Bobby McGee

Chapter Five. The Polish Connection.

Chapter Five 

The Polish Connection 

McGee couldn't sleep. He rose early the next morning, and anxious to know what had happened to Wacowic, cycled to the head office in the nearby town of Ulverston. P.C. McReadie, a red-haired Scot, was manning the front desk 

"So, Mac, any success with Andy this morning?" 

"Na. Andy must have drunk an awful lot o' ale. He had the mother o'  hangovers when I saw him. I couldnae  git a word out o' him. But what gets me is that they let him off. The Lion landlord, Nelson, didnae want to  press charges even though his boozer was a shambles, and the Sarge asked me to quietly forget it." 

"That's par for the course I understand. It's a regular thing with Andy. He's harmless enough as long as he's sober. So has he been released?" 

"Och aye! A good half hour ago. His landlady, Sally, picked him up 'n' what a tongue lashing she gave him. I wouldnae like to be in his shoes when she gets him hoom. I dinnae think he'll be back in the Lion for a wee while." 

                                                                                      ***** 

 McGee could smell the bacon as he placed his bike by the side door leading directly in to the kitchen. Meg was up, looking a little bedraggled, still wearing her night attire, covered by a dressing gown. She sat across from Fletch, who was slurping a cup of tea, at the kitchen table. 

"Where've you been, Dad?" 

"Down to Ulverston." 

"I wish you'd told me before running off like that. And you didn't say that Fletch was expected for breakfast. If I'd known he would never have caught me dressed like this." 

McGee paused. Maybe the villagers would think it an inappropriate situation. Surely not. Fletch was in his dotage.  

"I'm sorry, love. I had a lot on my mind." 

"Trouble with the Pollacks I hear." Fletch obviously wanted to change the subject.  

"Boy news really flies around here, doesn't it?" 

"Sure does. So what was the outcome? Did they release him as usual?" 

McGee nodded. "Sally Evans picked him up. Is she really able to keep him under control?" 

"For sure. She's quite a terror. Andy has lodged with her ever since he arrived at the beginning of the war. She cooks all his meals, keeps him tidy, and has been known to drag him out of the Lion from time to time. Get Sally on your side and you'll have less trouble with him." 

Meg interrupted their conversation by placing plates, loaded with sausage, eggs, bacon and black puddings, in front of them.  

"Any toast love? And jam?" 

She shook her head in disbelief. "You'd better enjoy it, Dad. I'm not going to keep doing this."

"What do you mean?" 

"You can't continue to eat like that. It's not good for you." 

McGee watched in dismay as Meg sat down with her own breakfast consisting of half a slice of toast smeared with marmite and a glass of milk. The prospect of giving up his lovely bacon and eggs for such ghastly fare made him shudder. Meg seemed to notice his gloom. Nibbling contentedly on her toast she looked up at him.  

"Fletch told me that you had a tricky case recently."

McGee lowered his bushy eyebrows in bemusement.

"The pre-school arsonists", she reminded him.

McGee smiled at the memory. He thought he had handled that situation pretty well. 

"Tell me more, Dad." 

"Well I was told where one of these young lads lived so I went straight over there. The little chap was hiding under his bed. His mother was out of her mind with worry. She had no idea what was going on. Anyway I decided to give the little lad a bit of a scare. I went upstairs with his mother and stood with my boots placed well under the bed. The little fella knew who I was, and started sobbing uncontrollably. I said something to the effect that the little scoundrel had disappeared, but that we would find him, and that when we did, we would be putting him away for a long time." 

"Oh, Dad, how could you?" 

"His mother suggested it. Apparently he starts school in September." 

"But how did you deal with the owner of the barn?" 

"Fletch helped me there. You tell her, Fletch." 

"I'm on the parish council and knew that Bill Rogers, owner of the barn, had applied for a building permit. He wanted to build a bungalow on the site of the barn." 

"So he wanted it demolished anyway?" 

"Yes. So your Dad bargained." 

"With the vicar's help," said McGee. 

"A building permit in exchange for withdrawal of his damages claim." 

"But what about the lost fodder?" Meg asked. 

"An appeal in church, and local farmers made up the loss." 

"Not exactly big city crime is it?" said Meg, jumping to her feet. "I'm sorry Dad but I have to go now. I promised to go shopping with Fiona today and I'm late already. Would you mind cleaning up?" 

"Fine you go ahead. We'll manage. Don't forget to buy some chocolate biscuits."

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"You must enjoy having your daughter with you," said Fletch, as Meg disappeared upstairs to dress. 

"Yes, but she does nag me a bit." 

"She looked a bit tired this morning." 

"Big night for her last night. First time at the Coro'."  

"In the social whirl already. She'll be dating next." 

"Not Meg." 

In Meg's absence conversation turned to the incident at the Red Lion.  

"You know, Fletch, I think there's something fishy about this thing between the two Poles. It seems to be much more than a pub fight. Do you think Karwolska and Andy knew each other in Poland?" 

"I don't think so. Andy arrived in the village just after the fall of Poland. He's a free Pole. Apparently when he arrived, he spoke no English and you have to admit he's done alright. He has a steady job now as a labourer with the council road crews." 

"...and Karwolska?" 

"He arrived here less than a year ago. I believe he's a refugee from post war Poland. Keeps to himself much of the time. Speaks good English, but prefers the company of Andy and Jeppa." 

"Jeppa? What sort of name is that?"  

"I haven't a clue but that's what everyone calls him. Believe it or not he's another Pole, but he arrived here during the Depression and has managed to set up a little Newsagent shop." 

"At the top of Holmes?" 

"That's the one. He delivers the papers every morning, and everyone pops into the shop around supper time to pick up the Evening Mail, and catch up on the local gossip. Karwolska lodges with him and in return helps to run the shop." 

"Is he likely to be in the shop on a Saturday afternoon?" 

"Probably." 

"Well I think I'll drop in and have a chat with Herr Karwolska. Thanks for coming by, Fletch. I really appreciate your help." 

"Anytime, Duck."