Looking for Walter Newhouse Chapter Ten

The next thing I remember is waking up in the boot of a car. That’s right, we’re back where we started. I could smell the oil and the rubber, I was in darkness and I was bloody cold. Felt like death warmed up, except for the warmed-up part. We were moving pretty steadily, not fast, but twisting and turning. And I was about ready to throw up.

Despite the evidence leading me to believe that I had been hit over the head before being dumped in the boot, I knew my throbbing head and nausea were down to the drink. I couldn’t remember much, but I knew I had visited Craggs at his club, and he’d given me my money and embraced me like an old friend. I'd stuck around long enough to buy a few drinks and then not long after that, Jim Coffin turned up.

And he was celebrating, too.

Coffin’s wife had just given birth to a son.

‘We’re calling him Joe,’ he said, and he looked like the proudest man alive.

And then he started buying the drinks. For everyone.

And judging by that hangover I was suffering from, I don’t think he stopped buying the drinks all night.