The Man in the Hat (Tim Pittman #4)

It was a brisk wintery day and every time the door to Lola’s Cafe opened a cold breeze would blow in, whipping up comments about how cold the weather was.

But despite the briskness of the day, the cafe was full as it was every weekday and most weekends. A cafe in the Melbourne CBD that wasn’t full meant it was doing something very very wrong. 

Lola’s was a mix of business men and women in their work wear, preparing themselves for the day ahead, tourists from all corners of the globe huddled over travel guides and phones and elderly couples taking their grandkids out for babycinos and parents eternal gratefulness. Coffee and cake were the dominant smell and, along with the heating, it provided a warm, welcoming place for anyone and everyone.

It was the mid-morning rush when two men walked in almost at the same time. The first was a man dressed in a heavy jacket and a black beanie. He looked to be in his late 30s or early 40s. The second was the man in the hat. Tall, wearing a sharp, navy suit, he had been in every day these last two weeks and always wore his Akubra hat. It suited him, even with the suit, it suited him.

He was always served by Lola who’d taken to him, especially as he didn't wear a ring on his finger. He was friendly, though quiet with a brooding underside, and always ordered the same thing; coffee with two sugars. A simple drink for a man who had no worries about his lot in life.

Tim was his name. Tim Pittman. She’d seen it on his credit card when he paid. He worked for the federal government in some capacity though he didn’t elaborate on what he did.

Tim came walking up to the counter, taking his seat but not before removing his hat. 

A true gentleman Lola thought as she gazed around at some of the tourists still wearing their hats at their table, and the man with the beanie moving to the far side of the counter. Manners cost nothing and even then people don’t have any to spare.

Lola grabbed the coffee pot and cup and placed it before Tim. She was about to pour when he put his hand over the cup. “Not today,” he said with his usual slow drawl that showed he was in no hurry for anything.

Lola raised her eyebrows, “No?”

“Changing it up today,” he said, a slight smirk on his face. He grabbed a menu and while he browsed, Lola served a group of ladies in fitness attire. When she returned, Tim was ready. “I’ll have a cup of tea.”

This brought a wry smile to Lola’s face, “Tea? Really?”

“Yeah. Why? Don’t I look like a tea person?”

“Not in the slightest,” she said, her smile turning into a grin. “What type do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“Green, Herbal, Black, White, Chai, Oolong-”

“Oolong?”

“Darjeeling-”

“Now you’re just making up words.”

“Chamomile, Peppermint and Pu-erh.”

Tim looked at her blankly and Lola put her elbows on the counter, “Why the change? You’ve come in here every day for the last two weeks ordering coffee and two sugars. You sit there, read the paper, and then you leave. I gather you’re a man of routine?”

Tim shrugged, “I have been told I am a creature of comfort.”

“So why the change?”

“Well, I-” he began but he stopped, his head jerking to his left, his eyes narrowed. He stood up from his seat, “Lola,” he said quietly, reaching into his jacket. “I’m going to have to ask you to step back from the counter, go into the back room and call 000.”

“What? Why?”

“Put it down!” Tim shouted over the mumbled conversation of the customers and the music playing from the speakers. He pulled a gun out and Lola screamed a second before the rest of the cafe did.

She thought he was going to point it at her. To ask her to empty the till and take off with her money. She was wondering how she could be so wrong about him. That he didn’t work for the government. That he came here every day to case out the cafe. Bide his time until he was ready to act which was, apparently, this wintery Thursday morning.

But he wasn’t pointing his gun at her, he was pointing it to her right, to the other side of the counter where the man in the heavy jacket and beanie stood, holding his own gun to the head of a bald-headed man in a dark grey business suit.

--------

“Put it down,” Tim said. He had his gun pointed at the gunman who was hiding behind his hostage.

“Who are you?” the man asked. His voice was wavering and his hazel eyes darted from Tim to the front door and back. His hair was short and messy and he held a snub-nosed revolver at the man’s head.

“I’m Inspector Tim Pittman. I’m a federal agent.”

“A fed huh?”

“That’s right. Now I’m going to ask you again, put the gun down.”

“Can’t do that.”

“What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Because I asked.”

“Kevin.”

“Kevin what?”

“Grey.”

“Well Kevin Grey what are you doing?”

“What does it look like, asshole?” Then he turned his head, seeing Lola trying to creep into the back room and he pointed his gun at her, “Get back here bitch!”

Lola yelped and stepped back into her usual spot behind the counter. She gave Tim a look of apology and he gave her a slight shake of the head in return.

“Now Kevin, that was uncalled for. You can call me an asshole all you want but I can’t abide with you insulting Lola like that. You do it again and I’ll put a hole in your head.”

Kevin snorted, “Yeah right.”

“Don’t try me. Usually I would shoot and get back to my morning coffee but my boss, he thinks I’ve become a bit too much of a loose cannon. That I lack the empathy to successfully negotiate with criminals.”

“Oh yeah, badass, are you?” Kevin said. He pulled his hostage closer to him, making himself smaller as he peered at Tim from behind his head. Only a single eye was visible. 

The man in the suit had sweat pouring down his brow, his eyes darting left and right as he tried to find a way out. 

“Maybe,” Tim said. “Really though I’m just a guy who gets caught up in these messy situations and deals with them as he sees fit. But Michael - that’s my boss - he wants me to practise mindfulness, do you know what that is?” Kevin didn’t respond. “Well anyway, it’s something to do with being aware of the moment which I think is a bit silly. I’m pretty aware of who I’ve killed.”

“How many people have you killed?” Kevin said.

“I dunno, maybe ten. If I started counting the work-issued shrink would probably start thinking I enjoy it.”

“Do you?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Who it is I kill.”

Silence descended on the cafe, the coffee machine hummed away oblivious to the situation. 

“Now I sense a lot of anger in you Kevin. You mind telling me what you’re doing here and why you’re holding a gun to this man’s head?”

Kevin pulled the man closer to him, putting his arm around his neck. The man cried out, trying to shake loose but Kevin tightened his hold and told him to shut up and stop moving. He looked back at Tim, “Do you know who this is?”

Tim eyed the hostage. “No. Should I?”

“This here is Mr Gabriel Henderson.”

Tim shrugged, “And?”

“He’s a lawyer.”

“Explains the suit.”

“He was the prosecutor for the Neville Costagan case.”

“I’m not from around here so you’ll have to forgive me, who is Neville Costagan?” Tim asked.

“He’s the scumbag that murdered my boy!”

Gabriel Henderson struggled against the arm around his neck. He pulled it away just enough to squawk out, “You don’t know that.”

Tim shook his head at the man’s gall while Kevin readjusted his grip around the lawyer's neck. All around them people were hiding behind couches and tables.

“Listen, Kevin. You’re here for the lawyer, correct?”

Kevin nodded.

“Look around you. You got a cafe full of people scared out of their wits. Why not let them go? They got nothing to do with this.”

“They’ll call the police,” Kevin said. 

“We’re surrounded by windows, Kevin.” Tim said matter-of-factly. “The police are no doubt on their way anyway.”

As if on cue, the faint sound of sirens was heard echoing off the tall buildings. Kevin’s hold slackened while he considered and he finally said, “Ok. They can go.”

Tim moved quickly, he gathered the rest of the patrons and ushered them to the door. Once the last person was out, Kevin said, “You as well Mr Federal.”

Tim turned back to Kevin. He hadn’t moved, the gun trained on the back of the lawyer's head.

“I can’t do that,” Tim said. “You know I can’t.”

“Is this part of your new mindfulness?” Kevin asked. 

Tim gave him a wry smile, “Unfortunately this isn’t an improvement. My job is protecting people and that includes people like the lawyer here.” 

Kevin swallowed, his face flushed. “Mind if I sit down?”

“It’s your party.”

“You won’t shoot me?”

“I can’t put my gun down if that is what you’re asking.”

Kevin smiled, “Worth a shot, huh?”

“Won’t know unless you try,” Tim agreed.

Kevin pulled the lawyer towards the back of the cafe. He pulled a chair out and instructed the lawyer to sit, then, gun still trained on the lawyer, he grabbed a second chair, flipped it around and put it directly behind him. He sat down, straddling the seat so he was still almost body-to-body against the lawyer. The snub-nosed revolver was out of sight but Tim knew where it was pointed.

“That’s better,” he said. 

“I’m glad,” Tim said. “But why the lawyer? Why not Costagan?”

“I can’t get to Costagan.”

“Why not?”

The lawyer flinched as Kevin pressed the gun harder into his back, “Tell him why, Mr Henderson.”

Henderson glanced behind him and then at Tim. His eyes were wide, his pupils black pinpricks. He was scared out of his mind. “Neville Costagan is currently unavailable.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning this scumbag got Costagan out of a murder rap. Costagan is a member of the Romano family.”

“Who?”

Kevin pressed against Henderson’s back again, “Tell him who the Romano family are.”

“There’s no proof-” Henderson started but Kevin pressed again and he flinched.

“Now now, Mr Henderson. The truth.”

Henderson grimaced as Kevin cocked the gun, “The Romano Family are an alleged group of criminals involved in bribery and corruption of public officials, tax fraud, loan sharking and extortion.”

Kevin gave a sharp laugh, “You’re forgetting the most important one of all.”

“What does it matter? These are all allegations that the DPP has-” he was cut off as Kevin hit him on the side of the head with his pistol.

“MURDER!” he shouted. “They’re involved in murder. You know it and yet you did nothing. Costagan murdered my son for No! Reason! He was minding his own business, walking home from school, and Costagan shot him. Just like that! And instead of justice, a deal was made!” He hit Henderson again. “And where is he now? Living it up at some resort under police protection? Eating lobster and getting a tan on the taxpayers’ dollar?”

“I’m bleeding you asshole!” Henderson shouted, pulling his hand away revealing a bloody gash.

“Look, Mr Grey. I can’t have you smacking this man around. What’s done is done. What are you hoping to achieve?”

“I want justice.”

“Kevin, I’m sorry to say this, but you won’t get it.” Tim could see the hurt in his eyes as he said it and he tightened the grip on his weapon, readying himself.

“Can’t you do something? You’re a fed. Find out where he is. Get him to stand trial.”

Tim shook his head, “Sorry.”

“Then someone has to pay! If not Costagan then the man who gave him his golden ticket.”

He pressed the muzzle harder in the lawyers back and he gasped in pain and fear. His eyes were wide, blood pouring down the side of his head and he was silently pleading with Tim to help him. 

“Kevin, killing him won’t achieve anything. Your boy-what’s his name?”

“Liam.”

“Liam is gone and I am sorry about that but killing Mr Henderson here won’t bring him back.”

“You have to understand I tried everything. I spoke to everyone I could. Legal teams, MPs, the courts. I tried getting social media involved but no matter what I was turned away, stonewalled, ignored or outright lied too. There is nothing I can do. Nothing except this.” He put the gun to the back of Henderson’s head. 

Police cars screeched to a stop outside, the sirens filling the café. There was the thudding of doors as local police got out of their cars.

“Kevin…” Tim warned. “You don’t have a lot of time here.”

“Just leave,” Kevin said. “Leave and let me get my revenge. Let me get some justice for my boy.”

“This isn’t justice, Kevin,” Tim said. “It’s cold-blooded murder.”

“Are you a religious man?” Kevin asked. 

Tim shook his head, “Can’t say that I am.”

“What do you think happens when you die?”

“I couldn’t tell you what happens, Kevin. Something may happen or we may be buried until our bones are fertilising the ground but what I do now is the here and the now.”

“I believe in the afterlife. In heaven. In God. I know I will see my boy again.” There was a change in his eyes, through the tears that welled up, Tim saw the determination in them.

“What would God say if you murdered this man?” he tried.

Kevin gave a sad smile, “He’ll understand and he’ll forgive me.”

“You shoot him, you won’t get away with it.” Tim said, feeling the situation slipping. 

“I don’t intend to get away with it, Tim.”

“I will have to shoot you,” Tim said.

“I know Inspector. But that’s ok. He was all I had. Now I have nothing to live for. For what it’s worth. I’m sorry for calling you an asshole. And tell the lady I’m sorry too.”

“Kevin wait-”

Kevin closed his eyes just as a loud gunshot went off.

Everything froze, the cafe a tinny silence, and Kevin slumped to the ground along with Gabriel Henderson.

“Shit!” Henderson shouted, getting to his feet. Tim circled around, smoking gun still on Kevin’s slumped form. He approached, saw the body and sighed. There was no need to check for a pulse. The small, black hole in the centre of his forehead told him more than enough.

“Damn you for making me do this,” Tim said, holstering his weapon.

Mayhem had broken loose as officers poured into the cafe, shouting and demanding him to get to his knees.

----------------

An hour later Tim was outside in the cool winter air. Ambulance and police lights still flashed off the building and the street was closed. Onlookers tried their best to see but they were too far away.

Paramedics emerged from the cafe pushing a gurney. Kevin Grey lay beneath a white sheet and Tim silently hoped he was with his son right now.

“Inspector?”

Tim looked up. Standing before him was Gabriel Henderson. He had a bandage around his head and his suit had dried spots of blood around the shoulder. 

“I just wanted to thank you for saving my life,” he said. “Who knows what the nut job would have done if you weren’t there.”

“He would have killed you,” Tim said matter-of-factly and got to his feet.

“I think you’re right. Anyway,” he stuck out his hand, “just wanted to say thanks.”

Tim looked at the proffered hand and then back at the lawyer, “You know he wasn’t a nut job. He was a man who lost his son and expected your office to do the right thing. Instead his son was considered collateral damage because you have bigger fish to fry. He was a man who lost everything, was beat down, trodden on and kicked to the curb. A man who was told his son’s life don’t matter so what did you think was going to happen? He was going to accept it and move on? You created him and because of you I had to kill an innocent man.”

Henderson lowered his hand, “In the eyes of the law he was not an innocent man.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, his face as solid as stone as he cast an icy glare at the man. “You better leave now before I do something that will undo all the mindfulness I’ve been practising.”

Gabriel Henderson got the point and left without a word. Tim watched him go, he passed by Lola who was heading his way. She was pale but looked fine otherwise. “I overheard you two talking,” she said. “He’s a real asshole.”

Tim smiled weakly, “Yes he is.”

“But good on you for remembering your mindfulness,” she said with a grin.

Tim couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t let my boss hear you say that. I told him it was all nonsense.”

“Think you’re ready for that tea now?”

Tim nodded, “I think so.”

They started walking back to the cafe and Tim said, “I’ve had time to think about it and I think I’ll go with Oolong.”

“Good choice. It has a lot of health benefits. Very good for mindfulness.”

“Well I don’t know about that,” Tim said, pulling the door to the cafe open. “I just really like the name.”