A Good Find by Gary L Beer (chrysanthemum read aloud .TXT) 📕

down gently and walks back to Curly Pete.
Picking up his wrist he feels a pulse and can also hear Curly Pete breathing, going over to Simon he sees his eyes starting to open. Dippa runs into the kitchen and searches through the cupboards; finding a roll of black plastic sacks he runs back into the lounge. Tearing off a bag he folds it roughly lengthwise several times and binds Simon's legs at the ankles. Tearing off another sack he ties his knees together and double secures Simon's wrists with more of the plastic sacks. Satisfied, he returns his attention to Curly Pete who is still out cold on the floor. Bending down Dippa gets hold of Curly Pete's shoulders and shakes him calling his name.
Dippa feels Curly Pete's muscles tense as he starts to come around and Dippa helps him to sit up.
“That's the third time I've been hit with a bottle, where is he?” Curly Pete finishes angrily.
“Over there.” Dippa says looking at Simon tied up on the floor.
“We got him then, where's Mick?”
“He's behind you, I think he's dying, that fella shoved a broken bottle in his face and neck, looks like he got the jugular.”
Curly Pete leaning heavily on Dippa stands up and walks over to his friend, bending down he picks his hand up and feels for a pulse on his wrist.
Dippa is right, there is no pulse and Razor Mick is dead. Blood from his face and neck soaks the carpet beneath and Curly Pete pulls the cushion from Razor Mick's hand and slides it gently underneath his head; “He was a good friend, he always said he would go first.”
“What are we going to do with him, we can't leave him there.” says a stressed Dippa, he never did like Razor Mick and feels no emotion at his death.
Curly Pete though regarded Razor Mick as a brother and is filled with emotion for the loss of his friend, he looks around the room his gaze settling on Simon; “We've got a job to do, have you had a look around yet?”
“Not had a chance.” Dippa answers as he walks out of the room and into Simon's bedroom. Searching through the wardrobe and cupboards finding nothing he looks down at the bed. Getting on his hands and knees Dippa looks underneath and amongst the empty cardboard boxes and suitcases he sees the holdall. Standing up quickly he runs around to the other side of the bed and bending down reaches underneath pulling the holdall out, Unzipping the bag he looks inside at the neatly bound bundles of notes. With a smile and a laugh Dippa picks up the bag and carries it into the lounge. Throwing the bag down hard onto the big coffee table in triumph he says excitedly; “I knew it was him, just knew it.”
Curly Pete who is still kneeling beside Razor Mick looks up at Dippa's excited face; “Is it all there?” he asks not sharing Dippa's excitement.
“No, it only looks a quarter full.”
“Find a chair and tie him to it.” he orders looking towards Simon's already bound form.
Dippa obediently walks out into the kitchen and sees several hardback chairs clustered around it, grabbing hold of the top of the nearest one he drags it into the lounge and places it beside Simon's head. Grabbing hold of Simon roughly by the shoulders Dippa struggles as he tries to sit him in the chair, Curly Pete gets up and pushing Dippa aside sits Simon hard onto the chair; “Tie him to it.” he orders gruffly as he steps back giving Dippa room.
Dippa retrieves the roll of black plastic rubbish sacks from where they had rolled under the table and peels one off. Twisting the bag length wise he grabs hold of Simon's already bound hands and ties them tightly to the back of the chair. Securing the ankles the same way he starts to tie two sacks together; “What are you doing?” asks Curly Pete.
“I'm gonna tie his legs as well, one ain't enough.”
“Don't worry about that, he ain't going anywhere, go get some water it's about time he woke up.”
Dippa does as ordered and goes back into the kitchen, finding a dirty mug in the sink he fills it with cold water and goes back into the lounge.
“Wake him.” orders Curly Pete in a cruel voice.
Dippa throws the water into Simon's face following it with a hard slap; “Wake up you bastard.” he shouts.
Simon's head moves back from the force of the slap as his eyes open wide, seeing Dippa in front of him he lunges forward not realising he is tied to the chair and falls forward and hits the floor with his face; hard!
“Pick him up.” orders Curly Pete.
Dippa drops the mug onto the floor and tries to sit Simon upright. Simon is still dazed from the fall and offers no resistance but he is still too big and heavy for Dippa, Curly Pete pushes him aside again and sits Simon upright; Curly Pete bends forward filling Simon's vision. Grabbing hold of Simon's hair he twists it viciously and pulls his head back hard; “You just sit there and be calm, we are going to have a little talk.” he orders in an angry voice.
Simon stares angrily back and strains at the plastic sacks and curtain chord, not able to loosen any of the tough binding he relaxes his body.
“We can do this easy or hard it's up to you mate.” Curly Pete says staring Simon in the eyes. Simon says nothing, the anger within him fading as he realises he is at the mercy of these two thugs who stand before him. Looking down at Razor Mick's body he vaguely remembers him running towards him and swinging the bottle.
“Yeah that's right, you killed him.” says Curly Pete his anger rising; “If you don't tell me what I want to know; that's what I'll do to you.”
“Who was with you when you found our money?” Dippa asks in a cold voice.
“I was on my own.”
“We know that's a lie; there were two others with you.”
Curly Pete grabs hold of Simon's hair and twists it viciously; “You'd better tell us or I will hurt you, bad.”
“I ain't scared of you mate; hurt away.” answers Simon bravely.
Curly Pete draws back his fist as Simon's mobile telephone rings and lights up from where it had fallen on the floor.
Curly Pete laughs and putting down his fist walks over to the telephone and picks it up; “Who is Stef then?”
“Just an old mate, he probably wants to go for a beer.”
Curly Pete looks at the phone as it stops ringing; “Maybe he was one of the friends you had with you?” he asks menacingly.
“Told ya, I was on my own.”
Walking back to Simon, Curly Pete suddenly raises his fist and hits Simon squarely on the jaw, knocking him unconscious.
“Now what are we going to do?” Dippa asks in frustration.
Curly Pete looks at Dippa with blazing angry eyes; “I am going to sit and calm down; you are going to count the money.”
“Sure.” answers Dippa, the anger in Curly Pete's eyes twists his stomach in fear and he quickly takes a bundle of fifty pound notes out of the holdall and starts to count.
Curly Pete sits down on the couch and looks at his dead friend. The cuts on his throat have stopped bleeding as the blood congeals and Razor Mick looks peaceful as if he is sleeping. Dippa drops the bundle of money onto the coffee table and reaches into the holdall for more. Quietly he counts stacking several onto the coffee table before he empties the bag. Checking each bundle for size he compares them to his counted ones.
When he has finished counting he looks at Curly Pete, too scared to interrupt him in his grief he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, lighting one he offers the packet to Curly Pete.
Curly Pete looks up at him, the grief he feels for his friend can be seen in his eyes; “No.” he snaps at Dippa, “How much is there?”
“Just about a third.”
Curly Pete smiles, but there is no humour in his eyes; “Yeah, split three ways, let him sleep I'll give Steve a call.”
“Now he's in trouble.” Dippa laughs looking at Simon.
Walking out of the lounge into the kitchen Curly Pete calls Steve on his mobile phone, the phone rings once; “What's happening?” asks Steve.
“We got big trouble here, the bastards killed Razor Mick but we do have the holdall with about a third of the money in it.”
“What you done to that geezer?”
“We got him tied up, he ain't going anywhere, could do with a bit of help if you got the time?”
“Yeah, on me way Pete.” answers Steve disconnecting the call.
Curly Pete puts his phone back in his pocket and looks through the cupboards for something to drink. Finding only crockery and old jars of jam and marmalade he opens the refrigerator door and looks inside; at the back behind a large tub of margarine and what looks like yesterdays dinner on a plate he see a bottle of beer. Leaning in he takes out the bottle and knocks the lid off using the top of the fridge door and slams it shut. Drinking gratefully he walks back into the lounge and sits down on the couch looking at Razor Mick's body on the floor.
“Is there any more beer?” asks Dippa, penetrating Curly Pete's grief.
Curly Pete looks up with grief covering his face, staring Dippa in the eyes he shrugs and returns looking back at Razor Mick.
The look in Curly Pete's eyes sends a cold shiver through Dippa's body and he hurries out into the kitchen. Searching through the cupboards and refrigerator Dippa sees he is out of luck. Returning to the cupboards he takes out a large mug and fills it with cold water from the tap. As he slowly sips the water he stares out of the window at the roof opposite. A sorry looking grey pigeon huddles amongst the chimney pots and is the only sign of life; and Dippa wishes he was somewhere else. Dippa sits at the table not wanting to go back into the lounge with Curly Pete he smokes a cigarette, sips at his water and waits.
Dippa does not have long to wait before he hears a shout from the lounge; “Go and let Steve in.”
Obediently Dippa stands and tripping on the folded carpet near the front door he descends the stairs and opens the door to Steve. Following Steve's hurrying form up the stairs Dippa wonders what he is going to do; especially to the fella tied up on the chair.
“Stay there.” orders Steve as Dippa reaches the flat door - Steve shuts it in his face, giving him no choice.

“Where are you mate?” asks Steve as he enters the flat tripping on the