Dr. Yes (27 page)

    It
was still bucketing down when he finished his practice. He must have cracked
off two hundred balls, and there wasn't a hair out of place. When he emerged
from the covered area, the rain seemed to avoid him. His cream trousers
remained pristine. He smiled at the man, and his tip appeared big enough to
ensure a wide grin and a grovel in return. I was a hundred metres away, parked
up in the van, lights off, watching through binoculars. Dr Yeschenkov wasn't
quite so calm and collected when he saw that someone had scratched
Tosser
into his passenger-side door. And
Knob
into the driver's door.

    My
nail for the scratching of cars with personalised number plates hadn't had an
outing for months.

    It
felt good to be back.

    I
wasn't unduly worried when I couldn't raise Alison. I was more concerned for my
own well-being. I had followed Dr Yeschenkov home to his mansion high up in the
Craigantlet Hills. He disappeared behind security gates and a high wall,
leaving me on a lonely country road, alone but for ten billion insects. It was
close to midnight, the lights of Belfast were twinkling below and there was a
half-moon above, providing just enough light for me to mistake trees for
monsters and hedges for ghastly spice sucking
Dune-
worms. If he had
lived in town I would have thought nothing of donning the night-vision glasses
and slipping over his wall to stand staring in at his windows; God knows I did
it most nights around the city anyway. But this was different; he had dogs that
barked, and I am allergic to dogs, and cats, and hamsters, and wheat, and
gravel, and daffodils. I could not physically bring myself to get out of the
car for fear of the Bogey Man. Mother had instilled in me a lifelong dread of
the BM. Once, when I was very young, and Father was away on business, the BM
had climbed into bed beside me and tried to remove my pyjamas. He had smelled
of Old Spice. When I protested he had apologised and gone to look for Mother's
room. She told me over breakfast that she had wrestled with him all night, and
ultimately triumphed. I now suspect that she was lying, but that did not negate
my fear of the Bogey Man, who contributed still to my lack of sleep. Out here,
in the wilds, he did not have to be a Bogey Man; he could be a Bogey Cow or a
Bogey Goat. It was Bogey Land, and I was uncomfortable. Also, night pollen.

    I
tried calling Alison, but it went to her answer machine. Jeff picked up but
said he couldn't talk. I went home. I called Alison again, but nothing. I took
my medication and went to bed. Obviously I did not sleep, but went jogging in
the Land of Nod, and opened my eyes again at six, exhausted. There was still no
message from Alison. I presumed she was being both dozy and dizzy. I drove to
work. There were three messages, all from the Sunny D. Mother had locked herself
in the toilets. Then she had emerged from the toilets and taken refuge in an
airing cupboard. Finally she had broken down in tears and confessed to being a
Communist. Could I
please
come and pick her up?

    I
wiped the messages and took up position. At nine fifteen the shop door opened
and Rolo came in. He was wearing jeans and a denim jacket. They didn't match.
He had
The Godwulf Manuscript
in his hand. He placed it face down on the
counter. He tapped the back of it and said:

    'I
want another.'

    I
smiled.

    'My
wife couldn't believe it. She'd never seen me even pick up a book, let alone
read it straight through, one sitting. I was up till all hours. It was just . .
. that Spenser, man, he's good. Is he in all the others?'

    'Not
all.'

    'Oh.'

    'Just
thirty-five of them.'

    'Really
. . . ? That's . . . fuckin' brilliant! Are they all as good as this?'

    'Some
are better.'

    'I
want them all, I really want them all.'

    'And you
can get them all, but not all at once. Maybe one a week.'

    'I
don't think I can wait that long.'

    'If
you want to find another dealer, that's fine, but I can only let you have one a
week. I've had too many clients who tried too many too soon, and it burned them
out. One a week, max. The
Godwulf
was a gift from me, an introductory
offer, but I don't give credit. So don't ask. I have
Looking for Rachel
Wallace
here, you want?'

    'You
know I do!'

    'It's
an American edition, he's never really taken off over here; it's expensive. But
I can do you a deal.'

    'Fine,
mate, absolutely fine. Gimme.'

    'Not
so fast, Rolo. Gimme the skinny.'

    'The
what?'

    'Who
wanted me warned off, who wanted me beaten up?'

    'I did
my best, honest to God, but he didn't know.'

    'Your
agent? How could he not know?'

    'It
was done by phone; cash arrived in an envelope.'

    'That's
convenient.'

    'I
swear. Look at my knuckles. See, they're skinned? I don't normally do the bashin',
but this time me mate held him down and I beat the livin' daylights out of him,
and that's the best I got. He's telling the truth.'

    'You're
sure?'

    I'm
certain. He swallowed three of his own teeth.'

    I
hesitated. I drummed my fingers on the counter. Then I turned to the shelves
behind me and pulled out
Looking for Rachel Wallace.
I set it down and
said, 'That's a fiver.'

    He
handed it over before I could draw breath. I gave him the book. He was
delighted.

    'Thank
you so much,' he said. 'I can't wait . . .'

    'Take
your time. Savour it.'

    He
nodded. He looked up at me, and then around the shelves. 'These are all . . .
like this?'

    'Rolo,
you have no idea what's waiting for you. It will rock your world.'

    'Do
you think . . .' He hesitated. He even looked quite bashful. 'I don't like to .
. . like . . .'

    'Just
ask, Rolo.'

    'Do
you think you could ... y'know ... show me ... or guide me ... just I never ...
went to school much ... This is just like ... being blind ... and then suddenly
you can see, but there's too many colours

    'You're
dazzled.'

    'Yeah.
God, like, imagine . . . you get to work in somewhere like this all day.'

    'It's
my dream job.'

    'I
never had a proper job. Just doing
stuff.
Thieving and beating and
threatening. I thought that was all there was, but there's more, so much more.
Now I get to read about thieving and beating and threatening, it's so much more
satisfying.'

    'Any
time you want to come and look through the books, Rolo, you just come ahead.'

    'Really?'

    'You
want to read a few pages, I'll make you a cup of coffee and you sit there at
the back, put your feet up and enjoy. More than a few pages, you're going to
have to pay, you understand?'

    'Yes,
of course

    'Odd
time, you want to help me shift some boxes, do some rearranging, maybe you
could lend a hand.'

    'Love
to!'

    'Can't
pay you anything

    'Man,
I would pay you, place like this, all these books.'

    'Well,'
I said.

    The
door opened and Jeff came in. He looked Rolo up and down, clocked the beatific
look on his face and mine, and said, 'All right?'

    'We're
fine, yes,' I said.

    He
took his jacket off, hung it up, then joined me behind the counter.

    'You
work here?' Rolo asked.

    I snorted.

    Jeff
said, 'Clearly. Do you want me to take for that?' He indicated Rolo's book.

    'I
got it already,' I said.

    Rolo
smiled. He held the book up. 'Can't wait,' he said. 'I'll be back.'

    'Leave
it for a week, Rolo, you'll appreciate it in the long run.'

    'Sure
thing. And, uh, you want a hand shifting those books, you know where I am.'

    He
gave me the thumbs-up. His gaze lingered on Jeff for a moment. Then he left.
Jeff watched him closely as he passed in front of the window.

    'You
see, Jeff,' I said, 'no one is indispensable.'

    It's
good to keep the staff on their toes, even though I did not, in fact, know how
to contact Rolo.

    Jeff
was staring at me. I said,
'What?'

    'I've
spent most of the night standing soaked on the river bank letting damp men feel
my arse just so I could ask them questions about your shitty case, and you pull
that on me?'

    He
was quite serious. I said, 'Would you ever wise up? I was only raking you.'

    'Who
is he?' 'Rolo? He's my latest project. Did you ever see
Pygmalion?'

    'No.'

    'Did
you ever see
My Fair Lady?'

    'No.'

    
'Educating
Rita
?'

    'No.'

    'Ever
heard of Henry Higgins?'

    'No.'

    'Eliza
Dolittle?'

    'No.'

    'Okay.
Let me explain. He'd never read a book until last night. Now I'm going to turn
him into a crime- fiction aficionado, and I'm going to do it in six weeks.'

    'Why
six weeks?'

    'Because
I have a short attention span. But never mind him; how did it go? Was it
awful?'

    'Yes,
it was. So I don't need this shit.'

    'Hey,
relax. C'mon. Spill them, spill them beans. Did you have to kiss a few frogs
before you found a stool pigeon?'

    'It
isn't funny. There were hundreds of them! Their hands were everywhere!'

    'It's
a little bit funny,' I said.

    The
tiniest smile appeared. 'No it
wasn't...
Next time, screw your moss
allergy,
you're
going ...' He sighed. 'The short answer is, and bearing
in mind the whole point of them going down there in the dark
is
the
anonymity thing, both Buddy Wailer and Liam Benson stood out sufficiently for
several of them to say they were regulars. But nobody admitted hooking up with
them or recalled seeing them with anyone else or on the night Liam died.'

    'So
either they're a couple who fancied a bit of strange or they're using the
cruising spot as cover for clandestine meetings.'

    'That's
about it. So?'

    'So?'

    Jeff
cupped his hand to his ear. 'Do I hear anything?'

    'Do
you . . . ? Oh. Well. Cheers. Much appreciated.'

    'Huh,'
he said.

    'You
weren't, you know . . . tempted?'

    'No.'

    'Not
even a wee bit?'

    'No.'

    'Is
that a love bite . . . ?'

    His
hand shot to his neck. 'Where?'

    We
were enjoying Starbucks in the shop. We were talking about a newly delivered
box of books. Amongst the highlights were a repackaged Chandler collection and
a children's book by Patricia Cornwell called
Slice & Dice.
Jeff was
talking his usual crap, eulogising
The Wire,
but every once in a while
he would break off, and he would look perplexed for a bit and kind of far away,
and then he would shake himself and pick up where he'd left off.

    Jeff
had done a brave thing, putting himself out there, and I would probably never
know what part of his soul he had sacrificed to gain what was, it was generally
agreed, completely useless information. Nobody had witnessed Liam's murder, nor
recalled seeing anything suspicious. It was just too dark. That was the
attraction of the towpath.