by Mark Lingane
“Look, man. Are you absolutely sure? I’m in this real pickle with this—”
“I’m sure. If it was humanly possible for me to help, I would.”
“All right, man. Can you at least recommend someone else who could help?”
Joshua thought of old Stodgy Dent and passed on his details. He wasn’t the best, but reliable on simple cases.
“Thanks, man,” said the voice and that was it.
After he had woken up a bit, Joshua felt that he needed some more information from the enthusiastic Mr. Na’hash. He wandered down Central Street to catch the early-morning activities. He didn’t often get to see them and it was healthy to know other people existed and operated at that time of the day. The markets at Forrest Square were buzzing. He wandered around the square, being bustled by various customers, and bought something suspicious in a cup and a soggy bun. It was always packed in the square from the early hours of the morning until the sun had set and gone hard.
He wandered out of the square and turned into Bloom County Drive. Here, the stores were quite impressive. They captured the lively spirit of the market from the square but were high enough and well presented enough to attract the cosmopolitan. Possibly someone like Reaper, Joshua thought. Although not as dead.
The buildings held a fascination for Joshua. He had run across the top of them when he was younger. They were all relatively the same height and if you had the speed it was easy to jump from roof to roof and look at the people far below.
He rarely had the time or the inclination to reminisce, but he thought he might for a page or two.
He sat down on the bench that overlooked the park opposite the markets. He quickly leaped up and examined the back of his coat to see how much of the dew had soaked through. He took his nearly clean handkerchief from his pocket, dried a spot on the bench and sat down again. The sun fell on his face. The sun! It was out. It had seemed so long since he had felt any warmth from this soulless city.
The sunlight reminded him of times long ago; of fond memories; of playing in open fields; of friends and friendships, when everything seemed to mean so much more. Times had changed and things were different. The day he had made up his mind to serve and protect the city as a private investigator was the day the sun no longer shone for him. Before that, every day was an adventure. Every moment was stolen. The city was a wonder. Imaginations ran wild and joy was everywhere.
They had run around the streets and across the buildings. They stole apples from the grocers and laughed as they lived. There was one face that was clear. It displayed all the joy and innocence of young life. A boy with sandy hair and no shoes. The sleds in winter. The bobcarts in summer. Exploring the city and the country. When they were too tired to go on playing they would sit and talk until they fell asleep.
What was his name? Brad? Brett? Julian? Steve? Who knew? Now he was just a face in a crowd of others.
Who were the faces? Just faces in the past, without names. He wouldn’t recognize them if he met them again. Looking at what he had become, perhaps that was for the best.
He looked at his life. The moments were still being stolen, but not by him. There was laughter, but it was nasty and it was laughing at him. Directly. Personally. What had he done with his life? Why was there nothing to remember?
After thoroughly depressing himself, he opened his eyes and the world swam back into focus. He checked his pockets to see if anyone had stolen anything, and got up. The rain began to fall again.
He wandered in the direction of Na’hash’s office. All the small businesses along the way were open and had been for some time. He didn’t know why, as no one bought anything.
Na’hash was just opening his door as Joshua came into view.
“Ah, Mr. Richards. Punctual as usual, I see.”
“I … er … yes, Mr. Na’hash. Good day to you.”
“The office should be a bit better this morning. Miss Towers came in early to sort things out.”
“Miss Towers?” queried Joshua.
“Yes. My secretary. I told you about her yesterday.”
“Oh. Miss Towers. Yes. I remember. You did.” His sentence finished in a mumble.
They both proceeded up the stairs, with Na’hash excitedly inquiring about any leads Joshua had discovered during the night.
“… about three and a small mouse, and without beads too,” ended Na’hash as they both came through the door.
The secretary had been industriously forging her boss’s signature but stopped when she heard voices behind the office door. The door opened.
Joshua froze.
Na’hash, who had been looking intently at Joshua, turned to see where his gaze had fallen. Joshua was looking at the secretary. Possibly mistaking the expression in Joshua’s eyes, he said, “And this is Marianne, my secretary. The one I told you about. She’s quite fabulous. I’d be lost without her, you know. Simply lost. And, Marianne, this is Mr. Richards. He’s the detective who’s helping me with the break-in. It’s quite exciting.”
He leaned over and hissed, “He’s quite brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” He went back to his normal tone and said to Joshua, “But Marianne isn’t the one who had … did the … you know, the mouse thing.”
All this had passed by Joshua completely unheard. He was at a loss as to what to say. So Marianne spoke.
“Ah, Mr. Richards. I’m privileged to meet you.”
No reply was forthcoming.
“Mr. Richards?” said Na’hash and gave him a small shove.
Joshua awoke from his dream. “Good morning, Miss Marianne.” He looked sideways at Na’hash. “Jeff speaks highly of you.”
“Well, he would,” she replied matter-of-factly. She stared at him.
Na’hash looked from one to the other, trying to work out what he was missing out on. “Well, if we can get a move on. Marianne, have you done my letters for me?”
“Yes, Jeff, here they are.” She handed him the papers she had been signing.
“I’d be lost without her, you know. Simply lost. And, Marianne?”
“Yes.”
“Could we have two cups of tea, please? You would like tea, Mr. Richards? She makes the best tea. Wonderful tea.”
They entered Na’hash’s office and the door was closed.
Marianne looked at the door for a minute. Then she smiled and looked wistful. She examined her nails and nibbled at one to see if it was edible. Oh well, duty called. She rose elegantly, went down the corridor to the kitchen and put the kettle on. While she was leaning against the counter the cleaning lady entered.
“ ’Ello, luv.”
“Hi,” said Marianne.
“You new here, then?”
“Yes. I’m Mr. Na’hash’s secretary. The new jeweler at the end of the corridor.” She motioned down the hallway.
“Gee. That would be a dishy job, luv. Do you, like, get any perks?”
“It isn’t that good at all. Mr. Na’hash is a major pain.”
“Then why do you put up with it, luv? Seems to me a girl like you could work anywhere she wanted to.”
“Perhaps. But it’s only for a short time and I get to see …” she stopped herself.
“What did you do before this, luv?”
“Oh. Bits and pieces. Stuff.”
There was a pause that accompanies strangers when they both try to think of something to say.
“Was that Mr. Richards I saw go into the office, luv?”
Marianne was surprised. “Yes. Why? Do you know him?”
“Do his office, luv. Twice a month. Just a couple of streets away, actually.”
“What do you know about him?” The question was half loaded with suspicion and half with genuine interest.
“Well, he needs me more than twice a month, luv. He’s a good ol’ laugh. Needs a good woman to take care of him. Charming man, really. Bit cynical, but then it looks like he’s lived through a lot. He should shave more often and get a proper bed.”
Marianne raised an e
yebrow.
“He doesn’t eat properly. Needs more padding on him. A bit on the skinny side. Not my cup of tea. I like them a bit bigger, luv. Drinks a bit too much, but then we all should be allowed to have some fun every now and again. He’s a bit too introspective. Thinks a bit too much before doing things. Needs to be a little more on the active side. He doesn’t like wearing ties or white socks. He’s generous and kind and has a delicious smile. When he’s thinking good thoughts or talking about them he gets this glint in his eyes. And his eyes. Well, there’s something special about his eyes. But you’ve seen them so you would already know. His views and opinions can swing from day to day. He doesn’t like news programs or the newspaper. But he does like a good documentary, especially ones about nature. He doesn’t like tomato sauce or mayonnaise. A little on the shy side, too. Needs a good woman to bring him out. Is there anything wrong, luv?”
Marianne stood there with her mouth open. “How long have you known him?”
“Oh, about a week, luv.”
There was a pregnant pause when Marianne said nothing. Both ladies stood looking at each other.
The cleaning lady broke first. “Just joking, luv. Been doing his office for years.”
Marianne laughed but didn’t relax.
She pushed open the door with her elbow and entered her office. The phone rang. She cursed and hurried over to her desk. She put down the cups and picked up the phone.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Look, I don’t like it any more than you do. In fact, less so, as you well know. But I do know duty and what I have to do. I just need some time. It’s been a very long time. Allow me this one weakness.”
She hung up the phone and looked furious. She picked up the cups and walked over to Na’hash’s door. She banged her head against the door twice and felt a lot better. Na’hash opened the door.
“… three times a night but only with a stool. Ah, Marianne, just in time.” Na’hash led her to his desk. He handed a cup to Joshua, who was sitting in a chair by the door. “I’ve told you Marianne makes the best cup of tea? Simply the best.”
Joshua took a sip and burnt his tongue, causing him to jerk his hand and spill the tea in his lap. He jumped up and screamed and then screamed again as he hit his head on a low-mounted lamp fitting. As he was getting to his knees he said, “I’m terribly sorr—”
Both Marianne and Na’hash looked to where Joshua was staring.
“What is it? The vase? You don’t like it? It’s authentic,” said Na’hash.
Joshua clambered up and walked over to the vase. The early morning sun was coming in through the window, throwing a shadow of the vase on the wall behind it. On the shadow, accentuated by its length, was a little bump. Joshua turned the vase around. On the back was a transparent piece of plastic.
The other two crowded in close.
“What is it?” Na’hash asked.
“It’s a bug. A surveillance device.” He ripped it off and threw it out the window. “It looks like you have some very nosy friends.”
“See! I told you he was brilliant,” Na’hash said to Marianne. “Quite brilliant.”
“Mr. Richards,” said Marianne. “I am impressed. You’re observant although somewhat clumsy. It’s going to be hell to clean up.”
“Gosh. Déjà vu.” Joshua rubbed his aching head. “This certainly throws a new light on the situation.” He re-railed his thoughts. “We have to assume they’ve heard everything spoken in the office since they broke in, which means they know what time the shipment is due, and we’re going to be waiting for it and them.”
Marianne walked out of the room.
“So what can we do, Mr. Richards?” Na’hash said.
“Tell me as much as you know about the delivery tomorrow.”
“Well, I’d like to, but—”
“Don’t give me any buts, Jeff. This is important. We’re talking about your personal safety here.” And mine, he thought.
Na’hash sighed. “Very well. As you would guess, the diamonds are delivered by the Collection. They’re in rough-cut form and I cut them. I cannot charge for the service but they allow me to keep the offcuts. They deliver at eight p.m., the first Tuesday of every month.”
“How did you get involved with them? You seem like an upstanding member of society.”
“I used to be, but everyone has a weakness. Anyone can fall from grace. Many years back when I was struggling out on the lower side of town they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Well, I could but I would be dead. The bottom line is it pays the rent and keeps me busy. And alive.”
Joshua paced around the room, thinking. “The Collection will hardly be the problem. Someone has discovered the Collection deals with you and wants in on the action. Knowing my luck, this will involve guns.”
“Definitely. If it comes down to giving the diamonds up or being shot, I can tell there isn’t a choice to be made. It means the same thing. If the burglars don’t get me, the Collection will. I have no choice.”
This was not what Joshua wanted to hear. He continued pacing. “Is it the same person that delivers the diamonds each month?” he said.
“No. It varies from month to month.”
“So the assailants won’t know what the carrier will look like?”
“No but—”
“All that will make it apparent is the fact that a person is carrying a briefcase and is turning up here at eight. Is that correct?”
“I suppose so. You have a plan, don’t you?”
“Maybe. All I can suggest is that I turn up here at slightly before eight with a briefcase visibly in hand, and I try and lead the burglars away or into a trap. Or something. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with an idea. It’ll revolve around me making them think I have the diamonds. I don’t believe I’m saying this.”
“Mr. Richards, you’re truly a brilliant—and brave—man.”
“Brilliance I have no problem with. It’s the brave part I’m having trouble accepting.”
“Eight o’clock tomorrow night then.”
“Yes, Mr. Na’hash, eight o’clock it will be. Or five minutes to, to be exact.”
“Yes, then.”
Joshua turned, ducked under the lamp fitting and left Na’hash’s office.
Na’hash stared at the door for a moment. “Brilliant man. Pity,” he said in a menacing tone. His eyes blinked.
Marianne was sitting at her desk practicing Na’hash’s signature.
Joshua walked to her. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”
“I’m free tonight at eight. I can meet you at that horrible bar again.”
Temporarily taken aback, Joshua rallied. “Gee, you’re not shy.”
“We’d be waiting here all day if I was to wait for you to ask,” she said.
He couldn’t really argue with that. It was true. There would be all that effort at pathetic small talk about things neither of them had interest in and then there would be the subtle move closer, the figuring out what she liked, movies, dinner, dancing, post-dubstep, paraboxing—an almost endless list. There would be the “If you’ve got nothing better to do” lines, then “Bring a friend if you want” safety line, and so it would go.
About three weeks of work. Miss Towers’ way was much quicker.
“Eight it is,” he said.
“Oh, and come prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” he asked.
“Weren’t you ever a boy scout?”
“Not … that I recall.”
“Well, you should’ve been. Bye.” She turned her focus to the work on her desk.
Joshua, sensing the conversation was over, said his hesitant farewells and walked out of the office feeling strangely uplifted.
15
JOSHUA DOODLED, TRYING TO put Na’hash out of his mind. He rubbed his eyes and focused on Reaper. They were red with fatigue. He needed to know who was in The Phone Company. He had so few facts about Reaper it was almost a joke. Who was he? He looke
d down at the few notes he had made yesterday. There still seemed to be no illumination. The light in the corner was still on. He tried to remember the last time it was turned off. He levered himself up and sought to remedy the situation. As he was crossing the room the phone rang.
He turned slowly and glared at it. He thought for a moment about whether it was worth the effort. He sighed and picked it up.
“Yeah, hello. Is that … Joshua Richards?”
“Who wants to know?” He really had had enough of the damn phone.
“It’s me, Alan Raphael. I called yesterday.”
He could bluff, say he wasn’t in, or it was a wrong number or something, then quickly pull the phone out of the wall, make a jump out the window for freedom and escape forever.
“It’s Joshua Richards speaking. Didn’t I give you the number of ol’ Stodgy Dent?”
“Who?”
“Art Dent.”
“Oh him, yeah, but he said he wouldn’t do it.”
“He’s too busy as well?” He hoped Mister Alan Raphael got the hint.
“No, he’s not busy at all but he said he wouldn’t touch the case.”
That stopped Joshua in his tracks. “Look, the best I can do is say give me a call tomorrow. If I’m lucky I might be able to wrap up some cases, but I can’t promise anything. All right?”
“OK, man. I understand. Dent said you were pretty good so I’ll go with the flow, but I can’t really wait any longer than another day. I’ll need a definite answer tomorrow.”
The Phone Company was on the cards again. He stood outside the front doors, psyching himself up to it. They’re not that big, he thought, and no one in there is that important. They’re just normal people like me. Sort of.
He strode toward the main doors. Anyone entering had to get their speed up and put their shoulder to them as soon as they came into contact with them. Then, with the increased momentum, they could budge the doors enough to squeeze through. That was only if the person entering was lucky enough to pick the unlocked one of the set. If they didn’t have the weight or the momentum they would be stuck outside until enough people turned up and charged at it, or until everyone went home, which happened more often than not. Except in this case.
