‘Caveat rectum—that’s where the buyer investigates the seller’s arsehole with his Doc Martens because he’s so fucked off with his purchase.’
Swear, I felt that beer gut retract—maybe he sucked in a breath.
He pulled back his shoulders. I saw that he thought about it, having a go, like, but retreated. I heard Michael Caine saying, “You’re a big fella, but outta shape”. This was far from a full-time job to me, but when the radge was on I could do a good impression of the bold Carter.
‘You got the paperwork?’ he said.
‘Sure have. And pay close attention to the date I drove it away.’ I handed over the document wallet and watched him flick through.
‘And you’d be Gus Dury?’
‘That’s my handle, don’t wear it out.’
He closed the wallet and crossed hands. His expression was inquisitive now. ‘Why do I know that name?’
‘Because you recently offloaded this piece of shit on me, perhaps?’
He watched me, his stare cold.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Just wait here a moment, please.’ His demeanour changed. He turned, began to traipse back to the portacabin. If he was trying to rattle me, he’d succeeded.
There was a big window on the cabin, barred over and plastered with sale signs, but I could still see him inside. He checked over the details in the document wallet again and then started tapping at a keyboard. I kept watching as I sparked up a red top. This lad was hunting for something—I thought it might be a get out, a way of spiking my claim, until he picked up the phone and looked even more pensive.
I turned away from the portacabin, concentrated on my tab and a manky seagull sitting on another rusting VW, a Polo this time, and I bet it came with quite a few holes. I kept a guard on beer-gut. The hardy stance had gone now. He was staring at me, clearly reciting my vitals down the line to an interested party. So now he was sussing me out, but who with? The DVLA? Plod? The Leith Massive?
The thought made me shudder—my rep hadn’t improved much lately, I’d only seen more loss of cred. I was shocked to see his grimace slide as he returned the phone to its cradle. He almost skipped down the steps towards me, a wide smile pasted over his face.
Maybe I still had some friends. Maybe it was just the Leith address. Maybe I was fooling myself.
‘Sorry, mate,’ was his opener. A forced laugh erupted. ‘I saw the name and thought I recognised it…’
‘You did,’ I nodded. I wanted to talk about the car, but the conversation had clearly moved on in his mind. I was intrigued but my dander was still racing about the Golf burning oil and, along the way, my coin.
Said, ‘Look, can we talk about the motor?’
‘What?’ He appeared genuinely stunned. ‘Maybe you could just follow me into the office.’
‘For a refund?’
‘God, no. I have a very interesting proposition for you, Mr Dury.’
And that is how it always starts.
The road to bruised knuckles and heartache. The sob-stories and the bad turns taken by people who should really have known better. We should all know better, shouldn’t we? I certainly should have in the past but things were different for me now. Christ, I had my job back. I had a measure of the fabled sobriety for once. Did I really want to go back over the past?
‘No, you look…and don’t call me Mr Dury, I hear that and I think you’re confusing me with my father, which is not a flattering comparison. I’d sooner talk about this bloody oil leak before we go any further.’
‘Sure. Of course, just consider it sorted. I’ll put the Golf on the ramp today and the lads will soon have it purring like a pussy cat.’
I had my doubts, considered asking for it in writing.
‘This way, come on, Mr D—I mean, Gus.’ He indicated the portacabin door, he’d left it open and the grubby, yellowed venetian blind was rattling in the breeze, scaring more manky seagulls into flight. ‘Come on, come on.’ He set off, mumbling, ‘Fancy you walking in here today when I’ve been after a man with just your particular talents since…well, we can get into that.’
Knew I would do just that. And more besides. But my focus was slipping towards the craziest about-turn I’d ever seen on a car lot. Salesmen usually only put on the charm when they want your money. This one was definitely after something but I had no clue what it was.
I crushed the cig under my boot and went inside.
‘Take a seat.’ He cleared a plastic chair of a pile of mouldering Auto Traders and pointed downward.
I dusted the base of the chair with my hand and sat. He was rubbing his palms together as he stood before me.
‘Coffee…er, tea?’ he said.
Declined. My shots weren’t up to date, so thought it best. ‘Can you get to the point?’
‘Of course, yes.’ His fat arse slid onto the desk, dislodging a lava flow of windscreen sale stickers. He was clearly nervous, perhaps even a little perturbed. I found myself glancing at the door but wondering all the while when my car was going on the ramp.
‘Okay. Okay. So, it’s like this Mr—’
‘Gus,’ I cut in.
‘Yes, Gus. I’ve lost something.’
Your mind, perhaps? I held schtum, he still had all the cards after all.
‘Go on.’
‘I looked around…’
‘But couldn’t find it?’
‘That’s right.’
Was going to be pissed if it was a set of car keys after this build up.
He went on. ‘A friend of mine, well, I asked him what to do. And he said, what you need is someone who does this kind of thing, y’know, professionally.’
‘A professional finder?’
‘A detective.’ He almost whispered the word, like it was too politically incorrect to utter.
‘And so you priced them up and thought, fuck that! Which is where my name came in.’
‘Oh, no. No, no.’ He slid off the desk, his lardy arse still wobbling as he shuffled nearer to me. ‘You’ve got me all wrong. It’s not that kind of thing I’m looking for, not a…’ he weighed hands in the air, like he was trying to juggle water, ‘it’s more of a, you might say, unconventional loss. Yes, that’s it, not through the proper channels, so to speak.’
I was getting the picture, even if he was drawing it for me in crayons.
‘Let me get this straight. You lost something and you need to find it, so a friend gave you my name as someone who might help.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded. There was a twitch above his eye and a line of moisture forming on his upper lip that caught my attention.
‘Now, if I’m picking you up right, this loss of yours wouldn’t be anything a reputable firm would even be remotely interested in finding.’