The Tale of the Wolf (The Kenino Wolf Series) (2 page)

Longy had gone travelling about six months previous; just upped sticks one day and disappeared with barely a word. One day he was there, drinking and joking with the rest of us, the next he was gone. Before he'd decamped I'd tried to quiz him about it, but he just fobbed me off with some waffle about wanting to see the world. Coming from a man who thought crossing the Thames was an adventure that story convinced no one, but at the time I just had to leave it be. He wouldn't say no more and I couldn't force him. It had had me worried at the time and looking at him sitting there, broken and dishevelled, I'd knew I'd been right to worry.

I continued to eat my breakfast while all the time watching Longy talk to Tommy-Two-Tooth. I saw him rise to his feet preparing to leave.

‘
Longy,’ I said, intercepting him as he headed for the door. When he’d been in the booth I’d only been able to see his face and a little bit of his torso. Now that I could see all of him I was seriously disturbed.

He looked so wispy and fragile; a shattered remnant of what he used to be. What weight remained had left his frame and positioned itself on the top of his head. Worry and anxiety sat upon his shoulders like an ox’s yoke. The world looked like it had, to put it simply, beaten the crap out of him.

Longy was the youngest of three second-generation Greek Cypriots. His parents had come across in the sixties, setting up a small deli and eventually expanding into a couple of coffee shops and some real estate. Longy and I had been in the same class at school along with Geronimo and Tabatha. We'd been a regular gang of delinquents, bunking off all the time, getting pissed in the park, doing everything and anything, except turning up to school.

He was one of the few people who I regarded as truly
good
. He was kind, generous and decent, which meant I didn’t trust him when we first met. Even as a kid I was a cynic; I always regarded ‘nice’ as a pretence that people put on to try and trick things out of you. I suppose sinners shouldn’t judge people by their own sins.

It took a while but eventually I realised that he was genuine, which brought out a paternal instinct in me, one that I never knew I possessed. While I regarded everyone as scum until proved otherwise, Longy regarded everyone as saints. I suppose he could be described as naïve, but I preferred to think of him as unsullied by the cynicism of everyday life.

He was, to be fair, a victim waiting to happen. The only reason he’d survived so long without being badly burned had as much to do with luck as it did to do with the determination of his friends not to let it happen. We went out of our way to protect him from himself and if we couldn’t do that we’d try and clean up the mess afterwards. The amount of times Geronimo and I had to track down some scumbag who’d ripped him off was beyond measure; the two of us chasing down some bloke and threatening him with violence (Geronimo obviously more than me), if he didn’t give us back what he’d taken.

Which was why, when I looked at him now, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of failure. I’d let him down, when I should’ve protected him, should've stopped whatever it was that had turned him into a shell of the man I’d once known.

‘
W-Wolfy,’ he replied weakly.

‘
Long time, geezer. How's tricks?’ I said as cheerfully as I could, not wanting to show my alarm at his present state.

‘
Yeah, not bad,’ he answered, convincing no one, not even himself.

His eyes were wild, darting in every direction, never settling anywhere. Sleep looked a stranger to his face. Where his clothes had once been immaculate, they were now soiled and ripped. His frame, which had been so robust that his laugh could shake a room, was now so thin and flimsy looking, that a gust of wind could have floored him. His skin had lost its glow and his eyes had lost the joy and compassion that had been their defining quality. The world had aged him. To see such a good man broken upon the wheel of life almost tore me in half. Longy was my hope, he was the one, the good guy that wouldn’t finish last; the one who would get everything he deserved. He was the person who could eradicate my cynicism and make me believe that you didn’t need to be a vulture to survive; that life was basically good and that in the long run it would all come out fair.

‘
I’ve still got your box in my lock-up,’ I said smiling.

Before Longy had left on his travels he'd got me to take care of a big seaman's trunk for him; said he didn’t want to leave his valuables in an empty flat. All I was thinking was that with a few good scams on my part, I’d have him up and running like the old Longy in no time. He’d be back wasting his money, laughing and joking and all would be good in the world.

‘
Burn it, Wolfy. Destroy it,’ h
e said as soon as I mentioned the box.

‘
Okay. You sure you're alright, geezer?’

‘
No, I’m fucked, Wolfy. I'm in trouble.’

‘
Whatever it is, geezer, you know I’ll back you up.’

‘
It’s too late, Wolfy ... too late. I’ve given up running. I’m just too tired.’

‘
What the fuck is going on, Longy?’

‘
Nothing, don’t worry.’

‘
What you mean
don’t worry?
You look like shit. Talk to me, man.’

‘
Later.’

‘
What?’

‘
Later. Meet me at mine at three. I’ll tell you then. Okay?’

‘
Tell me now, Longy, and we’ll sort this.’

‘
I can’t. I have to go. I have to see Michael.’

‘
You want a lift? I’ll drop you; we can talk on the way.’

‘
I need to go alone.’ He was adamant and nothing I could say was going to stop him leaving by himself. He patted me weakly on the shoulder and walked out leaving me as confused and as apprehensive as I’d been when I’d first seen him. Looking back now I should have chased him, should have stopped him. But I didn’t. I just let him walk out.

I was tempted to go and harass Tommy-Two-Tooth but the reality was, that: 1) I didn't intimidate him enough for him to tell me; and 2) even if I did, he wouldn't. He just didn't work that way. He was a confidential type of fella; had to be in his business.

Tommy was an information trader, a go-to guy. If you needed something Tommy had the connections; less goods more services really. People, contacts, information, anything you needed, Tommy knew someone. He didn’t judge, didn’t condemn, just gave you what you asked for … for a fee, obviously.

Longy had me worried and even though I knew it was pointless I walked across to Tommy.

‘
No!’ he said before I'd even got half-way.

‘
What?’ I said innocently. ‘I was just coming to say hello.’

‘
No, you weren't. You were coming to be nosey.’ Thoroughly caught without a leg to stand on.

‘
Fair enough, Tommy. You alright though?’

‘
As well as can be hoped,’ which meant ‘yes’ in Tommy’s world.

Spinning on my heels, I headed back to Geronimo.

‘
You alright?’ Geronimo could see the anxiety in my face as I went back towards the bar.

‘
No. I’m seriously worried about Longy.’

‘
So am I. What’s wrong with him?’

‘
I honestly don’t know.’

‘
He didn’t say?’

‘
Nah, all he said was that I should see him at his for three. Oh shit.’

‘
What?’

‘
Ah nuthin’, don’t worry about it.’

I’d just realised that I’d agreed to see Longy at the same time I’d said I’d meet Tabatha.

‘
Do us another coffee, Mo.’ I said, completing forgetting it had been a good day until I'd walked into The Hanging Man.

‘
You gonna see him later?’ he said putting the coffee down in front of me.

‘
Course. Can't let that slide.’

‘
Keep me in the loop, Wolfy.’

‘
Definitely.’

I had time to waste before three, and so wasted it in The Hanging Man, with Geronimo. Idle chit chat mostly. We were both dodging what we were really thinking about; what was happening with Longy?

Wednesday 2:30 p.m.

I knew Longy had said to meet him at three, but I still had an appointment with Tabatha that I intended to keep. I thought if I got there early, I could grab Longy and take him with me to see her. He was as much her friend as mine. And the state he was in I knew she'd want to know what was happening as much as I did.

I jumped into Betsy, my pride and joy; a Triumph Dolomite Sprint. Bucket seats, walnut interior, chrome trimmings and the finest stereo money could buy … or, more accurately, a man named Terence could
acquire.
I seriously spent on Betsy

The engine, as always, turned over first time. The sweet sound was like music to my ears; the gentle purr vibrating through me, the calming sensation gently soothing my jangled nerves.

Before I went to Longy's, I wanted to get some shopping in. When we used to bunk off school every now and then, we’d organise a big feast; usually stuff we’d pinch from a rival deli. I thought it’d be nice to try and recapture some of our youthful exuberance; a bit of a trip down memory lane. Relax him a bit with happy memories.

I picked up a large whole pepperoni, a ciabatta, some taramasalata and a large pot of pickled green olives. (All of which I paid for, although I did consider pinching it, just to keep in with the spirit of things.) But I was in a rush and paying was quicker.

Longy lived in a three-storey block of flats near Shepherds Bush, in one of those housing estate numbers run by a charitable trust. Built in the thirties and designed to look like a manor house, originally it must have looked quite welcoming. But now with the red brick discoloured by a combination of weather and car fumes, it had lost its once hospitable shine.

His flat was at the top and each level of the building was marked with a dual swinging door that led on to a corridor which had four identical flats in it. Longy’s was at the far end: number 24. I walked up to the door, bag in one hand, large pepperoni in the other. I banged the brass door knocker. It did one of those unintentional double knocks that they sometimes do. I heard movement inside: a hurried shuffling, but it wasn’t coming towards me. Remembering the state my friend had been in, I thought it best to announce who I was.

‘
Longy, it’s Wolfy.’

I could hear hurried movement.

‘
Longy, y’oright? Longy … Longy?’

I banged again and shouted through the letterbox. I could see right through into his front room. A figure was climbing out of the window.

‘
Longy, don’t you dare!’

Fearing the worst I tried to force the door, kicking it with all my might. It shook but didn't budge. I kicked it again, and I heard the lock crack

‘
Longy!’ I shouted. ‘Longy!’ I had no choice. I stepped back and ran at the door, shoulder first.

Bingo.

I blasted through it hearing the door frame splinter as I crashed on to the floor of Longy’s hallway. The bag of food skewed across the polished surface. I watched almost in slow motion as the bag collided with the wall and the olives exploded out of it. Rising to my feet I went towards the window.

I didn’t want to look out of the window. Didn’t want to see what could be down on the ground beneath me. Taking a deep breath I slowly stuck my head out. I couldn’t believe my eyes. There on the drainpipe was a man; a skinny man wearing a large black cloak, black cowboy hat, and a pair of circular rimmed black sunglasses. He had an anaemic skin tone which resembled a corpse’s, and had a wildness to his appearance. He was almost at the bottom. Glancing back along his route he saw me looking down at him. Reaching with his right hand towards his back he pulled something out. I saw black metal glisten as the sunlight caught it.