Canalside - Part 2 by Dave Rigby

 

(See 2^nd May for Part 1)

Harrison finds it hard to keep up the pace. Unlike the dog, who is more or less pulling him along.

Surely the lad will turn off at Lock 9 and head into town. But no, he seems to be glued to the canalside. Although he glances back briefly, perhaps sensing someone’s on his tail, there’s no sign of recognition. But shortly afterwards, he comes to a halt, phone clamped to his ear. Harrison puts the brakes on. The dog looks up at him, wondering why the game has come to an abrupt stop.

      “Are you Harrison?”

The dog barks. Harrison jumps. Where has this man in a grey overcoat sprung from? He’s too breathless to reply.

     “Well … are you?”

Harrison doesn’t like his tone. Like he’s got some right to ask a stranger a question in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe not nowhere, but nowhere special.

    “Who are you?” he manages, finally, turning to check what the lad is up to. But he’s disappeared.

    “You and your stupid questions. I’ve lost him now!”

    “No, you haven’t. He’s just gone into the boaters’ shed. Let himself in with a key. We should join forces.”

Harrison looks at Overcoat, just as the sun breaks through, causing him to squint and shade his eyes with a hand.

    “Why are you after him?” he asks.

    “Just a sec mate.”

Overcoat’s attention switches to a barge chugging towards the bank, seemingly propelled by a plume of smoke from the stove chimney. He signals to the bargee – who waves back. The Fat Rascal slows. A rope is thrown. Tie her up, Overcoat tells Harrison. He responds instinctively. A perfect canalman’s hitch.

He can’t get his head around what’s happening. There are questions he should ask, but somehow, he can’t raise the energy.

    “The thief’s in there,” Overcoat tells the bargee, pointing to the shed. “Might still have your cash in his wallet.  And with it being one against three, he’s not going to put up a fight.”

    “I’m after him because of the body that was found,” Harrison says. “He’s bound to put up a fight!”

    “But they’ve already caught the perp,” the bargee says. “Didn’t you hear?”

No! He’s heard nothing. Can it be true?

The bargee’s voice bears little resemblance to his frame. Hardly more than a whisper for such a big man. Harrison wonders how exactly he fits below deck.

    “Let’s go and introduce ourselves,” Overcoat says.

    “But …” Finding he’s unable to continue his objection, Harrison and the dog end up following the other two.

As a fully paid-up member of the narrow boat community, the bargee has a key to the shed.

But there’s nobody inside.

    “How did he manage such a disappearing trick?” Overcoat asks.

    “Ah, look!  This place has a back door,” the bargee says.

Three bright-red, cupboards attract Harrison’s attention. He tries the door knobs. The first two cupboards are locked. The third opens. He recognises some of the contents as items that used to live on his barge … but says nothing. Overcoat rummages through the shelves.

    “No cash here,” he says. “Blighter must have it on him.”

    “More likely spent it already,” the bargee says.

The shed back door opens suddenly. The lad’s returned with reinforcements. Large and Larger. Harrison begins to shuffle back towards the entrance, the dog keeping close to him. If he’s honest, the stuff in the cupboard hasn’t really been missed. And he’s never been one for a fight. His suspicions regarding the lad and the body will have to wait.

    “How can we help you gentlemen?” Overcoat says, clearly in no mood to beat a retreat.

The lad stares intently at him.

    “By following your lily-livered mate out of the door!” Larger has a voice that matches his physique.

    “Probation would be interested to know you’re in breach of your bail conditions Sammy! Shall I give them a ring?” Overcoat is obviously enjoying this.

Larger looks initially affronted. Then, suddenly subdued, he slinks away, Large in tow.

    “Right sunshine! Your bodyguards have gone,” Overcoat says. “Give my friend his money back and we’ll say no more about it.”

The lad continues to stare at Overcoat.

    “It was you … wasn’t it? Yesterday evening. I saw you … and the dead man.”

The Overcoat laughs.

    “As I’ve just told Harrison here, the police have already found the culprit. End of story!”

    “Then the police have got it wrong. I know what I saw.”

Harrison is worried. Very worried. Picking up on the conviction in the lad’s voice and the fear in his eyes, he just wants to run with the dog, back up the canalside, back to his barge.

But he knows he can’t.

Fingers to his mouth, a single sharp whistle and the dog pins Overcoat up against the cupboard. Harrison glances at the lad, they nod and the two of them go for the bargee. But he’s away through the open door before they can reach him. A rapid exit for a big man. Still – the Fat Rascal won’t get far!

Harrison makes the call. The lad tells the police what he saw.

They’re relieved that it’s not long until the sirens are heard.