Don’t Cry For Me Aberystwyth (17 page)

‘I’ll keep out of his way.’

‘It’s too late for that, my friend. Too late. He’ll be on his way to get into your way pretty soon, I’d guess. Just as soon as he sifts through the witness statements and finds out they were in your office a few days ago.’

‘Who?’

‘The Moth Brothers.’

My stomach churned again but it had gone ice cold.

‘Or rather the two layabouts formerly known as the Moth Brothers. They were dragged out of the harbour last night. They’d been for a bit of involuntary scuba diving.’

Llunos’s beeper went. He glanced down, grimaced and said, ‘It’s the hospital; I’ve got to go. If I were you I’d make my peace with the bloke who owns this place. He’s the only friend you’ve got now.’

I watched him leave and pondered his parting words. I thought about the Soldiers for Jesus and their vision of Heaven – like Blaenau Ffestiniog. No one wants a God like that. God is Santa Claus for grown-ups, not a misery-guts, not an asshole; we’ve
got enough of those in town already. I didn’t believe; but the guy I didn’t believe in wasn’t like that. He was a warm, smiling chap, overflowing with benevolence; someone you looked up to with the same bafflement and confused wonder and absolute trust that you had for the giants who put you on your potty when you were two. He was a nice guy who would make it all right; who understood; the one guy you never had to explain your screw-ups to. He smelled good, too: of pews and old hassocks, floor polish and musty velvet drapes, of candle wax and mildewed pages. He resided in the tranquillity that can fill even the heart of an unbeliever in old churches, where the eye and the spirit are soothed by the flicker of golden candlelight and the gentle but vivid hues from the stained-glass good guys above the altar. And the great thing about Him was, He was human. You could feel sorry for Him. I knew there could be only one reason why He let us suffer like this: He can’t find a way to stop it. Like a roller-coaster ride that gets too scary, there’s no way off. He set it in motion and now He’s as helpless as the rest of us.

I wandered down to Sospan’s, still dazed and pained by Llunos’s words. Calamity was there and recommended the special.

‘It’s the Paddington Bear,’ said Sospan. ‘A special all-in-one breakfast ice based on the morning ritual of the eponymous bear. Marmalade and cocoa.’

I ordered one.

‘I think now is definitely time to call in the Pinkertons,’ said Calamity.

‘I had a feeling you might say that.’

‘They’d have the resources to deal with something like this – that’s the beauty of a preferred associate relationship.’

‘I’ve got the resources to deal with a Pieman: a pair of shoes.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Pair of shoes. That’s all you need to walk up a flight of stairs and kick a man’s backside.’

‘Are you mad? You can’t just barge in on a Pieman.’

‘Why not?’

‘Didn’t you hear what he said?’

‘Oh, I heard what he said. It’s just I didn’t believe all that much of it.’

‘You don’t believe we’ve got a Pieman?’

‘I believe we’ve got a man across the road who eats pies; I saw him get winched up and I’ve seen the pies. If the act of eating pies makes you a Pieman, then, sure, we’ve got one. I don’t believe he’s a spy or an assassin or a custodian or whatever nonsense that crazy Jew said. It’s just a set-up.’

‘Set-up for what?’

‘I don’t know. I have no idea; but I do know I don’t trust a single word that crazy man says. If he told me he was standing in front of me talking to me I wouldn’t believe him.’

‘Why don’t we just take a look?’

‘The same reason I don’t take a look when someone tells me there’s a ghost in the room: I’m not giving him the satisfaction. Especially as I have a feeling he wants us to go across there for reasons of his own, which will probably get us into trouble if we fall for them.’

‘Boy, it’s a good job the Pinkertons can’t hear you talking like this.’

‘They’d probably agree.’

‘Shows how much you know.’

‘And you know better?’

‘I’ve been reading about it, about their m.o. They wouldn’t just barge in and frighten Hoffmann off. They’re smart.’

‘And I’m not?’

‘I’m not saying that. All I’m saying is they’d never do that.’

‘What would they do?’

‘The first thing they’d do is do nothing. That’s rule number one. Whatever you do, don’t make it worse. Then you consider your options. Maybe case the joint. I was thinking we could buy time by staging an argument in front of the incident board – you
throw a tin of paint at me, and it goes over the board. That way we can take it down without arousing his suspicion.’

‘Why don’t we forget about the Pinkertons for the time being?’

‘After what the girl in Lampeter said? She practically confirmed it. Absalom was trying to find the granddaughter of Etta Place and Sundance. In Aberystwyth! How can you say just forget about it?’

‘Please give it a rest. This isn’t their case, it’s ours; and despite the generous measure of autonomy I give you, I’m still the boss.’

She opened her mouth to protest but saw my expression and thought better of it.

Eeyore turned up a few minutes later and seeing the look of pain on my face, asked, ‘What’s up?’

Calamity, misunderstanding, said, ‘We’ve got a Pieman.’

‘What’s that?’ he said and so she explained.

‘I don’t think I’ve heard of one of those before,’ said Eeyore.

‘That’s because they’re pretty rare,’ said Calamity. ‘We have to proceed with great subtlety; otherwise you can frighten the Pieman off. The best way to handle a Pieman—’

‘The best way is to walk right up there and kick his ass,’ I said.

‘Don’t be crazy!’ said Calamity. ‘Do that and you’ll ruin everything. You’ll spook Hoffmann and then we’ll never find out who . . .’ The words petered out.

‘Who what?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Who what?’

‘Who . . . who Hoffmann is.’

‘I know what you were going to say. You were going to say “Butch Cassidy” or “Sundance” or something.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘You were. I thought I told you not to mention the Pinkertons again, but all I’ve heard from you on this case is Butch Cassidy this and Sundance that.’

‘Louie, that’s not true.’

‘You just couldn’t do it, could you?’ I was still upset about Llunos and the Queen of Denmark. But as so often in life it is someone else who pays the bill. This time Calamity.

‘Louie, I—’

‘You just wouldn’t listen. You had to go on and on. Well, let me tell you something. When you set up your own outfit you can be associate partners with whoever you want, but for the time being it says “Louie Knight” on the door and the only associate partner we’ve got is Captain Morgan. I’m sorry if it cramps your style, but those are the rules and if you don’t like them you can always walk away.’

‘Right,’ said Calamity. She looked at me, mouth clenched tightly, eyes smarting with the beginning of tears. ‘Right, then, I will.’

We watched her walk up the Prom towards the office and Sospan said, ‘Don’t worry, Louie, things will be better around here once he comes.’

I said nothing and then, as the import of his words made an impression, asked ‘Who?’

‘Our redeemer.’

I looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and anger. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘When he comes to redeem us.’

‘Who’s going to do that?

‘Who do you think?’ Sospan shrugged slightly as if to disassociate himself from the words. ‘That’s what people are saying, isn’t it? He who is coming to save us. . . . Hoffmann.’

‘Hoffmann?’

‘It means Hopeman in German, you see. That’s what folk are saying. They’ve worked it out. It’s a message to us. He’s coming.’

‘Hoffmann’s coming?’

‘He’s going to redeem us, Louie. Hopeman. Everything is going to be all right.’

TINKER, TAILOR, Patagonian sailor, ex-Nazi . . . Hoffmann. He’s coming to save the townspeople. Hopeman. A false prophet, cut-price Messiah . . . the man they send when the town clock forgets to tick.

The people who sit on my client’s chair, who are they?

In books the first thing the PI says is ‘I don’t do divorce stuff.’ But that isn’t right. Does the greengrocer say, ‘I don’t do potatoes’?

I’m thinking of changing the name on the door. Pandora Inc. That’s what I’m thinking of calling the place. I’m tired of the Knight Errant nonsense. It gives a false impression. It leads the unwary to believe I might be able to help. Pandora Inc on the frosted glass. That way they’ll know what they’re letting themselves in for. I can find out the truth for you but it won’t set you free.

The people who sit on my client’s chair, why are they there? It’s because everyone wants to run to teacher when things go wrong.

I tell them about two men I once knew. The two men I pity most in all the world. One was Sospan’s friend: a bald chap, a bit on the short side, but he never let that get him down. For a while he was the happiest man alive. Had everything anyone could want, always smiling and waving, the most popular guy in the street; never a care in the world. Then one day it all changed. Cut a tooth and needed to be weaned. They moved him on to solids. Poor guy never recovered. With time you learn to deal with the vicious blows life metes out. But not that one. Ask Sospan, he’ll tell you.

His brothers and sisters didn’t even try to hide their glee at his fall from grace. What? You thought it was going to be like that all along, did you? Welcome to life. First thing you learn, milk isn’t free. You can never really trust anyone after that. You just lie there in the cot trying to work it out. The betrayal. All the time we were doing that ‘never a care in the world’ routine, she must have known. She knew and she never said a word. Wormwood on the nipple. No wonder babies cry so much. And the other guy? Ah, you don’t want to know about him.

We stood stiffly in the early-morning frost, our breath visible like dragon smoke. Above our heads the Pieman’s light burned, a dark orange star; neither of us looked up.

‘Well, I guess this is it,’ Calamity said, the fingers of her small hand, clad in pale-blue fingerless mitts, twitching on the handle of the suitcase. ‘Thanks again for everything.’

‘Nothing to thank me for, it’s . . . it’s been great. I’m sorry you’re going.’

‘I think it’s for the best. I was thinking about the things you said . . . I feel I have to see the Pinkerton thing through; otherwise I might regret it one day.’

She wore a drab military green parka with the hood up; fake grey fur framing her face in a sweet oval.

‘Louie?’

Like a vignette from the old-time photographers who used to be on the Pier.

‘Louie? Are you listening?’

‘Yes. Sorry, I was looking at your hood.’

‘I was saying I could regret it otherwise.’

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t often get a break like this.’

‘No, you don’t. Have you got an office?’

‘I’m using my auntie’s front room in Prospect Street for the time being, until I can find somewhere more permanent.’

‘You don’t want to rush it; the right office makes all the difference.’

‘That’s what I thought. I’ll probably need to talk to the people in LA about it, anyway.’

‘Yes, they’ll have some ideas. What about the anti-glare acetate – do you want to take that?’

‘Don’t you need it?’

‘I’ve managed without for most of my life.’

‘I was thinking it might be smarter to leave it; that way the guy might come back and try and sell me some stuff in the new office. Might be able to get a better look at him this time.’

‘That’s a good idea.’

We stood and stared at each other. Calamity’s fingers still twitched on the suitcase handle. In the sharp early-morning cold her skin glowed and her cheeks were crimson like a carol singer’s in an illustrated Christmas card.

She held out her hand. ‘So long, then.’

We shook.

‘So long. Just call if you need anything.’

She walked off down the street towards the library; flakes of snow fluttered down from the grey dawn. I turned and walked up the stairs to the office, sat down with a sigh, and put my feet on the desk. I pulled open the drawer and took out my associate partner, Captain Morgan.

The phone rang. I picked it up at the wrong end and got the flex tangled round my hand. Fixing it meant using the other hand but that would mean relinquishing my hold on the bottle of rum, which wasn’t a great idea. I leaned forward across the desk and grunted into the phone.

‘Gloria in excelsis Deo!’ said the voice. It was the Queen of Denmark.

‘Not round here, it isn’t.’

‘Oh dear, have I caught you at a bad time?’

‘The odds were in favour of it.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It was statistically inevitable that you would, sooner or later.’