So far it was a case of who was the weirder? Ronson or his neighbours? Dan would have split his money between each, but on current form, he would have slid a few more chips Ronson’s way.
Dan walked into the front room, scratching his neck as he chewed it over. He looked at Mark, and saw the kid was trying to read his face.
“Mr Ronson. Are there any other children in this street?” said Dan.
“I think so,” he replied. “A few live around the corner. But these people don’t bother with children. They’re not easy prey. Besides, they’re nothing like Kitty. She is so friendly and pretty – she’s like a little doll.”
“Proximity then, availability, willingness to be friendly, you think these could be factors why the neighbours are interested in the girl?” Dan’s eyes fixed on Ronson’s face. His question applied to him too. Dan didn’t like the way he described the girl as a little doll. “She’s vulnerable, isn’t she?” said Dan.
Ronson nodded. “These people are vultures. I don’t know what they do in there, but it isn’t good. Yes, it all matters. She’s friendly and she talks to them a lot.”
“But you’ve never seen your neighbours approach any other kids in the neighbourhood? Never seen any other kids speak to them?”
“Aside from Kitty, no.”
Dan paused, his eyes lingering on Ronson.
“Have you seen any of these other kids? Do you know their names? Or their families?”
“No. I only know Kitty.”
Dan took a moment to think.
“And how do you know her exactly?”
Ronson shrugged. “Because she’s a sweet kid, and like you said, she vulnerable. She’s vulnerable to people like them next door.”
“So, would you say that you’re friends with the girl?”
Ronson shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it. But we talk in the street, so I guess that’s a yes.”
“And has she initiated any of those conversations, or just you?” said Dan.
“Er, me mostly, but we’re friendly. And she’s quite responsive, if a little shy.”
“Responsive?” said Dan, with a frown.
“Yes. She talks to me. Why? Hang on,” said Ronson. “What is this? Wait… am I paying you to watch me or them? I’ve got nothing but good intentions for that little girl. You should be directing your attention next door, not at me.”
“And we will, Mr Ronson, but we have to be sure right at the start. Sure about everything. Good intentions can come from all kinds of places.”
Ronson stiffened in his seat. “Then you need to look the other way. I’m telling you. Focus on them. Do that, and it won’t be long now and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Dan looked at the clock. “Okay. We’ll wait.”
But Dan felt less comfortable than ever. He sat down in silence and folded his arms. For a good long time he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Not even Mark’s.
***
At five fifty, Dan, Mark and Ronson looked at each other as they heard the unmistakable sound of sex hammering through the wall upstairs. A bedstead was knocking against the wall. Mark coughed and looked at his shoes as the woman took an age before she reached a theatrical climax and the guy groaned like he’d been poleaxed. Ronson threw his hands out to say ‘see!’. Dan nodded, but he was unimpressed. The episode had Dan’s concerns about Ronson rising by another notch. Dan chewed his lip and stayed quiet. Ten minutes later, the neighbours’ visitors started arriving. Dan missed a few of them. But some of those he saw were dressed in a similar charity shop chic to their hosts. Dan reckoned seven or eight newcomers had arrived. A few of them had bottles of wine. Some had folders and lever arch files. Some carried big black satchels and black holdalls which looked designed exclusively to carry whatever was contained inside.
Dan moved into the hallway to watch the small parade. He listened to the jolly hellos, and the banter as they stomped into the neighbouring hallway, separated by the thinnest of walls.
“What is this?” said Dan. He looked back at Mark.
“I don’t know. Maybe a roleplaying club? They have that kind of look,” said Mark.
“But roleplaying games involve books and dice, am I right?”
“Yes…”
“So what are they carrying all that equipment for?”
Last of all, another female guest arrived. Dan and Mark looked up. The woman was a brunette, and an eye-catching one at that. She was dressed in the same dark duds, and was well made-up. There was a big heavy looking shoulder bag draped from her shoulder. Dan pointed.
“She’s got a camera in the bag, see?”
Mark nodded at the camera shaped case protruding at the top of the bag.
“Could be a photo shoot for a blog, or for social media.”
Dan nodded back. “Could be. Everyone has a blog these days. You don’t’ have a blog, do you?”
“No,” said Mark.
“Well, that’s a relief.”
The noise next door stayed boisterous, but nothing beyond what was to be expected for a gathering of men and women with bottles of wine. It was a week night, granted. But these people weren’t pillars of society. They were rebels. Rebels who did what they liked. Dan still had questions, but questions didn’t mean the people were dangerous.
“All quiet on the Western Front,” said Dan, looking back at Ronson.
“It’s not quiet,” said Ronson. “And they’ve barely even begun.” The man frowned and looked down at his carpet.
***
Dan doubted they were in for any more surprises in what remained of their evening with Ronson. He drank another coffee to help kill some more time, the result being that he was bouncing in his boots. And as the day drew into evening, Dan knew it would affect his sleep. No way out of that now. His sleep would suffer and he’d feel it the next day. A hangover without the pleasure of a pint. But now the coffee was done, and they’d suffered enough of Ronson’s company to prove they’d started the case, Dan was ready to go home to see Eva. He wanted to discuss it. Wanted to plan how he could work the case against the neighbours, while managing to investigate Ronson’s interests in the girl. He had a sense now that Mr Delusional was a paedophile in waiting. A man who wasn’t even aware that he was a deviant. Unless he was… he worked alone on a computer. The thought of pictures on the computer jumped into his head, as unwelcome as it was sudden. Damn the coffee. His mind was racing. He was already damning his client all because he looked at little Kitty with a little too much affection for a stranger. He decided to use Mark as a sounding board on the way home. Mark was a thinker. If he hadn’t wasted all his time silently pining for Joanne, there was a good chance he would have some observations worth sharing.
“Okaaay,” said Dan. “I think we’ve seen enough for today.”
“But you’ve only been here a few hours. It gets worse?”
“I think we heard plenty,” said Dan. “Don’t worry. We’ll come back tomorrow. But you can always act as our ears in the meantime.”
Through the thin walls all they could hear was the din of conversation. Plenty of it, between different groups of people. But in the last few minutes it had begun to fall quiet by degrees. It seemed to be settling down. Dan was less worried than ever.
“You have a mobile phone, yes?” said Dan.
“Of course,” said Ronson.
“Then if you hear anything, record it. Use a voice memo app, or a recorder app, and use that to record anything suspicious. We can play it all back tomorrow.”
“You need to be here when it happens. Then you’d believe me.”
“Be here when what happens?”
“The weird stuff,” said Ronson.
Dan considered the man’s words. He took a moment, saw the stress in the man’s eyes. He took a breath and swallowed.
“Fine. We can’t stay all night, but let’s see if we can address what you’re worried about. Okay?”
Ronson looked at Dan.
“Address it how?
”
“With a little common sense. Half of your worries are about what’s going on in there, right? What if some of that was in your imagination?” said Dan.
“You don’t get it!”
“No, Mr Ronson, I think I do,” said Dan. “Let me try something different.”
“Like what?” said Ronson.
“I need five minutes, that’s all. Mark. Stay here and keep Mr Ronson company.”
“Why. Where are you going?”
Dan adjusted his jacket, pulling it tight around his shoulders.
“I’m going to meet the neighbours.”
“You what?” said Ronson. “Don’t do that. It’s a bad idea.”
Dan stalked away before Ronson could complain any further. He closed the front door on the sound of Ronson’s whining voice, then stepped over the rough patch of grass, the only outdoor dividing line between the properties. He climbed the doorstep and put his hand on the door knocker. A faint smell of marijuana made him pause for a second before he knocked. The residents were grown-ups, not teens. He guessed they would answer the door.
Dan listened closely. It took a moment before a conversation inside the house stopped, then a rumble of feet came down the stairs. The front door opened, and the bleached-haired man from earlier looked out at him, a guarded look on his face. His hair was like a Beatle’s cut, only far messier. He wore a cheap hoop earring in one ear. Behind him, Dan sensed other people listening quietly in the living room, and probably more upstairs. The stoners. The hallway looked cramped, and like the front room, the walls had been painted in dated dark red.
“Yes?” said the man. The matching bleach-blonde girl skipped down the steps, a smile firmly set in place. It was his first good look at her. She looked pretty, the effect spoiled just a little by her bad hair. They were dressed in the same clothes Dan had seen earlier. Black and tie-dye. The look was grunge meets hippie, a look Dan wouldn’t be in a rush to emulate anytime soon. Dan noted that the girl’s hair was a little neater than before and a fresh hint of make-up had been applied to her face. Perhaps they were pre-loading before going out.
“Evening,” said Dan.
The girl joined the welcoming committee at the door. She wasn’t so guarded as her boyfriend, but then Dan knew looks were frequently deceiving.
“How can we help you?” she said.
“Look,” said Dan. “It’s about your neighbour, Mr Ronson.”
“As if we couldn’t guess,” said Mr Bleach.
“He asked me to come down here and look into some problems he’s been having.”
“And who are you?” said the man.
Dan narrowed his eyes. “The person he asked to help.”
“What problems?” asked the man.
“Mainly with noise,” said Dan. “I guess it’s the thin walls.”
“So that makes you the noise police, does it?” said the man, frowning.
Dan bristled. The girlfriend saw trouble coming.
“Look, we don’t want any problems—”
“We haven’t got any problems, apart from that freak next door,” said Mr Bleach.
“You haven’t got any problems, yet,” said Dan. “And Mr Ronson is just typical of people who live alone. He has a lot of time to think, and he notices things that make him uncomfortable.”
“He makes me uncomfortable,” said the man. “What do you want, exactly?”
“What do I want?” said Dan. “To facilitate a little bit of common sense between neighbours. To help him understand what you do here.”
“That’s none of that weirdo’s business,” said Bleach. His girlfriend frowned. She didn’t seem to like her boyfriend’s response.
“Wait a minute,” she said, still offering a smile. “There’s no need for any aggravation here. Understanding, common ground, I’m all for that. If talking can diffuse any problems before they start then we’ll consider it.” Behind the words, Dan thought he could hear the woman reprimanding her boyfriend. He pretended not to notice.
“We don’t have to explain ourselves to some weird little man who stares at people out of his bedroom window. Why should we?”
“Calm down, Olly,” said the girl, with a bit of force behind her smile. “I can talk if I want to, even if you don’t. It might even help us, okay?”
Olly nodded, humphed and took a step back to let his girl do the talking. The woman swished her hair and fixed her smile on Dan with increased intensity. He knew the smile wasn’t genuine, but he didn’t mind. The woman was trying. And Dan realised that if it wasn’t for her hairstyle, she might have been very photogenic.
“I’m afraid we’ve got friends round, so we can’t be long. But what is it that he wants to know?”
Dan shrugged. “If I can just tell Mr Ronson what you do that causes all the noise, that might alleviate some of his worries.”
“What we do?” The girl looked back at her boyfriend.
“This guy won’t even understand what we do,” said the boyfriend. “Until you’ve tried it for yourself, it sounds weird.”
Dan fixed him with a certain look.
“Try me.”
The girl appealed for Dan’s attention, taking it away from her boyfriend with another swish of her hair.
“Okay. What do we do? We make videos.”
“Videos? That’s really not so difficult to understand,” said Dan.
“What kind of videos?” he said.
“See? We don’t have to tell him anything,” said Olly.
The girl ignored her boyfriend. “A very specific kind. The videos we make are called ASMR.”
Dan frowned.
“ASMR?”
“Don’t worry. It means Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response.”
“Come again?” said Dan.
“I think it would be easier to tell you what the videos are for. We make videos designed to stimulate a relaxation response in the brain of the person watching. For example, can I ask if you have a certain thing, a certain sound that happens to calm you down?”
Dan made a face. “A certain thing – beer does it for me these days.”
“So, you don’t find any sounds relaxing?”
Dan thought a moment. “Some types of music, maybe. Depends what mood I’m in.”
“Yes, ASMR works kind of on the same principle, but it’s usually more about making a sound, sometimes a random seeming sound, to stimulate the response. For instance, some people get really chilled to the sound of rain falling. Some people prefer to listen to running water. Other people like to listen to the sound of vacuum cleaners or a hair dryer. It all depends on how their brain responds. Some people like to hear me scratching a microphone with my fingernails.”
“You’re in these videos?”
The woman nodded. “Me or my hands. I’m in most of them. It’s about noises that chill you out, and make you feel good, that’s ASMR. Some people get a tingling feeling. They’re basically relaxation videos and they really work. They’re a big thing right now.”
“You seriously make movies of using a vacuum cleaner, and you get paid for that?”
“Vacuum cleaners are not really my thing, but some people like them. That’s just an example.”
“Then…?”
“She’s told you what we do already. Isn’t that enough?” said Bleach.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind saying. Lots of people like listening – and watching – videos of people whispering to them. Whispering is very good ASMR. Listening to someone scratch at a mic is good ASMR. Listening to someone brushing hair too. It’s all very relaxing and comforting. It gives our viewers a good feeling, for some it sends them to sleep.”
“And that’s what you do? Film yourself whispering and making weird sounds?”
“Sounds from everyday things. Yes. That’s about the size of it.”
“And you get paid for that?”
The girl nodded. “Hey, it’s not megabucks, but we have a following, and it means we don’t have to have a day job. It gives u
s financial freedom to do what we like to do.”
Dan thought about the getting up late, the bad style choices. That was the Bleaches’ version of financial freedom. Everyone was different.
“And how much of this stuff do you make?”
“We film a few videos a night. No longer than about twenty minutes a time. The more videos we make, the more ad revenue we get. That’s the hope, anyway.”
“Okay. That’s enough, Jen. You’ve told him all he needs to know. We don’t even know who this guy is.”
“I’m here on behalf of your neighbour,” said Dan. “That’s what counts.”
Jen looked back at her boyfriend. They exchanged a look.
Dan had heard enough. He had enough information to verify what they’d said. And the method of making money explained some of their other habits. As for the boyfriend, he was a classic asshole. Being a bad neighbour went with the territory.
“Thanks for your time. I’ll explain what you do to Mr Ronson. It should help a little. But calming the late night noise would help a little too.”
“What?” said the man.
“We’ll see what we can do,” said the girl, quickly.
“Tell the little man to chill out and mind his own business,” said Olly.
Dan ignored the man. His girlfriend smiled as she slowly shut the door
“ASMR?” called Dan, checking he had the acronym right.
“ASMR,” the girl repeated.
“Where can I see what you do?” he said.
She nodded. “YouTube. Just look there.”
“Right,” said Dan. “I will. Have a good night.”
“You too,” said the girl.
As the door closed behind him, Dan heard Mr Bleach utter a few choice words. Dan didn’t care. The feeling was entirely mutual. But now his mind was in overdrive, thinking through what he’d heard, what it mean about the noise, and the implications for the young girl of the street. The Mellot girl. Relaxation videos really didn’t sound too worrying. And they would be verifiable with a spot of checking. Dan considered the couple.. In his head he had already christened them the Bleaches, and he knew which one he preferred. That was a no-brainer. Dan began to suspect any danger posed to the Mellot girl wasn’t might not come from the Bleaches. Lady Bleach had seemed sane and friendly enough, and she would keep her jerk boyfriend in order. If there was any danger at all, Dan had the feeling it was posed by Ronson – whether he knew it or not. Awkward to say the least. Yet another case was turning against them. But where the safety of a little girl was concerned they had to be thorough. As Dan stepped back across the grass to Ronson’s front door, he looked down the curling cul-de-sac. Not far away, in an upstairs window, he saw the girl looking out through the glass. He caught her eye and looked away. The poor girl had enough attention already. It was enough to make anyone paranoid, let alone a school kid. Before Dan could knock on the door, Mark opened it and Dan saw Ronson standing in the living room doorway, apprehension all over his face.
Play With Fire Page 12
