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Capp, alias Harry the Cap. It was true he sometimes wore a cap.
It was true, too, that he was always nervous. And if Harry got the
fright and went into hiding, I wouldn t be very happy. So I was
being careful not to ask for him in any of the bars. I didn t want
word getting to him before I did. Somewhere in the middle of
the Dowsett Estate, Bel started complaining about her feet.
 We ll take a rest soon, I said. I led her back to the High
Road and the first pub we went into, she sat down at a table. So
I asked what she was drinking.
 Coke. I nodded and went to the bar.
 A Coke, please, and a half of bitter. While the barmaid
poured our drinks, I examined the row of optics. I d been close
to ordering a brandy. Close, but not that close. Harry the Cap
wasn t in the bar. Maybe he stayed home on a Monday night. I
didn t want to go calling on him. I knew he owned a couple of
guns, and the people in the flat upstairs from him were dealers.
It would only take one shot, and the whole building might turn
into Apocalypse Now. I took the drinks back to our table. Bel had
taken off her shoes and was rubbing her feet. The men at the bar
were so starved of novelty that they were watching her like she
wasn t about to stop at the shoes. When she took her jacket off I
thought one of them was about to fall off his stool.
 New shoes, Bel said.  I knew I shouldn t have brought
them.
 And they say townies are soft.
She glared, then smiled.  Cheers, she said, lifting her glass.
She crunched on a piece of ice and looked around the bar.  So
this is the big bad city? How do we find your friend?
 We keep looking. You d be surprised how many pubs there
are between here and White Hart Lane.
 And we go into every one of them?
 That s the idea.
 Couldn t you just phone him instead?
 He doesn t have a phone.
76
Bleeding Hearts
 Then I suppose we keep walking. She took another drink.
 Speaking of phoning, have you called Max?
 Give me a break, I only left him this morning.
 He ll be worried.
 No, he won t. He ll be watching reruns of Dad s Army and
laughing his head off.
I tried to visualize this, but failed.
 Look, Michael, do you mind me saying something?
 What?
 Well, we re supposed to be together, right? As in a couple.
Look at you, you look more like my minder.
I looked down at myself.
 I mean, Bel went on,  you re sitting too far away from me
for a start. It s like you re afraid I ll bite. And the way you re sit-
ting, you re not comfortable, you re not enjoying yourself. You re
like a flick-knife about to open.
 Thanks, I said. I slid closer to her on the bench seat.
 Better, but still not great, she said.  Relax your shoulders
and your legs.
 You seem to know a bit about acting.
 I watch a lot of daytime TV. There, that s better. We were
now touching shoulders and thighs. I finished my drink.
 Right, we better get going.
 What?
 Like I say, Bel, a lot of pubs still to go.
She sighed and slipped her shoes back on. The men at the bar
turned their attention to the television. Someone by a riverbank
was gutting a fish.
We were in a pub on Scotland Green, the one people use after
they ve signed on at the dole office across the road. It was always
busy, and was all angles and nooks. It might be small, but that
didn t mean you couldn t hide in it. Harry the Cap was hiding
round the corner beside the fruit machines. He was seated on a
high stool, wearing a paisley-patterned shirt intended for some-
one three decades younger, jeans ditto, and his cap. It struck me
77
Ian Rankin
I should have brought him the one I d bought; he d have appre-
ciated it more than Bel.
He wasn t playing the machines, and in fact was staring at the
cigarette dispenser.
 Hello there, Harry, I said. He stared at me without recog-
nition, then laughed himself into a coughing fit. Three gold
chains jangled around his neck as he coughed. There were more
gold bands on his wrists and fingers, plus a gold Rolex on his
right wrist. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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