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

that if those two fellas have been sent to cut him off at the junction he detours and runs into the petrol station. Running along the side wall he stops just short of the street and peers around the corner; all is quiet and the two fellas on the corner have gone.
Putting his head down Stef runs out into the street and running as fast as he can reaches the seafront. Not stopping for the slow moving cars he runs out into the road nearly getting hit by an old woman driving a car that is far too big for her as she over reacts and screeches to a halt. Reaching his car he unlocks the door and jumps in, starting the engine with a roar he puts the car into reverse gear and backs out into the road. A squeal of brakes tells him that he has missed whoever is coming and with no more thought reverses right out into the road.
The driver of the car he nearly hit, a young lad in a red Peugeot gesticulates at him angrily. Stef barely gives him a glance as he shifts the car into first gear and roars up the road.

Dippa slows as he reaches the High Street, years of smoking have done their damage and he puffs and groans like an old man. Seeing Stef dodging between the pedestrians inspires him to break into a run and he arrives at the petrol garage with Steve close behind him just as Stef disappears around the corner.
“Don't worry, Cheesey and Graham will get him.” puffs Steve as he runs past Dippa. Emerging onto the street he sees Stef's distant form going around a corner to the seafront. Looking about he can see no sign of Cheesey or Graham and has to stop to catch his breath.
“Where are they then?” asks a breathless Dippa behind him.
“Knowing Cheesey they are running the wrong way.” shouts Steve as he runs after Stef.
Dippa follows reluctantly behind, he is finding it difficult to breathe and he suddenly feels a deep weariness inside him.
Steve reaches the seafront as Stef is driving away and reaches into his pocket for his mobile phone, it is not there and must have fallen out when he was running. Angrily he waits for Dippa to catch up; “Give me your phone.” he demands.
“I haven't got it, left it back at that fellas flat.” is a reply Steve does not want to hear.

Simon strains at the plastic that binds him and feels it weaken and stretch a little more. Now that he is not being watched he is able to put more effort into getting out of this predicament. The warmth of his body helps as it softens the plastic sacking; the chord that Dippa used first was badly tied and loosens along with the plastic. Blood starts to seep amongst it as Simon wriggles his wrists, rubbing them raw and breaking the skin. The blood helps; providing a lubricant and Simon pulls with all his might and manages to pull his right hand out. With an exaggerated sigh Simon rests for a few seconds before pulling his left hand free. Untying his bound feet he stands and lurches forward towards the door. Tripping on the folded carpet he grabs hold of the door frame and steadies himself before he heads out the door.
Hanging onto the banister rail Simon manages to get down the stairs and shut the front door. Sliding the heavy bolts at the top and bottom of the door he sits back on the bottom step and catches his breath.
Appreciating his good fortune in escaping his bonds visions of the front door being kicked in flood his mind; as a hoard of thugs rush in. With a jump he stands up and hurries back up the stairs, going into his spare room he pulls down two big shelves that line one wall. Books and ornaments fall to the floor with a crash as Simon hurries out of the room. Carrying the shelves downstairs he attempts to reinforce the door by jamming the shelves up against it. The gap proves too large to be useful and Simon turns and runs back up the stairs. Going back into the spare room he picks up his heavy metal toolbox and turns it upside down as he tips all of the tools out onto the floor.
Taking the empty toolbox downstairs he uses it to bridge the gap between the planks and bottom step of the stairs jamming them in tight, forming an effective barricade. Not entirely satisfied he runs back up the stairs and gets his battery powered screwdriver from under the bed in the spare room. Looking down at the mess of tools on the floor he sees several large wood screws lying amongst them. Grabbing two he hurries back down the stairs inserting the screwdriver bit into the chuck as he goes. Reaching the front door he bends down and pushing one of the screws firmly into the bottom of the door and at an angle of forty five degrees, he screws the heavy door into its frame.
The second screw follows, screwed in firmly close to the lock before Simon is satisfied, standing back he admires his work and beats a hasty retreat up the stairs. Shutting his inner flat door firmly, Simon trips on the folded carpet and goes back into the spare room in search of more screws. Searching through the pile of tools he can find only one more that is big enough to do the job and he hurries out the door into his narrow hall. Placing the heavy screw near the lock like the front door below, he screws the door firmly shut. Feeling that he can do no more, Simon searches his flat for weapons. The hammer and crowbar left by his recent visitors are ideal and he places them on the big coffee table, ready for use.
Going to the window he pulls the curtain back as a mighty bang comes from the direction of the front door. Simon peers down to see Steve looking up at him; anger contorts his face into pure hatred and ugliness and Simon steps back from the window as if he has been physically struck.
Gathering his thoughts and relying on his defences he pulls back the curtain and looks down into the street. Steve seems to be having a heated argument with the bald headed man he had seen earlier and he drops the curtain down. Turning back into the room he suddenly needs a drink and looks down at the coffee table; the holdall of money sits opened next to a strange mobile phone.
He sees his phone on the floor and walks over and picks it up and dials a number, anxiously he looks around the room as the phone rings; “Simon!” shouts Stef into the phone “You all right Dude?”
“Yeah am Ok man, have bolted and screwed the doors, no way are they getting in here again. But you and Nic have gotta go somewhere else they know where you live man.” Simon says in a stressed voice.
“What do you mean, they know?” shouts Stef into the phone.
“We were seen making our getaway yesterday, they've had the town staked out looking for us and they stopped me last night along the seafront.” confesses Simon.
“I knew you weren't telling me something.” shouts Stef.
“Sorry man but they already had their suspicions about you.”
“Me? What are you talking about?” replies Stef in a frightened voice.
“Yeah, they've had your road staked out since dawn, seems you were the only one with a smile on their face this morning.”
Stef casts his mind back to this morning’s trip out to get the new TV and now does remember someone sitting in a car, one that is not normally there. Stef curses his stupidity remembering that his thoughts had been on money and recalls his sub consciousness telling him that the car and driver were out of place.
“I do remember him now from this morning.” Stef admits.
“You gotta move man, go to Nic's sister's until it's safe, no way are they getting in here I'm safe for a while.” Simon reassures.
“I'm just pulling up outside now, we'll call you as soon as we are clear, I'll get help.” Stef assures as he disconnects the call.
Simon puts the phone back onto the table and goes into the kitchen to get his other bottle of whiskey. The bottle still stands where he left it earlier on the worktop and he unscrews the lid. Opening a cupboard he takes out a small tea cup and fills it to the brim. Putting the cup to his lips he drinks it in one go and quickly refills it, carrying cup and bottle he goes back into the lounge and sits down on the hard back chair he had been tied to and he looks at the mess that surrounds him. The blood from the fella he had bottled has turned black and forms an ugly stain on the carpet. Holding his cup to the air he gives a silent toast to his god for helping him as he puts the cup to his lips and drinks again.

Steve runs back to Simon's flat with Dippa trailing behind; he remembers that he had left the front door wide open when he ran out and he has visions of it being shut on his return. Quickening his pace and with anxiety giving him more adrenalin he leaves Dippa far behind and reaches the shut front door. With anger clouding his judgement he runs at it and kicks it as hard as he can, hoping to kick it open. The door remains firmly shut and several passersby give him strange looks and hurry past. Steve ignores them, his anger calming until he sees Cheesey and Graham approaching. His anger is replaced by frustration as Cheesey's concerned face approaches him; it is unfair to blame him for not understanding what he meant by 'Cut him off.' he argues to himself, but his anger wins as he shouts in a terrifying voice to Cheesey; “What do you mean by running after us? I told you to cut him off.”
Cheesey's face turns almost white at Steve's anger towards him and he blusters in defence; “I wasn't sure what you meant, so thought it best to try and catch you up.”
Steve stares at him in frustration; this is why he didn't like using him as every time this fella misunderstands what is said to him. “We'd better get off the street, you might as well know where Stella's flat is.” he says in resignation and walks along the path with his mind racing; what is he going to do now?
Dippa follows quickly behind and asks how they are going to get back into the flat?
Steve turns sharply towards him his face a picture of pure rage; “The bastards bolted or pushed something against it. I kicked it hard as I could and it was like kicking a brick wall, looks like you didn't tie him up tight enough.”
“I tied him as best I could with what I had.” replies Dippa defensively.
Steve really wants to take out his anger on Dippa as he feels he is to blame, feeling defeated Steve turns away from Dippa and walks along the