Here's an excerpt from the collection's title story -
Contribution to MankindThe setting is a pub on a run-down estate in England.
He leaned back in a little. ‘If you’re looking for a source... Well, I might know of an off-licence, y’know, with an unguarded window.’
‘And what use would that be to me?’ I snapped. ‘Think I’m an alckie?’
The little prat moved closer, sure of himself now.
‘That’s the beaut, isn’t it? Could be there’s an anxious buyer.’
I slid my empty glass across the table towards him. He looked disconcerted, and it made me smile. ‘Buy me another and we’ll talk about it.’
He didn’t even try to argue, but dragged back his chair and limped towards the bar. I eyed his roll and sneered. He believed he had a charmed life, did Spaz, believed the sharks ignored the little fish. Silly bastard. Twice in plaster and still he thought he could fish the waters.
‘Here he is! A round of applause for our hero!’
I looked to the clamour near the doorway. It was Tony mouthing off as usual, this time to a group from the old days. Tony was another one who’d never recognise his own name being called. And then I saw who our hero was and felt the tendons stand rigid in my neck. This wasn’t his local any more; I’d driven the bastard out.
‘Very funny,’ Willans was saying. ‘If you want to show some appreciation of our contribution to mankind, get us in a beer.’
‘Shouldn’t it be weak tea?’
‘Been there, done that, let the nurse hold my hand.’
Lascivious laughter rolled round the group and I knew there was no letting it pass.
‘Listen to the pillock,’ I called across. ‘Contribution to mankind. Be organising a [expletive] aid run to the Balkans next.’
That killed it. Willans peered over shoulders to see who had spoken and I gave him The Look in return. He soon shifted his gaze.
‘It’s your ten up, isn’t it, Mike? Deserves one on the house, that.’
I turned my beadies on Don behind the bar, but he was already looking my way with a very flat expression. I marked it for future reference.
‘Ten’s nothing,’ Willans said. ‘It’s the first that counts, and Jerry here has just passed the needle test.’
It was like listening to dogs puke. Jerry Davidson had all the hallmarks of a good wheelman: seconds into a Gti, and nerves the Iceman would prize when a blue light was tailgating him. He’d only been caught once, too, and now Willans had sunk his claws in. How many more of the bleating sheep would follow? All of them, probably, just as they had into that poxy soccer team he’d started. All the makings of a regular crusade, it had, with Jesus Bloody Christ at its head, shining example to the world.
When Spaz put a full glass in front of me I ignored him and took it to lean on the bar. Don gave me the warning eye, but I ignored him, too.
‘Well, Jerry, congratulations. You’ve taken the first step to ensure your place in heaven. Has he got you to sign the red pledge, too, eh? Are you going to have some money-grubbing surgeon ripping out your heart before it’s stopped beating? An eye here. A liver there. Sausage, mash and kidneys.’
‘Leave it out, Sinclair.’
I turned my gaze on Willans, careful with The Look. I didn’t want to spook him too soon.
‘So, you’ve given ten, have you?’ I said. ‘Thought a body only carried eight. Shouldn’t you be dead? Like Rob.’
Amazon USA
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004FGLOJQAmazon UK
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004FGLOJQ Unlike Sinclair and Willans, I'd like to wish everyone a happy, and prosperous, New Year.
Linda
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