“Natty’s not here,” I said. “Where would he go?”
“He’s probably at the copper’s place,” Button John said, and then clapped his hands over his mouth. “That’s a secret!”
Nipper Will narrowed his eyes at me.
“He’s not at my place,” I said. Nipper Will looked like he was about to lose his shit with Button John, but I had a lot of practice talking with drunks. As long as you didn’t mind going around in circles for a while, you usually got where you wanted to go in the end. Or they fell asleep. It was about fifty-fifty. “Where would he go in the middle of the night if he was angry or upset?”
Button John wrinkled his nose and tugged a hand through his mad hair. “Why would he be angry or upset? He’s getting laid!”
I did not look at Nipper Will. “Okay, so where would he go though? In the middle of the night?”
“He’s not angry!” Button John exclaimed. He poked me in the chest and giggled. “Mr. Constable. He’s shitting himself because—” His eyes grew wide. “Oh, I am definitely not supposed to say that.”
“What aren’t you supposed to say?” I asked him.
He giggled again. “Nuh-uh! I plead the Fifth!”
“We don’t have that here.”
“What the fuck are you two into?” Nipper Will demanded, hauling Button John closer by his stained shirtfront. “Where’s Natty?”
Button John eeped. “He’s probably gone to the cave!”
“What cave?”
Button John’s gaze darted between us. “The one at Mayfair Bay.”
“What cave?” Nipper Will shook him like a rag doll. “Why the fuck would he be in a cave at this bloody time of night?”
“Um...” Button John squirmed out of his grasp and stared at me. “Um... no reason?”
Clearly there was a fucking reason, and it didn’t escape me that Mayfair Bay was where I’d been intending to poke around tomorrow with Eddie. Coincidence? Un-bloody-likely.
“How long does it take to get from there to here? Because he’s been gone for”—I checked my watch—“two hours, and this is a very small island.”
“Two...” Button John blinked as his very drunk brain attempted a calculation. “No, that can’t be right.”
“Where’s the cave?” Nipper Will asked.
“Mayfair Bay,” Button John said, forehead creased. “Like, at the western end. You know where the rocks come out?”
Nipper Will growled. “The whole fucking bay is full of rocks.” He grabbed Button John and shoved him towards me. “Get your bloody bike,” he told me. “Get him on it, and I’ll meet you there.”
He set off at a run into the darkness.
“What’s going on?” Button John asked. “Am I getting a ride on your bike? Cool!”
It was not cool. It was not cool at all.
Button John was a fucking hazard on the back of the bike—I was afraid he’d fall off every time we bounced over bump, and there were a lot of those on the tracks that criss-crossed the island—but we still beat Nipper Will to Mayfair Bay. We passed him somewhere just before Robbie Finch’s farm, running like the Terminator—like nothing could stop him.
Button John fell to his knees once we got to Mayfair Bay, and threw up again.
“Natty!” I yelled down to the beach, the wind stealing my voice. “Natty!”
There was no answer, but I hadn’t really expected one.
I hauled Button John up and we followed the beam of my torch down the rocky path to the beach.
