Shooting in the Dark

finger and thumb. What’re you gonna do next? he asked himself. Eat them? Wear them? Steal them? Whatever floats your boats.
    It occurred to him that he might be enacting an ancient rite, something similar to the way an animal scents its territory. Was he also putting down a marker in the fondling of the lace? Would she know he’d been there; smell or perhaps feel where his fingers had lingered for the space of a breath?
    The front doorbell rang and he heard Angeles show Ralph through to the sitting room. Her voice coming to him stronger when he cracked open the bathroom door: ‘Sam will be down in a minute. He’s expecting you.’
    And I just love being stiffed, Sam thought.
    The spirit on Ralph’s breath was sour. He had a smile on his face but his eyes were as thin as paint.
    ‘You wanted to see me?’ Sam said.
    ‘Yeah, about the house. Geordie said you wanna give it to a charity?’ He was sitting on the sofa with one leg bent under him. The other leg was jigging up and down at a fair rate of knots, looked as though it wanted to do a dance by itself. In many ways he was the antithesis of Geordie. Brothers are supposed to be similar, Sam thought. They shared the same parents, the same social milieu back in Sunderland, the same crappy education, and yet each of them came with a separate agenda. Sam always held that distant relatives were the best kind.
    ‘And you’re looking for somewhere to house a charity?’
    ‘That’s right, yeah. Somewhere for people who haven’t anywhere else.’ He was wearing a black-and-white striped jumper under his donkey jacket and the collar was turned in on itself. Looked like his mother had been in a rush getting him ready to go out.
    ‘Homeless people?’
    ‘Yeah, like that. And for people’ve had accidents. They can’t manage to live properly.’
    ‘When did this Samaritan influence first show itself?’
    ‘Come again?’
    ‘Your last ship; it was the Bootham, right. Registered in Thailand?’
    Ralph looked down at his hands and shook his head. ‘I’ve bin on lots of ships. On and off I’ve bin at sea for ten years. But I came to talk about the house.’
    ‘You’ve given up the sea?’
    ‘Yeah, finished with all that.’ He hooked his thumbs together, index fingers touching, palms outwards, and extended his arms as if to contain the oceans of the world and shove them out of the way. ‘I wanna live for other people now. Dedicate my life.’
    Sam made eye contact, watched for a blink or something shifting below the surface of the pupil, but the guy was as steady as the murder rate. Sam sighed. It doesn’t matter what you do, he thought. Summer will have its flies. ‘Only I talked to the agent for the Bootham, guy called Phillips. You remember him?’
    ‘Phillips?’ said Ralph. ‘No, the name isn’t ringing any bells.’
    ‘He remembers you,’ Sam said. ‘He told me he’ll never forget you. Could’ve talked about you all day.’
    ‘I was popular on the ship,’ Ralph said. ‘Lots of good mates.’
    ‘Now Mr Phillips didn’t exactly express it like that,’ Sam said. ‘He told me that you ripped off two of your shipmates. Took nigh on a grand from the two of them together.’
    ‘That was a lie,’ Ralph said. He shuffled around like a fart in a trouser leg. ‘Phillips accused me of doing that, but it wasn’t me.’
    ‘So you do remember Phillips.’
    ‘There was no proof. If he was so sure it was me, why didn’t he call the fuzz?’
    ‘Because you’d covered your tracks too well. As you say, there wasn’t enough to prove the case in court. But there was enough for the agent to get you off the ship and blacklist you.’
    ‘The bastard, taking a bloke’s livelihood.’
    ‘And for the union to make sure you never get a ship again. They know all about you as well, they reckon you’ve ripped off fellow sailors in every port you’ve sailed from.’ Ralph looked up and out of the window, refusing to respond.
    ‘What I also learned,’ Sam continued, ‘is that you’re wanted by the Child Support Agency. They’re looking for you to help support your wife and three children.’
    ‘I’m not married.’
    Sam waited a moment. ‘I wouldn’t call it a marriage, either,’ he said. ‘But it was a legal ceremony you went through three years back. Does Geordie know he’s got a nephew and two nieces? A sister-in-law?’
    ‘This is all allegations,’ Ralph said. ‘There’s no proof for it, any of it. Look, if you don’t wanna give me