CHAPTER 6

Get dragged off to war at eighteen and there was no option, things had to be learnt and to make them stick they were probably best absorbed the hard way. Come home at twenty-one with no work or prospects and the things that he had not necessarily wanted to learn suddenly became invaluable. Dexter Carmichael lived on the edge. That was one thing he had learnt. How to live right on the edge. After all, take away his early years and it could be argued he had spent almost half his life learning how to do just that simply to survive. 

How did he do it? Good looks, a tough nature and a smooth-talking charm. Plus, of course, all those acquired skills that meant he could make a reasonable living as a ‘this and that’ man. Do a bit of this. Pick a lock and slip in the back door. Bust a simple safe hopefully full of cash. A rare occurrence it was true but it did happen. Steal a car for a lift home. His clothes? Lifted from a shop. The super posh brogues? Stolen. Easy, pick the lock, through the back door and into the store. Even use the changing rooms. One rule. No robbery with violence. Do not be fooled though. He was more than capable. That was another thing he had learnt so well. Violence. Think about it, it was not so difficult when you lived with it every day, was it. Then onto the bit of that. Charm a lovely lady and there it was the bit of ‘that’ and of course a pile of money if a suitable beauty had been chosen. Always working on his own he most importantly left no loose ends. Eliminated all those little clues that got you nicked. That was why, so far, he’d had no trouble with the law.

Just about everything Dexter Carmichael got himself mixed up with involved a fair degree of luck. Today, as he strode away from the boarding house, he thought of the decent chunk of it that had recently promised to change his life. 

How long ago was it? he thought as he smiled at a lady with a pram and dodged around her. Lifted his trilby. And that was another unbreakable rule: always be polite. He knew she watched his back as he strolled down the street and smiled. Charm; for him it was so automatic. Checked for cars and headed to the opposite pavement. Slipped around the corner. Yeah, it’s just over three months for sure.  

He had been ambling along a street just back of Brighton seafront, his suit jacket flapping in the stiff breeze. Trilby set at its usual slight angle. A new snappy tie fresh from the outfitters and the brogues… don’t forget the brogues oh, and the black leather gloves, of course. Squinted as the sun cleared the clouds. Just after lunch was traditionally a quiet time. People had finished eating, filling time chatting before they left. As he passed parked cars, he pulled the door handles testing them.  

Continually checked the street. Glancing up and down the road. Trying to anticipate if anyone would appear. A hard-won attribute, vigilance and still absolutely essential. He scanned the area one more time. Let his gaze drift in and out of the doorways. Listened for the click of a catch. Even though he had completed all his normal preparation he had missed her. How had he missed the girl with the long blonde hair? He had only just looked behind. She must have popped out of somewhere close. 

Anyway, the driver’s door of a black Standard 8 clicked open. He stopped, glanced around and pulled it open. Perfect, a newer model and easy to start. Slipping into the driver’s seat he leant down and exposed the wires from behind the control panel. In his hand a set of hot wires with small crocodile clips. Locating the pertinent wires with their connections he clipped the hot wires to bypass the ignition and was about to touch the starter wire to the hot wire when a voice said, “So that’s how you do it.” 

Dexter should have been startled but the words and the girl’s gently purring voice did not suggest a problem developing. Besides, he knew being startled and showing it might demonstrate a clear sign of his guilt. Slowly he shifted to sit upright, dropped the wires and stared into the face framed by the long blonde hair with sunlight glistening through it. The wide smile, the sort that said she was about to burst into laughter, settled any doubt he might have had. 

He could have asked where she had appeared from but that was not a top priority. Mostly he wanted to hear the soft inquisitive voice again and see the sparkle in her blue eyes. Swinging his feet onto the pavement as he stood, he collected his hot wire set and shut the door. Movement caught his eye. An older lady and man had appeared from a side road, arm in arm and laughing at something the man had said. As they ambled towards him Dexter took hold of the girl's arm leant close to her ear, smelled the scent on her neck and said, “We need to move.” 

Dee allowed herself to be led away from the car. “You were planning on stealing that car, weren't you?” she said and watched the look on his face turn to a broad smile.  

“Sure I was,” Dexter replied. “It was my lift home… Anyway, you popped up and stymied that idea so it’s only right I know who scuppered my plans… What’s your name?” 

“Dee.” 

“Dexter. Nice to meet you.”  

“Dexter and Dee,” said Dee. “I like the sound of that… So, is that how you do it? With the wires.” Dee still smiling wide with play in her eyes. She did like this man. There was just something… Yes, that was it. The slow way of talking, the laughter in his eyes she found so… appealing. 

“Yup, bypass the ignition and touch the starter wire to the hot wire. That’s the one that’s always live and bingo I’m on my way home.” 

“How long does it take to get it started?” 

“Oh, thirty seconds is all.” 

“Why did you not want to leave? You could have just driven off.” 

“So many questions. Why’d you think?” 

“That man and woman appearing?” 

“Right. They’ve seen us and that’s enough to move on. Appearing like that they became a loose end.” 

“And you don’t want those, do you? They’re incriminating.” And she laughed.  

“Of course. And there was you as well. I’m sure not leaving you behind.” 

“Why? In case they suspect me?” 

“That, but mostly because you seem too nice to let go.” 

“It’s hot. Why the gloves?” 

“Fingerprints.” 

“Oh, I never thought of that.” 

The couple were getting closer, “Come on we have to go,” he said. 

As Dexter guided her across the road, Dee said, “Do you always steal cars?” 

“Only when I need to. I’ve done a bit of work and am heading home.” 

“What bit of work’s that?” 

Dexter reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of gold rings and a diamond brooch, “Just a few trinkets but worth a few bob. Picked a back door lock. Easy really. I only took a few things, so they probably won’t notice for weeks, if at all. That’s one of my rules, don’t be greedy.” 

“You’re a villain then,” said Dee. 

“Not really a villain. A ‘this and that’ man. Do a bit of this, do a bit of that. You know, anything that earns a few bucks. 

 “Don’t you worry you’ll get caught?” 

“Sure, sometimes, but I’m careful though. I only take the regular stuff. Nothing fancy that carries more suspicion and not too much. Most times people might think they’ve just misplaced the missing bits.” 

“That’s clever. They never even know they’ve been robbed.” 

“No, because why would a robber not take everything? That’s the trick. Be satisfied with enough to live on. The downside of course: I’ll never get rich.”  

“Where do you live? It must be out of town if you’re stealing a car.” 

“Bexhill but I move around. At the moment I’m working the south coast. I've rented rooms in a nice house. One of those old Edwardian villas. I’ll hang about there for maybe six months or until opportunities dry up. Or if it gets a bit hot, if you know what I mean… What about you?” 

“Eastbourne. My mother owns a boarding house where I’m as good as a slave.” 

“That's not so far from me, is it. What if I get some transport and I drop you off.” 

“Is that easy?” 

“Sure it is. You’d be surprised how many people leave their cars unlocked. So many I don’t have to break in. Not that it would be a problem, it just takes longer and longer means more risk.” 

Half an hour later they were nearing the Bay View in Eastbourne in a grey Austin A30 that Dexter had apologised for, “Sorry but you have to take what you can get,” he said, “Next time it’ll be smart wheels.” 

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” 

“Sure there will. You like me, maybe even as much as I like you.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

“So, when are you off next?” 

“Most evenings I finish around seven. I have to sneak out though. My mother thinks all men I know are riffraff.” 

“Okay… Do you dance?” asked Dexter and Dee nodded. “Good, how about Saturday? I’ll pick you up and we’ll go dancing.” 

“That’s perfect but I’ll meet you around the corner, over there. Drop me there now and pick me up there on Saturday.” As Dee got out she turned and said, “Just a thought. You’re okay, you're wearing gloves. What about my prints?” 

“Don’t worry I’ll wipe down the car.” She smiled and slammed the door. Pulling down the window he shouted after her, “See you Saturday.” Dee spun on her heel, looked back and waved and shouted, “I’ll wear white gloves. White and black, good and bad,” and Dexter heard her laughing all the way across the street. 

 

Thoughts of that first meeting stuck with him as he briskly walked away from the boarding house slowly swinging the case in rhythm with his stride. Slowing his pace he glanced behind and satisfied he was not being followed sauntered for about half a mile stopping at the bus stop. With his beezer full of money, why take the risk stealing a car? He hopped on the next one. Where else would he sit but up front on the top deck on a bench seat? He slumped down next to a mid-aged lady wearing a pink hat with fake flowers and a long hat pin pushed through bunched up hair who talked her way to Bexhill. He had expected that older lady's perfume smell but had been surprised by the delicate rose petal scent. Did he regret it? Getting the bus. Maybe. Dexter glanced at her, amused she had so many words stored up ready to pop. She squinted with the light and occasionally flicked a look at him, perhaps making sure he was listening. 

Just outside Bexhill she got off. As the bus accelerated Dexter watched her struggle along the pavement with a bag and walking stick. Seeing her difficulty walking he wished he’d paid more attention to her conversation. Maybe she was lonely and just wanted the opportunity to chat. He sighed and thought of his mother. He should have known better. She’d had walking issues and he was sure they had contributed to her death. Maybe if she had been more capable she could have escaped the falling bombs. A last glance at the lady and he consoled himself by thinking he could not have known. He had not seen her struggling until she got off. 

Dexter did not often think of his father. Why would he? The bastard had left them way before the war. Just now though, with that lady prompting thoughts of his mother it was natural to wonder. Not so much though. Just enough to confirm he had no interest in seeing him again.  

Pressing the button the bell dinged. Half jumping down the stairs he eased his way to the front of a small queue, stepped onto the pavement as the bus was slowing down and walked the short distance to his place. Through the front door and straight up to his rooms dodging any sort of conversation with his flirtatious landlady. A good-looking lady right enough but squawked monotonous drivel. She had a way about her. Grasping. Dexter held the opinion she was the sort not to be trusted. Throwing the beezer on the bed he flicked the catches and lifted the lid. Took a step back staring at the contents thinking, this all looks familiar. Dee’s not going to like this one bit.