Sleep Plan – Bentley 61

[For a quick guide go here: Quick guide.]

[Old back story is here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and read more recent Bentley episodes especially this one.]

[Other back story through in-links.]

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There was a nearby park. It was a popular place and today it seemed more poplar than ever. Bentley played his OAP card however, and secured a park bench, seeing off a young couple. It was the one near the duck pond, just like he said it would be. He got there early and Natalie and Lawrence, insisting they keep an eye on him, stationed themselves one on a bench round the other side of the lake, Natalie bringing binoculars and deciding she was a bird spotter called Doris Weatherbury, and the other in a nearby bush. Lawrence just being stupid as usual, according to Bentley.

The family tree subscription services Bentley had Googled into had given him a bit of a hard time, but then he thought that trying to track down a John Smith, aged fifteen or so, born Brighton, no fixed abode was always going to be tricky. That said, a few Smiths had emerged here and there. There was a record of a child put into care around that time, and a few deaths which Bentley could morbidly link if he had half a mind to. He didn’t really want to because of the story it presented. But then again, maybe that was what Thimble wanted him to find.

Aston was on time. Like he said he would be. He looked worried, nervous, but still held himself as a man of substance and threat. As much as was possible in a blue cagoule.

“Lawrence still bashing in the bushes?” he observed.

“Makes him feel useful,” said Bentley flatly.

Aston laughed slightly and that was all.

“How’s my cat?” Asked Bentley.

“All in good time,” said Aston. “What was in the box?”

“What you said,” said Bentley. “How’s my cat?”

“What’s the name?”

“Lucky. Last time I had her.”

“On the certificate, the name on the certificate.”

Bentley cleared his throat. “John Smith.”

Aston nodded, giving nothing away. 

“I’m trying to make sense of it,” said Bentley.

“Good luck with that,” said Aston.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that the kid’s father was Jaggers.”

Aston paused for a moment too long for Bentley not to notice.

“Why the hell would you think that?” He tried to cover.

“Number of things. A hunch,” said Bentley. “But at the moment I’m trying to work out if I should try and find him or just leave him be. I mean, this could go either way. And then, of course, I need to know why you’re interested.”

“It’s not just the birth certificate,” said Aston.

“I know that,” said Bentley. “It’s money, isn’t it? It has to be about money or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Not money,” squirmed Aston. “A place.”

“Go on.”

“The kid has property,” said Aston. “I don’t know where it is, but I know the box has got a postcode on it. Somewhere. And that tells you where the property is.”

“And there’s something legal to back this up of course? A last will and testament?”

“The jewellery box is the will,” said Aston, plainly. “I know this because I know who made it. And I’m the only one who can put the pieces together.”

“Or would be if you had the box,” said Bentley.

“Can you tell Lawrence to go away?” asked Aston. “He’s making me nervous.”

Bentley swivelled his head around and saw Lawrence crouched under a Magnolia. He picked up a large piece of gravel from under the bench and threw it forcefully at him. Lawrence retreated further into the herbaceous border.

“He’s harmless,” said Bentley. “Not loaded or anything…”

His voice trailed off as another piece of Bentley’s own jigsaw slotted into place.

“They got shot, right?” Said Bentley. “The person who knew. They were in your jewellery shop when…”

There was a pause. They watched the ducks.

“Here’s the deal,” said Aston. “We do this together. We find the address. We find Smith if we can and we do what we can. For Jaggers.”

“For Smith,” corrected Bentley. “Wherever he may be.”

“We’ll meet next week. Bring the jewellery box.”

“Bring the cat,” said Bentley.

Aston smiled and got up. 

“There’s money too, somewhere,” he said. “About twenty grand I believe.”

Bentley just raised his eyebrows. 

“And where is my cat?”

“Honestly, Bentley where do you think? A cattery. Do you honestly think I’d look after her? I hate cats, prefer dogs at a push but even then they’re way too much hassle than they’re worth.”

Aston left. Lawrence emerged from the foliage, and as Bentley looked over to where Natalie was sitting he concluded she’d fallen asleep in the sunshine.

“Did he threaten you?” Asked Lawrence urgently. “I had your back all the time.”

Bentley smiled. “Like hell you did. Let’s go and wake up Doris.”