AshEdit—News About Books & Writers

August 7, 2011

Contemporary British Crime Writing—Part 1

Filed under: Uncategorized — ashedit @ 3:07 pm


The Carmen Miranda look-a-likey walks into the bar shouting, “Okay, where’s my friggin’ pet iguana.”

No joke. That’s how this sorry tale starts.

Saturday night. The Winchester was sweaty and heaving. I figured Carmen for another karaoke punter. Drunk and heading for a beating as Frank, the owner cum bouncer, cursed loudly. Six foot six tall and hands like coal shovels. The only thing short about Frank was his temper. Roars erupt as Frank began frogmarching the pissed-up drag queen out, minus iguana.

I felt a paw on my shoulder. A gorilla towered over me; a threatening bulge under his jacket where a bulge shouldn’t be. The gorilla leaned in. I smelt bad breath and cheap aftershave. Heard, “Backroom. Now!”

Cigar smoke floated in the back room like an omen of menace to come. Under it Pork Pie was immaculate in a black, three button single breasted suit.

Puffing on a fat Cuban, Pork Pie twirled a leather flat topped hat in his hand. “Sit,” he commanded.

I sat.

Pork Pie’s moniker came from his fondness for Ska music, not the staple British meat pie. My reckless dalliance with his young wife had resulted in a fierce shoeing. Several cracked ribs were testament to Pork Pie’s ruthlessness. You’ve got to be to cut it as a gangster in these parts.

“You owe me, Valentine,” Pork Pie’s voice was full of gravel. “This is payback.”

“Sure, Mr P.”

Reptilian eyes locked onto mine. “I need you to find a man for me.”

“Suppose a dating agency is out of question.”

If Pork Pie gave a signal I missed it. Maybe the gorilla, stepping forward and throwing a ferocious punch, used his initiative. I fell off the chair, my guts on fire; puking beer and whiskey.

Pork Pie sighed and tut-tutted. Hunching down and giving me a close up of highly polished brogues and a face full of smoke.

“That smartarse mouth of yours…” Pork Pie grabbed hold of my balls and squeezed. “And your dick will be the death of you.” A set of brass knuckles on his other hand was cold against my cheek. “Shut the fuck up or that wisecrack will be your last.”

So Pork Pie talked and I listened.

Albie Perkins was a bean counter; the magician who laundered Pork Pie’s ill-gotten gains. He’d disappeared ten days ago, along with a tidy nest egg.

Pork Pie wanted the loot found, intact.

“And Albie?”

“The jury’s still out,” barked Pork Pie. “Just do as you’re told gumshoe.”

***

I took Albie’s laptop to a computer whiz-kid, oiling him with a roll of greasy banknotes. Footprints on the hard drive put me onto Albie’s trail like a hound baying for blood.

A week later I watched Albie enter a dodgy health club called ‘The Erogenous Zone’, a spit away from Waterloo railway station. Three hours later he left hand in hand with a twenty something, dark haired Lothario.

I guessed they’d found each other’s zones.

Snapping pictures I followed them to a dingy Bayswater hotel.

Twenty four hours later Pork Pie had the lothario’s name; Aaron Grant. For good measure I threw in Aaron’s address, bank account, star sign and mother’s maiden name.

Sober and with the right incentive I’m good at my job.

I did the decent thing before I made the final call and knocked on Albie’s hotel door.

“Why, Albie?” I asked.

Albie was dishevelled and haunted. Tired eyes, sunken cheeks and salt n pepper stubble. “I did it for love,” his tone thick with melancholy.

***

Frank had closed up. I was alone with a guilty conscience and a bottle of malt for company. I’d already drunk down to the label.

The South London Press lay on the bar top. I’d read the article umpteen times. Aaron Grant’s body had been found in his Vauxhall bedsit; the smell finally becoming too much for the neighbours. They’d dialled three nines.

Another unsolved murder in the South London badlands.

Albie was counting beans again and making them disappear. Safe until his usefulness waned. A harsh lesson learned that love played no part in Pork Pie’s villainous empire.

The precariousness of my own position struck me like a cold hearted mugger’s cosh.  Pouring two fingers of whiskey I contemplated a change of scene and profession.

I dropped a pocketful of shrapnel into the jukebox. After a few beats I drunkenly sang along.

“Working for the rat race. You know you’re wasting your time. Working for the rat race. Your no friend of mine”.

I turned quickly at the sound of scratching. A large green, spiky backed lizard flashed a long tongue at me. A black striped, whip-like tail snaking behind as it scuttled into the cellar.

“Well I’ll be fucked,” I said.

Albie Perkins certainly was. Maybe we both were.

© 2011 Alan Griffiths



Alan Griffiths hails from the badlands of South London, England. In 2010 ‘My Father’s Son’ was nominated for the 2010 Spinetingler Best Short Story on the Web award. ‘Concrete Jungle’ features in the e-book anthology Discount Noir published by Untreed Reads. ‘Say Hello, Wave Goodbye’ is published in the Byker Books anthology: Radgepacket – Tales from the Inner Cities Volume 5. When the mood takes him he blogs at: http://britgrit.blogspot.com/


—Elaine Ash



Advertisements

21 Comments »

  1. Hey, Al. Proper Brit Grit that, mate!

    Standout line, amongst many…

    “Suppose a dating agency is out of question.”

    Quality.

    Best,
    Col

    Ps. Thanks for doing this series, Elaine.

    Comment by Col Bury — August 7, 2011 @ 3:20 pm

  2. Hi Col! yeah, proper Brit Grit that. Glad you approve!
    EA

    Comment by ashedit — August 7, 2011 @ 4:02 pm

  3. SMASHING START TO THE WEEK!

    Comment by Paul D Brazill — August 7, 2011 @ 10:37 pm

  4. Great story. Really like Alan’s work.

    Comment by nickquantrill — August 7, 2011 @ 10:38 pm

  5. Alan has his own style and this piece has it in spades. Great work, buddy. Good to see you getting back at it!

    Well done!

    Comment by David Barber — August 8, 2011 @ 3:24 am

  6. Brilliant stuff, Alan. Brit Grit all the way. Loved the soft underbelly beneath the bleakness. That, and the sharp humour – two major ingredients of Brit Grit, in my opinion. Top stuff, mate.

    Comment by Ian Ayris — August 8, 2011 @ 4:12 am

  7. I know Alan worked very hard on this one. Let me see if I can get him to give us a few more details here.
    EA

    Comment by ashedit — August 8, 2011 @ 5:47 am

  8. Almost feels like this one is nonfiction! 😉

    Comment by charlesgramlich — August 8, 2011 @ 6:41 am

  9. First time I’ve encountered Alan’s stuff. Like that malt, there was plenty of character and no nonsense. Really enjoyed it.

    Comment by Rob Jarossi — August 8, 2011 @ 8:07 am

  10. I’m chuffed at the reaction to my piece and for the kind and supportive comments. Very much appreciated. Thank you all so much.

    The origin of this story sits with Cormac Brown’s Friday Flash Fiction blog where a starter sentence is given. I decided to get the elephant in the starter sentence out the way as soon as possible and I’m then free to tell the story.

    I read somewhere that Noir has no winners, only losers. With this in mind I had the final scene in my head: A drunken Valentine, morose and guilty due his part in a sorry tale – classic PI, eh. Suddenly my light bulb moment or was it a briefly flickering match. Why not bring back that elephant or in my case iguana. My aim was to enhance the imagery of Valentine’s drunkenness. Was Val imagining the iguana in a whiskey stupor? Or was the iguana alive and well and happy in the cellar? I’ll let the reader decide. But, if Iggy is in the cellar then poor old Carmen is another Noir loser… Hey, Noir’s a tough place, folks.

    Are you a glutton for punishment for more criminal writing? Then try to follow this link and read Monkey Man; my first Valentine piece, again inspired by FFF.

    http://thrillskillsnchills.blogspot.com/2009/10/monkey-man-by-alan-griffiths.html?zx=91de561d7bb4e538

    Finally a big thank you to the fab EA for hosting me here and an even bigger thank you to her for being so supportive, encouraging and for sharing pearls of writing wisdom.

    Enjoy the rest of the Brit Grit series here at Ashedit, all. I know I will.

    Best, Alan

    Comment by Alan Griffiths — August 8, 2011 @ 11:54 am

  11. Fun tale! Nice job, Alan. Thanks Elaine! Looking forward to the rest of this series.

    Comment by Glenn Gray — August 8, 2011 @ 3:31 pm

  12. When a story starts like that and gets better, it’s a keeper.

    Comment by Al Tucher — August 8, 2011 @ 4:25 pm

  13. Looks like a great series and off to a brilliant start.

    Comment by Patti Abbott — August 9, 2011 @ 2:03 am

  14. Hi all! Thanks so much for dropping by and supporting Alan and all of the Brit Grit writers who add their talent to the international “pool of noir.” I feel very close to our British brothers and sisters. By the way guys, thanks for giving us the English language!
    EA

    Comment by ashedit — August 9, 2011 @ 7:00 am

  15. Glenn, Al and Patti thanks so much for those kind comments and taking the time to read my tale. Glad it tickled your fancy, as they say!

    Best, Alan

    Comment by Alan Griffiths — August 10, 2011 @ 1:09 am

  16. I just want to add that I’m following the unrest in Britain right now and my thoughts are with all my friends. I pray that peace and security are restored as soon as possible.
    Sincerely,
    Elaine

    Comment by ashedit — August 10, 2011 @ 8:36 am

  17. tremendous. love the photo at the head of this. albie is a great character – the wisecrack about the dating agency, you can’t help loving him for. and the iguana to start and finish, one wonderful circle complete.

    Comment by nigel — August 11, 2011 @ 11:39 am

  18. Nigel, thanks so much for the kind words. I’m looking forward to your own feature as a part of this series entitled, Nigel Bird’s A-Z Brit Grit Translation Guide. It’s a wonderful addition to the series and a great help for those who don’t actually speak the Queen’s English. 🙂
    Elaine

    Comment by ashedit — August 11, 2011 @ 11:46 am

  19. Thanks for the kind comment, Nigel. I’m chuffed, coming from a writer I admire so much. Looking forward to your piece as well.

    Comment by Alan Griffiths — August 12, 2011 @ 11:19 am

  20. Great stuff, classic noir and an excellent story.

    Comment by Sean Patrick Reardon — August 12, 2011 @ 11:39 am

  21. Thanks, Sean. I’m chuffed by the reaction to the story and really appreciate all the supportive comments.

    Comment by Alan Griffiths — August 13, 2011 @ 3:55 am


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: