Face in the Frame

by Heather Atkinson

  Brodie was quick to spot the way his eyes glittered, the contempt in his voice, the way his grip tightened on his pint glass. The anger was tightly restrained but it was there and it was all aimed at his mummy and daddy. He was also fascinated by the way his eyes burned and the pupils grew darker and narrower, making him look like a true predator. Brodie had encountered plenty of those in his time. “Does it make you angry?”

  “No,” snapped Lucas.

  “Looks like it does.”

  “Let’s not play games Mr Brodie.”

  “It’s just Brodie,” he sighed.

  “Yes, I know. Truth be told I just said that to annoy you, Cass told me how it drives you crazy that everyone gets your name wrong. Petty I know but I couldn’t help myself. You’ve done your research on me Brodie and please don’t insult my intelligence by denying that you have. No doubt you started digging the moment you discovered Cass and I were seeing each other. Therefore you must already know that I don’t get on with my parents at all. It’s not exactly a secret. I get the feeling you’re steering the topic of conversation round to my parents on purpose.”

  “No, not really. I just want to know that you’ll treat Cass properly. We’ve had each other’s backs for a long time.”

  “You’ll miss her?”

  “Aye I will, as will a lot of people around here,” he added before Lucas clicked onto his crush. “There’s also something else I wanted to ask.”

  Lucas took another swig of his lager. “Ask away.”

  “How do you make the heids?”

  Lucas laughed and shook his head. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Come on, just a wee hint.”

  “No can do Brodie. Sorry.”

  “Alright, where do you find the faces then?”

  “Some faces are made up, others are casts I take from people’s faces.”

  “What, like models?”

  “No,” he said with disdain. “I prefer more natural beauty to forced. They are all real people.”

  “Do you find them or does Oliver?”

  “Why are you bringing Oliver into it?”

  Brodie tried not to look as excited as he felt when Lucas actually looked a little panicked. “Well, he’s your agent. I assumed he helps you out with your work.”

  “Well he doesn’t,” snapped Lucas, looking outraged. “I do all the work.”

  “Alright, calm down pal. I just thought he might help you find the heids.”

  “Oliver is nothing to do with my work. All he does is book venues and tours as well as manage my PR. Nothing else.”

  “Take it easy,” said Brodie, conscious of everyone turning to look at them as Lucas raised his voice.

  Lucas realised they were being watched too and took a deep, calming breath. “I do apologise for that but Oliver interfered with my relationship with Cass, I almost lost her because of his meddling and he’s been really stifling me lately.”

  “He seems the type, wee dick.”

  “Yes, I rather think you’re right there,” he said, frowning into his pint.

  “He’s really pissed you off then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sack him off then.”

  “Tempting but I’m too afraid of him going to my rivals to sell my secrets. He’s vindictive enough to do that.”

  “You have secrets then?”

  “About my work, yes. If I sack Ollie then every artist in London will be putting their own versions of my faces up in their exhibitions.”

  Here was the perfect opportunity for Brodie to dig deeper into this weird situation. “In my experience there’s only one way to make sure someone keeps a secret of yours.”

  “How?” said Lucas, looking very curious.

  “Find out a secret of theirs.”

  “Ollie has no secrets.”

  “Everyone has secrets, some bigger than others but most people are really keen to keep them.”

  “Hmmm, interesting idea. But how do I discover his secrets?”

  “Easy. I’ll do it for you.”

  “You?” he said, surprised. “Why would you help me?”

  “It’s not for you, it’s for Cass. He messed things up for her once and if she sticks with you he’ll try again. It would make me feel better if you had something to keep him in line.”

  “So would I,” said Lucas with a sly smile. “Alright Brodie, I’d like to hire you.”

  “Call it a freebie, a goodbye present for Cass, although I think we shouldn’t tell her about it.”

  “I don’t like keeping things from her.”

  “We’re not keeping anything from her, it’s just a precaution to protect her from any more of Oliver’s shite.”

  “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

  Brodie was thrilled. “Any idea where I should start?”

  Lucas thought carefully before replying. “I’m his only client but he did have another - Hans Albrecht. He’s a German artist but he lives in London. He dropped Oliver pretty quickly and without explanation. I was always certain something strange went on there.” He produced a notebook and pen from his coat pocket, scribbled down the name and phone number and handed it over to Brodie,

  “I’ll get right on it,” said Brodie, carefully pocketing the note.

  “You know Brodie, I get the feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  Unfortunately he said this just as Del approached the table with more drinks for them both. “Want me to fetch you a candle and flowers for the table?” he grinned.

  “Jeezo, he didn’t mean it like that,” said Brodie.

  “Yeah, right,” grinned Del. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds in peace.”

  “It’s not like that,” Brodie exclaimed, sighing and slumping in his seat, the landlord ignoring his protests.

  “Don’t worry about it, happens to me all the time,” said Lucas.

  “People think you’re gay?”

  “I’m an artist with long hair and a cane. What do you think?”

  “Good point.” Brodie gestured to Lucas’s pint glass. “You want another?”

  “That’s very kind but no thank you,” he replied, getting to his feet. “I’m afraid I have an appointment.”

  “Oh aye? What?”

  “You know, private investigator is the perfect calling for you. I’ve never met anyone so nosy in my entire life.”

  “It’s all part of my charm,” Brodie said cheerfully until he heard Del snigger.

  “I’d best be on my way before he announces our engagement,” said Lucas, picking up his cane. “Thank you Brodie, it’s been…interesting. Let me know if you find anything out,” he added, producing one of his business cards from his pocket and placing it on the table beside Brodie.

  “Aye, I will,” he said, watching him go, dragging his eyes off Lucas’s retreating back when he realised the whole pub was staring at him.

  “Aw sweet, he gave you his phone number,” called Del from behind the bar, the rest of the pub erupting into laughter.

  “It’s not for me, it’s for you. He’s a health inspector,” he called back, enjoying the way Del’s grin fell.

  Two minutes after Lucas had gone Brodie exited the pub too, not wanting to leave with him because he was so afraid of giving everyone the impression he’d pulled.

  The first thing Brodie did was return to his office to call this previous client of Oliver’s. He was becoming more convinced that he was the real talent and Lucas was just the pretty face, that would be a secret Lucas would be very keen on keeping, otherwise it would be the end of his very lucrative livelihood.

  To his annoyance he couldn’t get through to the man himself, so he was forced to leave a message on his answering machine. Maybe Hans Albrecht could close the lid on this case once and for all?

  Pete sighed and shifted from side to side, his back starting to ache after being stood around for so long. Another body had been found in the Clyde and he was waiting for the divers to finish disentangling it from the weeds clo
se to the edge of the bank. All he could see from where he was stood was a grey, limp lump bobbing about face down in the water, the limbs moving grotesquely as the movement of the divers agitated it, like it was trying to brush them away.

  He ran a hand through his hair and frowned at two of his colleagues who watched him with smiles playing on their lips. Hastily he retracted his hand and glared at them. “What the hell are you two staring at?”

  “Nothing Sir,” replied one of the men.

  Both were lairy young detective constables he would take great pleasure in giving the mankiest duties to later.

  Sensing he was being stared at Pete whipped round to find two scenes of crimes technicians likewise staring at his head, as though trying to puzzle out what was sat on top of it.

  “What’s wrong with the lot of you?” said Pete. “Have you never seen a decent haircut before?”

  “Yeah,” replied one of the techs, “and that’s not it.”

  “You’re a cheeky bastard, you don’t even have hair.”

  “Right now I’m thinking that’s not a bad thing.”

  Pete rounded on his two constables when he heard sniggering again. “Shut it you two,” he barked. “You’re getting on my tits.”

  “Oooh, listen to her,” said another voice, causing him to whip back round like a dervish.

  “You wantin’ to end up in the Clyde too?” Pete barked at the two techs.

  They were saved from responding by a shout from the divers and he ignored the subordinate bastards around him to watch the body being hauled onto the bank. His constables weren’t so lairy when they saw the state it was in. One released a horrified gasp and the other turned and threw up into the bushes.

  “Where’s his face?” exclaimed the constable who wasn’t bringing up his breakfast.

  “Well it’s not here,” said Pete, finally wondering if he should have taken Brodie’s crazy theories more seriously. “I want this body ID’d as soon as possible,” he ordered, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket to call Brodie. He hesitated then replaced it in his pocket. He’d get a definite ID first before stirring up that hornet’s nest again.

  CHAPTER 19

  Cass was feeling horribly guilty about her argument with Brodie. In all the time they’d worked together they had never once fallen out. In fact everything had been extraordinarily harmonious between them, until now. He’d certainly never shouted at her before. Also she was having doubts about the proposed move to London. She’d only known Lucas for almost two weeks. How could she consider giving up everything and everyone in her life for a man she barely knew? What if their relationship failed after a few months? She’d be left with nothing, all alone in a strange city. She’d got caught up in the romance of it all and now she was wondering whether she was making a huge mistake. Also, she hated to admit it but the prospect of leaving Brodie behind was causing her a huge amount of pain.

  She was so concerned she couldn’t concentrate on what the poor battered woman sitting before her was saying. Cass forced her thoughts off Brodie and back onto the woman talking to her, both eyes almost swollen shut, lips split, cheeks bruised.

  “Kevin won’t bother you again, I’ve made sure of it,” said Cass, her own bruised knuckles testament to the effort she’d put in for this woman.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” said the woman, tears rolling down her damaged face - damaged by her scumbag of a husband. She’d taken his abuse for years but she’d finally got help when he’d turned his fists on their two children.

  “Just go and have a happy life. That’s all I ask,” said Cass with a reassuring smile. Plenty of battered women came to them for help and Brodie insisted on never charging them. These women seemed to split into two camps - either Brodie’s size and obvious ability to take care of himself reassured them and they wanted him to deal with it, or they were that afraid of men they would only deal with a woman, landing it in Cass’s hands. This was the case now. This woman had been abused and tortured for years to the extent that she visibly flinched when she was anywhere near a man.

  “I’m sorry but I’ve really got to go now,” said Cass reluctantly, getting to her feet.

  “Of course, sorry for keeping you.”

  Cass hated how the woman apologised for everything. It made her want to give Kevin a good pasting all over again. “No worries. Kevin will be in hospital for a while so make sure you get well away before he’s discharged.”

  “I will. Me and the kids are going to stay with my cousin in Dublin until I get back on my feet.”

  “Good.”

  “I wouldn’t hang about anyway because I’m worried what Big Malc will do when he finds out.”

  Cass hesitated. “Big Malc? The Big Malc?”

  The woman nodded. “He’s Kev’s half-brother.”

  “What?” exclaimed Cass.

  “It’s a secret. Kev’s dad had an affair with Malc’s mum. Malc didnae want everyone calling his maw a slag so they’ve kept it quiet for years, but Kev and Malc are quite close.”

  Cass wanted to grab the stupid woman and shake her for not mentioning this sooner, but she wouldn’t do that to someone who had finally been freed from years of abuse.

  “Are you alright?” she asked Cass.

  “I’ve got to go,” replied Cass, rushing out of the house towards her car parked at the kerb. Once she was inside she locked the doors - a precaution she had started taking when she’d begun working for Brodie - and called the office.

  “Ross, is Brodie there?”

  “Yeah, sulking in his office.”

  “Put him on. Now.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Yeah, a whole heap of it.”

  “Just another day at the office,” he said before calling, “hey Boss, phone.”

  “Haven’t you learnt to transfer a call yet?” Cass heard a grumpy voice call back.

  “It’s Cass.”

  For a moment she thought Brodie was going to reject her call, then his voice came on the line. “What?” he barked.

  Cass cringed. Not good. “I’ve just made a huge mistake Brodie.”

  “What mistake?” he said in a gentler tone. Just as she’d hoped her use of his first name had softened him up a bit.

  “I just beat the shit out of Big Malc’s half-brother.”

  “He doesn’t have a half-brother.”

  “He does according to Elaine Douglas. Her husband Kevin has been beating her for years. When he started taking it out on the kids she asked me to sort him out, which I did. He’s currently in hospital. But the dizzy cow didn’t think to tell me he was a relative of Big Malc’s, which means…”

  “He’s also related to the McVays. Shit.”

  It worried her that Brodie sounded so worried. “What do I do?”

  “Come back to the office right now. Stop for nothing and no one.”

  “On my way,” she said before hanging up and starting the engine.

  At the start of his shift Bill rushed towards The Face in the Frame exhibition, desperate to see Sylvie after the day he’d had. His mother was driving him even more up the wall than usual. She wouldn’t do a thing for herself anymore and it wasn’t out of any physical frailty, it was because she was a vicious old cow who enjoyed having someone to boss about and he was at the end of his tether. She thought because he was still living at home she could humiliate him, ridicule him. If she complained about not having grandkids just one more time he knew he’d lose it. Even here he could still hear her nagging, whiny bitch voice in his head - fat, useless, lazy, ugly, spineless, virgin. It was always the last one that irritated him the most because it wasn’t true. There’d been a couple of women when he was younger. The most recent ones had been paid for. No one was really interested in a shy, overweight, low-paid man who lived with his mum. Until Sylvie had come along that is.

  Just seeing her made him feel calmer. He reached out to stroke her face, which couldn’t exactly be described as soft but was still the most sensuous thing he had ever
touched.

  “It’s so good to see you, my love,” he said. “Mum’s become a complete nightmare, I don’t think I can cope for much longer. There’s no one else to care for her, it’s all on me and I’m starting to crack under the strain, I can feel it. There’s all these thoughts running through my head and I can’t control them, they’re bad thoughts, evil thoughts about…hurting her. Sometimes I want to put my hands around her throat and squeeze, just to shut her up…” He broke off when he saw someone staring at him. “What the fuck are you looking at you bastard?” he roared, delighted to finally find an outlet for the rage that had been building in him for years. He looked to Sylvie. “I’ll be back in a minute sweetheart.”

  Bill stomped up to the handsome man’s face, who was still in the corner Lucas had relegated him to, furious. He was positive the face was smirking at him. Angrily he slapped the handsome man’s red button, causing the face to come to life, the smooth smile and suave voice sending his temper skyrocketing.

  “Shut it you smug fucker,” Bill bellowed before slamming his fist into the handsome visage. The eyes seemed to bulge and the jaw stammered, the words slurring into a strange buzz before dying away altogether.

  Bill gaped at the crumpled face in astonishment. “Oh God, what have I done?” he exclaimed, horrified. The face was completely ruined. With no bones or muscles it had been unable to withstand the impact of a fist. The jaw continued to flap in time to the distorted words, giving Bill the serious creeps.

  “Mr Thorne is going to be so pissed off.”

  Frantically he tried to think of an excuse but none would come. He hopped from foot to foot, unable to believe the devastation he’d wrought on something created by his hero. He rushed back to Sylvie, clutching at his sparse hair. “I just broke one of the faces. What do I do?” he exclaimed.

  He waited for a reply but none was forthcoming.

  “I could say the cleaners did it. I came in to work and it was already damaged. There’s no CCTV in this room, no one could prove it was me. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Blame the cleaners.” Secure in the validity of his plan, he reached for the radio tucked into his belt and released a cry of horror. A flap of tanned skin was stuck to his fist, standing out from his own pale skin. With a shudder he peeled it off and tossed it into a bin, feeling sick.