by Ian Edwards
‘Bacardi and coke, please. Lots of ice,’ she smiled at him again, taking her jacket off and placing it on the seat next to Alan’s. Frankie’s grin widened, as Alan frowned and made his way to the bar.
Sarah shivered slightly. This corner of the pub seemed to be a few degrees colder than everywhere else, which was odd as it was the closest to the fire. She rubbed her hands on her shoulders for a moment then picked up the two sheets of paper Alan had left on the table. These, she knew, were the jokes Alan had written for some of her acts, and were the main reason for the meeting, although she had to admit it was nice to get some time with Alan alone, without his annoying girlfriend. Sarah didn’t dislike Rosie, it was just she didn’t understand what Alan saw in her. Rosie seemed too controlling. It was no wonder that Alan was spending more and more time on the road. Putting thoughts of Rosie to the back of her mind, Sarah began to look through the jokes, smiling and giggling to herself as Alan came back from the bar with their drinks.
‘Some of these are quite amusing,’ Sarah told him.
‘That’s what I was aiming for,’ Alan replied, his smile letting her know he wasn’t offended.
‘I really appreciate you doing this, Alan. I know you’ve really helped Harry out, and I’m hoping you can do the same to some of my other clients.’
‘I note, with a certain cynicism you call them clients, rather than comedians,’ Alan smiled again, taking a sip from his pint.
‘I love a bit of foreplay,’ Frankie grinned and winked at him.
‘I see you’ve got a joke here for Tony, but he is quite adamant he writes his own material. Though he told me to thank you for the offer. If you’re OK with it, I think it would suit a new client of mine. I met up with him yesterday, he does one liners, though I’ve heard most of them before.’
‘No problem. Do I know him?’
‘I don’t know. Dan Reeves?’ Alan shook his head. ‘He’s not been long on the circuit and I think he would jump at the chance of working with someone with your talent,’ Sarah smiled at him again.
‘You’re very kind. To be honest, I need to get into the writing side of things as I’m hoping to get a redundancy package. I’ll need all the money I can get.’
‘Redundancy? What does Rosie think about that?’ Sarah asked.
‘Well, I sort of, I haven’t told her yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s a big fat coward,’ Frankie interjected.
Ignoring the heckling ghost, Alan replied, ‘I haven’t had the time. I pretty much came here straight from work.’
‘Coward!’ Frankie said, and made unsubtle chicken noises at him.
‘Is it me, or is it cold in here?’ Sarah asked.
‘It is a bit, which is surprising considering the amount of hot air being blown about the place,’ he gave Frankie a hard stare.
‘I don’t think the fire’s working properly,’ Sarah replied, noting Alan’s strange look at the empty chair opposite her. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘I have a couple of new clients, sorry, acts, which could do with some help. Giles doesn’t like them, sadly, but I think they’re worth a shot.’
‘Giles doesn’t like a fellow comedian shock,’ Alan said, rather uncharitably.
‘I know he can be a bit of a big head…’
‘…that’s an understatement…’
‘…but he’s a nice guy really. When you get to know him.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ Alan took a sip of his beer in the hope that Sarah wouldn’t notice his frown.
‘Oh he really is,’ Sarah gushed. ‘He thinks very highly of you.’
‘Oh, I doubt that.’ Alan was prevented from any further discussion by James’ presence at the table. ‘Hello, mate, can I get you a beer?’ Alan asked.
‘No don’t worry, I’ll get it. Hi Sarah. I hope you don’t mind me tagging along. Are you OK for drinks?’ Alan and Sarah nodded that they were and James wandered over to the bar.
‘Sorry about this, Sarah,’ Alan said. ‘Only James has been going through a bit of a bad time recently, so I told him to meet us here. I hope that’s OK?’
‘Of course,’ Sarah replied, although it wasn’t. Even when Rosie wasn’t around, Sarah still had James to contend with. It was almost as though something was preventing her from spending time alone with Alan. On the rare occasions they had had time alone together, like yesterday, Sarah still felt as though someone was watching over them.
‘Bit chilly in here tonight,’ James said as he returned from the bar. Alan nodded to one of the spare seats and James, understanding, moved around the table to sit on the other chair.
‘I’ll have to set up a meeting with my clients, sorry, I must stop saying that. My acts, so that you can meet them all,’ Sarah folded the sheets of paper and placed them in her bag. ‘We also need to sit down alone at some stage to talk about where you go next.’
‘I can see him as a Red Coat at a holiday camp,’ Frankie added for Alan’s benefit.
‘That makes sense. Especially if I get my redundancy.’
‘Mate, are they laying you off?’ James asked. ‘Not before time.’
‘It’s not certain yet, but I’ve basically asked to go.’
‘Bloody hell. What did Rosie say when you told her?’
‘I haven’t told her yet.’
‘Wise move,’ James replied as Frankie once again made childish chicken noises.
‘So, how are you holding up?’ Alan asked.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.’
‘What’s the matter, James?’ Sarah asked, and offered her sympathy as James told his story.
‘I just don’t know why she would have run off. I…hang on,’ James reached in to his pocket and took out his phone, pressing the green answer icon as he did so. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello is this James Cook?’
‘Speaking.’
‘Hello James, its Cornelius here. You came to see me yesterday regarding your wife.’
‘Have you any news? Where is she?’
‘Well, I’ve done some digging around and have come up with a couple of leads.’
‘Leeds? What’s she doing in Leeds?’
‘She’s not in Leeds, but I do have some information.’
‘Where is she then?’
‘Well, I’d rather not discuss this on the phone. Is there any chance you and Rosie could come and see me tomorrow morning?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Well I will, I’m not sure about Rosie, though. I’ll ask her.’
‘Yes, please do that,’ Cornelius said and hung up the phone.
James tapped the End Call icon on his phone and took a deep breath. ‘That was the PI bloke. He has some information about Amy.’
‘Well that’s a start. What did he say about Rosie, though?’ Alan asked.
‘He wants the pair of us to see him tomorrow to go through what he’s found.’
‘Yes, but why Rosie?’
‘Mate, I think he has a crush on her.’
‘Really? I guess that makes sense. He’s not allowed to laugh, is he?’ Alan grinned and explained the eccentric PI’s affliction to Sarah.
‘Geliophobia? That’s a new one on me,’ she said.
‘I hear it’s why Giles’ routines are so bad. He’s terrified of people laughing at him.’
‘Alan! That’s not fair. Giles is a very funny man…’
‘You can say that again…’ Alan replied, his words meaning the complete opposite. ‘Sorry, Sarah,’ he said at last. ‘I was only mucking about. Now, who wants a drink?’ he asked.
‘Make mine a spirit,’ Frankie chuckled.
Alan sighed and made his way to the bar.
Chapter 28 – Tuesday.
James knocked several times on the brown door, thrust his hands into his pockets and waited patiently for it to open. Within seconds the door opened and James was face to face with an untidy looking Cornelius Puddiphat.
‘Mr Puddiphat,’ James said.
‘Good morning
Mr Cook,’ Puddiphat looked hopefully over James’s shoulder, ‘the delightful Miss Talbot not with you?’
James instinctively looked either side of him. ’No she’s at work, I’m here on my own.’
Puddiphat sighed. ‘Oh well, I suppose you’ll have to do. It is you I need to speak to.’
‘She lets me go out on my own,’ James said, following Puddiphat up the stairs. ‘Providing I get a grown up to help me cross the road.’
Puddiphat showed no evidence of having understood James’ sarcasm as he opened the door to his office. James noticed that Puddiphat had made an effort to tidy up since his previous visit forty eight hours earlier. Where previously the desk had been awash with piles of paper and brown files, it was now empty save for one solitary file, which James assumed was filled with Amy’s case notes.
James also noticed a certificate on the wall authorising Cornelius Puddiphat to practise as a private detective and a framed Thought for the Day on behalf of the Gelio society which said; ‘Every peel of laughter kills an angel.’
‘Have you found Amy?’ James asked Puddiphat as he sat behind his desk.
Puddiphat opened the file and angled it towards his chest so that James could not see the contents. He didn’t really think that James would be able to grasp the sensitive nature of his conclusion. He was also disappointed that Rosie hadn’t been able to join them, especially after he had made the effort to clean his office.
‘I think I should explain what I have learnt,’ Puddiphat said.
James did not like the sound of this at all. He was expecting a simple set of instructions and a postcode to put in to his satnav.
‘Go on,’ he said simply.
‘Would you like some coffee before I start?’ Puddiphat offered.
‘Just get on with it,’ James snapped before adding, ‘please.’
Puddiphat looked up from his notes. ‘You have three mini-cab offices within a mile radius of your house. Did you know that?’ He asked.
James shook his head, ‘No.’
‘Yesterday I visited all three of them. Two were dead ends, but the third “Easy Taxi” proved to be very helpful.’
James nodded, ‘Excellent. How?’
‘I showed them the picture of Mrs Cook, and one of the drivers remembered her coming into the office early Saturday morning.’ Puddiphat looked down at his notes, ‘at about 7.30am. He remembered her because …’
‘She was crying?’ James interrupted.
‘No, the gentleman I spoke to said she was hot.’
James nodded. ‘Fair enough.’
‘Anyway,’ Puddiphat said, gathering his thoughts, ‘one of the drivers remembered taking her to Victoria Coach Station.’
James nodded thoughtfully. ‘Do you know where she went after that?’
Puddiphat leaned back in his chair. ‘Well obviously I went straight there. To be honest I wasn’t hopeful, Victoria Coach Station handles thousands of travellers every single day, but I asked around the ticket office and rather incredibly someone recognised her.’
James gripped the armrests of his seat. ‘Do you know where she is?’
Puddiphat pursed his lips. ‘Not exactly, and to be honest this is where it all gets a bit sensitive.’
‘What do you mean?’ James asked.
‘Well, as I said, thousands of people go through the coach station each day, so the chances of one person being remembered are fairly slim. However, she was overheard making a telephone call on a payphone by a coach driver. It was the content of that telephone call which stuck in the driver’s mind.’
‘Why?’ James frowned.
Puddiphat again referred to his notes. ‘She was overheard asking for fanny.’
He watched as James opened his mouth to say something, but when nothing was forthcoming, he continued. ‘She was on the phone for a couple of minutes, during which time she was heard saying that ‘she needed fanny,’ and ‘wanted fanny,’ and at one point said, ‘I’m coming up for fanny.’
‘Oh,’ James said, fidgeting in his chair to get comfortable.
‘Now Mr Cook, I appreciate that this is a sensitive matter, but did you have any idea that your wife is gay?’
‘No, of course not,’ James protested. ‘Are you sure that’s what all this means?’
Puddiphat sighed. ‘The evidence would appear to support this conclusion.’
‘Does it?’ James queried, and shifted in his chair again.
‘The drinking, the mood changes, the secrecy, and now the overheard telephone conversation. It seems like an obvious conclusion to make.’
‘Do you know where she went?’ James asked, ‘After the coach station?’
‘Well, as luck would have it, our coach driver witness was also driving Amy’s coach. He said she got off the coach at a town called Limpend.’
James sniggered involuntarily. It sounded like something from a Carry On film. ‘So all I have to do is go to Limpend and see if I can find her,’ he said.
‘If she wants to be found, yes,’ Puddiphat pointed out.
James nodded. ‘Yes there is that I suppose.’
‘If it’s any consolation, Mrs Cook is not the first person to have undergone such a life style change. I suggest that you go home and sleep on it, then let me know if there’s anything else you need me to do.’
‘I think I’ll find sleeping very difficult,’ James said mournfully, and again shifted in his seat to get comfortable.
*
James sat in his car trying to get his head round this new information. His first thought was to drive straight to Limpend and look for Amy, but Puddiphat was right, there was lots to think about before he did that. He reached for his mobile phone and thumbed out a very brief message which he then sent to Alan;
NEWS ABOUT AMY. EGM 6.30 tonight Cloven Hoof.
Alan sat in the passenger seat as Rosie drove through the residential roads heading towards the Cloven Hoof. He knew he shouldn’t have told her why he was meeting James. He should have just said they were going for a drink, but he had to open his mouth and put his foot in it. Within seconds of receiving the text message from James, Alan had sent a message to Rosie explaining that James had some information about Amy and he was meeting him that evening. She had called him within minutes telling him that she was coming too.
‘Are you sure?’ Alan had asked. ‘The Cloven Hoof is horrible, dirty, damp and the toilets are so nasty you have to wipe your feet before you leave.’
‘Amy’s my friend and I’m very worried about her. I think I can put up with a bit of squalor for an hour or so.’
He had avoided explaining to her about the EGM, about how it was a special code he and James used, and any request for an EGM was only sent in extreme situations, and was never, ever declined. They had used it when Alan realised he was being haunted by Frankie, and on other important occasions such as the time James was stumped by a question on ‘A Question Of Sport’ and refused to look up the answer on Google as he felt that would be cheating. Rosie would simply not understand how the EGM worked and would probably use it when she wanted an opinion on shoes or something equally as trivial.
‘It’s down there,’ Alan said, gesturing to the left as they approached a junction.
Rosie ignored him and drove past the turning. ‘There’s no parking round here, I’m going to the multi-storey,’ she explained.
‘Don’t worry about that, the Hoof has a car park.’
Rosie pulled a face. ‘Does it?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, it’s by the bins. The landlord will move them out the way if you ask nicely.’
‘I think I can give the valet parking service a miss if it’s all the same to you.’
Alan sighed. ‘Fair enough, but it means a ten minute walk to the pub.’
Rosie shook her head and drove into the car park.
*
Rosie pulled on the Cloven Hoof’s door. ‘It’s stuck,’ she said turning to Alan.
‘Kick it down the bottom as you pull it,’ Alan to
ld her, and then watched as she pulled on the door while planting a firm kick at its base. Miraculously the door opened and she stepped in.
Rosie stood in the doorway and looked around.
‘Welcome to the Cloven Hoof,’ Alan whispered in her ear.
‘It’s …’ Rosie paused looking for an appropriate use of words. ‘Horrible, it’s really awful.’
‘I told you you wouldn’t like it,’ Alan laughed.
‘I’ll go and see James,’ he said gesturing to where James was standing at the bar. You grab us a table before it gets busy.’
Rosie looked around the completely empty bar and headed for a table in the corner.
‘Sorry mate, Rosie’s with me,’ Alan said to James as he joined him at the bar. ‘She said that if you had any new developments she had just as much right as I did to hear them.’
James grinned at his friend. ‘She’s going to hate it in here.’
‘I told her that, but you know what she’s like.’
‘Excuse me,’ Rosie called out from across the bar.
Alan and James turned towards her.
‘Can you bring over some towels? All these chairs are damp,’ she frowned, looking suspiciously at the threadbare chairs.
The barman passed Alan a roll of paper towels. ‘Here, take this.’
Leaving James to bring the drinks over, Alan took the towels over to the rectangular table where Rosie was standing, her nose scrunched tightly in a look of horror.
‘All the chairs round this table and that one,’ she pointed at another table, ’are wet. We can’t sit here.’
Alan put the palm of his hand on the worn fabric upholstery. ‘Seems OK to me. It’s a bit clammy but not really wet.’
‘It’s soaking,’ Rosie complained.
‘Probably just some spilt beer. Nothing to worry about,’ Alan said as he sat down.
‘Could be a bit of wee,’ James added as he joined them, placing two bottles of beer and an orange juice down on the table. ‘Some of the regulars don’t always get to the toilets in time.’
Rosie mumbled something about needing vaccinations as she laid a bundle of paper towels on the chair before sitting down.
