Corky’s Last Case: Part Twenty-Seven

~ beetleypete

This is the twenty-seventh part of a fiction serial, in 765 words.

The sleepy local police detective was pleased to see Corky and Edmunds. “Over to you, mate. He’s not expected to see another twenty four hours. According to the doc who did the emergency surgery, both kidneys have had it, and he lost so much blood there’s not much more they can do for him. He asked for you by name, and wouldn’t tell us a lot more. Looks like a professional job , but he’s not coming up known on a name check”.

They walked into the side room, Edmunds was carrying the reel-to-reel tape recorder and placed it on the floor next to the bed, looking for somewhere to plug it in. Corky looked at the notes on the clipboard hanging off the bed rail. John Durham. He had never heard of him. The man in the bed looked reasonably fit, and had a full head of cropped grey hair. His eyes were half open, and an oxygen mask covered his face. He turned to look at them, giving a grim smile.

“You Corcoran? We never met, but you came to my place once and got brushed off by the doorman. I never forgot your name, for some reason. You were known for not being on the take, so it is no surprise you ended up in A10. Get that machine set up, and open your notebook. I’ve got stuff to tell you, and I ain’t got much time left to tell it”. Edmunds unravelled the microphone lead and placed it on the pillow close to his face. The man pulled off the mask and started talking.

“The name’s Tommy Summers. I used to work for Alfie Rogers at one time. Then I ousted him and took over, but that didn’t last, ’cause of two coppers from the Yard who stitched me up. Both bent as nine-bob notes, names of Mayhew and Mackay. They were on the payroll of everyone, including the Maltese in Soho. I reckon Mayhew pulled in more money than the biggest crooks in London, mate. He played us all off against each other, and walked away scot-free. Well, I ain’t letting him get away with that, so listen, and don’t interrupt”.

Corky pulled a hard plastic chair over from the side of the bed, and sat down. Edmunds made sure the recording was working properly, then started to take notes as Tommy carried on.

“I had this bird, see. Pauline Ferris her name was. Classy-looking, but a dodgy background. Her mum was on the game, and she had been a stripper and clip joint hostess before she took up with me. I really liked her, but never told her that. To be honest, I wasn’t nice to her. One night we was staying in a caravan, and I smacked her around a bit. She guessed I was hiding out from the shooting at some Maltese bloke’s club. But then she just left, reckon she was heading back to her mum’s. Trouble was, she also knew about Mayhew and Mackay. I was pissed off with her, so I rang Mayhew the next day and gave him the nod. I thought he would just put the frighteners on her, but I just know him and Mackay killed her”.

Holding up his hand to stop Tommy rambling, Corky spoke.

“Tommy, we need dates, times, other names involved. All of this has to be properly investigated, we can’t just go and accuse people of murder and corruption on your say-so. Especially as you are unlikely to last long enough to ever give evidence in court”. Tommy thought for a moment.

“Okay, I can remember some of the details, but you need to go after Mackay first. Mayhew will never crack, but that Scottish git Mackay is spineless, just the monkey to Mayhew’s organ grinder. You’ll see I’m right. Mackay will fold, and take Mayhew down with him”.

For the next thirty minutes, Tommy spilled the beans on as much corruption as he could remember, added one or two definite dates, and some juicy details that might even be able to be corroborated. Then a nurse came in, told them off for making him too tired, and put the oxygen mask back on Tommy’s face. As they packed up their stuff to leave, Tommy smiled. “It’s all for Pauline, you understand. I ain’t no grass, but she didn’t deserve that, and she should get justice”.

At the door of the room, Corky turned back. “Who shot you, do you know?” Tommy nodded.

“The Sicilians. It’s a long story, and I ain’t got time for that now”.

28 thoughts on “Corky’s Last Case: Part Twenty-Seven”

  2. (1) Tommy let it be known that he had a story to tell Corky. Upon greeting Corky with a grim smile, Corky wondered if Tommy wanted to tell him a Grimm fairy tale.
    (2) Tommy: “We never met, but you came to my place once and got brushed off by the doorman. He always brushed lint off a suit, and he had an eye for dandruff, too.”
    (3) When Tommy pulled off the mask, Corky noted that he bore an uncanny resemblance to Jim Carrey.
    (4) “…two coppers from the Yard who stitched me up.” What I want to know is whether the doc stitched up the bullet holes in Tommy’s back.
    (5) “Both bent as nine-bob notes.” So they weren’t as folded as a ten shilling note?
    (6) Tommy, “I thought Mayhew would just put the Frighteners on Pauline. You know the ones: Cyrus, the 1970s street gangster; Stuart, the 1950s nerd; and The Judge, the Old West gunslinger. All friends of Frank Bannister.”
    (7) Bad citation: “For the next thirty minutes, Tommy spilled the beans. He was always careless when it came to making a pot of coffee.”

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  5. I finally had some time to catch up on your fabulous serial! It’s so good Pete! I did not expect this turn of events, good for Tommy, doing the right thing in the end. I’m excited to find out how Corky is going to take Mayhew and Mackay down! Hugs, C

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