Just The Driver: Part Fifteen

~ beetleypete

This is the fifteenth part of a fiction serial, in 820 words. **May contain swearing!**

Patsy answered on the third ring. Her voice was agitated, but she was very friendly.

“Thanks so much for ringing me back, Paul. I found the number in a book Nicky keeps in the bedside cabinet. The thing is, he has gone missing. Not like before, this is something different. He might have stayed out a couple of nights and not let me know, but now it is over a week, ten days in fact. I rang the cab firm, but they said you didn’t work there. Are you still doing taxi work?”

I hesitated for a moment, and then lied. I told her I had packed up being a cabbie and was in the process of looking for a straight job because I had to be around for my mum. That might not have been the best idea.

“Oh that’s great. If you are not working at the moment then, I really need your help. I have been in touch with everyone I know where he might have gone, and those who might have seen him around or on the street. But you know a lot of others he would never have told me about, so I’m gonna need your help. Can you come and see me tomorrow? I don’t know who else to turn to, I really don’t”.

Anyone not familiar with those sort of people and the area they lived in might be wondering by now why Nicky’s wife hadn’t called the police, and reported him missing. They might have been asking Patsy if she had telephoned all the hospitals to see if he had been admitted unconscious, or worse. But I knew better than to even bother to mention that. People like Patsy never involved the police in anything, and she would not have brought Nicky’s disappearance to public notice by asking around at hospitals.

People who lived their way of life sorted out their own mess, and dealt with their own problems.

That was the moment I should have told Patsy I couldn’t help. Told her I was needed at home, told her I no longer had a car, made up any wild excuse. But I couldn’t do that. Not because I still thought anything could happen between me and Patsy, I had moved on from that.

And not because I thought I owed her or Nicky anything, I had done what they had asked me to do, and been paid for it. I said I would help because I was a decent bloke who had been brought up to do the right thing. Even though I sometimes did things that were not strictly legal.

So I told her I would be there tomorrow evening about six.

The next night, I was expecting Patsy to come with me, but she had no intention of doing that. Besides, she had nobody else there to look after the kids. She was edgy, wearing no make-up, and speaking quickly. All she could give me for background was that ten days earlier Nicky had told her he was going out to do a deal, and was being picked up by a friend. As was his habit, he didn’t mention any names, or what area he was going to.

She gave me a small photo of him that was about five years old, taken at a party somewhere. Luckily, he hadn’t changed much. Patsy said he had taken a leather shoulder bag, and probably would have had at least a hundred quid on him. But she couldn’t remember what he had been wearing, as she had been bathing the kids when he left the flat.

As I drove off, I had no real idea what I was doing. After all, I wasn’t a private detective, or a copper. I had no authority to ask any questions, and no backup if anything turned nasty. My first destination was the house in Dulwich. My gut feeling told me he was doing deals with the posh guy, and there was an outside chance that someone in the house might have known who he was meeting, or who had picked him up that night.

On the way, I thought up a story to explain my interest. I would say that I had been running him around in my cab all that time, and he hadn’t paid me. Looking for someone who owed you money was a common enough thing back then.

It surprised me when the same bloke answered the door. I didn’t need to show him the photo, so just asked if he had seen Nicky, or knew where he might be hiding out. He smiled and shook his head. “Greek Nicky? The last time I saw him was the night you picked him up from here. What’s going on? You work with Nicky?”

Deciding not to say anything about money owed, I smiled back.

“Me? No. I’m just the driver”.

32 thoughts on “Just The Driver: Part Fifteen”

  6. (1) Patsy answered on the third ring:
    Paul: “Will you put this promise ring on your finger, Patsy?”
    Patsy: ” ”
    Paul: “Okay, well, how about this engagement ring?”
    Patsy: ” ”
    Paul: “This wedding ring?”
    Patsy: “If Nicky’s a goner, yes! Yes! YES!”
    (2) Patsy decided to ring everyone she knows, worried that someone may have decided to wring Nicky’s neck.
    (3) Three possible excuses that Paul could have used:
    … I’m needed at the home. I’m a caregiver now.
    … I no longer have a car. My bicycle has a flat tire. And my knees are swollen.
    ….I’m lost in the wilds of Brazil.
    (4) “Do the Right Thing.” Don’t engage in movie piracy. Too late? You’d best be buggin’ out!
    (5) My gut feelings usually strike me after lunch.
    (6) Did you hear about the cabbie who owned a cat? It was running around in the cab all the time.
    (7) I happened to run across Greek Nicky here in Las Vegas. He was eating yogurt while singing a godawful song about Athena Massey and poison ivy.

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  9. Pete, great cliffhanger. Glad there will be a conclusion on the way. I have to go back and read some I missed. Been busy marketing the book. And structuring a sequel. I know, I’m crazy. 📚🎶 Christine

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    1. He doesn’t have to tell her anything. He’s working, and she’s busy. No mobile phones, text messages, or emails back then. He isn’t seeing her until Friday night anyway.
      Best wishes, Pete.

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