Hell Bent on Revenge

One year on from his encounter with murder our intrepid ex Metropolitan policeman turned private detective Jimmy Bent was beginning to find life a little dull following unfaithful husbands and wives was not his cup of tea but it did help pay the bills. Dismissing it from his mind Jim set about opening his daily post which consisted mainly of junk mail. He began reflecting on whether it was time he showed Mrs Bragg the photos of her husband Jack entering one of those sleazy back street hotels with a young woman half his age on his arm, when suddenly the postcard slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. Retrieving it, Jim was taken aback by the picture of a lake with the sun going down behind it and printed in bold letters the words "LAKE GUARDA BY NIGHT". Turning it over he was confronted by writing which was in Italian; the only word he understood was the signature at the bottom. "Franco” a name Jim had never heard of, so without further ado he put the card in his jacket pocket and phoned his client Mrs Bragg. "Mrs Bragg?" Jim asked when she answered the phone, “It’s Jim Bent.” Please, Jim call me Mary," she answered. “I, er, have those photos you asked me to get you and they show you were right, he is in fact playing away should I send them to you?" Jim enquired. Now Jim had experienced a lot of unfaithful husband and wife cases and in most cases he had kept himself at a distance since it did not pay to get too involved with a client. When Mary suggested he bring the photos to her house Jim knew he must resist or get in a tangle he would find hard to get out of especially if Maria were to find out. "I think, Jim I at least owe you a drink," she said as Jim was about to put the phone down. "OK, Mary I’ll meet you in your local next Thursday if that’s alright?" Jim replied. She quickly said, "It’s the Duck and Drake and it’s in Maidstone High Road, shall we say about eight and you can give me the photos and your bill, have a drink and say goodbye. Is that alright, Jim?""Yeah sure, Mary, it’s just that I don’t get involved with any of my clients I think you understand?" replacing the phone Jim proceeded to place the photos of Jack Bragg in a large envelope, As he did he hoped for once he would be able to spend some time with Maria instead of sitting outside some seedy hotel taking photos, an occupation he hated doing but which was part of his job as a Private DetectivJim was no stranger to the streets of London since before his retirement he had spent fifteen years as a cop, mostly in and around Soho, which is until the bullet he had received during a bank raid forced him into a desk job. During his early years Jim became well known especially amongst the traders and the vice girls and their pimps who frequented the area. In fact, many a time Jim avoided trouble by looking the other way, as it were, and for this alone he became known as the friendly cop. It was about three days later when Jim was putting his coat on, that the card sent from Italy dropped out onto the floor of his office. Suddenly the phone rang so once again he slipped it back in his jacket pocket. The familiar voice of his old pal Tony Ray who had just been promoted to Detective Inspector rang in his ears. Tony reminded Jim that Jean Shildon was about to be released and for the interim period would be under his watchful eye. "So me old mate you ain’t got anything to worry about, by the way, Jim we’re having a little get together in the Coach and Horses next Friday to celebrate my promo and you and Maria are very welcome." Jim thought about mentioning the postcard but instead replied, "cheers, matey and of course congrats, it’s about time. Anyway, we’ll try and make it.” You had better come, matey, I’m counting on you," Tony replied as Jim replaced the phone. A strange set of circumstances was to happen as Jim returned home that evening. Maria for some reason said she fancied a pizza in a restaurant up west; at first Jim asked why they shouldn’t send out for one but she insisted on an evening out so Jim agreed.” I know the best Pizza restaurant in the whole of the West End, it’s the three P’s, or rather Paolo Palluchi’s Pizzas and believe me, this guy knows how to make a pizza that will melt in your mouth. Palluchi’s pizzas are known as far as the North of England," Jim said. "OK, Jim, you win, its Paolo’s we go to," Maria replied.Palluchi’s was a family run restaurant. Mama did most of the cooking whilst Anna the daughter did the witnessing. Paolo, the head of the family, just took the orders and of course the money. Jim had known Paolo since his days on the beat and once helped stop a gang demanding money for protection from Paolo, so Paolo reckoned he owed Jim for helping him out. Italians, it seems, like to repay any such favours.The Restaurant was almost full but as soon as Paolo saw Jim and Maria he ushered them to a vacant table. "Hey Jimmy, my friend, who is this young lady?”. . Jim sat down and replied, "her name’s Maria and yes, she is part Italian, you old scoundrel. “Jimmy boy, you sure know how to pick ‘em," Paolo replied, offering the menu as he spoke. "Now anything you see is my treat this much I owe you, my friend," Paolo said as Anna made her way towards the table, swinging her hips as she did. "You remember my little Anna, Jim? Well here she is, all grown up and getting married next year." Anna, meanwhile, had gone a bright red as he father spoke about her. Jim had his tongue hanging out: Maria retorted, "Er, see anything you fancy, Jim?" He didn’t know whether she either meant on the menu or the young woman almost pushing her breasts into his face. Ordering a cheese and tomato pizza, a bottle of red wine along with chocolate iced cake for dessert we knew we were going to be full up and indeed we both were. As Paolo joined us asking if the meal was to our liking I reached inside my jacket for my wallet and as Paolo pushed my hand aside I felt the postcard from Italy fall to the floor. Maria picked it up saying, "I thought you got rid of this?” Jim sat for a moment before replying. "I thought I had," he said. Maria turned the card over and said, "who the bloody hell is this Franco? How come it has a picture of Lake Guarda on the front and yet it was posted in Sicily?" Although part Italian Maria was unable to speak the lingo so Jim asked Paolo what it said."You have heard before from this Franco guy, Jim?" he asked.” No, Paolo, I’d never heard the name until last week.” Well, I am afraid he knows you and says he wants revenge for his Cousin Roberto’s death and for putting his uncle Antonio behind bars.” But I had nothing to do with Roberto’s death or the putting way of his uncle, I swear.” Wait one moment, Jim, you have a friend in the police called, er, Tony Ray? Well, he is the guy Franco blames and says he will get revenge if it takes for ever. Jesus Christ, Jim, this guy is sure mad at you and that friend of yours. " Jim took back the card saying as if to reassure Maria there was nothing to worry about, "I get that kind of threat almost every day, let’s just enjoy the evening and forget the damn thing. “Placing the card back in his jacket Jim poured another round of drinks only to be told he had to drive home and he should stay sober. Maria was no fool and knew the threats from that guy Franco would be taken seriously by Jim, but for now she made as if to forget the card ever arrived by saying, "anyway, Jim, I want you sober when I get you home." This of course was met with laughter from Paolo and most of those still eating in the restaurant.