I Found You

Part 12. Questions Spinning and My Head Killing.

He grumbled to himself for a moment. "Then I'll take what we've got". He replied. "Mack sure ya count it and leave ya receipt". I told him. He laughed a little to himself. "Arthur there's things in these books I divvn't understand". I said. "Likewise". He mumbled out, as he poured himself a whiskey. "Every week we pay one pund ten shilling by postal order to a Daniel Owen in London". I said, as I turned in my chair to look at him, only to recieve his back to me. "Danny Whizz-bang hangs around the pubs in Camden Town Wharf for us, keeps his ears open for business, he's a good man". He told me. "I thought he was deed?". I asked.

"Then you thought wrong didn't you". He replied. "But I've seen 'is grave he was shot". I said. Arthur slammed the till shut, before turning to look at me. "Now that was show, to satisfy the whops, Tommy just shot some sheep's brains at him". Arthur chuckled. "Wee's buried in 'is grave then?". I asked. Arthur then folded up the money he had taken out of the till and put it in his pocket, as he walked around the bar and come to stand by me. "Now look Rosie, if you know what's good for you, you don't ask questions about things that don't concern you, never right". He warned. He then, put a coin down upon the table, my eyes following it as he did. "That's for you". He said. He then, began to walk away towards the pub door. "And don't tell Tommy I took this!". He warned me, talking about the money, he had just taken from the till.

After I had finished with all the paperwork, I decided to do some digging of my own, for if I am working with these people, I need to know what they are up too. So, I decided to take a walk up to the cemetery, there I stumbled upon a grave with a cross headstone, upon it, it had written Daniel Owen born, eighteen - eighty - nine, died, nineteen - nineteen. Is he really buried there, if not why have they faked his death, who was really buried under the name Daniel Owen. I shook it off and went home, questions spinning in my mind, do I really want to get involved in all of this, should I really think about reconsidering.

I tried my best to relax all afternoon, as before I knew it, I was back in for another night shift, at the pub. It was a busy one tonight, my anxiety was getting the better of me for some reason, I don't know why, but it was put at ease when I looked over and noticed Tommy, sitting right in the middle of the bar, hugging a glass of whiskey and smoking a cigarette. I didn't acknowledge him, or even speak to him, as I wasn't sure what to say. Suddenly, a man came through the pub doors and Tommy greeted him. I pretended to wipe down the bar and tidy the bottles, at the back to make on that I wasn't listening.

"Mr Shelby". The man spoke in a thick Irish accent. "Who's asking?". Tommy said, as cool as ever, as he took a sip of his whiskey. "My names Bryne, I had word from your man in Camden Town you wanted to parley". He said. "Then parley it is". Tommy replied. "A few months ago a man named Ryan came to this place, with a view to buying some good for you, Mr Ryan met with an accident, he was shot". The man told Tommy. "I know I heard". Tommy told him. "He was a man with a quick mouth I know that, I wondered if he made any enemies in here". The man asked. "None that I know of". Tommy gruffly replied.

By now, my heart was going fifty to the dozen, this Ryan fellow, I really hope it's not the man that came onto me and I shot him by accident, I thought to myself. At that moment, I wanted to dart out of the room, as quickly as I could, but I couldn't move, I was glued to the spot with fear and anxiety taking over me. "It's not the kind of place to make enemies". The man joked. "All are welcome here Mr Bryne". Tommy told him. "Including Irish?". He then asked. This made me start to move slightly up off my chair, for I just know deep down, he was trying to dig for dirt on who killed his friend, I walked slowly behind the bar to get my coat and bag and if anyone asked, I'll simply say we have run out of change and I was going to see if the corner shop, would give us some.

"Oh, especially Irish". I heard Tommy tell him, as I was just about to put my coat on, but stopped half way, to listen some more. "Ryan told you he was a member of the Irish Republican Army, was he still welcome?". The man asked Tommy. "Like I say, any man that buys a beer is welcome". Tommy said. "Perhaps you didn't believe him". The man added. Tommy then paused, before turning to fully face the man head on. "In pubs, sometimes people say things, sometimes it's the whiskey talking, it's hard to tell which is which". Tommy said. "As a teetotal man, I find that very amusing, except when it ends in tragedy". Then man replied. I listened with bated breath, as I leaned in further at the doorway, as I couldn't really hear properly over the noisey drunken crowd.