The Billy Can Bomb

Chapter Five


Kevin and I weren’t the only two people that night with their thoughts and feelings aflame. The police had decided to open a file on us. Of course, the Inspector believed Kevin’s non-involvement, that was obvious, but years of experience and a wary suspicion of human nature, and a belief in his powers of intuition, led him to suspect Kevin wasn’t being completely honest. With me he knew I had nothing to hide: I wasn’t there, unlike Kevin. Rollins knew Kevin would need someone to share his innermost thoughts with and the Inspector guessed it would be me.

Rollins wouldn’t be so stupid, nor waste time, to tail the boys in the car park, one of whom was unknown, nor re-interview Kevin, but he would make discreet enquiries. He’d first talk to the school, ask who the boys’ friends were, and where they might possible be. Somewhere, Rollins guessed, a network existed, some hidden connection he’d discover, some connection unknown to Kevin and me. His job was discovery, and as sure as his name was Rollins he’d find out - to his satisfaction and to the grief of criminals who he suspected had targeted our area for drugs.

Dave Williams’ lost sleep too. He’d recognised big Kevin alright, how could he miss him, and knew he’d have told the police. Kevin, however, hadn’t recognised his friend, Dean Madgeson, and if he kept his cool and calm nobody need know his identity. He’d face out the police and deny ever being there, but it would be stupid to use Dean as an alibi. Madgeson would have to use someone reliable to back up whatever fiction he’d devise to cover his tracks.

Dave had long ago given up living with his parents. He’d flitted around and had a series of addresses, either with friends whose parents asked no questions, or sharing squats which he used to sus out first, then break into before letting others know there was a suitable flat to “sell”. Dave made quite a bit of cash doing this; it gave him friends and introduced him to those who wanted drugs. It also gave him an elusive quality, knowing it would be difficult for the police to track him down. He knew he’d need to be extra clever from now on: keeping off the streets for a while, well, at least during daylight hours.

Dave’s father had deserted his mum when he was seven and she’d relied on a series of “uncles” for money to keep her family housed, fed and clothed. Dave despised both parents: his father for leaving him and his mother for not caring. He’d begun to experience troubling doubts, not so much about his own life, more the people he’d recently started to mix with. These weren’t the usual small time hoods, using crime as a sideline to make extra cash, but those whose life was devoted to professional crime. Yet, whatever doubts Dave had he couldn’t allow them to trouble and plague him now. He was getting sucked into a new life and couldn’t avoid it any longer. At seventeen his actions were making up his mind, limiting his choices, and if he was to protect Dean and his accomplices by denying he’d ever met them, he would. He couldn’t turn back now: circumstances had forced him to chose crime.



Chapter Six


Kev phoned me on Saturday saying he didn’t want to chat too much over the phone, other than he needed to talk “urgently about last night”, suggesting “the sooner we meet the better”.

“What about MacDonald’s down the High Street”, I said.
“Give us a break Billy”, replied Kev, “why not meet at the small Italian cafe, you know, where they do real coffee and cakes”.
“Yeah, cool idea Kev”, I replied.
“OK Billy boy, we’ll meet, say 11.30?”
“Yeah, that’s fine by me”, I said adding, “shall we cycle?”
“No, we’ll walk I think, don’t have to worry then about getting the bikes nicked. You know the neighbourhood”.
“Yeah, not safe enough to leave your aunt’s cat alone”, we both chorused laughing. And hung up.

Kevin was already there munching into a thick chunk of fruit cake whilst a frothy coffee steamed above the clean table cloth.

“Yo! Billy, over here”, Kev shouted as I walked in, looking a bit tired, if not a little sheepish.
“You look worried man”, Kev said, as I sat beside him after ordering tea and a bun at the counter.
“Yeah I am”.
“No, Mr. Capaldi”, Kev shouted to the owner before I got comfortable, “can you make Billy’s the same as mine. I’m paying Billy, so shut up!”

“Yeah, I’m a bit worried. You sounded mysterious when you phoned earlier and anyway I couldn’t sleep thinking of what happened last night. Are you sure you won’t be in danger?”
“I don't know”, said Kev, before proceeding to explain his initial treatment by the police, “and I ‘aint telling my Dad, he’d go ballistic. I think we should try and sort this out ourselves”.
“Are you sure?”, I replied a little nervously, “you know what the police told us. Both of us”.
“Yeah, I know Billy”.
We talked more and agreed that lots of our mates and other kids we knew of, were being offered drugs and taking them, though, as yet, not that many.

“Do you think we should ask for drugs and then get to know the big dealers around here Kev?”, I asked.

“No!”, Kevin replied quickly, “I wouldn’t ask anyone for drugs, it could backfire on us”.
“What ‘da mean?”, I asked.
“Imagine the police picking me up. You know how they pick on Black people and blame us for all sorts of bad things”.
“Yeah, I know”.
“So, we need to start asking questions, being nosy, being subtle. We need to find out where Dave Williams’ is hiding, not asking for drugs. I never did like Dave at school”, Kev said, “but I think he’s OK basically”.

We chatted on a little more, taking silence by eating the cakes and sipping the rich strong coffee.

“Mr. Capaldi, two more cappuccinos please!”
“Are you sure Kevin?”
“Yeah! Don’t argue!”, he replied.

Then, as the second cup was being drunk and as my interest was waning, Kevin let drop his bombshell.
“Billy”, he said, moving closer to me so not to be over heard. The cafe was filling up now by lunch time shoppers wanting a quick snack.

“I think I recognised the guy sitting in the car”.
“But you didn’t tell the police”.
“I think the guy sitting in the car was the bloke who threatened you two years ago. Remember, when we first met”.
“Couldn’t forget, could I. But are you sure?”
“I’ve a good memory for faces and even though it was dark in the car park the car door was open and the interior light on”.
“You didn’t tell that to the police, did you?”
“No, but I’m 100% convinced it was the bloke who pinned you outside Mrs. Gilpin’s”.
“Should we go and talk to Mrs. Gilpin?”, I asked.
“No, that’s too hasty, and obvious. She wouldn’t give us a straight answer anyway”.
“That’s right Kevin”, I replied, “remember how she told us we shouldn’t ask questions”.

We talked a little more, gradually winding down our conversation and moving onto football and music, and the long summer holiday which was getting closer, and the cycle trip we were planning.

“I’ve an old army tent of Dad’s”, I told Kev, “it’s a bit battered, but it’s light and sleeps two, just. Oh”, I quickly added, “and a couple of sleeping bags”.
“Yeah”, said Kev, “and I’ve been looking at maps and think we’ll need to get a train to Chester, approach Wales that way”.

Kev paid the bill and we left together.
“I’ll talk to you on Monday Kev, after school”.
“And we’ll look at the maps of Wales I’ve got at home”.
“I’ve got to go shopping for Dad, and do some homework Sunday. See you. Take care”, I told my mate.

With that we separated and were swallowed up by the sea of busy shoppers.