John Star - Part Two by Dave Rigby

 

Sorry about the rent. I can’t stay here.

John Star sits in his Vanguard, thinking about Archie the tenant at number 11 who’d left that very brief note and disappeared. And the man claiming to be Archie’s son had just done a runner.

He should phone the police, except he knows they’ll just ask a load of pointless questions and then tell him there’s nothing they can do until Archie’s been missing for a while longer. So, if anything is to happen, he’ll need to do it himself.

Mrs Coles walks slowly down the street towards number 1. Back from the doctors. Star watches as she slowly fiddles with the key to get it just right to open the door. He gives her a few minutes to settle in, gets out of the car, crosses the road and rings the bell. She’s pleased but surprised to see him.

    “Everything alright John? Is there a problem with the rent?”

    “No, no, Mrs Coles. Everything’s tickety-boo. It’s your famous local knowledge I’m after. Have you got a minute?”

She leads him into the front parlour and then insists on making a pot of tea.

He sits on the sofa, his head leaning back on the floral-print antimacassar, his arm on the matching armrest cover. She perches on her own well-cushioned chair, her hand shaking slightly as she lifts the cup and sips.

Star tells her what happened earlier at number 11.

    “I know it’s a few doors down from you, but I reckoned you might have heard something about what’s going on there. Am I right?” She nods.

    “Of course, that man’s not Archie’s son. Mind, he did have a son, but lost him years ago to a dreadful illness. Anyway, this feller – Clive he’s called – is a nasty piece of work. Archie told me about being at his wit's end. I more or less forced him to say what the problem was. Clive wanted somewhere to live and food to eat. Archie said he’d had no choice but to agree. This Clive threatened to tell everyone about Archie being an ex-con and that he'd be hounded out.”

    “And is he?” Star asks. Mrs Coles hesitates.

    “Well, yes. I knew about it long ago. But as far as I’m concerned, Archie has served his time. And he’s a nice man.”

Star is impressed by her honesty and openness. He already knew about Archie’s past, had done the initial letting to him years ago.

    “He’s related to Mr Elliot next door,” she says. “Clive, I mean. Must have got the information from Elliot and seen an opportunity.” Just the kind of thing Elliot would do, Star thinks.

    “Where do you reckon Archie might have gone?” he asks.

    “I really don’t know. Always keeps himself to himself. Can’t get any gossip out of that one.” A slight smile.

Star thinks back years and recalls Archie mentioning an ex. He can’t remember her name but is fairly sure she moved to Northavon.

On the drive out there, he pulls up at a phone box, one of the few that’s usually in working order, rings the office and explains his little diversion to Janice, so she can keep Finlayson, the boss, off his back. She asks if he’s still on for Saturday. He says yes and feels pleased about it.

There’s a steep drop down into Northavon with a good view of the sea. A couple of dog walkers on the beach. He pulls up outside the tobacconist. Buys a pack of twenty, a box of matches and the local paper. He was at school with Bex, the woman serving and explains about Archie’s ex. Between them, they work out that it’s a woman called Bridget, who Bex says lives in a cul-de-sac at the far end of the town. 

Star sits on the seafront bench, lights up and flicks through the paper. When the drizzle starts, he wanders back to the car and heads for the cul-de-sac. Bridget’s place is a neat looking bungalow with a ramp to the front door. She’s sitting in a wheelchair under the front canopy and beckons Star to sit on the adjacent bench.

    “Hello John,” she says. “Long time, no see.” He stares at her.

    “Well, well, well. 49, Carmel Gardens. You still owe a fiver in rent!” he says.

She laughs. He tells her about Archie.

    “We should never have split up,” she says, “but you know when he was put away, even though it wasn’t for long, I couldn’t cope.”

    “Any idea where he might be?” Star asks.

    “With his mother, I’d guess.”

    “His mother!”

    “Yeah, still going at 97.” She tells Star where Mrs James lives.

He drives to Longscar, finds the house and knocks on the door. Archie opens it. He looks worn out. Star tells him what’s happened.

    “Clive’s scarpered and I can guarantee he won’t be back,” he says.

    “How can you possibly know that?”

    “Because I’m going to speak to Elliot. I know things about him and he won’t want me blabbing. And as for your brush with the law all those years ago, I think your neighbours either already know about it or wouldn’t be bothered if they did know.”

    “I’ll need to have a think about going back, Mr Star. But thanks so much for doing all this, It’s very good of you.”

    “There’s one thing I’ll be needing though Archie!”

    “What’s that?” He looks worried.

    “Your rent!”

Archie looks sheepish as he pulls out his rent book and a few notes from the inside pocket of his faded tweed jacket and hands them over. Star goes to the car to do the necessary with the rent folder and returns.

    “All done and dusted! Now, I think it’s about time I met your mother!”

"Twenty pound notes" by HowardLake is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.