by Mark Timlin
At five to twelve I joined Day in the studio. He ignored me, but not in the way he’d once done. Like my presence made him uncomfortable. It was almost as if he didn’t want me there at all which was fine by me, but not what he kept saying. And at three hundred nicker per week I would have been crazy to walk out and leave the whole mess behind, much as I might want to.
I sat quietly as Day and Stretch ran the show. It was warm in the studio and I kept finding myself nodding off. Eventually I left the room on the pretext of going to the Gents, but I didn’t, and I didn’t go back. Instead I went downstairs for more coffee to wake myself up.
The speakers in the production office were turned down low. I was alone. Just me, a plastic cup of sweet brown liquid and a packet of cigarettes. I sat on the edge of a desk and thought about visiting Sophia after the show.
I was hardly listening when a record ended and John came on air. I think I must have missed the first couple of sentences he spoke. But as his voice registered I came awake, almost dropping my coffee on to my lap. I put down the cup, dropped my half-finished cigarette into it, and ran back to the staircase.
I reached the top and went along to the studio. There was a copper standing outside trying to get in.
‘What’s the matter?’ I demanded.
‘He’s locked the door,’ the uniform said in exasperation. ‘And he’s going crazy in there.’
‘Christ!’ I said, hesitated, then turned and went into the engineer’s booth. Stretch was in there with another copper. They were arguing fiercely. The copper wanted to take the show off the air, Stretch wouldn’t let him. The big black man made the copper look puny by comparison, so it was no contest.
I looked through the glass into the studio. The lights were very dim in there, and I saw Day, his face illuminated by the green glow from the computer screen, hunched over the control panel speaking into the mike. I was trying to listen to what was coming over the speakers and said to Stretch and the policeman: ‘Shut up, the pair of you.’
Miraculously they did.
‘… Why don’t you just stop calling me?’ I heard Peter Day saying in a voice that was close to breaking point. ‘Just leave me alone, you bastard.’
‘That’s not nice, Peter,’ said John. ‘I’ve told you before about calling me names.’
‘Shut up, you murdering little creep,’ said Day. ‘I’ve had about all I’m going to take from you.’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ said John. ‘I’ll tell you when you’ve had enough. Just me, do you understand?’ John sounded calm on the surface, certainly calmer than Day, but I could sense an underlying hysteria, as if he was about to crack.
‘No,’ said Day. ‘No. I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough. And that’s now. Do you hear?’
‘I hear you, Peter. But it makes no difference.’
‘Cut it off,’ said the copper. ‘Pull the plugs.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Don’t do it, Stretch. He’s beginning to break.’
‘They both are,’ said Stretch.
‘I know. That’s a chance we’ve got to take. This thing has got to stop, and maybe this is the only way.’
‘No. Cut them off,’ said the copper.
‘Your guv’nor won’t thank me if you do,’ I said.
‘And he won’t thank me if that mad fucker starts slaughtering people willy-nilly because some arse-hole DJ can’t control himself. And I was here, and did nothing about it.’
I looked at Stretch, and he looked back at me, but the decision was taken out of our hands.
‘I warned you before that the best is yet to come,’ said John. ‘And what I said was true.’ And he cut himself off.
The electronically reproduced words hung in the air like smoke. He’d said them with such chill certainty that I knew he meant every one of them.
I looked through the glass and saw Day pull the faders down, cutting the station off the air.
He put his head in his hands and I wondered just what the hell he’d done.
29
‘What happened?’ I demanded. The switchboard was lighting up like a Christmas tree, and Stretch switched it off and put a record out on air before he answered.
‘Peter freaked out.’
‘I gathered that from listening to him. Why? I mean, was there anything in particular?’
‘No. The loony came on. I switched him through, same as usual. Peter had locked the door and then just turned on him.’
I looked through the glass partition again. Day was sitting slumped in his seat. ‘Talk to him, Stretch,’ I said. ‘Get him to open the door.’
‘I’ll try,’ he said. ‘Wish me luck.’
He touched the toggle that worked the mike into the studio, and said. ‘Peter, are you OK?’
Day didn’t move. Or speak.
Stretch repeated the question.
Still no answer from the dim interior of the other room.
Stretch looked at me and I said, ‘Let me have a go.’
He made an ‘It’s all yours’ gesture at the mike.
I flicked down the toggle and said, ‘Peter, it’s Nick. Why don’t you open up and let me in?’
I saw Day’s head move in my direction, and he nodded.
The record ended and Stretch cued another. I left the booth and walked down the short length of corridor to the door of the studio.
I heard the click of the lock as I arrived and the door swung open slightly.
I pushed it further and went inside. Day was standing by the console. His face was in shadow.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
He didn’t reply.
‘Peter?’
‘Christ! I blew it, didn’t I?’ he said wearily.
‘Don’t say that. You’ve been under incredible pressure the last few days. I’m surprised you’ve managed as well as you have.’
‘Thank you so much.’
Obviously I was taking the wrong track. Mind you, as far as he was concerned, probably any track would be the wrong one at that precise moment.
‘Do you want to go home?’
He nodded.
‘Can I give you a lift?’
‘I’ll get a cab.’
‘Please yourself.’
‘I will. From now on, I will.’
‘I’ll be going then,’ I said.
He didn’t reply, so I left him and went back to find Stretch. He was in his booth. Everything was switched off, but I could hear music from the speakers.
‘What about the show?’ I asked.
‘Tim’s doing it from the other studio. How’s Peter?’
‘Rough. He’s had it. I doubt if he’ll be talking to John again.’
‘What’s he doing?’
‘He’s going to get a cab home. Looks like it’s all over.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’m going to split too.’
‘Well, I’ll see you around,’ he said, and put out his hand. I shook it.
‘It’s been interesting.’
‘You can say that again.’
But I didn’t. I just walked downstairs, out the back, got into my car, drove to Sophia’s flat and let myself in with the keys she had given me.
She was sitting in the kitchen when I arrived, dressed in jeans and a man’s denim shirt. The radio was on, tuned to Sunset.
She stood up as I walked in the door.
‘Nick,’ she said, ‘what happened?’
‘Did you hear the show?’
‘Yes. It was awful. I tried to phone, but there was no answer on any of the lines. If you hadn’t arrived I would have driven over. Where’s Peter? How is he?’
I answered the latter question first. ‘Bad,’ I said. ‘He went home in a cab. He doesn’t seem to want me around any more.’
‘Sho
uld I call him? Should I go over?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think he wants any company right now. He thinks he blew it.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think that if he hadn’t let go, he would have gone crazy.’
‘Do you think I should call him?’
‘Why not?’
‘Pour yourself some coffee, I won’t be long.’ She came up and kissed me lightly, then left the room.
I did as she said, poured a cup of coffee, added milk and sugar, and sat down in the chair she had vacated. It was still warm. I felt as tired as I’d ever done in my life. Tired and old and sick of the things that people were capable of doing to each other.
From another room I heard her talking. She was gone for as long as it took for me to finish my drink. When she returned there was a troubled look in her beautiful eyes.
‘You were right. He is bad. I said I’d go and see him, but he doesn’t want to see anyone.’
‘I told you.’
‘He sent his apologies to you. He said he was very rude, and he’s sorry. He’ll call you soon.’
‘He knows I’m here?’
‘I told him. I’m not ashamed of your being here.’
‘I’m very pleased to hear it. Coffee?’
She nodded, and I poured out two cups and handed her one. We both sat at the kitchen table opposite each other.
‘Is this the end, do you think?’ she asked.
‘The end for Peter talking to The Midnight Crawler, that’s for sure. When Harper hears what went down tonight, he won’t be pleased.’
‘Do you think the killing will stop?’
‘Because of Peter? I doubt it. If anything, it might get worse.’
She paled, and I reached over and placed my hand over hers. Her skin was very cold.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘Believe me, it won’t help.’
She tried to smile with little success. ‘What do you want to do?’ she asked.
‘Go to bed with you,’ I replied. ‘And try to forget about all this crap.’
She looked over at me, and smiled again. This time a bit more enthusiastically.
‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘I’ll race you for the duvet.’
We got up, linked arms, and went into the bedroom. The bedside lamp glowed in one corner and the sheets were turned down. I pulled her close and kissed her, feeling the curves of her body through the shirt. I closed my eyes and rested my head against hers. Although I was trying to forget, I could still hear John’s voice going through my head.
She began undoing my shirt, and we moved over to the bed and collapsed on it. As she undressed me, I did the same to her.
She was wearing white underwear, and by coincidence so was I, but anything further from a pair of virgins I couldn’t imagine.
She squirmed all over me, her hands at first freezing on my body, then gradually getting warmer. I undid her bra, and allowed her breasts freedom, and watched as the nipples puckered when exposed to the air. Then I pulled her panties down, and stroked the smoothness of the skin of her buttocks and slid my fingers into the warmth between her legs.
We kissed for what seemed like hours until neither of us could stand it, and we joined together. And only then was I able to dismiss John’s voice from my mind.
She woke me at seven-thirty.
‘Good morning,’ she said, and handed me a cup of coffee. She was naked.
I looked at the clock next to the bed. ‘God, but you’re an early bird,’ I said.
‘Some of us have got to work.’
And it all came flooding back and I groaned.
She slid back beneath the sheets and nearly lost the cup as she started to kiss me.
‘I thought you were going to work,’ I said.
‘This is work,’ came her muffled voice from under the covers. ‘Shall I stop?’
I put down the coffee and pulled her up next to me.
‘I think you’d better,’ I said. ‘Or else productivity is going to hit an all time low.’
‘I’d say you were producing something very nice, very well.’
‘Stop it,’ I said.
She pulled a mock solemn face and said, ‘Quite right, Nick. I’m glad you’re the kind of man who takes my job seriously. Now I’d better get dressed.’
‘Can I watch?’
‘You’ve got eyes, haven’t you?’
She hopped out of bed and began to dress. She put on a tiny black bra and matching pants, black tights, a black blouse, a dark blue suit with a very short skirt, and black, heeled shoes. As she was finishing her make-up in the mirror, I said, ‘Doing anything tonight?’
‘Going out with a dishy bloke.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He’s a private detective, very macho.’
‘A real stud.’
‘In his youth, I think he probably was. He’s a bit past it now.’
I threw a pillow at her.
She was ready by eight-fifteen, pulled on her black coat, checked her handbag and came over and kissed me again.
‘You can let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s food in the fridge and yesterday’s loaf in the bread bin. Call me at the office later. But not too much later.’
I wanted to say ‘I love you’ as she went, but I restrained myself. Instead I just said, ‘Take care.’ And with a swirl from the skirts of her coat she was gone.
30
I got up about fifteen minutes later, pulled the bed-clothes straight, and went to the bathroom. When I was finished, I got half dressed and wandered into the kitchen. There I found enough warm coffee to make another cup, which I heated up and drank with a couple of slices of toast and marmalade. I washed up the few dishes, dried them, and put them away. Then I went and finished getting dressed, got my keys and split.
As I opened the front door, I met the postman on the step. He handed me half a dozen letters. Two were for Sophia. I separated hers from the rest, and put them on a small table in the hall that was obviously there for that purpose.
On the way back home I stopped off at Sheila Cochran’s place. She was just getting ready to take King out for his morning constitutional. She looked years younger and smiled easily. She told me that Chas was becoming a regular caller, and blushed as she said it. King was all over the shop whilst we talked, banging around our legs for attention and obviously as much in love with his new mistress as she was with him.
I left them with a promise to call again soon, and continued my drive home. I was in the house by ten-thirty, had a shower and shave, changed into an old pair of jeans and a soft tartan work shirt and gave the place a lick and a promise to keep the dust and clutter at bay.
I wasn’t feeling ecstatic, mainly because of Peter Day’s behaviour the night before, but I was feeling pretty good, all things considered, mainly because of Sophia. When I picked up the phone to call her at midday all that changed, and I don’t think I’ve felt pretty good since.
I got through to the switchboard and asked for her by name. The operator said that she didn’t think she was in yet, and I got the first feeling in my stomach of something being wrong. I asked to be put through to Tony Hillerman and tapped my fingers on the table where I kept the phone as I waited to be connected.
Eventually he answered. He sounded harassed and short-tempered.
‘Hello, Tony,’ I said. ‘Nick Sharman. How are you?’
‘Busy,’ he replied.
‘Is Sophia there?’
‘No, she bloody well isn’t! She hasn’t come in yet today. Christ knows where she is.’
‘But you were expecting her, weren’t you?’ The feeling of wrongness increased.
>
‘Of course I was. There’s a mountain of stuff here to be dealt with. And with what happened last night, I’m up to my ears. How could you let Peter Day do that?’
‘I’m not his keeper. I was hired to sort out Sector 88, which is exactly what I did do.’
‘I know, I know, I’m sorry,’ said Hillerman. ‘And I haven’t had a chance to thank you properly.’
Properly? He hadn’t thanked me at all.
‘Forget that,’ I said. ‘I was paid to do the job. I don’t need any thanks for doing it. Just tell me where Sophia is.’
‘I’ve told you already, I don’t know. She’s probably gone off shopping or something and forgotten the time.’ The bad feeling was getting worse all the time, and I gripped the phone hard until the plastic cut into the skin on the palms of my hand.
‘Has she ever done it before?’ I asked, amazed that my voice sounded so calm in my ears.
‘Well, no, but…’
‘And she didn’t do it this morning.’
‘How the hell do you know?’
‘Because I was with her when she left for work. She didn’t say anything about shopping or anything else.’
‘You were what?’
‘You heard. I was at her flat when she left for work, and only for work.’ I was suddenly realising what was happening, and the pain in my guts was almost unbearable. ‘Listen,’ I went on, interrupting whatever he was saying, ‘I’m going round to her place to check she hasn’t gone home, then I’m coming to Sunset. I want to see you the minute I get there.’
‘How will you get into her house?’
‘I’ve got keys. I’ll be with you soon. Maybe she did change her mind and go off somewhere. I hope so. But if she didn’t I want the police in on this immediately. You’d better try and get hold of your friend Harper.’
‘He’s not being very friendly after last night.’
‘Just get him,’ I said, slammed the phone down, and left on the run.
I drove to Clapham fast and entered the house before twelve-thirty. Sophia’s letters were still on the table. I took them up to the flat. It was just as I had left it. I tossed the mail on the kitchen table and went through each room just to make sure she wasn’t there. I went outside and checked the street, and those nearby. I found her car parked around the corner. The bonnet was stone cold. As soon as I saw it sitting there, I knew, I positively knew, that something very bad had happened. Part of my mind tried to tell me that it wouldn’t start, and that she’d taken a cab or a bus somewhere. But I knew that if it hadn’t started, she would have simply come back and bullied me into giving her a lift to work.
