Chapter (5) THE CON MEN

THE CON MEN

  

The old lady stood by the kitchen sink drying the last of the lunchtime crockery. As she reached up to hang the cup on the little hook she noticed a small white van coming up the driveway. The van made a slow progress trying to dodge the water-filled potholes.

“George!, GEORGE.” She called, as loud as she could, but no reply came.

“GEORGE, where are you, you old fool? There’s someone coming up the drive.” As she turned to look in the direction of the kitchen door a wizened old man came into view, shuffling towards her with the aid of a walking stick. His old, brown, corduroy trousers were obviously from time when he had been a much fitter and rounder man. The saggy trousers hung lazily from a pair of well-worn braces. He was still wearing his pyjama tops, dull, with faded stripes, an old pair of worn out carpet slippers protected his bare feet from the cold quarry tiles of the hallway.

“What?” His voice fitted his appearence, it was weak and worn out. The old lady turned back to look out of the kitchen window once again.

“I said we’ve got people coming up the drive in a white van.” The old man shuffled to the side of his wife to view the driveway.

“People, you say? In that van?”

“Yes George, people. It’s got a ladder on the roof. What do think they want?” The old man leaned forward, rested his free hand on the front of the sink, to get a better look out of the window.

“It’s a white van.” The old woman took a breath of exasperation.

“You old fool, I know it’s a white van, I can see it’s a white van.”

“It’s got a ladder on the roof.” The old woman looked at the old man with distain.

“Are they coming here? Asked George. The old woman looked back at her aged husband.

“What do they want?” Said George. The old woman shook her head slightly in disbelief.

“How should I know what they want you old fool. Put your hearing aid in.”

“What?”

“Put your damn hearing aid back in. Look, they’ve stopped.” The old lady hadn’t expected an answer from the old man, so when none came she continued to stand motionless, staring at the white van. The old man had turned and started to shuffle back into the hallway, he needed to find his hearing aid.

The small white van came to a stop before the Ivy clad frontage of the rambling old cottage.

“You sure this is the place mate?”

“Yeah, I been asking a few discrete questions back in the village and found out it’s owned by couple of old codgers.” Dave and Tom sat and stared at the age weathered cottage, through the dirty windsreen of the van.

“ ‘pparently they don’t go out much, and he’s ‘sposed to be a bit simple.” Tom continued.

“You can see the gutter’s come away, up there.” Dave pointed in the direction of the roof.

“Yeah, and the down pipe has come away cos the Ivy has pulled it.” Dave nodded.

“Reckon we could be alright here mate. If we play it right we got a weeks work, at least.” Tom grinned.

“We might take them for a grand or more.” Dave showed Tom a very wide grin.

“Okay mate, we play it slow. Offer to do the gutter, at a good price of course, then, work onto the down pipe. When we’ve been here a couple of days they’ll believe anything we tell ’em. Right?”

“Yeah, sounds good mate.”

“It’s away from the village and well off the road too. Plenty of trees and hedges, stop nosey passers by seein’ what we’re doin’.”

“Yeah this is going to be a doddle mate.”

 

As she watched from behind the kitchen curtain the van doors opened.

“George they’re getting out of the van. GEORGE.”

“No need to shout.” George was back, standing in the hall doorway complete with hearing aid.

“It’s two young blokes.” His wife continued.

“What’s it say on the van?” Asked George. The old lady leaned forward to try and read the sign on the side of the van.

“It says D and T Builders.” The old woman replied, without turning away from the window.

“What do they want?”  The old man grunted.

 “Be a couple of jobbers touting for work I reckon.” The old woman moved back from the window. The two young men approached the paint worn front door. Stepping into the overgrown wooden porch Tom said.

“Christ, the place is falling apart mate.” Tom picked at some flaking paintwork. Dave checked for a bell or a knocker and then tapped on the door with his knuckle. The young men stood patiently waiting for someone to open it.

“Shall we open the door?” The old woman asked her frail old husband.

“Aye, see what they got to say. Make a change to have some company.” George tapped his walking stick on the brown tiled floor.

“Try again mate. Do it louder, they gotta be in.” Dave made a fist and banged on the door, flakes of dry blue paint fell to the floor once more. After several minutes they could hear muffled voices from the other side of the door.

“What you want?”

“HELLO.” Said Dave. “My name’s Dave and this is Tom.

“Go away.” Dave elbowed his mate and grinned.

“The bloke in the pub said we should come and see you.”

“The man in the pub you say.”

“Yes, yes. He said you might need some help.”

Slowly the door opened a few inches and the quick brown eyes of the old woman peeked through the gap.

“Who said you could come here?” Dave took a quick look at Tom before answering.

“We was workin in the village and the bloke in the pub said you might need some work doin’.”

“Work? What sort of work?” The old womans voice cackled.

“We’re builders you see, and we noticed your guttering was coming away.”

“Guttering?”

“Yes. It’s come away and it’ll let the water get under your Soffits.”

“Soffits?” repeated the old woman. Tom looked at Dave for inspiration.

“Yes, If the rain gets in you’ll have damp problems.” Tom was searching to keep the conversation going. The old woman stared into his eyes.

“Damp?” The old woman used her eyes to search up and down the two lads. Dave smiled.

“George. GEORGE. They said we’ve got damp. Shall I let them in?” Tom was thinking this might be a mistake when the old woman spoke.

“You better come in then.” And as she said it the old woman opened the door and stepped back to allow the young men to enter the dark hallway.

“Thank you very much.” Said Tom, stepping forward and keeping up the appearance of politeness.

“Yes thank you.” Repeated Dave as he followed Dave into the cool of the cottage.

“In there.” Cackled the old woman pointing past her husband, down the hallway.

“Get out of the way you old fool, let them by.” The old man stepped uneasily sideways.

“Thank you sir.” Said Dave as he passed the frail old man, noting the scent of stale sweat and dried urine.

Once in the front room the two young men were instructed to sit down on the sofa. The room was dim and crowded, filled with antique furniture. Tom gave Dave a slight dig with his elbow again, as they looked around the room at the shelves of silverwares and porcelain figures. Dave gave a slight nod to signify he’d understood. George shuffled in followed by his wife. The old man slumped down on a wood backed chair and crooked his walking stick on the edge of the table. The old womans voice broke the silence.

“Cup of tea, boys?” It wasn’t so much a question, as a statement. Dave glanced at Tom and they both nodded.

“Please.” Said Dave. Tom added.

“Yes that would be nice.” The old woman stuck a thin, wired finger into George’s boney shoulder.

“Well don’t just sit there you old fool, go and put the kettle on.” The old man grabbed  his walking stick and got up painfully. As he shuffled out of the room the old woman said.

“He’s slow, but useful. Now, what’s all this about a man in the pub?” Tom started to explain.

“Well we was havin a pie and a pint yes’day. We was sitting at the bar and talking about this and that. You know, how we needed to find some work. So Dave here, well asked the barman if he knew anyone might need a bit of work doing, and he suggested coming up here to see you. He said you might need a bit of a hand fixing the place up.” The old woman had sat down on the second wooden chair and rested her arms on the table.

“Yes, yes, quite right. It needs fixing up all right. We’re too old now and he can’t do much anymore. And can you two boys do this fixing up?” This time Dave replied.

“Yes we have all the tools and we’ve been doing this kind of work for a couple of years now.”

“And where do you come from?” Tom glanced at Dave.

“Well we’re originally from Barnsley up north but we like it down here.”

“And where do you sleep then.” Dave was getting a little nervous at all the personal questions.

“We stay in B&B’s and we have a big tent in the van so in the summer we stay in camp sites near to where we’re working.” This seemed to satisfy the old woman and she changed tack, getting directly to the business of money.

“How much is it going to cost then?”

“What the guttering?” Dave said.

“Yes this guttering that’s letting the water get in me soffits, how much?” Dave thought for a minute.

“Well I reckon it’ll take about 4 hours, getting rid of the Ivy, fixing the brackets etc, so...let's say....fifty quid?.” Quick as a flash the old woman replied.

“Let's say thirty.” The rapidity of her response took both the lads by surprise and Tom giggled.

“My word there are no flies on you Missus.” The old lady liked that and smiled.

“Tell you what Missus, we’ll do the guttering for thirty quid and if it suits you maybe you’ll let us do the downpipe the day after.” The old woman looked from one to the other and nodded.

“Deal.” She said and held out a hand for a shake on it. Tom took the thin wrinkled hand and shook it gently.

“Good. So you’ll start in the morning?” Said the old woman.

“Nine o’clock.” Said Dave.

“Now where’s that tea?” said the old woman, and with that she got up and left the room in search of her husband.

 

When they were sure the old woman was out of earshot Tom leaned in towards Dave.

“Bloody hell Dave, that was so easy.” The excitement in his voice was echoed by Dave’s.

“We got it made here. The old dear thinks she’s got one over on us. We’re going to make a killing mate.”

“Just look at all this stuff, they must be loaded mate.”

In the kitchen the kettle had at last boiled, and the old man poured the boiling water into the teapot. The old lady placed a tea cosy on the teapot and placed it on the silver tea tray. Her husband produced four china cups and saucers, a small silver sugar bowl and silver milk jug. The old woman returned to the room carrying the silver tea tray and placed it down on the table.

“I’ll be mother.” She said, lifting the teapot and starting to pour the steaming brown liquid into the cups. The two lads had never had tea served to them like this before.

“Help yourselves to milk and sugar.” She added. Passing each of the boys a cup.

“Thank you.” Said Dave

“Yes, thank you very much.” Said Tom.

While they waited for the tea to cool a little they chatted about this and that. The boys learned that the old woman and the old man had lived in this cottage for over fifty years. As they drank their tea the two lads were soon very relaxed and had started to enjoy the company of their hosts. In fact they were getting very relaxed indeed. Dave had lain back on the sofa and appeared to be asleep. Tom was feeling a little strange.

“Dave mate, I feel really tired and my eyes won’t open.” But Dave didn’t answer, he was already dead. Tom slumped back and fell sideways onto his friend dropping his cup on the floor. Getting up from her chair the old lady bent down to retrieve the cup.

“Good job he didn’t break it.” She said. “It was one of my best china tea sets.” She placed the tea cup back on the tray and stood in front of the sofa looking down at the lifeless bodies.

“Well that went well.” She said.

“Yes, better than last time dear.”  Said George.

“You go through the pockets George, and see how much we got and I’ll take these away to the kitchen.” Lifting the tea tray the old woman had a new spring her step as she took it back to the kitchen.

“We got hundred and thirty quid dear.” Shouted George. His wife returned to the room.

“We should get another hundred for the van and some for the tools inside.”

“Our boy never lets us down.” Said George.

“You take these two out to the van, you can lose them in the quarry in the morning. Then take the van to the pub, our boy will know what to do with it.”

“Yes dear.” Said George. The old woman looked at the two dead men on the sofa.

“Con men! Huh they didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Reviews

[DOlson]

Nice twist, Mad Englishman. Very nice. The dialogue moves the action, nicely. You used the 'distain' and threw me off. I believe you met 'disdain' as I googled it. Distain means to stain, color, or tarnish. Just something I noticed. Excellent start.

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Thanks for the great comment. I'll make the change.

[MomzillaNC]

Well, that took a grim turn…

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Ha ha. hope you liked it.

[MomzillaNC]

Loved it!

[Samantha Dunaway Bryant]

I suspected it might be a "there's a twist" kind of story, but I still enjoyed the twist when it came. Nice work!

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Many thanks Samantha. I think I need to change tack. People are getting to know me too well.

[Tony Jordan]

I dont condone murder of con-men but Oh My God !
This is class M.E.
Don't let the grey hair fool ya - that about sums this up.
Brilliant tale.

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

Thank you so much. I was going to drug them and get them robbed but it didn't bite enough.

[Tony Jordan]

Bite...
Hmmm.... made me think... lol
What if our pensioners had a wee cannibalism penchant and you just hinted at the end.
"We'll have lots of meat for the freezer now. "

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

You are amazing. That was the first draft. The guy in the pub sold meat pies. I thought it might be too much.

[Tony Jordan]

I think we are on similar wavelengths lol.