Chapter 12 – Advice

Dad sighed heavily, from where he leaned against the bar.

"Problem?" I asked him, as I wiped down the pub bar. It had been a busy night last night, and the local singing group threw quite a bash here. I'd not got all the rubbish packed away last night, so I was rushing to get it done this morning. Plus I had made arrangements to meet with Mor' and the Curate about our details.

Dad wrinkled his nose. "I was thinkin' boy."

When my dad said things like this it was usually fraught with a disaster in the making. "About?"

"Weddin' at the church."

"Right."

"And a reception at the Town Hall."

"Yeah. Something wrong with that?"

Dad shook his head. "No, but the way I see it… just a word of advice, boy…"

The front door swung open and Joe Penhale stuck his head in. "Al?"

"Hi Joe," I said to him.

"Joe," Dad said, and rolled his eyes, as he whispered. "Poor fella. No bride for him."

Joe smiled, as he marched in a Clint Eastwood-style stride. Hard to imagine Joe as a gunslinger, but with his thumbs hooked over his belt, he sure looked straight from an American cowboy movie to me. He faced me with a stern look. "Al Large."

What's going on? With Joe you never now. "You know that's my name, Joe."

"Yeah, right. I know that. But I'm here to inform you that an official complaint has been lodged against you – and this public house."

I stood up straighter. "What about?"

Dad chuckled. "Oh come on, Joe," he moaned.

Joe answered him, "Mr. Large, I mean Bert, I am having an official conversation with Mr. Large, that is, Al – your son. Please do not intrude into official business or I will have to write out a warning."

"Alright, sheriff." Dad rolled his eyes, then slunk away to a far corner.

"That's CONSTABLE," Joe scolded him.

Dad raised his hands in supplication. "Fine - Constable. Joe, I'll just sit over here real quiet like. That okay?" He sat down with his back to the wall, but I knew he'd be trying very hard to hear everything that was said.

Joe nodded at him. "That is good. Citizen."

I shook my head at Joe. "What's this about then?"

Joe took out his notebook, flipped it open, and held a pen over the pages as a pointer. "Ahem, at oh ten twenty-three this morning, I received a complaint from a resident of the village that there were loud and boisterous voices, as well as music, coming from this public house the previous night. That would be last night. Now, Mr. Large, as the proprietor of this establishment..."

"In case you forgot, Joe, I just run it – manage it. I don't own it. Ken owns it."

Joe scribbled a note in his notebook. "Sorry, forgot that. Yeah, well, but you were here – on the premises – last night."

"I was. The village singers were celebrating and I will admit, that they might have gotten a teeny bit noisy. But that was around, oh say ten. They were celebrating a new CD they brought out."

Joe smiled. "I know. I bought a copy. It's pretty good." He lowered his voice. "If you'd like to borrow it from me, I could bring it around later?"

I held up my hand. "No, I'm good."

Joe straightened and then climbed back into his official cop-persona. "Now then, this citizen lodged a complaint."

"Who was it?"

Joe shook his head. "I'd rather not say. But he's a resident of the village."

"Look Joe, I'd like to know who complained. Was it old man Settles? He complains after I make him leave, you know that. When I cut him off – and you know that I always keep track of the patrons; how much they drink – he always gives me the business. Was it him again?"

He looked around warily. "I… really, can't… say." he stammered.

"I have a right to know who my accuser is."

"That's in a court of law, Mr. Large," he told me. "This is a pub. Not a court of law."

I sighed. "Fine, then. I'll tell you what happened, uh, last evening."

Joe flipped the page over on his notebook and made ready to make notes. "Shoot. Uhm, I mean tell me the circumstances."

"Right. So the singers were pretty happy." And how, for it was a smashing night between the grub and the drink. I made £680 last night, above the daily rent, the cost of supplies, plus paying the cook and the waitresses. "And they were, shall we say, celebrating about the new CD."

"I knew it! And they were loud as well!" Joe said with satisfaction as if he'd just caught Jack the Ripper.

"No, not really," I protested. "That's… not quite the story. Now look, Joe, I'm not admitting anything. Just tellin' you what happened."

Joe nodded. "Mr. Large, please proceed with your statement." His pen was poised over paper.

Dad was wagging his head over in the corner and twirling a finger by his temple. Yes Joe was a bit… oh what's a good word? Self-important, but harmless. Mostly. Bodmin, though. A good bloke is Joe, just puffed-up, sorta'.

I swallowed hard. "Right, okay. So along about ten…"

Joe smiled. "Yes, about ten o'clock, that would be twenty-two hundred hours."

I held up my hands. "They were happy, right? Them and their wives and girlfriends, and what not. They were playing the music on a boom box that one brought in; and it wasn't very loud. They were singing too. Mr. Settles kept barging in, signing along like, and off key. Not that he can sing at all, but he started to get nasty with 'em. Said how he'd wanted to join the group long ways back, and they didn't take him in; said he couldn't hold a tune in a bucket." I fixed Joe with my eyes. "And you know that's correct."

Joe chuckled. "Jimmy Settles can screech a bit, can't he?"

"Especially when the beer is in him. Three pints along and he gets louder and louder…"

"And more off-key," Dad butted in. "My ears are still achin' from it. Like somebody was strangling a chicken. Although a dying chicken would sound better."

I nodded at Dad. "And that's when I asked Mr. Settles to go home. Especially when he offered to fight both Bill and Paul at once."

Joe stood straighter. "Bill Williams and his cousin Paul?" he gulped. "The two biggest men in the village?"

I nodded. Bill and Paul Williams were the giants of the village, and not to be trifled with. Nice; usually. Bill sang tenor and Paul bass with the singers. But don't rile 'em up - not ever. "Exactly. I had to escort Mr. Settles out the door and point him the way home. In fact one of the other fellows walked him home; to make sure he got there. That was… uhm…" I scratched my head.

"George Wilkens," Dad said.

"Yeah, that's right. George. Anyway, you know since his missus died Mr. Settles hasn't been, uhm, very steady? So, Joe, I figure that this is about settling a score, as it were."

Joe laughed. "Settle a score? Ha!" he closed his notebook. "I'll go speak with him. Public toxibcation, bother people in a pub…"

"Just let it go, Joe," I told him. "No harm done. Right? And he wasn't quite drunk, just a bit tipsy."

Joe shook his head sadly. "I can't have anyone on my patrol patch makin' false accusations."

"Oh please Joe!" Dad pleaded. "Let it go!"

Joe pursed his lips and addressed me. "So you are not interested in swearing out a counter complaint?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, no!" I said.

Joe snapped his notebook closed and put it and pen away. "And I hear you and Morwenna are engaged," he smiled in his goofy way.

I looked over at my Dad, who tried to act innocent. "Yeah, we are." Dad must have told him.

"Next month, I hear," Joe said slowly.

"That's right," Dad answered.

Joe sighed deeply. "Al? you thought about this?"

"Yeah, we have," I told him. "I asked her and she said yes."

"Settling down huh? At last? First Elaine, and then Pauline, and now Morwenna Newcross."

I felt very uncomfortable as he looked at me. "Morwenna and me… well… you know. Together."

His eyes bored into me. "Both of you? Serious about this?"

"We are."

"And you two…" he clasped his hands together. "Like that?"

I answered. "Yes."

"A serious thing, is marriage," Joe said. "Don't…"

"Don't?" Dad asked. "Don't what?"

Joe looked down at the floor. "Take your time, and don't you bollix it up, Al Large. Because it hurts way too much - when you do," came out of him slowly. Then he turned, and not looking at either me or dad, shuffled to the door and was gone.

"Poor Joe," I said.

Dad muttered, "There's a man who needs a girlfriend. What is that the policemen in Portwenn can never find happiness? Mark Mylow fell in love with that Julie. That didn't work out; then Mark left. Ran away. God knows where he ended up! And then Joe had his girl dump him at the altar."

"Dad, Joe and Janice… I guess they weren't ready." I knew more than I would say. Morwenna heard from Janice that she'd gone up to Bristol and started over there. "Pity. Tough for both of 'em."

"Joe tried way too hard," Dad sighed. "But you know Joe; gung-ho Joe he is. No half measures. Full throttle or not at all!"

"Dad, he wanted to get married and she didn't; at the end." I didn't tell Dad that Janice had been married and divorced twice. She had stuck with Joe until the last minute, if not to the second. Then her nerve went.

"Then why did Janice tell him yes?"

I shrugged. "Maybe she didn't know how to say no." That made me think. I'd rushed things along with Mor' the last few weeks. A baby on the way, a proposal, and then a wedding coming up. I sighed loudly.

Dad asked, "Problem, boy?"

"I hope not, Dad." But I wondered.