Lifting the Lid(2)

‘Hey, Milly. Wasn’t long, was I?’ said Trevor, taking the dog’s head between both hands and rocking it gently from side to side. ‘Over you get then.’

Milly simply stared back at him, no longer barking but still wagging her tail excitedly.

‘Go on. Get over.’ Trevor repeated the command and, with a gentle push, encouraged her to jump across to the passenger seat. Then he climbed in and settled himself behind the steering wheel. ‘Right then,’ he said, rubbing his palms around its full circumference. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’





CHAPTER TWO



The lift was dead. The grey-haired guy in the expensive suit wasn’t, but he looked like he was. Lenny had him pinned against the wall by leaning his back into him as hard as he could to keep him upright – no mean achievement since, although built like a whippet on steroids, Lenny was little more than five feet in height and well into his fifties.

‘Come on, Carrot,’ he said. ‘What you messin’ about at?’

Carrot – so called because of his ill-fitting and very obvious ginger toupee – jabbed at the lift button for the umpteenth time. ‘Lift’s not working. We’ll have to use the stairs.’

‘You kidding me? With this lard-arse?’

‘So we just leave him here, do we?’

Lenny’s heavily lined features contorted into a grimace. ‘How many flights?’

‘Dunno. Couple maybe?’

‘Jesus,’ said Lenny, taking a step forward.

The laws of gravity instantly came into play, and the Suit slid inexorably down the wall and ended up in a sitting position, his head lolled to one side and his jacket bunched up around his ears. Not for the first time, Carrot wondered why he’d been paired up with a dipshit like Lenny and even why the whining little git had been put on this job at all.

‘Well you’ll have to take the top half then,’ Lenny said. ‘Back’s playing me up.’

Carrot snorted. Here we go again, he thought. The old racing injury ploy.

Lenny pulled himself up to his full inconsiderable height and shot him a glare. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean? You know bloody well about my old racing injury.’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ said Carrot.

Although Lenny’s stature – or lack of it – gave a certain amount of credibility to his countless stories about when he used to be a top-flight steeplechase jockey, nobody in the racing business ever seemed to have heard of him. It was certainly true that he knew pretty much everything there was to know about the Sport of Kings, and most of his tales of the turf had a ring of authenticity about them, so he must have been involved in some way or other but more likely as a stable lad than a jockey. Hardly anyone bothered to doubt him to his face though, probably because his vicious temper was legendary and so was his ability with both his fists and his feet. For a little guy, he could be more than handy when it came to a scrap.

He looked like he was spoiling for one right now, so Carrot diverted his attention back to the Suit.

‘Grab his ankles then,’ he said and manoeuvred the man’s upper body forward so he could get a firm grip under his armpits from behind.

Halfway up the first flight of concrete stairs, Lenny announced that he’d have to have a rest. Even though Carrot was doing most of the work, he decided not to antagonise him and eased his end of the body down onto the steps. Truth be told, he could do with a short break himself. He was already sweating like a pig and, besides, he needed at least one hand free to push his toupee back from in front of his eyes.

Lenny leaned back against the iron handrail and started to roll a cigarette.

Carrot’s jaw dropped. ‘Lenny?’

‘Yeah?’

‘What you doing?’

‘Er…’ Lenny looked down at his half completed cigarette and then back at Carrot. ‘Rollin’ a fag?’

His expression and tone of voice rendered the addition of a “duh” utterly redundant.

‘We’re not in the removal business, you know.’ Carrot nodded towards the Suit. ‘This isn’t some bloody wardrobe we’re delivering.’

Lenny ignored him and lit up. He took a long drag and blew a couple of smoke rings. Putting the cigarette to his lips for a second time, he was about to take another draw when he hesitated and began to sniff the air. ‘What’s that smell?’

‘Er… smoke?’ Two can play the “duh” game, thought Carrot.

‘It’s like…’ Lenny’s nose twitched a few more times and then puckered with distaste. ‘Ugh, it’s piss.’

‘Dumps like this always stink of piss.’