“Sitting in the manager’s office with owner Ashley Michaels, the ink still wet on the contracts that lay on the polished oak desk between us, he handed me a glass and proposed a toast.
“Not for me, Ash.” I knew he wouldn’t mind his name being shortened like this having made his fortune in the hustle and bustle of sports retail, he probably got called that all the time. “I’ll stick with my chamomile.” Julie had just made me a hot one, she always knew just how I liked it. “It helps manage blood sugar levels and reduces the risk of osteoporosis.” I said confidently, as if I’d conducted this scientific research myself. He was clearly impressed.
There wasn’t any time to waste. First order of business; another homecoming, that of Sandy Farrel, the ponytailed stallion that was going to lead the line all the way to European Cup Glory. But there was a problem – he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd during his time in London. A shady character named Big Ben, and I don’t mean the nineteenth century clocktower at the north end of the Palace of Westminster, loomed large over Sandy. And he wasn’t going to let him slip from his grasp without a fight.
Sandy had last been spotted falling out of an east end nightclub owned by ‘Benny’ with a blonde on each arm. That was over a week ago and exactly where I needed to pick up his trail.
“I’ll leave now and be there in 5 hours.” I told Ash as I drained the last of my chamomile and placed my cup back on the coaster, protecting the antique desk.
“I need you there in 4.” He quipped as he casually tossed me the keys to my new club car, the silver Jaguar emblem glistening under the electric light as they flew.
“Barnes is back” I said to myself as I left the office with a smile.”
BlackIsleBlue via Apple Podcasts ·
Great Britain ·
12/10/19