The Drop

said with some feeling, ‘I thought he was with you or… .’
    ‘You thought we’d hurt him?’ I said reasonably.
    She flicked her cig into an ashtray, set it down and pulled the sleeves of her dressing gown taut so they half covered her hands. It wasn’t cold in the room. It was a nervous gesture ‘I s’pose.’
    ‘Well, you would,’ I said, ‘if he’s not been around. How long has he been missing?’
    ‘Three days,’ and saying it aloud set her off. Her lip quivered and the tears formed, ‘Geordie’s never been away for more than a night, not ever.’ North east men christened George are always known as ‘Geordie’ and George Cartwright was no exception.
    ‘When you last saw him where he was he off to?’
    ‘The office. He said he had to see the accountant then he had a trip but he’d be back that night, late.’
    ‘Collecting the Drop,’ said Finney almost to himself. Cartwright would have collected it from Northam, our bent accountant. He was just like a real accountant. The difference was he knew where all the dirty money came from and he never, ever wanted your signature on anything.
    ‘Only he didn’t come back, did he?’ she said accusingly.
    ‘Was he okay when he left?’ I asked her, ‘not upset about anything, worried?’
    ‘No’
    ‘Not acting different in any way you can remember?’
    ‘I’ve just told you!’
    ‘Mandy,’ warned Finney. I got the feeling he would have liked an excuse to belt her one. Maybe he was still smarting about that cock joke.
    ‘It’s alright,’ I assured him, ‘I think we’re done. We’ll get in touch with you as soon as we find him Mandy. You make sure you contact us if you hear from him. You’ve got the number for the club?’
    She nodded. We were leaving when she suddenly said, ‘has something bad happened to him?’ looking like she was going mad with worry. Her eyes met mine imploringly. There was love there, for Cartwright, somewhere deep down, beneath all the fake toughness that comes from a fucked-up life, ‘tell me the truth.’
    ‘The truth?’ I asked and she nodded, ‘I dunno Mandy. I really don’t.’
    We headed back into the city and I had a bit more time to think. I stared out of the window as the concrete walls of the underpass sped by. I’d known seeing Mandy was likely to be a dead-end but I had to check her out in case she knew something, though I was no nearer solving the mystery of George ‘Geordie’ Cartwright’s disappearance than before. I couldn’t fathom it. Like Bobby had said, he’d known Cartwright for years and he didn’t strike me as being a man who was dumb or greedy enough to steal from his employer, particularly an employer like Bobby. But, if it wasn’t him, then who would have the temerity, the sheer fucking brass balls to take money away from Bobby Mahoney. If it was someone who knew about the Drop, and there can’t have been many, then it made even less sense. You wouldn’t want to steal that money believe me. Not for all the shit it would land you in.
    Bobby was right though, which didn’t make me feel any better. It was my responsibility to make sure the Drop got there. I’d been careless, and now I was in deep, deep trouble. How the fuck was I going to find Cartwright and get the money back? It would probably be easier to raise the money for the Drop myself by Monday - and that would still be impossible, even with my talents.
    Bobby was right in another way too. Nobody took from him. If somebody got away with that he was finished. The message it sent out would be clear. Bobby had turned into a soft touch, somebody who could be taken on or taken out by an ambitious rival. He simply couldn’t afford for that to happen. So he had to get the money back and punish the person who’d stolen from him. The punishment would have to match the crime and stealing the Drop was one down from raping his late wife’s corpse, so the thief was going to wind up dead - but not before Finney had spent a long time making him see the error of his ways. Suddenly I was terrified. If I couldn’t find Cartwright, I couldn’t retrieve the money and I couldn’t discover who was responsible, it was going to be me staring into the business end of a nail gun, because Bobby would have to show the world that somebody had paid for ripping him off.
    ‘Pull over,’ I said to Finney in a panic.
    ‘What? Now?’
    ‘Just pull over!’ I managed to get the passenger door open just in time. I leaned out and sicked