BOILER

Chapter 20

Harry Barnes took a holdall out of the trunk and slung it over his shoulder. He shut the lid, but it opened again, so he shut it harder, and walked over to restaurant called the Red Kitchen.

The restaurant was a long, dark space with white daylight falling in spots through the doors and windows. The staff wore white shirts and black trousers. There were black and white prints on the walls of famous names that had never been there. The staff went around laying new red cloth on the tables. The floors were wood with light varnish and dark gashes and knots. There were groups of older people having their afternoon coffee. Barnes went to the bar and helped himself to the complimentary nuts while he waited for someone to notice him. A photo of the original owners was over the bar, taken when the Kitchen was still a poolroom. A young man with slick, black hair walked around the bar.

'I really like that photo. It looks like the old west,' the young man said.

'This was the first poolroom to open in town. Almost as old as the docks,' Barnes said.

'Still got some of the tables downstairs.'

'Howard used to run paid competitions down there. Could I order eggs and bacon, please?'

'Sure, where are you sitting?'

'Where's Howard?'

'He's not in yet.'

'He's always in.'

'He's not now.'

'And if I go out back?'

'He's — he doesn't wanna be bothered.'

'Is he out back?'

'He asked to be left alone.'

'I'm gonna go out the back,' he said, and took the nuts and the holdall with him.

'You didn't speak to me. Don't tell him it was me.'

Howard had built a small garden at the back of the Kitchen. He was getting close to sixty and kept himself in shape which was smart as men built heavy like him could get into trouble without putting the work in. He'd been a good fighter in his day and still was depending on the motivation. Somebody'd got the better of him with a bat and left him half blind. At that point he thought it was time to plan for the long term, and so he started working doors at some of the better bars in town and rubbing shoulders with the city's premier criminal talent. He had one paw in his beard and the other pulling leaves off ivy growing over a trellis. He'd been at it long enough to build two piles of leaves in a white dish. When he saw Barnes, he smiled and took off his black glasses, showing one brown eye and one that wasn't quite white. It was almost a pale blue.

'Mr Pott, how the devil are you?' he asked.

'I'm doing fine. How are you Mr Stamp?'

Stamp smiled. 'I'm doing well, or better.'

They shook hands, or Pott shook some of his hand over the table and put the nut bowl on it.

'Did you order anything?'

'Yeah,' Pott said. He put the bag on the floor and kicked it to Stamp.

Stamp didn't pay it any attention. He took a few nuts from the bowl, dropped them in his mouth and screwed his face up. 'Oh no, these are old. Last night's probably.'

He looked inside and wondered where the boy was.

'How's the wife?' Pott asked.

'She's fine.'