A Collection of Odds & Ends

Dead Man's Affair (Tommy Shelby - Peaky Blinders)

She walked in, her hair perfectly in place, her lips painted a soft yet vibrant red, and her eyes drilling holes into anyone who met her stare. Unlucky for Finn, he had been the one asked to take her to Tommy's office. The lady, barely taller than Aunt Pol was in her heels, held an uncomfortable manner of authority.

Finn had seen ladies like this, when he had gone out with the older boys, they were often the ones looking for a night time friend to take them home. Mrs. Clayton as she had introduced herself, in a no horseshit type of way, to Arthur was seeking a meeting with the great Thomas Shelby.

"He's right in here, Ma'am." Finn's mousy voice cracked, as he opened the door to Tommy's office, allowing the dark haired lady entrance.

"Thank you, for your assistance." She coldly brushed off the boy.

Nodding to his younger brother, Tommy indicated Finn to take a seat in the corner. Best to be seen and not heard. On the stool in the corner, Finn held his breath as she woman removed her gloves and extended a hand for the boss to shake.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby." Her voice softened ever so slightly. The American accent rolling off of her lips and onto Tommy's ears like a smooth wind. "I'm Mrs. Eileen Clayton. I believe you were expecting me."

"I was," Tommy replied, his eyes flicking to Finn. "Finn, fetch me that bread Mr. Solomons sent earlier."

Over her shoulder, Eileen could hear the gangly boy scurrying around, glasses clinked against one another in his haste to fetch the bottle of rum. Eileen wasn't naive, everybody this side of town knew that Alfie Solomons was no baker, not of bread at least.

"Have a seat, Mrs. Clayton." Tommy instructed, adjusting his waist coat returning to his chair. "Your husband had said..."

A curt, cold laugh echoed in Tommy's ears as he spoke. "My husband? Oh, the great Thomas Shelby speaks to the dead? He is not my husband, but my business partner."

The previous week, a man had come into the betting shop, asking that a Mrs. Eileen Clayton be allowed to speak with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby. Told that Tommy wasn't in Birmingham that day, he had asked that Mrs. Clayton be seen as soon as possible. Odd that a husband would come making appointments for his wife; Tommy never questioned the cause and agreed to the meeting.

"There is no Mr. Clayton." Eileen answered promptly. "Or should I say, he is no longer with us. Poor old Harry, such an unfortunate accident. Hunting accident, shot in the head, damn gun went off. You think a former soldier would know how to handle a weapon."

"Sorry to hear that." Tommy breezed over the topic. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together, his cool blue eyes attempting to burn holes into Eileen Clayton's soul.

She wasn't scared of him.

Tommy admired that.

"You may be the only one." Eileen picked up a silver cigarette case from her purse. "Mr. Shelby, forgive me for being too forward, but we both know that I am not here to discuss my late husband."

"No, I suppose you're not." Tommy gave his head a slight shake. If one were to blink they would have missed it. Picking up a bottle of dark rum, he poured a glass. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Clayton?"

Smiling like the cat who'd ate the cream, Eileen sat straighter in her chair. "I believe you were once an associate to a dear friend of mine, May Carleton? Yes, well she tells me that you may have exactly what I am looking for."

"What business does she believe we have for you?" Tommy's interest was growing.

"There is a horse; Wapiti Windsong, striking bay with four stark white legs and a full white face, he's never lost a race. My husband had debts, Mr. Shelby."

"Money? Are you asking for money? I'm not a charity, Mrs. Clayton."

Pouring another glass of rum, he pushed it toward the woman on the other side of the desk.

"I'm not." Eileen scoffed, her lips pursing and her eyes narrowing at such a statement. "My husband's horses raced on the legal tracks, under the guidance of Mr. Kimber. Since those days are past, I've come to you for business. You see, Mr. Shelby, I must make sure this horse wins his next race. I've an estate riding on it."

Money tied up with bad bookies, sour bets, and a string of other bad habits had left Eileen Clayton scrambling to right her husband's wrongs. She had known that Harold was a dog, a real bastard, after the war he'd began to gamble away everything they'd owned - nearly losing the estate a time or two. Mr. Clayton's death had been a bit of a reprieve.

In a few short months after his death, the knocks of collections had stopped, halted for weeks and had given Eileen a false sense of hope. Stupid of her to think men wouldn't be back to collect, their sympathy for a grieving widow would last only as long as she mourned.

"You're familiar with Mr. Ó Cleirigh?" Her brow raised. "He has a horse, Murphy's Morn. My horse outruns his, or his doesn't run at all...I keep what belongs to me."

"Hmm." Tommy hummed, leaning back in his chair, he mulled over the silent but obvious request. "And you came to me? I'm sorry, Mrs. Clayton but I don't think there is much I can do."

"I'm willing to pay." Eileen rebutted. "Help me and you'll be greatly rewarded."

"You don't give up, easily." Tommy noted, his brow knit. "What are you asking? A few horses pull up lame the morning of? A fever as they approach the start box? Jockeys go missing?"

"Perhaps, you're a clever man. I'll leave the strategics to you." Eileen picked up the glass of rum, downing it in one gulp. "I'm only here to run my late husband's affairs, you can call it a passion."

"Unusual passion for a woman such as yourself."

"I have a passion for fine horses and bad men, Mr. Shelby." Eileen's eyes flickered with a hint of mischief.

"Fine horses I have, bad men are a matter of opinions." Tommy replied tipping the rum to his lips. Sucking in a breath after the drink had burned it's way down, he plucked a cigarette from his pocket. "We'll be in touch, Mrs. Clayton."

Tommy wasn't in the habit of helping or working with those, who associated with one Billy Kimber – at any point in his reign, if you could so call it. Eileen Clayton was intriguing, after some careful thought and deliberation, Tommy would either be in touch or not.

Gathering her purse, Eileen snubbed the cigarette out in the tin ash tray, standing from her side of the desk. Lips in a tight line, her dark curls shone when the sunlight from the dirty window met them. Her eyes fixed on the notorious man before her.

"We will be in touch, Mr. Shelby." She repeated a variation of Tommy's words.

On her heel, she turned after a curt nod. Casting Finn a side glance, she held her head high as she walked through to see herself out. A man such as Tommy Shelby couldn't be bothered to see a lady to the door, not that Eileen Clayton was any sort of lady by definition.

In the corner, Finn shifted uneasily, he would have to get used to meetings like this if he wanted to be a full time Peaky Blinder. Sighing, the young man licked his lips, people were funny creatures. A woman had just walked in here, confessing things to strangers, and then walked out like it had never happened. Was it always like this?

"What did she mean, Tommy? It was an unfortunate accident? Did she kill 'im?" Finn's eyes were wide.

"I'm not in the habit of making Eileen Clayton's business my own, Finn. Now go on in, tell John it's time to go." Tommy blew a puff of white smoke with his final words.