CHAPTER Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Yeah, like I said,” the barman called over his shoulder, “we ain’t seen him in days, mate. Landlord reckons he’s done a bunk.” He was a bulky man who huffed a lot as he led Jimmy up the stairs. He was losing most of his hair, even though he was only in his late twenties, and had grown a huge pair of mutton chop whiskers to compensate.

“Landlord’s coming back this evening to clear the room, so if you want anything you best go through his stuff and grab it now, alright? Good luck though, it’s minging in there.”

“That’s okay, I’m only after one thing, I shan’t be long.”

The barman coughed, looked at the floor and scratched his neck, waiting for something.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” said Jimmy and pulled two twenties and a ten from his pocket.

“Cheers,” said the barman, taking the money. He produced a key, unlocked the door then turned and lumbered back down the stairs.

The smell hit Jimmy the minute he opened the door. The air was stale and stank of Sam’s unwashed body