by Louise Welsh
Bill began making his way towards me, shaking hands, squeezing shoulders, smiling a crocodile smile that was all teeth. He patted me somewhere near my elbow in a gesture an anthropologist would probably describe as dominating, then offered me another drink.
'No thanks, one helps, two hinders.'
'Maybe afterwards then.'
I wanted to escape before the girls started their act, but I smiled and said, 'If you like.
So who’s the birthday boy?'
'Detective Inspector Montgomery, the man I was talking to. Him and my dad went way back, he made himself useful at a difficult time.' Bill smiled dryly. 'I used to call him Uncle Monty, so I’ve got a personal interest in his send-off.'
'Young to be put out to pasture.'
'Law enforcement pays.' Bill smiled knowingly. He drained his drink, putting the empty glass on the bar. 'They’ve had their official party with wives and , testimonials and all that stuff. Tonight’s the real celebration. Just go with it.' I nodded and Bill smiled, satisfied I was cool with whatever was going to happen. 'Right, let’s get the music turned off and give you a big build.'
'Why not?'
Bill nodded to the barman. 'Crowther, switch that racket off.'
Crowther was already busying himself freshening Bill’s glass. He hesitated, unsure of which order to obey first, then did them both at once, laying the drink on the counter with one hand and killing the sounds with the other. Bill ignored him, turning the swizzle stick in his brandy and soda.
'Remember, keep it brief. Forty-minute set max — thirty would be better.'
He took a last slug of his drink and made his way towards the small dais to present me.
There was no calling for attention, no tinkling of teaspoons on glasses. Bill just stood there and the room grew quiet. I glanced at Montgomery. His face wore a small smile. The kind Stalin was reputed to wear after a good week. Bill’s voice cut through the silence.
'Gentlemen, this is a special evening, the retirement of James Montgomery, one of the finest police officers it has been my pleasure to know, and I’m sure yours to work with.'
There were murmurs of agreement and Hear hears from the men at the tables. A couple of those near to Montgomery leaned over and patted him on the back. Montgomery nodded, whatever his attributes modesty wasn’t one of them. I wondered how sincere Bill was, why he was giving the address and not one of the squad.
'I know you had a posh gathering on Wednesday with the Chief Constable, so you’ll have heard your quota of speeches for a while.'
There was laughter at this. Someone shouted, too true.
'So tonight for your delectation and entertainment we have The Divines.' There was a cheer from the audience and the sound of deep nervous laughter from some of the men. Bill held up his hand for silence. 'A pair of very beautiful young…’ he hesitated as if searching for the right word. 'Dancers.' More laughter. 'But before we meet them we have a very special guest. It’s well known that Inspector Montgomery is a worker of wonders. Indeed, he’s got so many illusive convictions he’s been christened the Magician. So, in tribute to Inspector Montgomery’s well-earned retirement I’d like to ask you to put your hands together for William Wilson, mentalist and magician.'
Half-hearted clapping scattered across the room and suddenly I thought that maybe I should start doing kids’ parties. At least some of them might believe in magic. There was a fraction of hesitation, then the barman put on the CD I’d given him and mysterioso music drifted across the room. I walked up onto the stage and stood there silently for a moment with my head bowed, hands folded in front of me, letting the soundtrack do the work, then slowly raised my eyes, keeping my stare level, my mouth serious, wishing I had a lovely assistant to flash her legs and take some of the heat off me. The music died and I cast my gaze across the room, grave as Vincent Price’s Van Helsing revealing the presence of vampires.
'Welcome.' I paused, making eye contact with as many of the audience as I could.
'Gentlemen, there are mysteries beyond our control, wonders that even the greatest scientists are powerless to explain. Tonight I am going to look into the unknown and explore some of these strange and perplexing phenomena.' The crowd stayed silent, I stepped off the dais and approached a thin man sitting towards the front of the gathering.
'Sir, would you mind standing up for me please?' The man got to his feet. He was tall and lank, with receding hair and a good-natured drink-fuddled face.
'What’s your name, sir?'
'Andy.'
'Nice to meet you Andy.' I shook his hand, staring him in the eyes and slyly unfastening his watch. 'Let me ask you Andy, do you believe that there are powers we don’t understand?'
'I believe in the DPP.'
The crowd laughed and I smiled indulgently.
'I see that you’re a married man, Andy.'
He nodded unimpressed.
'How did I know that?'
He held up his left hand with its gold marriage band.
'Quite right, the powers of observation.' I smiled round the room, giving him his moment of reassurance, then raised my voice. 'But this evening I am going to reveal to you things that the powers of observation would be powerless to divulge.' I made my tone more conversational. 'Andy, I would imagine that in your profession well-developed powers of observation are essential?'
Andy nodded.
'That’s true.'
'A good memory for a face?'
He nodded again.
'I believe so.'
'Have we ever met before?'
He shook his head slowly, cautious as a man on a witness stand.
'Not to my knowledge, no.'
'You’ve never arrested me?'
'Not to my recollection.'
'So you would be surprised if I could guess your rank?'
He shrugged.
'Possibly.'
'Come a little closer would you please, Andy?' The man looked around at the audience smiling. I said, 'Don’t worry, the force is with you.' And he stepped forward an inch. 'May I place my hand on your shoulder?' He hesitated and I stage-whispered, 'No need to be coy.'
The audience laughed, the volunteered man gave a brief nod and I reached up, resting my hand gently on his right shoulder. 'I would say, Andy,' — ‘that you are’ — I paused again —
‘a sergeant.' I removed my hand and he nodded to the crowd, who gave me a brief scatter of applause. I bowed, keeping my expression restrained. 'I suppose that’s vaguely impressive.
But maybe I could guess that from your age and the fact that you look fairly intelligent. So let me go a little further.' There was an ooooh from the audience. The man stepped back, clowning a slight mince. The men at his table laughed and I shook my head in mock exasperation. 'Calm yourself, Sergeant. I’ve told you that you’re married, but as you’ve confirmed we’ve never met before so there’s no way I could tell you the name of your wife.'
A voice came from the audience. Not unless you saw it written on the wall of the gents.
Andy shouted, 'Oi, watch it.' Taking the joke in good part.
I held up my hand for order.
'I see a good-looking woman …’ The crowd ooohed obligingly again and I traced an S in the air, making it sexy like the cartoon outline of a woman’s body. 'Her name is… Sarah…
no not Sarah, something similar, Suzie… Suze… Susannah.' The man’s face was pleasingly bemused. He nodded and the crowd clapped. I held up my hand, silencing them. 'You have children… two lovely daughters… Hai… Hail… Hailey and Re-e-e-e-Rebecca.' Andy was smiling now, nodding his head to the room. Again the applause and again I held my hands up to stop them. 'You also have a dog?' This was dodgy, dogs die more often than the wife and kids, but the group photo I’d lifted from his wallet with the names of its subjects obligingly written on the back in neat pen looked pretty recent. Andy nodded. 'Your dog is called …’ I hesitated a beat beyond the audience’s expectation and the room grew still, half-hoping I’d make it, half-hop
ing I’d fail. 'Your dog is called, 'Peeler!'
'The small audience erupted into applause and I bowed, relieved to find policemen as gullible as the rest. 'How’re we doing for time, Sergeant?'
Andy looked at his wrist, and then looked at me.
'Has anyone got the time?' There was a confusion of murmurs as the men I’d selected each noticed their missing wristwatches. 'Ach, it’s fine, I’ve got it here.'
I pulled up my left cuff to reveal the half-dozen watches fastened round my wrist. As things go, they were a good audience. I fed them more facts from filched wallets, keeping the action brief and cheeky, then kicked into the finale.
'Now, I know you’re keen to see The Divines.' There was a stamping of feet and a jungle-drumming of hands against tables. 'Let me assure you they are most definitely divine. But first I’ve got another young lady I’d like you to meet. Welcome to the lovely, the delicious, the truly scrumptious Miss Candy Flossy.'
Candy slunk in doing her best impersonation of a vamp. She would have looked prettier if she’d smiled, but she was doing me a favour. I grabbed her by the hips, putting myself behind her bulk and doing a leer over her shoulder for the benefit of the audience.
'Candy’s agreed to help me out.'
There were a few wolf whistles and catcalls.
You can help me out anytime love.
You can touch my truncheon.
Feel my new extending baton.
Try on my handcuffs.
Play with my helmet.
And I thought that perhaps they weren’t such a pleasant audience after all.
There are many ways to cut a lady in half. If you have the resources you can fashion jazzy coffins fixed with bewilderments and employ a girl who can contort herself so well it’s a waste to put her in a box. But my brand of the effect relied on a not-so-innocent-looking buzz-saw of the type you might see in an old-fashioned sawmill. It was an appearance of mere penetration where others managed dismemberment. But the kind of audiences I entertained were amused by it.
I steeled a serious tone to my voice and said, 'My final trick is so dangerous that only a very few members of the magic circle are initiated into its secrets. Should my concentration be disturbed at any point during its execution,' Candy shuddered and I put my hand on her shoulder, 'this young lady might lose one of her lovely limbs,' I hooked the hem of Candy’s dress with my wand and slid it upwards. She smacked my hand away before I’d revealed more than her calves. I gave the wand an impatient slap. 'I’m sorry. My wand has a life of its own. But I’m sure you’ll agree, gentlemen, that any injury to these fine pins would be a tragedy.' There was a gallant rumble of agreement from the tables. 'Therefore I’m going to ask you for silence while we prepare to amaze you.'
They were men more used to giving directions than receiving them, but they quietened down a little, the drinkers at the bar lowering their voices as they gave their orders to the barman.
I dipped them a brief bow, then made a show of pulling the saw’s fake chain, at the same time surreptitiously pressing the button that started the sound effect. The noise was as deafening as a motorbike stripped of its silencer. I’d warned Candy, but she took a step back. A show of nervousness was good, but only if she didn’t bolt. I grasped her firmly her by the arm and hissed, 'Remember what I told you, it’s all show.'
The big girl’s breasts quivered, she glanced towards the bar and Bill gave her a nod.
She whispered. 'You promise it won’t hurt?'
'Do you really think I’m going to slice you in two in front of the filth? No, course not.
It’s all smoke and mirrors sweetheart.' Candy winced, but she let me sit her on the table then swung her legs up, modestly holding her skirt to her, but still revealing a flash of fishnets that drew some whistles from the audience as she sank slowly onto her back. I thought I saw tears trembling in her eyes. I gave her a wink and locked a small box around her waist, turning to the policemen and shouting over the noise, 'Those of you who do a lot of shift work might like to know that this doubles as a chastity belt.' I started to move the saw, knowing that from their angle it would look like I was cutting through the girl. Candy’s eyes were leaking now, but her smile was a little braver. I twisted my face, trying to look like the kind of crazed personality that might indeed saw a woman in half, but ran a finger reassuringly down her waist. I let the saw complete its journey then did an evil, heh, heh, heh to the audience. Candy looked up at me, unsure whether it was working. I winked again willing her to keep silent.
There was a wave of applause and then the catcalls started.
I know which end I’d like.
Come round to my place and do that to the Missis, that’s the only half of her I need.
Naw, mine’s talks out of her arse anyway.
I unlatched the box, grabbed a giant silk flag painted with red and black flames, shielded Candy with it while she detached herself from the equipment and got to her feet. I waved the flag three times and forced her into a bow.
'Shit, he’s put her back together again,' said a boozy voice from somewhere in the audience.
I slipped twenty quid into her hand and she went off to tend to her coats, while I took a final bow.
Bill slid into a booth with a good view of the dance floor. I slipped in opposite him with my back to the action. The mirror angled on the wall above Bill’s head caught the room in a convex swirl, flinging it back in a distorted haze of lights and colour. I sipped my drink. A Middle Eastern beat that was all drums and pipes started up. Bill put his glass down and looked beyond me towards the stage.
'You been looking forward to this?'
I shrugged and wondered where Sam had got to. Whatever hopes I’d had of catching the last race of the night were lost.
Two tall black shadows glided across the floor. At first I couldn’t make out what they were. Perhaps the audience were confused too, they had fallen quiet, the men at the bar no longer keeping stiff-faced Crowther busy with a barrage of rounds.
Bill laughed. 'Christ, we’re going to have a fatwa on our hands.'
He shook his head, amused, looking confident of his ability to stave off any attack. The shadows slid into focus and I realised that Shaz and Jacque had draped themselves in burkahs. They stood nun-black, with just a mesh of fabric to see through, swaying with the music, twirling round in a dance that looked traditional, but was probably made up. It was impossible to see what their bodies were doing beneath the robes, but I bet it would be lithe and smooth. The only part of them uncovered was their feet, tripping soft and dainty against the dance floor.
Together the girls raised their right hands and with a delicate move unhooked the grilles that veiled their eyes. The sparkles glistering from the makeup that jewelled their eyelids caught the light, even flashing into our dull corner. Shaz’s was pure emerald, Jacque’s switched between sapphire and diamond. For the first time since the pair had stepped onto the stage the men made a noise, a low cheer.
The girls danced on as if alone, swirling the burkahs, though now I suspected these were of thinner material than standard. They floated above the girls’ ankles, revealing painted toenails beneath black mesh and anklets of silver that clinked and trembled with each step.
Bill glanced at his watch, then suddenly, as if the girls sensed the audience’s attention was wavering, they reached out, each grabbing the other’s dark garment by the hips. There was a slight pause, a hesitation of Velcro and the dancers’ legs were revealed, smooth and stockinged, diamanté garters competing with their eyes in the sparkle stakes.
The men roared. Bill took a drag of his cigarette and turned away from the dance floor.
'Not quite what I expected.'
I nodded towards the group of policemen.
'They seem to be enjoying it well enough.'
'That’s the main thing.'
In the mirror above his head the girls twirled some more, their veiled faces and covered bodies incongruous against the flesh of their exposed thighs shim
mying above the dark stocking tops.
Bill seemed to have lost interest.
'You were better than I expected.'
'Cheers, but you weren’t seeing me at my best.'
'Even better then.'
Out on the dance floor Shaz had torn Jacque’s top off to reveal a black brassiere, beaded fringes all a-twinkle. Jacque did a shimmy to the audience that made her bosoms shiver, then turned to her friend and returned the favour. Shaz’s bra was identical but silver-white. Their act was tacky, but it worked.
I said, 'It’s tacky but it works.'
Bill made a face, 'I guess you could call it tacky, but I thought you had something, with the right girl you might get somewhere.' He looked back at the dancers. Jacque had wet her finger and placed it on Shaz’s thigh. She drew it back quickly as if scalded. 'Let’s face it, you’d get nowhere lumbered with that fat tart.'
'She was OK.'
'She looks all right now, but those pale blondes wash out pretty quick.' The girls were playing with the front fastenings of their bras now, teasing the crowd. Jacque leaned into the ringside table and let a burly man unclip hers. Her breasts fell forward and she rubbed them teasingly across his baldpate. 'I watched you boosting those guys’ watches. You’ve got nimble digits there. Ever get you in trouble?'
'Once or twice, as a kid.'
'No convictions though?'
'I learned to make it work for me.'
'All the same, you were taking a chance with these coppers.'
'You think so?'
'No, not really, but you know what they can be like, there’s some touchy buggers amongst them.'
'You get an instinct for them in my game.'
Bill took a sip of his drink.
'I suppose you do. It’s amazing how you know things.'
'It’s just a trick Bill.'
'I realise that… but all the same. You were spot on every time. Maybe there’s more to the trick than you think.'
It had happened before, people mistaking dexterity and good observation for something else, but I hadn’t expected it from Bill. He passed me a cigar. We both lit up and sat silent in the smoke-scented gloom of the booth. Bill’s body was relaxed, his smile easy.
