JACK OF DIAMONDS

ii

Reggie entered The Arrogant Frog, a small pub on the corner of Greek Street and Romily he knew as Charlie Sabini’s haunt of old, hoping he’d find him at his usual table. Sunlight slipped in through the drawn venetian blinds, where it scattered across a parquet floor through upturned chairs resting on tabletops. He could see dust motes floating in the bars of light as a barmaid swept the floor. The girl looked up briefly, hesitating at her chore, the broom almost stuttering before she turned, looking at the barman standing behind the counter who nodded briefly. The bottles and glasses lining the wall caught the light coming in through the blinds, reflecting diamonds of light that danced across the room. A lazy fan with one broken fin slowly spun in the shadowy depths of the timbered ceiling, a trail of cobwebs caught in its orbit as if part of the tail of a distant comet.

Charlie looked up briefly from the newspaper he was reading, and laughed, kicking a chair out from under the table. A squat, square shouldered man with a floored face, and small pince nez glasses, he sat stooped over the table as he read his newspaper. Reggie wondered if it was the lack of proper lighting, or his poor eyesight causing Charlie to lean over the newspaper as he was. He wore a three piece suit with a matching waistcoat of olive green pinstripe, as well as black and white wingtips shoes. Charlie picked up his hat and gloves, moving both across the table, smiling a gap-toothed grin as Reggie reached for the chair.

“Hello, Charlie,” Reggie smiled, laying the violin case on the table.

Sitting in the chair with his back to the sunlight, Reggie relished what little warmth the sun had to offer. It was a far cry from being outside, he thought, shifting his hip uncomfortably in the chair.

“I’d ‘eard you were dead,” Charlie said briefly, looking up from his newspaper.

“An exaggeration,” Reggie smiled, and Charlie nodded, sitting back in his chair.

He looked at the violin case and shrugged as he turned the page of his newspaper.

“What’s this?”

“A mutual friend of ours sends it with his best regards,” Reggie laughed.

“A mutual friend? What kin’ o’ mutual friend?” Charlie asked, and leaning forward opened the violin case. He looked at Reggie with a quizzical knot of his brow.

“What’s this?” he asked again, and sitting back in his chair cleaned his glasses. He replaced them on his nose and turned his attention back to his newspaper, turning the page and scanning the headlines. There was that same quizzical knot of his brow.

“Can you believe this guy?” he said, pointing at the page. “Thinks he can take over the country and tries to organize a coup, but none of his followers follow through. And why would they? Goddamned Germans. When they gonna learn?”

“I don’t know. I don’t follow politics too much.”

“No? Maybe you should,” Charlie smiled up at him. “I follow it a lot. You have t’ if you wanna survive in this line of work. Politicians, judges, police, you have t’ know who’s pockets t' line if you wanna stay safe.”

“I get that.”

“You runnin’ 'round with thieves now, Reggie?” Charlie asked, turning the page.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that.”

“No? But the man I expected this t’ come from, he’s a thief.”

“I wouldn’t know anythin’ ‘bout that.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“He’s someone I met during the War.”

“Someone you serve with?” Charlie smiled, and leaning forward turned the page again. “Don’t sound t’ me as though you’ve left your old life behind, Reg. Sounds t’ me like you’re part of the concern. Is that what you are? Are you part of the concern?”

“I’m out of it, Charlie.”

“An’ how’s that?”

“What do you mean, ‘how’s that’? I simply am.”

“An’ yet—out of the blue—you bring me this violin?”

“I told you, he’s someone I knew from the War. I’m doing this as a favour for him.”

“A favour?”

“That’s right.”

“Where you livin’ these days, Reg? I heard you moved out to the country. I din’t wanna believe it myself. I mean, a farmer? I was certain you’d be coming back t’ me, but you din’t. Why’s that?”

“There was nothin’ for me t' come back to.”

“Nothin’? There’s plenty ‘ere, Reg, an' all ripe for the pickin’, I’ll have you know. A lot of the old Vets came back an' did well for themselves. They’re not afraid to mixed it up. They got that nothin' to live for attitude you need t’ survive out here. You don’t seem t’; have that.”

“Maybe that’s on account of me thinking I got something to live for?”

“Do you, now?”

“I got me a little farm I bought out in the country—bought it with the money I made workin' the streets. I told everyone there it was an inheritance; they believe me.”

“In Devon?”

“Who told you that?”

“You don’t think I asked about you? I didn’t say anythin’ because you obviously din’t wanna come back here, an' I can respect that a man wants t’ go the straight an’ narrow. But now, you show up with this violin—an’ it’s a very valuable violin I’ll have you know—an’ say it’s from a friend. A mutual friend who just happens to be a thief.”

“An’ he’s sorry.”

“He’s sorry? Reggie, you’re sorry when you hurt someone accidentally; you’re sorry if your actions lead t’ someone losin' something they value—a cricket bat, or a good football. But when you break into a place an' steal what doesn’t belong t’ you—a diamond bracelet from someone—you’re not sorry; you’re a thief. That’s something you did with intent; it’s almost like a conviction—okay, that may be a poor choice of words—but a belief, if you want; maybe more of a pastime? That’s somethin’ that can never be forgiven.”

“What are you saying?”

“What am I saying!” He slammed his hand down on the table and leaned forward, pointing a finger at Reggie to make his point. “You tell that son-of-a-bitch I want my pound of flesh. ‘E’s not gettin’ off that easy. He still owes me, an' he’ll do what I tell him, when I tell him. Do you think you can do that, Reggie?”

“Why you gotta be like that, Charlie?”

“Why?” Charlie smiled, leaning back in his chair and looking down at the newspaper again.

He turned the page. “Do you know about this, Reg?”

“What’s that?”

“Howard Carter?”

“Who that?”

“He’s the bloke what found all that treasure buried in that pyramid in Egypt. King Tut’s tomb? Surely you heard of that?”

“King Tut? Sure? What about him?”

“Well, it’s cursed, isn’t it?”

“Cursed?”

“Kinda like your friend. He’s cursed. He broke into my place, an' took my treasure—just like this Carter bloke. Only there was a curse. They din’t pay any attention to that though, did they? Just chalked it up to ancient superstition, an’ because of that, people died.”

“He’s dead?”

“No. Not Carter. Curses don’t work that way, Reggie. But the man behin’ it all— the man with the money? He’s dead.”

“How’d he die?”

“Like I said, people say there was an ancient curse, an’ as soon as they opened the tomb, they let the curse out. The money man wasn’t the only one who died.”

“No? Who else died?”

“A lot of the workers who dug the tomb died.”

“So what’re you trying to say?”

“You friend’s cursed.”

“And by association, me?”

“You?”

“Yeah. Why tell me about all these workers on site dying if that’s not a promise of things to come?”

“Not you, Reggie! But your friend? He has a family. In Kent. At least, that’s where his sister is at the moment. An’ there’s an uncle here in the city. They run an insurance brokerage. They insure things like this,” he smiled, pointing at the violin. “Of course, I could never go in there and ask them to insure it because it’s stolen, but you get my drift.”

“I’m sure I do.”

“I thought you might.”

“And me?”

“You?”

“C’mon, Charlie, how long have I known you?”

“Since we were kids.”

“That’s right. And haven’t I always looked out for you?”

“What’s that I used to say?”

“ ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’? But you always did.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you Reg. I’m gonna offer you a job.”

“What kinda job?”

“I gotta meet with my new Russian friends.”

“Russians?”

“Hear me out. The Solomon brothers got some sort o’ deal happenin’ with ‘em, an’ the Russians asked me t’ help ‘em out, knowin’ me an’ Harry don’t see things quite eye to eye.”

“What sort of help?”

“Just a little protection racket.”

“What kinda protection?”

“They’re hopin’ t’ raise some serious coin flippin’ a shipment o’ dope. They asked me t’ get them in with the Sicilians. They wanna sell to the Solomons an’ sen’ the money out t’ the Finns.”

“Did you tell them they’re outta their fuckin’ minds?”

“It might have. Can’t quite remember if I did or not, you know? I thought you din’t follow politics?”

“Hard not to know ‘bout some things. Like that Carter bloke.”

“Well, is there ever such a thing as a lost cause?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothin’. You just stand there lookin’ big an’ tough, the way you used t’ do. Harry has a habit of double-crossin’ you, an’ I don’t want anythin’ goin' wrong. He could be dealin’ with the Micks for all I know.”

“What they got to do with any of this?”

“Nothin’. I heard they’re in town looking for a line on somethin’ of theirs what got nicked.”

“Someone hit the Micks?”

“Nabbed a load of guns.”

“So now they’re all over this as well?”

“I’ll give you twenty pounds.”

“Twenty?”

“It’s more money than you’ll get from anyone else in town.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“Sure you do, Reg. Ever’one needs money. It’s one night’s work. Nothin’ can go wrong. It’s just a delivery.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Who? Solomon? Why not? Don’t you like the Jews?”

“That has nothing to do with it. Just because I don’t like Harry Solomon, or his brother, don’t mean I don’t like the Jews. I just don’t like that particular Jew. I don’t trust him.”

“Do you want a gun?”

Reggie shook his head. “Don’t need the temptation.”

“What temptation?”

“Shooting Harry, of course.”

Charlie laughed. “You do this for me, an’ we’ll be square. Our mutual friend is free to go. I won’t come after him, or his family.”

“An’ we’ll be square, then?”

“Tight,” Charlie smiled, holding out his hand.

Reggie considered, and then leaned forward, shaking on the offer.

“And when do you need me?”

“Tomorrow, in Plymouth.”

“Plymouth?”

“Look at it this way, at least you’ll be half way home.”

If you want your name in the story—as a gangster or some such thing—leave me a tip. The bigger the tip, the bigger the role.