of Cherringham.

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