Initial Response Unit – Bentley 20

[For back story go here: Story so far at 27 July 2020 and more recent Bentley posts.]

[See especially the last one.]

“OK so I know who Aston is,” said Bentley. “And Jeremy Knowles was as bent as one of his crazy golf pitches, but you haven’t got a clue what else you’re talking about. Aston and Knowles were nowhere near each other, like I say, his crazy golf course was in Hastings. Knowles was jealous as hell of the business the guy who ran Crazy Hills in Brighton pulled in but he’d not move over there for anything.”

Lawrence sighed. “Why is he interested in you?”

“I have questions too, you know?” snapped Bentley. “I am not the font of all wisdom or anything. Not by a long shot. Not too long ago I was just going for a drink at my local – you know my local? And I was trying to find you for answers. And ‘I’m a detective inspector’ is really no answer.”

“I can show you my credentials,” said Lawrence.

“Oh please,” said Bentley. “You could produce the Queen’s passport if you thought it would help. None of it worth the paper it’s printed on.”

Bentley got up. “I’m not going to do a runner,” he said, “I can’t very well, can I? Just need to stretch a bit.”

From his standing position Bentley could see George standing outside the cafe, his van parked up at the front. What if George was something more than a gambling addict railway station manager, powered by a love of trains? What if all this time everyone he thought had been innocuous, friendly, random acquaintances actually were not? And if they still were innocuous then where was all this underhand business coming from? He knew Lawrence had had a chequered career but could it really have ended up with him on the right side of the law, or precisely on the side of the law? He turned back to the table.

“So what happened to the ring?” He asked.

“Ring?”

“Shiela’s ring. Disappeared when you did. I assume you pocketed it because you thought it had some worth?”

“I didn’t take any ring.”

“Oh, so who’s telling the truth now?” mused Bentley. “That was the start of our downfall, you know? At the time you don’t think it’s significant, but gradually it eats away at you. She blamed me at first, of course. Reckoned I needed the money for it or whatever. Said I did it because in the end I’d bought it and I didn’t really want her to have it. That I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I didn’t take any ring.”

“You took money from us, though, didn’t you?”

“Like I said, you always wanted me to take a job.”

“So enough about me,” said Bentley, “What’s the story of your life? How did you get here, if I may be so bold?”

“Sometimes those jobs taught me more about how to get money than you would have thought. And if I was in need I was going to get.”

A radio crackled somewhere. Natalie opened her jacket and took it out.

“Yeah?” she said.

“Two minutes, just seen them, repeat, two minutes.”

Already she was on her feet and Lawrence with her. 

“The sob story will have to wait,” said Lawrence. “Back?” he asked Natalie.

“Yep.”

Lawrence yelled at George to get a move on and get inside. George didn’t wait to be told twice and came barrelling in. Lawrence and Natalie pushed Bentley backwards into his wheelchair and already there was a momentum between the four towards the rear of the building. The cafe’s proprietor pulled back a curtain to let them through but even as he did there was a screech of brakes and two cars slid to a halt outside.

“Go! Go! Go!” shouted Lawrence for the second time that evening.

“Down!” shouted Natalie and that was when what Bentley assumed were bullets came shattering through the cafe’s front window and embedded themselves in the menu boards above their heads. Bentley’s head was bowed, the others ran in a crouched position and together they hurtled through a kitchen that should have already been condemned years before and out into the yard at the back. George slammed every door shut behind them as they went.

“Transport!” shouted Natalie pointing to a half respectable people carrier which stood with doors already open at the next corner.

“We’re gonna have to dump the chair!” said Lawrence urgently to Bentley. “Just get in as best you can and we’ll all be safe and sound I promise.”

“I don’t know!” Bentley shouted back at him. “I don’t know who you are or if I can trust you or who anyone is! Why should I get in?”

And then the back door of the cafe broke open and more bullets came and Bentley got in. Fast.