Rhubarb Papers - Pete Adams

A Darkly Humorous Crime Fiction Series

Rhubarb Papers by Pete Adams

Series Excerpt

Lisa stepped from the corner and allowed her heels to clack on the shiny cobbles, announcing her arrival to lilac lady. She walked as if she had just arrived, not wishing the pastel clad woman to think she had been snooping, though Lilac, when she turned to see who approached, responded with a distrustful eye. Nothing was said, the foghorns sounded, and both ladies smelled the essence of brine, diesel and fish guts as they snorted their confrontation. Lilac lady flicked her eyes and turned her nose up in a very precise and demonstrative demeanour, as if she sought a shared sense of aromatic disgust with the stranger, albeit she remained on her guard.

‘You have an appointment?’ Lisa asked, politely, her head tilting to the gates, demonstrably breathing in through her nose and sighing appreciatively, aware her contrary response would get up Lilac’s nose; ‘ha ha ha’ – both head voices laughed at that one.

Lilac could not conceal her disgust. ‘Yes,’ she said, pinching her nose and flapping a hand, letting Lisa see she did not share her appreciation of the harbourside environment, the mist and the smell, patting her hair that was beginning to frizz, another irritation.

‘Hmmm,’ Lisa replied. Looked up to the open porthole, a tiny lever that until then had remained camouflaged, being painted a matching deep green paint that flaked in sympathy with the host doors.

Lilac followed Lisa’s gaze. ‘What?’ Lilac looked to the lever, which she probably could reach if she stood on tiptoes and jumped, but this visitor had some decorum.

‘Why are you here?’

‘What’s that to do with you?’ Lilac responded, unable to disguise her growing irritation.

‘Nothing…’ Lisa answered, looking around, allowing her toe to stir the crumbling, poorly constructed concrete apron, disinterested. She could play this game all morning if needs be, except she needed to get Juliet to school; Juliet was not keen on her granddad taking her. She loved her granddad, but did not always relish going to school on the back of a horse. Nakka detested cars, didn’t have one, didn’t want one, and didn’t want to go in one, ever again; well, he wouldn’t, would he?

Lilac seemed only now to take a real look at the stranger who had mysteriously appeared out of the mist from behind her quoin. Lisa was tall, rangy even, easily a foot taller than lilac lady. She wore a bulky padded red anorak that clashed in hue with her red hair, and a beige flaring skirt that displayed elegantly toned and slim legs, suggesting the quilted anorak disguised a well-preserved older woman, mid-fifties and wearing well. Lilac thought this woman looked fit, and Lisa was. She had always been athletic and still went to the gym, unlike her brother-in-law who was rapidly turning to seed; actually, he was all seed, like an aging potato if she was honest, but she liked Nakka and so made visual allowances.

Lisa looked with her imagination, not at Lilac as she had already done that and, strangely, had enjoyed the view, in a modus operandi x-ray manner, much the same way she allowed her imagination to look through the gates to where she knew Nakka resided. She was able to conjure a picture of the familiar chaotic tableau with warmth; he would be getting Juliet’s breakfast and making her sandwiches for school.

‘Such a lovely man,’ Left said.

‘Alright, shut up, you’ll give the game away.’

‘And you haven’t already? Attractive woman, eh?’ Left said and observed. Right agreed in a lascivious manner.

‘Well, what’s a girl to do…?’

‘Can you get me in?’ Lilac asked, unaware of the raised and excitable head voices distracting Lisa.

Lisa shook her voices away and nodded, yes. ‘If you tell me what you want,’ and it looked like lilac lady was weighing up her response. ‘Kerr is a private man.’ She waited and observed the petite pastel-hued woman more carefully while something unknown was taken on board. Lilac was small, probably only five foot two, or three, blond hair wispy and uncontrolled, and the mist was playing frizzy hell with it as the curls tightened. Lisa wondered if this was contributing to Lilac’s bad mood. She had a beautifully cherubic face when it wasn’t screwed up in order to apply a hard image. She wore a wedding ring, and this surprised Lisa; Lilac looked the sort of woman who was rigidly independent, continually taking on the world. She was slim, early thirties, and if she guessed, which she did, likely had a firm and beautiful body beneath the lilac coat; least this is what her probing, imaginative, dissecting gaze had shown her.

‘Pity her husband,’ Left said.

‘Yeah, poor sod,’ and Lisa’s head agreed with the voices in more rare accord.

‘Maybe she wears the ring to keep men away?’

‘Maybe, would that work… you don’t think?’

‘Ooh, that was an interesting thought…’ but Left was interrupted as Lisa’s pulse raced.

‘Kerr?’ Lilac had delayed her question to allow Lisa her reciprocal appraisal, aware that between women at least, this measuring up was essential if they were to share knowledge. Men, she knew, did something similar, but in a decidedly more crude way. Generally, it was about weighing up if one could take the other in a fight. Men, they totally pissed her off, all of them, and had known no exceptions.

‘His name,’ Lisa replied matter of fact; her heart thumped.

‘Kerr Nakka?’

‘Yes, though people just call him Nakka.’

‘And this is his yard?’ A light bulb switched on. ‘Oh, Nakka of the Yard…?’ Lilac smiled for the first time, the thought amusing her, and Lisa could see warmth in the woman, though this soon disappeared; her facade had dropped.

Lilac pulled a fold of paper from an inside pocket of the pastel coat, flicked it open, and with the back of her hand, ironed the creases. It was a formal document of some sort. She clicked a biro, brought her knee up as a temporary desk and wrote a note to herself. ‘I didn’t know what the K stood for…’ she said to nobody in particular, ‘… strange name all-round really?’ The woman was becoming chatty, and Lisa went to red alert so as not to give anything away that would upset Nakka. Although a gentle man, you would not want to rile him, you only have to ask Sam’s dad. A passive-aggressive was Nakka, or so it said on his Metropolitan Police file, which also mentioned he’d get a punch in then runaway if a fight ensued, but he was good with horses.

Lilac saw the transformation in Lisa’s body posture and facial augmentation, recognised the defensive demeanour, clamming up. ‘Dutch?’ she asked, making conversation.

Lisa nodded. ‘Back in the mists…’ Looking around her, savouring the sea mist.

‘Fucking double Dutch…’ Right voice said, and Lisa tried to hold in a chuckle, aware not to convey how nervous she was, not for herself, but for Nakka and Juliet; protection first and foremost, always. Lisa would punch and stick around to get a few more in, as her sister also would have done; God bless her soul.

Lilac went to insert another note, posed her knee with the document upon it, poised, pen in hand, she asked, ‘And you are?’ She wobbled while Lisa delayed her reply.

‘None of your fucking business…’

Lilac lowered her knee, clicked the pen shut and twiddled it in her fingers like a gunslinger spinning his gun before holstering. She fumbled around in the same inner pocket and pulled out a small wallet that she flipped open to reveal a police warrant card, and just as speedily, snapped it shut, but not before Lisa had picked up Lilac was a detective inspector down from the Met (London Metropolitan Police). She went immediately to a stronger defensive mode; a natural reaction, a part of her East End villain heritage. Lisa’s family, Dawn being a notable exception, were a part of the criminal cognoscenti, her husband a peripheral player, but definitely bent as a nine bob note. Lisa observed Lilac took a degree of pleasure in the awareness of her identity and the reaction it had engendered.

‘An observant woman,’ the pragmatic Right voice said, urging caution.

‘Caution? She’s gorgeous,’ Left always saw the best in people, but Right had to agree, Lilac was handsome indeed.

‘Surprised?’

Lisa became more tight-lipped, but not enough to conceal the extent of her surprise to this canny petite woman, whom she concluded might be a rampant bully, throwing her authority if not her insignificant weight around; she needed to sort that. Lisa looked around nonchalantly, difficult to do as her heart raced and her voices argued with each other, but she had to play her part in this contretemps. The mist was showing signs of thinning, and there could be a chance of a beautiful late morning, least this is what the weather forecasters predicted.

‘Going to be a nice day,’ Lisa said, and enjoyed the look of derision in Lilac’s face, but by now Lilac had pegged the London accent.

‘Londoner?’ Lilac asked as if surprised any Londoner would ever leave the Capital City. Lisa nodded a yes, did not want to give too much away. ‘Where?’

‘Stepney.’

‘Know it… I’m Whitechapel.’

‘You do. You are? Turned out a bit uncle josh, didn’t yer?’ Lisa replied, adopting some of her native rhyming slang.

‘My parents…’ and Lilac conveyed an undisguised dislike, ‘… said they wanted the best for me.’ A most perceivable disdain; Lisa noted it.

‘Pleased how you turned out, are they?’ Lisa asked sarcastically, almost tearing the skin off this woman who had allowed her ersatz accent to betray her origins; she hated this in people. Lisa was an inverted snob, and quite proud of the fact.

‘Yeah…’ Lilac’s reply was drawn out, circumspect.

Was that a sneer, Lisa thought? Now her hackles were right up. ‘Turned out a bit laa-dee-bleedin’-dah, ‘aven’t we,’ a vehemence in her voice and body language.

Books In This Series

Dead No More (Rhubarb Papers Book 1)