Catchee Monkey: A Rex & Eddie Mystery (Rex & Eddie Mysteries Book 1) (9 page)

“It’s a coincidence.”

“We stopped for a full minute, and he still managed to be behind us.”

“Maybe he stopped for petrol or something.” Eddie put his foot down, and the Morris Minor crept towards 43 mph.

“Speed up.”

“This is sped up for uphill.”

“Uphill? This is a slope.”

Eddie thumped his foot down. The car spluttered up to 50 mph.

Rex adjusted his glasses and checked the speedometer. “Is this thing even in the right gear?”

“Yes, thank you.”
 

As the road evened out, the car reached 55 mph.

“School crossing,” Rex called out.
 

A lollipop lady stepped out into the road holding a stop sign. Eddie put his foot on the brake, and a clank sound rang from beneath them.

Eddie’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

They were headed downhill towards the zebra crossing. The Morris Minor increased speed going 56, 57, 58 mph. Eddie honked the horn, but the stubborn lollipop lady wouldn’t budge. He held his foot down on the brake so hard his ankle spasmed. Eddie thumped the car horn, which squeaked and squealed at a higher pitch with each hit. As they headed for the crossing, he swerved into the other lane and passed the lollipop lady.
 

“That was brilliant.” Rex pumped his fist in the air.

They both looked back to see the lollipop lady give them the finger, as the black SUV hurried past her and accelerated towards the Morris Minor.

Honk! Honk!

Eddie swung his head forward. They were headed towards an oncoming lorry. He pulled back into his own lane as the lorry brushed past. Its roaring engine blew hot air into Eddie’s face.

“That was not brilliant,” Eddie said.

“SUV’s still following us.”

“I see that.” He shifted from third to fifth gear. The car made a noise like it cleared its throat and coasted along the street. “Uh, I think the clutch is gone.” The car came to a slow crawl as the slope flattened out. Eddie used the last of their momentum to pull the car to the curb.
 

“What are you doing?” Rex said. “He’s gonna catch us now.”

The black SUV raced past them.

“I guess he was just in a hurry too.”

“Yeah, right. That’s what he wants us to think.”

“Let’s calm down.”

“You’re right, we need to take a moment to process our first car chase.”

“I don’t think that counts as a car chase. It was more like, tandem speeding.”

***

Eddie sat in the tow truck with his arms folded tight. He stared forward, sat between the driver and Rex.

The stupid Morris Minor,
Eddie thought,
with its dodgy brakes, broken clutch, and pathetic wooden structure
.

“Left at the next light,” he said, only talking to bark directions.

“Eddie, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Left.”

“Eddie?”

They pulled up outside Tim’s house. Eddie paid the driver as he lowered the Morris Minor into the road.

“Eddie? Are you OK?”

“Between the blown out tire and now the clutch, we’ve spent a quarter more than the sales price on this stupid lump of metal. We’ve only got four-hundred and thirty-five pounds left.”

“I asked if you’re OK?”

“I will be when we’ve got our money from Tim. Getting three-quarters of our money back is better than keeping that junk.”

“You want to sell back the car?”

“I want justice.”

Eddie marched to Tim’s door and Rex leaped along to keep up.

The red BMW was gone. Instead, a black 2007 Mercedes Benz C-Class was on the driveway.

Rex gazed at the car. “Now that’s a sweet ride.”

Eddie knocked. The door opened and a middle-aged woman, with mousy-blonde hair collected in a scrunchy, took a drag of her cigarette and blew in their direction.

“What?”

Eddie gave a polite smile. “Hello. Is Tim in?”

“Who’s asking?”

Rex waved. “Rex and Eddie. Hello.”

“Whatcha want?”

“I need to speak to him about the car we bought,” Eddie said

“I ain’t got nothing to do with that.”

“I know, that’s why I want to talk to Tim.”

“What about the car?” she said.

“It’s broken,” Eddie said.

“You want him to fix your motor?”

“I’d rather just have my money back.”

“You’ll have to talk to him about that.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

She blew smoke at the pair. Rex smiled to break the tension.

“He ain’t here.”

“Where is he?”

“Out.”

“Does he own the Benz?” Rex said.

“Yeah.”

“What happened to the BMW?”

“He totalled it, didn’t he? He crashed it, and the insurance gave him ten grand for it. He only got it for five, but it was undervalued, see. So now he’s got this.”

“Nice.”

“His dad ain’t happy.” She took another puff. “It’s better than his motor.”

“Where is Tim?” Eddie said.

“At work with his uncle. Regal Repairs, the mechanics.”

Eddie remembered that name and checked the car’s glove compartment for the MOT certificate.

“Damn it.”

“What’s up, Eddie?”

“Regal Repairs did the MOT. Tim got his uncle to declare it roadworthy. The cheeky git fudged it.”

“I’m sure this is all some misunderstanding,” Rex called across the driveway. “Right, Mrs Tim’s mum?”

“You’ll have to talk to him about it.”

“Come on, Rex. We’re going to the mechanics.”

“Don’t we need to wait for the tow truck?”

“I’m not spending another penny on that firewood on wheels. We’ll push it.”

***

Eddie unwound the driver window to control the steering as he pushed the car. Rex pushed from the back. Within a quarter of a mile the novelty wore off.

“Eddie, this isn’t fun any more.”

“It’s not meant to be fun. Now, push. We’ll reach a roundabout in a minute and we need a running start if we’re gonna make it.”

Rex found the journey across the roundabout a bit hairy at times. Ever the optimist, he focused on how Eddie’s anger managed to wipe away any trace of anxiety. He liked Eddie taking charge, even though he’d turned an unhealthy shade of red in the process.

They pulled the car into the Regal Repairs garage, in actual face it was more of a tin shed. A bald man with a grey beard lay under a bonnet and tugged wires out of its engine.

Eddie cleared his throat.
 

The bald man sat up. “What?”

“Is Tim, here?”

Tim glided out from under the car holding an engine part. He looked it over and dumped it on the floor.

“How you boys doing?”

“Fine,” Rex said.

“Not fine,” Eddie said.

“Having a tiff are we? Don’t worry fellas, love conquers all.”

“The Morris Minor, it’s falling apart.”

“What you done to it?”

The bald man, Tim’s uncle, positioned himself behind his nephew as he wiped his oily hands on his blue overalls.

“I haven’t done anything. You sold me a shoddy vehicle.” Eddie pointed at Tim’s uncle. “And you wrote a bogus MOT.”

The uncle puffed his chest out. “Is that right?”

“Yes.” Eddie’s voice rose an octave or two. He cleared his throat. “The clutch is gone and the brakes aren’t working.”

“Wasn’t like that when I sold it to you.”

“It was fine when I did the MOT,” the uncle said.

“Look, I don’t want trouble. I just want my eight hundred back.”

“Sorry mate, I ain’t in the market.”

“I’m not selling, I want a refund. Or I’ll report this place.”

Tim crossed his arms. “Clutch is wear and tear.”

“I’ve not even done a hundred miles in it.”

“Don’t matter if it’s ten or a hundred thousand,” the uncle said. “It’s the last mile that broke it. And I weren’t at the wheel. Was you at the wheel Tim?”

“No, uncle,” Tim said, glaring at Rex and Eddie.
 

“We can fix it up for you. For a discount.”

Eddie grimaced. “How much of a discount?”

“Fifty percent.”

***

The uncle replaced the clutch and brakes and brought up the total on the register.

“We spotted a few other things. All in all it cost four-hundred-and-twenty-eight pounds”

“What about the discount? You said fifty percent.”

“On labour. Can’t give you a discount on parts. They ain’t ours. I’d be working at a loss. Now, that ain’t reasonable.”

“So it’s only reasonable if I’m the one losing is it?”

The uncle pounded his wrench into his palm. “You disrespecting me and my nephew?”

“Disrespect? No.”

“‘Cause it looks that way.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re paying then?”

Eddie sighed. “Yes, I’m paying.”

He handed over the cash and stomped to the Morris Minor. Eddie stepped in and slammed the door so hard the wing mirror dropped an inch. Rex silently slid into his seat. The engine started and they drove away from the sunset.

“I can’t let them get away with that, Rex.”

“You get your five grand tomorrow, you’ll come out on top at the end of this adventure.”

“I know a way to come out on top.”

“Let’s go have a drink and celebrate the end of the case.”

“I’ve just got one thing to do.”

They drove to the corner of Tim’s street and Eddie opened the car’s boot.

“Eddie, what are you doing?”

“Justice.” Eddie lifted a leftover can of the office paint and stormed towards Tim’s Mercedes-Benz.

Rex settled in his seat. “I think I’ll wait in the car.”

Eddie grabbed the lid to the paint, but he couldn’t open it. The dried paint had glued it shut. He pulled his keys from his pocket and wedged open the can. He yanked the lid off. Drops of paint flew across the driveway and onto Eddie’s new shoes.

“Ahhhh,” Eddie groaned. He picked up the can and poured the paint all over the car’s roof. The thick primer enveloped around the car and down the windows.

Eddie watched with glee. “No one messes with Eddie Miles,” he muttered. “No one.”

Tim’s mother opened the door. “Are you mental?” she shouted. Eddie backed away into the darkness as she viewed the car. “What the hell?”

“Uh, excuse me.” Eddie sprinted down the street to the Morris Minor, jumped in the car, and started the engine.

“What are you doing?” Rex said.

“Taking us to the pub. We’re celebrating.”

***

With the car dropped off at the office, Rex and Eddie were free to get a celebratory beer in town.

“Despite Regal Repairs, it’s been a great day,” Eddie said. “I’m ecstatic to say we solved a case.”

“Indeed, chin chin.”
 

The pair clicked their beer glasses together and downed a splash of booze.

“Seriously, Rex. I’m proud. We managed to catch a murderer. And we didn’t have to go near him. We just used our brains and systematic processing of evidence. We didn’t even get our hands dirty.”

“What about when I was in the wheelie bin?”

“Yes, well then. But I mean in a figure of speech way, we didn’t have to deal with Terry Palmer.”

After a couple of beers, they left the pub. Both were in a state between being drunk enough not to need a coat while out in the cold, but not drunk enough that a reasonable person would take a taxi home.

“All right mate,” said a voice in the darkness. It was Billy the Quid, the harmless beggar. He was tall, scraggly, and middle-aged, at least that was Eddie’s estimate; homelessness ages people.

“Hello, Billy the Quid,” Rex said. He never understood that wasn’t Billy’s real name, but what he was called behind his back.

“Can I borrow a pound?” Billy said.

“Sorry, we’re all out,” Eddie said.

“Just one quid. I’ll give it back.”

“We got left over pizza at the office,” Rex offered. Billy frowned, thinking over their offer. This offended Eddie until he reminded himself the man’s brain was fried, possibly from drugs; although, it may have been a stroke. Eddie didn’t like to judge, but since he did, he assumed drugs.

Billy nodded. “Yeah, OK.”

Eddie admired Rex’s generosity; however, he was now stuck walking half a mile to the office with a homeless man. Rex could comfortably walk in silence, but Eddie always had to have small talk. Now he was stuck trying to work out what to talk to a homeless man about.

“Did you have a good day?”

“It was OK. You?”

“I guess I did, we solved a crime today.”

“Cool.”
 

The silence returned, which killed Eddie.

Eddie sighed. “So, what do you do when you’re not, uh, begging?”

“I’m not a beggar. I borrow money.”

“Oh right, sorry. I guess it’s like those micro loans, huh? Micro-micro loans?” Billy didn’t get the joke. Eddie couldn’t find the right social context. “What do you do when you’re not borrowing?”

“It’s a full time job. Doesn’t leave much time for anything else. I do like politics though.”

“Really? How’d you keep up to date with that?”

“The library. They got free books, free newspapers, free chairs, free toilets; you can even use the Internet for free. You follow politics.”

“No,” Eddie said with some embarrassment. Everything was a conversational dead end. Billy occasionally broke silence to ask passing pedestrians for a pound. Eddie felt guilty that he and Rex ruined Billy’s game a bit. The three of them made it more intimidating. One lady opened her purse to give Billy, Rex, and Eddie a pound each. They both gave theirs to Billy.

They arrived outside the office building, and Rex went in to grab the pizza. Niceties inclined Eddie to talk to Billy.
 

“You watch any sport?”

“No.”

“Yeah, me neither.” The silence continued. The street was quiet at this time of night.

Eddie checked his phone. With no messages, emails or updates, he pretended to read to seem busy in front of Billy. As he fake typed, he was distracted by a noise, a whoosh, as if the wind shushed them.
 

“Did you hear that?” Eddie said. Billy looked confused and a bit peeved. Red ran down his chest. “Billy?”
 

Billy fell to the ground, and Eddie crouched to try to catch him. A second whoosh, this time above Eddie’s head, was followed by a chink sound. Behind him, the door's windowpane had spidered. The cracks in the glass led to a central bullet hole. Someone had shot at them. Eddie unlocked the door and barrelled into the office hallway as another bullet took out the intercom.