Romeo's Tune (1990) by Mark Timlin

record on the fourth wall. It was hinged and behind it was a wall safe. McBain fiddled with the combination and pulled the safe door open. He pulled out some cash and tossed it to me.
    ‘I don’t trust banks after all these years,’ he said. ‘I like a fighting fund on hand in case of emergencies.’
    The money was in wrappers of a thousand pounds. Holding the two grand he’d given me spun me back some months to the last time I’d stood in front of an open safe. I pushed the memory to the back of my mind where bad memories belong.
    I put the two packets of money into my inside jacket pocket.
    ‘Receipt?’ I asked.
    ‘Send it on. No, on second thoughts give it to my accountant when you meet him. He’ll have a fit.’ The idea seemed to amuse him.
    ‘Right,’ I said.
    ‘You want a spliff?’
    ‘No,’ I replied.
    ‘I do.’
    ‘Go ahead.’
    ‘You want to go and talk to Algy? I’m kind of tired.’
    ‘Sure,’ I said, ‘I’ll see you soon.’
    ‘My accountant will be in touch. He’ll give you all the details,’ McBain said as I left the room and closed the door behind me. As I walked through the bedroom I heard Booker T. start up again.
    I found Algy in the studio.
    ‘All right?’ he asked.
    ‘Never better.’
    ‘McBain’s sicked you on to Mogul?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The old firm.’
    ‘His old management you mean?’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Best of luck.’
    ‘You don’t seem very optimistic,’ I said.
    ‘I’m not, but if it makes him happy...’ He took a fold of paper from his shirt pocket. ‘Want a line?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Something to eat?’
    ‘What’ve you got?’ I asked.
    ‘Cold pizza.’
    ‘I’ll pass.’ Suddenly I wanted to go. For some reason I was getting depressed. ‘I think I’ll go,’ I said.
    ‘Suit yourself.’
    ‘Come down one night for a drink,’ I invited him.
    ‘Right, I just might. I’ll see you out.’
    We went out to the drive where the rain had stopped. I climbed into the Jag and rolled the window down. Algy leaned up close.
    ‘Be careful of those bastards,’ he said.
    ‘Any particular bastards?’ I asked.
    ‘Mogul Incorporated. The Divas. They’re evil fuckers.’
    ‘The who?’
    ‘The Divas. They run Mogul. They used to run McBain.’
    ‘I can take care of myself,’ I replied. After all, I had to say something. ‘Come down for that drink soon.’
    ‘I will.’ He stepped back as I started the car and ran it down the drive. When I got to the gates Algy opened them with his remote control.

9

    I didn’t hear from McBain’s financial man for over a week, but I wasn’t worried. I had the two grand to keep me warm. It was quite a busy few days what with one thing and another. I finally got Cat to the vet’s. She was quite a handful. She seemed to have swollen to such a size that there was a danger she’d burst and medical attention was a priority.
    I took her down to Herne Hill in the Golf and it was just as well I used my most down-at-heel motor. After a battle to get her into the car she sat in the back sharpening her claws on the front seats, and that would have done the leather upholstery in the Jaguar no good at all.
    She wasn’t on her best behaviour when we got to the vet’s either. She sat and spat at the other animals in the waiting room and when she got into the surgery the first thing she did was to slice a chunk out of the back of the good doctor’s hand with her claws. The look on his face as he sucked at the wound told me he was not used to such treatment.
    ‘She’s due any time,’ he said rather coldly after making his examination. ‘Just give her a basket and some torn-up newspaper in a warm place and she’ll do the rest herself.’
    That was his diagnosis. Then he presented me with a large bill. I paid it right there and then in cash. I didn’t want Cat bringing a family into the world with a big debt hanging around their necks.
    I did just as he said. I bought a wicker job at the pet shop and made it up with