stuff.'
'So what did you do? Rubbish me?'
'Joe! How long we been friends? People ask you to recommend a taxi driver, do you say, 'Stay away from that Merv Golightly, he's death on wheels and will rip you off into the bargain'? Of course you don't! No, I said what I always say. That Joe Sixsmith may not be much to look at and I don't know how he does it, but when he gets his teeth into a case, the bad guy may as well put his hand up straight away because Joe won't let go till he's got him by the short and curlies. That's what I said and that's the God's honest truth, Joe.'
'Yeah. Well, thanks Merv,' said Joe, touched.
'Think nothing of it. We OK now, Joe?'
'Buy me a pint at the club and we're fine.'
'You got it. Now I'm on my way to pick up a wealthy widow who likes a drive out into the country now and then so she can exercise her dog, only she don't have no dog, know what I mean? See you, Joe!'
He switched off. With perfect timing, the door opened and the moribund woman emerged. She looked more lively now and the increase in animation was matched by an increase in familiarity, but not to the point of recognition.
The lawyer shook hands with her client in the doorway then turned and disappeared back into her office without a glance at Joe. But she left the door wide open.
He went in. She was sitting behind her desk lighting a thin cheroot. On the scuffed and ink-stained leather of the desktop in a silver frame stood a notice that read You are in a smoking zone. If you don't like it, feel free to leave. If asked about the new smoking ban in public places, she would reply, 'This is my private office, not a public place. I don't have staff because no one who works here gets paid. And I don't have customers because people who show up here give whatever they can afford, which in many cases is nothing, so any money that comes my way is a donation not a fee.'
From a cloud of smoke she said, 'This visit social or professional, Joe?'
'What's the difference?'
'If it's social, it's not convenient. I've a stack of work to get through. If it's professional and you're in work, I'll expect a contribution.'
'OK.' Joe pulled the YFG's roll out of his back pocket. It had to be his imagination but it still felt crisp and cool. He peeled off a fifty and dropped the note on to the desk.
Butcher looked at it then said, 'How much time do you expect for that?'
'Well, it was yesterday afternoon I got the money, two hundred, let's call it a day's fee, and let's say a day is twelve working hours, so I reckon that's three hours' worth there.'
'You work short hours,' she said. 'I'll give you till I finish this cheroot.'
She took a long drag and said, 'Better start talking, Sixsmith. And talking fast.'
10
Favors
Joe talked as fast as he could. Even so, by the time he got everything in-and he knew it was important with Butcher to give her every detail-the narrow fuse of tobacco had burned within an inch of her lips.
She interrupted only once, when he mentioned his encounter with the Bermuda Triangle, letting out a hrmph! on a jet of noxious smoke on hearing Arthur Surtees' name.
'You know him?' said Joe. 'Served on the lawyers' charity committee together or something?'
'I know of him,' she said. 'They say if you're crossing a desert and stop to take a rest, after a couple of minutes there'll be a black speck way up in the sky and that will be Arthur Surtees. Go on, Joe. I don't intend blistering my lips.'
When he finished she said, 'So let me get this straight. You got yourself a client you can't see any way to help, but you don't want to step away because (a) the guy offered to loan you his car and (b) the money's good.'
Joe didn't argue. He hadn't come here for comfort but for clarity.
'That's about it,' he said. 'Also I reckon he's got a bad deal.'
'Evidence?'
'Don't have no evidence, else I wouldn't be here, would I?'
She stubbed the cheroot out in a cracked soup plate. This is where she pockets the fifty and tells me to refund the rest, thought Joe.
Instead she said, 'OK. I'll poke around a bit. Let me know how you get on with King Rat.'
He said, 'You think there could be a connection then?'
'I don't think anything, Sixsmith, not till I've got the facts,' she said negligently. 'It was you who suggested the possibility.'
'Yeah, but I was reaching. Like I said, I got this feeling those guys at the Hoo knew what I was doing there, and the only way I could see them knowing that was someone hearing Merv shooting his mouth off down the Supporters', and the guy who seemed most interested was Monty Wright…'
'Who as everyone knows scratches when King Rat itches. Yes, I followed the line of reasoning, but seeing where it starts at, to wit, you, I'm not going to lean on it too heavily. Now get out of here. Can't waste any more time doing favors when I've got real work to do. Close the door behind you.'
It wasn't a big room and even with Joe's smallish step it only took three of them to reach the doorway.
As he took the first he thought, she's doing me a favor? So how come that's my fifty lying on her desk?
As he took the second he recalled Aunt Mirabelle saying something like, lawyers do favors like cats take mice for a walk.
And as he reached the doorway the sight of the empty chair in which the woman, Betty, had been sitting gave him a flash of where he'd seen her sitting before.
He turned round and said, 'Butcher, you being so nice to me wouldn't have anything to do with that Betty being a checkout girl at Wright-Price, would it?'
For a second the lawyer blanked him out. Then suddenly she relaxed and grinned.
'Sixsmith, you never cease to amaze me, which is why I put up with you, I suppose. All right, once again you've taken a blind swing and hit the right button.'
'So she's been giving you some bad stuff about Wright-Price, is that it?'
'Don't get your hopes up, Joe. Yes, Betty Bradshaw lost her job there, but she didn't come to me to complain. What she wants is help dealing with all the obstacles our beloved leaders put in the way of needy folk getting their hands on the benefits they're entitled to at the time they most need them, which is usually yesterday.'
Joe digested this then said, 'But you know better, Butcher.'
'Now why do you say that, Joe?'
'Because you always do,' said Joe. 'Specially where big business is concerned. You think maybe there's something dodgy about the way she got fired and you're looking for a hook to hang your suspicions on but you've not found anything, and when I come along with Mr. Porphyry's case and you hear me mention Sir Monty's name, you think, likely this is just another bunch of old Joe's squashy bananas, but just in case he does stumble across something you could rattle Monty's cage with, you'll string him along.' She didn't blush. Butcher didn't do blushing. But she did wrinkle her lips into a rueful smile. 'Something like that, Joe, maybe. Hey, what are you doing?' Joe had moved rapidly back to the desk and retrieved the fifty-pound note. 'First, you do a friend a favor, you don't charge money,' he said. 'And second, it seems like it could be me doing you the favor, right?' One thing about Butcher, she knew how to lose. She nodded and said, 'Could be. So long as you don't expect me to pay you money.' 'Like I say, I don't charge friends for favors,' said Joe. 'OK, OK,' she said. 'You've made me feel bad so I suppose I'd better atone. You said you were seeing this young fellow, Chip, in the Hole in the Wall tonight? Why don't I come along? You can tell me what King Rat wants with you and I can stop you looking like a dirty old man come to eye up the young talent.' 'We go Dutch?' said Joe. Butcher laughed. 'Joe, the way your aunt brought you up, there's no way you'll sit on your bum while the lady you're with goes to the bar to buy her own drink.' 'Yeah,' said Joe, heading for
