Widows

Eddie’s aim went off and he missed the glass completely. Tony Fisher was very good at his line of work; in fact, he was in many ways everything Eddie aspired to be. A hard man with bulging muscles, but well turned out in fancy clothes and well-manicured, even down to the little diamond stud in his ear. Tony sat down opposite Eddie and crossed his legs, revealing polished Gucci shoes as he brushed down his thigh with his hand. It was Arnie who had taught Tony how to look classy, although he didn’t approve of the diamond earring. Tony thought it made him look sexy; he was to some women, but to others his shifty eyes let him down.

Tony Fisher never met anyone eye to eye; instead, he made a point of looking at people’s foreheads when he spoke. Now he cast a slow gaze around the filthy squalid hut, knowing full well the effect he was having on Eddie. Inflicting fear always made Tony feel good.

‘You know old Boxer Davis, don’t you?’ Tony asked, as though it was the most natural question in the world.

‘Yeah,’ Eddie stuttered, ‘he works for you. Bit of a charity case. I haven’t seen him since the funeral.’

‘Well, he’s been shooting his mouth off about your cousin. Telling the world that Harry Rawlins is alive and kicking. We both know that can’t be true, don’t we?’

‘Alive?’ Eddie seemed astonished. ‘Harry’s not alive, Tony — I mean, I’m family; he’d tell me before Boxer bloody Davis.’

Tony smiled a reassuring smile and Eddie visibly relaxed a little. Tony took out his handkerchief and leaned across the table, arm stretched toward his glass of whiskey. In a flash, his hand diverted from the glass and he grabbed Eddie by the hair, pulled him over the table and stuffed the handkerchief into his mouth. Hauling Eddie off the table, Tony slammed him against the wall and butted him in the face. It was over in a matter of seconds. A dazed and semiconscious Eddie slid down the wall onto his backside. Tony squatted down, removed the handkerchief and gently wiped the blood from Eddie’s busted nose. Leaning his head close, he whispered menacingly, ‘Now, tell me what you know about Harry Rawlins’s ledgers.’

From behind the tears, Eddie pleaded with Tony. ‘I don’t know anything about ledgers, Tony, I swear to God I don’t.’

‘But you’re family,’ Tony mocked. ‘He’d tell you before Boxer bloody Davis and if Boxer bloody Davis knows, then it stands to reason you know.’

‘I don’t! On my life, I don’t. Harry never told me anything. I was just bigging myself up Tony, you know how it is. Harry had it all and I had... well, this shithole. Me and Harry weren’t close; he didn’t even like me. He told me nothing, I swear.’

Tony raised his hand to scratch his own forehead and Eddie flinched so hard he almost fell off the floor.

‘Please don’t hit me again!’ Eddie screamed.

‘Be quiet, you Jessie.’ As Tony ramped up the menace, Eddie kept his hands high, protecting his face, nodding or shaking his head in response.

‘Harry had it all, did he?’ demanded Tony. ‘Well, now I’ve got it all, understand? Me and my brother. And whether Harry’s alive or dead makes no fucking difference to us, cos he’s nothing anymore. Which clearly makes you less than nothing. Agreed?’ Tony put his hand gently on the side of Eddie’s face. ‘So, you keep your ear to the ground...’ Tony slammed Eddie’s face hard into the fiberboard flooring ‘...and you let me know if you hear anything from Boxer Davis or if you hear anything about Harry’s ledgers.’ Tony tapped his hand hard on Eddie’s cheek a couple of times and got up.

Eddie daren’t move. He lay on the filthy floor, crying silently, eyes screwed tight shut, waiting for a boot in the face. He only opened his eyes when he heard Tony’s car start up and drive away. He scrambled to his feet, holding his aching head and his smashed nose, and looked out of the window to make absolutely certain that Tony had gone. Then he picked up the phone.

In a small hovel of a flat in Portobello Road, the phone was answered by Bill Grant. Bill listened as Eddie, in a trembling, high-pitched voice, poured out everything that had just happened. Eventually, Bill couldn’t take any more.

‘Shut your stupid mouth, Eddie. What did you tell him?’ Bill demanded.

‘I told him nothing. It’s all coming from Boxer Davis.’ Eddie said.

‘And where’s he?’