“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Well, excuse me. I have a life. Got a problem? It’ll cost you.”
“I know it’s been a long time since we talked...” Harry swiped at his forehead with a tissue, to remove the beaded sweat.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while. Almost two years, wouldn’t you say? Well, at least not for favors. I’m taking it that’s what this is about?”
Harry’s hand began to shake. It had been a while since he’d needed this kind of help. He was tempted to reach in his drawer and take out the stuff that calmed his nerves. It would immediately take him back to that place where life was good, with few worries. But it was because of that stuff he’d had to call his friend two years before. The prostitute he’d been with had decided since he’d passed out that she could use a line of his coke and steal his money. He’d beaten her and KT had made her disappear. He hadn’t asked and KT hadn’t told him what he’d done. KT had been well compensated with blackmail material and addresses of some rich and influential people.
No, he needed a clear head and he needed his nightmares to go away. And he knew this man would do it for him. KT as Harry had called him since they’d met as youths owed him.
“Yes and thank you. The bonuses were exceptional. I do enjoy the toys you toss my way. The benefits of your spoils, so to speak.”
Harry had always dreaded this, needing to ask a favor, especially from him. It was owed to him but he also knew that meant his comfy lifestyle as he knew it, was in jeopardy.
They may have given Harry everything that a street thief could want but they seemed to have forgotten where he came from. He may have strayed from it but he’d never forget.
“I need something taken care of. No, make that someone.”
“Okay.” The cocky attitude had gone and the serious, get-it-done person he needed, was there.
Harry sighed in relief. This was one person he could count on. One person who would fix it the right way. He thought back to his conversation with George. If he guessed right, George would feed him to the wolves if it would save his hide. The chicken-shit was scared of Mr. Ozz. No help there. Harry patted his nicely rounded belly, realizing that he’d allowed himself to get soft, complacent. Not anymore though. He’d handle this himself, the way he should have been doing all along. But he’d gotten lazy, caught up in the things money had given him. He may not have appeared to be much of a threat to Mr. Ozz but Harry’d been playing this game a long time before that man had found him.
“I need you to find out what you can about the lake and all the occupants there. Mrs. MacNeil – she died recently. Mr. Tennison – he had owned the paper I work at but he also died, several years ago, though. Mr. Overton – who met an untimely death but who had been a business partner with George Assenby. The Owen family I think is the last of the four families that own land around that slough.” He couldn’t do the snooping, in case Ozz caught on. The man wouldn’t take kindly to being scrutinised. “Also, go check out Mrs. MacNeil’s place at the lake. She lived alone, even though she wasn’t supposed to be out there. See what you can find. Make sure you get in and get out clean.”
“Got it.”
“Wait, I need you to take care of one more thing for me. Samantha Overton – take her out. She’s become an embarrassment. She shouldn’t be a problem for you.”