�Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. How many times do we have to sing this same song, huh?� a voice sneered from over my shoulder. Thanks to some thoughtful individual that had bound me to the rather tight point of cutting off the circulation in certain, vital areas, if you know what I mean (and to think, some Senators would pay good money for this privilege), I was incapable of moving. Even if I could, I didn�t need to turn my head to see who the voice belonged to.
�Boys, leave us,� the voice of Billy Maguire told the three gorillas. After a few minutes, when it had finally dawned upon them what they had been asked to do, they put down their bananas and accomplished their instruction with awkward uncertainty that bordered on the clumsy.
He came strolling into my line of vision. I�d known him since back when he had started up his very first business: extortion. Talking about his high school days he had also been a football star back then and, had it not been for the drink, could have well gone on to get drafted. Yep, it had been the grand, old booze that had ended his promising career in football; he had been knocked down by a Guiness truck. Fifteen years ago his athletic good looks alone were enough to raise the skirts. These days he needed a handful of bucks to achieve that feat. His left eye was missing and filling its place was a green, glass one. His real one was blue.
�Nice to see you again, Billy,� I lied.
He pulled up a chair and sat on it with the back facing me - the back of the chair that is. He eyed me like an animal in a zoo that had had the cheek to fart in his air space. His good eye faced twelve O�clock and his glass one twenty past three.
�I like what you�ve done with the place,� I said, my voice a quiver, even though I couldn�t properly see the place I was complimenting.
Eventually he spoke. �I thought I said I didn�t want to see you anymore, Sam.�
Seeing as though he didn�t say anything following that I gathered he meant it as a question.
�Err, well, actually Billy,� I said uncertainly not knowing how he was going to take what I said next. �It was your boys who came and collected me. I was quite happy to keep out of your -�
WHACK! The knuckles of his left hand swatted the region below my left eye. I was starting to resemble the elephant man more and more with each passing minute.
�You�re right,� he admitted and pointed his index finger at me, in a game-show host kind of way. I half-expected to hear a voice say, �And tonight�s star prize��
�So what did you hit me for?� I moaned.
�There�s not much else to do in this town,� he replied forlornly, a sad and distant look having taken up residence on his scarred face - so sad in fact, I almost felt sorry for him and nearly offered him another shot - not like he needed an invitation that is.
�Oh, that�s alright then,� I agreed but shook my head when his good eye looked away.
�Okay, enough chit-chat,� he said. Who�d been chit-chatting? I wondered incredulously. If this classed as a chit-chat I�d hate to be on the wrong end of telling off.
�I brought you here for a reason,� he went on matter-of-factly. �You�ve been hired to find a grease-ball by the name of Joe Kerr.�
I concurred with a apprehensive nod. It didn�t surprise me that he knew; he was the kind of person who knew the Nicks� score before a ball had even been bounced. �I too want to get my hands on this�� his brow furrowed delving him into obvious concentration, no doubt contemplating the correct term. ��individual,� he eventually settled on, though looked thoroughly disappointed, as if he hadn�t been able to locate a better word.
�So when you find him (I didn�t care to add if) you tell me first. So effectively you now work for me.� The injuries I had were quite enough to be going on with so I didn�t bother to ask how much he�d be paying me.
I gathered our discussion was over as he threw his eyes over to the door (Reluctantly one of his goon�s picked the glass one up when it arrived at his feet and gave it back to his boss, who slotted it back in his head) and the bonds tying me started to loosen.
Upon the rising sun�s cheeks there sat a big, cheesy grin, as if it was in the knowledge that it had caused my poor eyes to sting as I stepped out into the daylight. As relieved as I was to be out with all my limbs intact, being ejected via the scruff of the neck and given a kick up the derri�re just for good measure is never a confidence building experience. I supposed asking Billy which area of the globe I now occupied would have been a smart question to ask.
Had he asked me to find Joe Kerr for him? Sure he had. Had he asked me to let him know pronto when I did? Most definitely he had. Had he asked me if I wanted a ride to assist me with my investigations? Had he buggery! That job had been designated to my trusty, old (-ish) legs.
I hadn�t the slightest inclination as to where my boots now stood.
Over to my immediate left the landscape rose steeply into a wooded hill. Seeing as half the trunks were the same height as Percival Ramsbottom from Pete�s Pot-�em and Drop-�em Pool Hall, and, seeing as there was a gate with a sign reading: �Humpton saw mill�, I suspected this town had a saw-mill - pretty smart deductions or what. I passed under an unusual sign that said: Humpton - The horniest town on the west coast! That didn�t make much sense until I looked across the street and eyed an old-fashioned building. Above the woodworm-riddled doors of the museum, painted in a pinkish, red paint that was well overdue a new coat and so meant that some of the letters were missing were the letters: �HUMPTON MUSEUM�.