Afterlife? -No! Aftershock!
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Chapter Eighteen
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Taking a deep breath, Jonathan Foster reached for the key and turned in the lock of his front door. Making sure his face was set in a neutral expression first, he opened the door and looked the man standing outside straight in the eyes.
'Good evening!' He greeted the three men, just as cordially as he'd greeted Grimes and Wirrell, 'What gives me the pleasure of your visit?'
'Stop that simpering!' The black-haired, blue-eyed man in front grumbled, 'But all the same, good evening to you, too, Johnny Foster. How's that little daughter of yours?'
Foster knew a 'Gully Rat' when he saw one, and he knew that taking offence about their tone was no good, and, after all, this one was being fairly civil.
'She's quite well, thank you. Would you like to come in?' If he didn't invite those men inside, they'd get angry and suspicious, it was better to be friendly; they might even be persuaded to believe that he had nothing to hide.
The three 'Gully Rats' stepped inside at once, the two large muscles taking the black-haired on between them for security, and sat around the little table in the sitting room as soon as the muscles had made sure there was no imminent threat inside the flat. Foster watched them with a fluttery stomach, as they opened the door to the kitchen, to Sandy's room and to the guestroom, but as Boromir had not switched on the light and was prudently hiding behind the door, they did not spot him.
'Can I offer you something?' Foster asked the three politely.
'A beer would be nice.' The spokesman answered, leaning back into his chair with a sigh. 'Make that three, don't let us hinder you from having something yourself.'
Swiftly, Jonathan went inside the kitchen and took four cans of beer out of the fridge. Best take the same as the three visitors, they might appreciate it. When he returned into the sitting room, the spokesman of the three 'Gully Rats' was reading Grimes' card.
'Who's the guy?' he asked Foster bluntly.
'Someone from the police, as far as I know. He came here to ask questions about a guy I'd talked to during my stay at the hospital, said he wanted to know where the man was. I don't know how they came to think I might have something to tell them. I'd only spoken to that Steward-bloke for five minutes or so.' Foster told him, his air indignant. 'Then he gave me his card in case I saw Steward later on, so I could inform him. Just as if I had time to look for men the South District Police is searching for!'
The 'Gully Rat' smiled appreciatively. 'I like your attitude, Johnny F., now, if you'd only make sure you tell US as soon as that Steward bloke looks in at your quaint little place here, you'll get full marks from me.'
With that, he handed Foster his own card, on which stood nothing but a telephone number. Jonathan nodded at once. 'You can count on me.' He promised in his most sincere voice.
'You'd better.' There was a menace in the black-haired man's voice which he had not revealed earlier. 'If for nothing else, then for your little girl.'
Leaving the beer he'd opened without drinking a sip of it, standing on the little table, he nodded to his muscles and stood. 'See you another time, Johnny F.!' He said cheerfully, as he stepped through the front door that one of his men held open for him, while the other was already checking out the street.
Jonathan Foster smiled weakly. 'It will be my pleasure.' He replied, not letting his mask slip for even the fraction of a second. 'Come again whenever you feel like it.'
With a nonchalant wave of the hand, the man was gone, taking his guardians with him. Jonathan shut and locked the door behind them, shaking even more than he'd done after the visit of the two policemen. What had he gotten himself into?! And why hadn't he thought of poor Sandy earlier? She was in great danger! But after he'd told Mr. Steward he'd help him, he couldn't just surrender him to the police or even the 'Gully Rats'.
Ruffling his hair with his two hands, he paced around his little room. Now, how did he get out of this mess best, without getting Sandy harmed, endangering himself, and dooming Steward?
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Chapter Eighteen
.
Taking a deep breath, Jonathan Foster reached for the key and turned in the lock of his front door. Making sure his face was set in a neutral expression first, he opened the door and looked the man standing outside straight in the eyes.
'Good evening!' He greeted the three men, just as cordially as he'd greeted Grimes and Wirrell, 'What gives me the pleasure of your visit?'
'Stop that simpering!' The black-haired, blue-eyed man in front grumbled, 'But all the same, good evening to you, too, Johnny Foster. How's that little daughter of yours?'
Foster knew a 'Gully Rat' when he saw one, and he knew that taking offence about their tone was no good, and, after all, this one was being fairly civil.
'She's quite well, thank you. Would you like to come in?' If he didn't invite those men inside, they'd get angry and suspicious, it was better to be friendly; they might even be persuaded to believe that he had nothing to hide.
The three 'Gully Rats' stepped inside at once, the two large muscles taking the black-haired on between them for security, and sat around the little table in the sitting room as soon as the muscles had made sure there was no imminent threat inside the flat. Foster watched them with a fluttery stomach, as they opened the door to the kitchen, to Sandy's room and to the guestroom, but as Boromir had not switched on the light and was prudently hiding behind the door, they did not spot him.
'Can I offer you something?' Foster asked the three politely.
'A beer would be nice.' The spokesman answered, leaning back into his chair with a sigh. 'Make that three, don't let us hinder you from having something yourself.'
Swiftly, Jonathan went inside the kitchen and took four cans of beer out of the fridge. Best take the same as the three visitors, they might appreciate it. When he returned into the sitting room, the spokesman of the three 'Gully Rats' was reading Grimes' card.
'Who's the guy?' he asked Foster bluntly.
'Someone from the police, as far as I know. He came here to ask questions about a guy I'd talked to during my stay at the hospital, said he wanted to know where the man was. I don't know how they came to think I might have something to tell them. I'd only spoken to that Steward-bloke for five minutes or so.' Foster told him, his air indignant. 'Then he gave me his card in case I saw Steward later on, so I could inform him. Just as if I had time to look for men the South District Police is searching for!'
The 'Gully Rat' smiled appreciatively. 'I like your attitude, Johnny F., now, if you'd only make sure you tell US as soon as that Steward bloke looks in at your quaint little place here, you'll get full marks from me.'
With that, he handed Foster his own card, on which stood nothing but a telephone number. Jonathan nodded at once. 'You can count on me.' He promised in his most sincere voice.
'You'd better.' There was a menace in the black-haired man's voice which he had not revealed earlier. 'If for nothing else, then for your little girl.'
Leaving the beer he'd opened without drinking a sip of it, standing on the little table, he nodded to his muscles and stood. 'See you another time, Johnny F.!' He said cheerfully, as he stepped through the front door that one of his men held open for him, while the other was already checking out the street.
Jonathan Foster smiled weakly. 'It will be my pleasure.' He replied, not letting his mask slip for even the fraction of a second. 'Come again whenever you feel like it.'
With a nonchalant wave of the hand, the man was gone, taking his guardians with him. Jonathan shut and locked the door behind them, shaking even more than he'd done after the visit of the two policemen. What had he gotten himself into?! And why hadn't he thought of poor Sandy earlier? She was in great danger! But after he'd told Mr. Steward he'd help him, he couldn't just surrender him to the police or even the 'Gully Rats'.
Ruffling his hair with his two hands, he paced around his little room. Now, how did he get out of this mess best, without getting Sandy harmed, endangering himself, and dooming Steward?