Share Your Toys, Timothy!

"What are you getting yourself into, Tim? This is not like you at all."

"Those kids I had a run in with over trying to drug a couple of girls, a couple of months ago if you remember? Well, they tried to jump me in the car park. I managed to turn the tables on them, more by luck than anything else."

"Damn, I wish I'd called the cops instead of the hospital, I didn't want any trouble."

"Neither did I, but they were only kids and they bit off more than they could chew."

"Well, don't lose any sleep over it, Billy and me, we got you covered, Tim."

"Thanks, Mel, you're a sweetheart."

While in the kitchen, Tim went through the single mobile phone he had retained, Toby's, and sent the photos he had taken to everybody stored on Toby's directory. Once they were sent, he pulled out the battery and sim card and passed them to Mel to put in her rubbish bin. She was in continual radio contact with Billy on the front door, so Tim guessed she knew what was going on, as she dropped the parts into the dish-washing machine for a cycle before disposing of the bits and pieces without further comment, other than her familiarly sweet disarming smile. If only she wasn't spoken for, Tim thought. Her long-time boyfriend owned a pub as well as the lounge bar and they divided their working time between the two busy, successful establishments.

Gordon and Pete returned from their efforts in the toilets. Gordon waved at Tim with a broad grin on his face as he returned to his lady on the dance floor. Pete came over and told Tim that they had sent the pictures to everyone in each directory, then pulled the phones apart and flushed everything but the batteries down the toilet. By the time Pete came over to the bar Tim was busy stuffing notes and change from his jacket pocket into the collection box for dogs for the blind. As a rough count he made it in excess of eighty quid, a generous, if not exactly acknowledgeable contribution from the three now incapacitated, probably hospitalised donors.

After relaxing with another couple of coffees, Tim bade farewell to Mel, waved goodbye to Pete and Gordon in the midst of their dance floor gyrations and shook Billy warmly by the hand in the cold December night just outside the main doors. He was a hardy soul that Billy, mind you, he was a big lad with more than ample built-in insulation, thought Tim.

~~~~~~

Next day was Saturday, a very busy day for Tim and his team in the car showroom, even this close to Christmas, when buying cars for delivery before the magic day was cutting it pretty fine. There's always somebody trying to buck the trend, though. However, his trading time was somewhat curtailed that day: Tim had two additional non-automobile-related visitors, one who was expected, the other not.

Police Sergeant Oliver Norris was not a particularly nice man, Tim decided on first acquaintance. There was little the officer could do first thing that morning as he had found that Tim wasn't at home when he called round at his place of residence while the car dealer was obviously hard at work. The weekend for the car salesman didn't begin until Sunday.

Then Norris had gone onto Crystal's and didn't manage to raise anyone there until just before noon, when Mel came in to supervise the clean-up and re-stock ready for the next night. Mel gave her statement that as far as she was concerned Tim Smith had been in the bar continually from about 10pm through until about 2am in the morning. She was able to itemise exactly what drinks he had, mostly espresso coffee, and the exact times he purchased them, from the till roll, showing a continuous record through his time there. Mel also pointed out that Billy the doorman and regular customer Pete would be able to corroborate her statement and that both would be in the lounge later in the evening, if the Sergeant cared to call back then.

The detective caught up with Tim early that afternoon at the car showroom. His opening statement got Tim's back up more than just a tad.

"Timothy Charles Smith, I am Detective Sergeant Norris and need to know your movements last night between the hours of midnight and midnight-thirty. I would like to say at the outset that I've been very familiar with the antics of your father and pair of troublesome brothers over the years and I'm looking forward to pinning this particular unsavoury incident on the third brother for a change, based on the sworn testimony of the victims of a cowardly attack and robbery last night," announced the pompous detective.

"Tell me Sergeant Norris, why are you asking about my movements? What makes you think I can help you with your enquiries?"

"Don't try and deny it, sunshine," the officer snarled, "I know that you're the ringleader of a vicious gang that beat up, stripped, restrained and hospitalised in an unsavoury manner three innocent young boys who were otherwise going about their lawful business. When questioned this morning, all three victims have consistently named you, Tim Smith, as the ringleader of this no doubt numerous and bloodthirsty gang."

Tim asked, "Who are these supposed victims?"

"I cannot divulge that information at this stage."

"Well, if the victims were stripped and assaulted, can you tell me what type of 'unsavoury' injuries were inflicted by this gang? You make it sound like they were, how shall I say it, sexually molested?"

"No, not exactly, all their clothes were removed, along with their watches, money, mobile phones and credit cards; and they were subjected to ... certain indignities."

"Very interesting," Tim commented, "And what connection am I supposed to have with the unnamed victims? And exactly what links does this gang, that I am presumed to hang around with, possibly have with the unnamed victims?"

"I cannot say at this point in our enquiries."

"In that case, can you tell me exactly when and where such incident was supposed to have taken place?"

"In Old Dairy Alley, off West Street, between midnight and about quarter past when the ambulance service were called to the scene."

"That alley, isn't that the one that leads to nowhere but that bottling plant, which I presume is closed at the weekend?"

"Yeah, that's the place."

"So what lawful business were these three youths pursuing in that blind alley? They couldn't have been chased in there as everyone knows it leads nowhere, they would have run in any other direction, or even split up. Very strange, Sergeant. So, no clues left behind at all?"

"Well, the three baseball bats used to beat them with, they were left at the scene by the attackers."

Tim smiled and asked "Sergeant Norris, why do you think exactly three baseball bats were found with three so-called victims, when they were apparently outnumbered by a large gang? Surely the gang would have taken away their weapons of choice that they must have brought with them?"

Norris was silent on the subject and looked clearly uncomfortable.

"Mmm, while I have nowhere near the degree of experience of incidents such as this as you may well have had," Tim declared with a relaxed smile, "Don't you think it as strange as I do that this well-armed and readily-equipped gang took the trouble to remove from the scene all their victims' clothes plus all their other possessions, while the same number of bats corresponding to the number of victims were inexplicably left behind by the otherwise thoroughly organised attackers?"

Still no answer from the detective, who stood there with pursed lips and furrowed brow, probably wishing the floor would open beneath him.

"On reflection I can only assume," continued Tim in full flow, "That you are still awaiting the fingerprint results on those bats and are just marking time questioning and eliminating those innocent parties such as myself from your enquiries until such corroborations are eventually available to act upon. Is that correct, Sergeant Norris?"

Tim got the impression from Norris's face that he was either unaware of whose fingerprints were on the weapons or whether anyone at the station had even bothered to put the bats through the checking process. Tim could read his visitor's bitter disappointment of not being able to tie another of the infamous Smith troublemakers into his charge book.

Norris drew Tim's attention to the cut on his head and bruised forehead. Tim smiled at that and explained this as being an accident at his home, leaving one of his kitchen cupboards open and walking into it. He revealed that it happened just as he was going out on Friday evening and Mel at the club had noticed that it has started bleeding on serving his first cup of espresso, and treated him to first aid in the bar kitchen.

"Once you have some proper evidence other than the unreliable ramblings of a few anonymous youths, please get back to me and I will happily appraise you of my movements; until then I am unwilling to answer to what amounts to baseless and unsubstantiated accusations. Good day, Sergeant, I have a lot of work to do today."

The officer left with his tail between his legs.

The next visitor into Tim's office was Roger Jones. Now, when Tim spoke to Abbey that earlier Saturday night some two months earlier, he hadn't mentioned that he had met her father twice since Abbey purchased her car. Roger had come in ostensively for his own test drive of the Jaguar sports car that Abbey had taken out a few days earlier.

Although he didn't say so in as many words on that test drive, Tim thought that he was trying to warn him off any involvement Tim might be considering with Roger's wife, Jenny. Roger was actually quite concerned, in light of his research into his perceived rival, which led him to believe Tim had been and as far as he knew he was still something of a playboy. Tim had to admit that he couldn't in all honesty say he'd hold those concerns against Roger. If Tim had a wife of his own, whether she was as fine as Jenny or not, he might equally have warned off any recognised or suspected rivals himself. Tim's attitude to sharing his toys was well-known to his family; well, that philosophy naturally extended in adulthood to girlfriends and other people's spouses, too.

Again, without making any direct reference to Roger's better half, Tim had directed Roger to refine his research, which should lead him to realise that Tim's lifestyle, while far from exemplary, had always distinctly and particularly excluded, married or otherwise, women attached to a relationship from those plentiful willing single females with whom he had at some stage or other pursued any romantic entanglements.

Roger considered what Tim had said and followed this up with an invitation to play a round of golf with him the following week. Tim had agreed to the game and contrived to end the match as a tie by drawing his ball just wide of the target on an easily missable putt on the last hole. Tim and Roger continued to shadow box over a few drinks at the nineteenth hole.

Although both these meetings ended positively and had enjoyed each other's company, Tim reflected afterwards that he hadn't even attempted to sell him any more cars!

Tim didn't mention either of those meetings to Abbey because Roger had specifically asked him not to discuss them with either Abbey or Jenny, and Tim preferred an uncomplicated life anyway. He hadn't seen Jenny since the day she dropped Abbey off to collect her new car two days after the sale, so he assumed that any misunderstandings had been accepted as innocent by the Jones'.

For this latest visit, however, Roger was extremely specific as to his reason for being there, asking outright whether Tim had anything at all to do with a picture of three tied-up and naked youths sent to Abbey from Toby's mobile phone during the night; a mobile number that now appeared not to be accepting replies and clearly out of service. Tim saw his eyes flicker briefly to the slight wound and colourfully emerging bruise on Tim's forehead. Towering above him as Roger did, the wound and its possible origin must have looked obvious to him.

"Kitchen cupboard door," Tim informed him, with a smile, recognising the object of his visitor's attention. "I'm reluctant to give any kind of answer to your original question Mr Jones, in light of my recent interview with Detective Sergeant Norris, not half an hour ago, who is currently checking with several of my acquaintances that they were able to fully account for my wholly innocent movements throughout last night."

Roger nodded sagely and explained that "Abbey had come home for the Christmas holidays yesterday and, following receipt of the photos, had only just informed Jenny and I about the Mickey Finn incident involving Toby and his charming pals back in October. Abbey had raised the matter with me because she was particularly concerned with your safety after seeing the pictures. She feels somehow responsible for any threat to your person."

"Don't worry on my account, Mr Jones, I believe I can take care of myself."

"Apparently, you can," grinned Roger, "Anyway, Abbey tells me that back in October she had carried out her threat to text all her friends about what Toby and the other three youths had been plotting. Abbey has heard since that nobody of her and Sarah's acquaintance would have anything more to do with the tainted trio plus Stewie, the fourth less than innocent male in the group, Sarah's ex-boyfriend. Abbey doesn't know why Stewie wasn't involved in whatever it was that transpired last night. Either he didn't feel as aggrieved as the others or he had not come home for the festive holidays from his University in time to take part."

While he was in Tim's office Roger said he hoped to extend an invitation for Tim and a guest of his choosing to an annual staff Christmas party that he and the senior partners of his insurance agency was holding at a local conference centre the following Friday. They were one of the bigger employers in the town so it was going to be a huge social occasion. He stressed that it was a black tie affair and that most of his family would be attending as they did every year. They would love to have Tim and a partner as personal guests at their family table.

Tim confirmed with pleasure that he would love to accept Roger's kind invitation; he had nothing otherwise planned for that evening and that he would probably bring one of his nieces along if she was available. Tim suggested to Roger that she would be particularly interested to know if any unattached young men would be attending the party as a foil to her boring old uncle. Roger laughed and was certain that there were any number of unattached young men, and women for that matter, already signed up to attend. Although it started out as a formally-dressed affair, mainly for the opportunity of the ladies to dress up in their very best frocks, the food was served through a series of regularly replenished buffets, there was a live band for more formal dancing early on plus an informal disco late into the night for the youngsters. The party usually provided a year-round topic of conversation for the staff and was eagerly looked forward to and participated in by most of the company and their spouses or significant others. Many of the guests took overnight rooms at the hotel that operated the conference centre, in order to maximise their use of the free bar.

At the end of their exchange the two men shook hands warmly, with so much unspoken communication and tacit understanding between them. They both knew Roger was aware of Tim's initial involvement in dealing with Toby when he tried to drug Abbey. Roger was also under no illusions as to the intent behind the parties who were involved in the alley incident. Clearly Toby had returned from his college intending to ambush Tim with help from his original guilty pals. Roger had no idea how the tables had been turned so completely and was far too polite to ask, when even an admittance of being present wasn't actually forthcoming.

Both of them understood that neither of them would or needed to say any more on the subject.

~~~~~~

"Tim!" laughed Pete, looking up from the brake-fitting bay where he was working on a Land-Rover, to see his boss striding purposefully across the workshop.

Tim heard the shout, changed direction and came over.

"Hi Pete, need anything?"

"Nah. Just wondered if you had spoken to Alec yet?"

"Not yet, I wanted to have a look first thing at the shredded tyre that Bob sent me a message about last night, I haven't been to the showroom yet."

"Just thought you might be interested in an interesting bit of info. Remember that copper what came in Saturday to give you some hassle about Friday night?"

"Yes, what about him?"

"Well, he was in here again at crack of dawn this morning...." Pete paused meaningfully, a broad smile on his face.

"OK, I'll bite, what was he in here for this time?" grinned Tim expecting something likely to be amusing.

"He had to bring his flash fairly new unmarked police car in for a 'factory recall'...." He paused again for dramatic effect again.

Tim's forehead creased, "I don't remember any factory recalls on any of our leased vehicles."

"That's cos there aren't any, Boss," laughed Pete.

Tim shook his head, smiling, "That Pat McDonald gets away with blue murder," recalling the sergeant in charge of all the police vehicles in the area. "You cross him at your peril, apparently."

"A bit like us, eh Boss?" Pete laughed, recalling last Friday night.

"Yes, just like us I guess, Pete," chuckled Tim as he headed back towards the tyre bay.

~~~~~~

Timothy Charles Smith came from a large family; well, large for nowadays. He had two older sisters, Babs and Sharon, who were ten and eight years older than he. His own unremarkable birth was followed by two boisterous boys, Ned and Jeff four years and six years younger than Tim, and finally came the lovely Becky, his favourite sibling, ten years his junior.

He didn't know exactly how, why or when it started but he hated sharing his toys, particularly with his brothers. Perhaps it was because their ages were so spread out that he never learned how to share, especially at Christmas and birthdays when he felt he needed time to play with and become intimately involved in his new toys before setting them aside to be available for borrowing. It wasn't just his toys that he felt possessive about, but also his clothes, educational aids, books and comics.

And this possessiveness didn't just apply when he was a kid. No, he felt that this would apply all the way through his life. "What's yours is yours, what's mine is mine and that's the end of it," was his view and he was sticking to it.

Tim's eldest sister Babs was a gaunt 48-year-old, divorced from AJ (short for Albert John Messenger), with three children, two boys and a girl in the middle, aged between 27 and 21. The daughter, Patricia, who had been divorced from a disastrously short-lived marriage just a few months earlier, was in desperate need of cheering up after moving back in with her Mum.

So, armed with his invitation to the hottest Christmas party in town, Tim rang Babs, who put Patty on the line, and the young woman was thrilled to be asked to go to the party, even if the invitation was from her boring old uncle. But then she was upset that she had nothing at all to wear. Tim arranged to take her out on his day off next Wednesday and get her an outfit.

He also asked her to book her hair and make-up into her favourite salon on Friday afternoon and Tim would foot the bill for that. She was very excited and Tim discovered that he got a lot of pleasure out of simply offering to do this little thing for her. He had always felt somewhat guilty that he hadn't done as much for Bab's kids as he had with some of his other nieces and nephews.

~~~~~~

On the following Monday, Abbey's friend Sarah visited Tim in the car showroom, her eyes red and puffy. Although he hadn't seen her for a couple of months, he recognised the young student immediately.