Linger Awhile (6 page)

‘My
heart
, for Christ’s sake!’

‘Or whatever part is leading you. We’re talking pragmatism here.’

‘We certainly are, and I’m a little breathless from it.’

‘Perfectly understandable. Take your time, think about it: five, ten minutes, whatever. She’s young, she’s beautiful in full colour, she’s longing for what you’ve got.’

‘Is she here now? Could I see her?’

‘Absolutely. She’s just having a kip. She needs lots of rest.’

He led the way to the bedroom and there she was, nude, only partly covered by the duvet. I looked at her shoulder, her beautiful bottom and the leg she stretched out. She rolled over, exposing her breasts, and opened her eyes. ‘Who’s this?’ she said.

‘This is Chauncey,’ said Istvan. ‘He’s going to be your new uncle if you treat him right.’

‘Hi, Chauncey,’ she said. ‘You look some livelier than Ish. Are you ready for a little uncle work?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ I said.

10 January 2004. Why do I so often have that left-out feeling? Because I’m so often left out, that’s why. The grown-up is only a thin coat of chocolate over the hard nut of the child. Whatever you were as a kid, you still are when the chocolate gets licked off or scraped off. When they used to choose up sides for baseball or any other game I was always left till the last.

I went to Fallok’s place and looked in through the glass and there was Justine in glorious Technicolor sitting on some Chinese guy’s lap while Fallok was tinkering with an oscilloscope. So he was back at work in his normal routine and there were the three of them all cosy. I could scarcely believe it. ‘Yo, Istvan!’ I said. Childhood again. When I was a kid and we wanted somebody to come out and play, we stood outside the house and yelled, ‘Yo, Bob!’ or whatever his name was.

Fallok stuck his head out of the second-storey window of childhood and said, ‘Hi, Irv. Hey, I’ve been meaning to call you but I got so far behind in my work that it’s been all I could do to catch up. What
do you think of our girl? Isn’t she looking great?’

‘
Our
girl,’ I said. ‘
Our
girl is exactly what she isn’t. You were meant to bring her into flesh-and-blood 3-D for
me
, not for you and your friend.’

‘My name is Chauncey Lim,’ the friend said. ‘Try not to lose tranquility. “A bow long bent waxes weak.” One is divisible by three and it adds up to a good deal all round.’

‘Do me a favour,’ I said: ‘stuff it up your fortune cookie.’

‘How’s that arrangement sound to you, Justine?’ said Fallok.

‘Are you kidding?’ she said. ‘I doubt if this old drynuts even has half a pint in him.’

I couldn’t imagine why I’d ever thought I was in love with this woman. On the screen she’d had a wholesome kind of outdoor refinement but now the hang of her face was definitely sluttish.

‘First of all,’ said Fallok to me, ‘I clearly remember telling you that I couldn’t promise anything. I said that because I knew from experience that life is full of surprises. Secondly, we had no kind of contract, oral or written; I simply said I’d see what I could do.’

‘We’ve seen that all right,’ I said. ‘After that sighting of you and your bundled-up tootsie that night I thought we’d have some kind of a meeting but you haven’t been answering your phone and every time I’ve come here the door’s been locked and the blinds have been down. I couldn’t get any news from Grace and here I am again and here you lot are and you’re all right, Jack. Bloody hell.’

‘Look,’ said Fallok, ‘let’s try to be grown-up about this, OK? What we have here isn’t quite the usual boy–girl thing and it calls for a more sophisticated approach.’

‘I’m not even sure I want to approach it any more,’ I said. ‘I’m beginning to feel myself backing away from it.’

‘I’m heartbroken,’ said Justine. ‘but maybe there’s new blood coming our way unless it’s the Avon lady.’

Everybody looked at the door and listened but we saw and heard nothing. ‘Justine’s senses are sharper than ours,’ said Fallok. After about a minute there were two men coming down the steps.

‘It’s the Bill,’ said Chauncey.

There was a knock at the door and Fallok answered it. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Hunter,’ said a tall man with a deep voice and a Victorian moustache. He showed us his warrant card. ‘This is Sergeant Locke.’ Locke’s tumblers clicked and he nodded. Hunter looked at us as if he knew all our little secrets and right away I felt guilty.

‘Istvan Fallok,’ said Fallok. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Are you the proprietor of Hermes Soundways?’ said Hunter.

‘I am,’ said Istvan.

Hunter swept all of us with his eyes like a beam from a lighthouse. ‘Do any of you know a woman called Rose Harland?’ he said

We all shook our heads and said no. ‘What about Rose Harland?’ said Fallok.

‘Later,’ said Hunter. ‘Are these your keys?’ He gave them to Fallok.

‘Yes,’ said Fallok. ‘Where’d you find them?’

‘Where’d you lose them?’ said Hunter.

‘Somewhere between here and Oxford Street, I think. On the way to HMV.’

Hunter nodded. ‘We found them in a dustbin in Great Marlborough Street. Any idea how they got there?’

‘No,’ said Fallok.

‘Where were you on the evening of Thursday the eighth of January?’ said Hunter. ‘Day before yesterday.’

‘Here,’ said Fallok.

‘What do you do here at Hermes Soundways?’ said Hunter.

‘Sounds in different ways,’ said Fallok. ‘Would you like to hear some?’

‘Yes, I would,’ said Hunter.

‘This is from
Laminations on a Theme of Cthulhu
by Fathoms,’ said Fallok, and started the music. ‘It’s a low-frequency enhancement,’ he said as the sound, mostly subsonic vibrations, made our bones rattle.

‘Deep,’ said Hunter. ‘Very hermetic.’

‘Most of what I do is,’ said Fallok modestly.

‘Yes,’ said Hunter. ‘May I ask who your friends are?’

‘Chauncey Lim,’ said Chauncey.

‘And where were you on the Tuesday in question?’ said Hunter.

‘Working late at my shop in D’Arblay Street,’ said Chauncey. ‘I do photographic novelties.’

Hunter looked at him as if he’d heard that sort of euphemism before, but passed on to me.

‘Irving Goodman,’ I said. ‘I was at home in Fulham,
Kempson Road. I’m retired.’

‘From what?’ said Hunter.

‘TV writing.’

Hunter turned to Justine.

‘Justine Trimble,’ she said. ‘I was here with Istvan.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Nothing much, just what people do.’

‘Where are you from, Ms Trimble?’ said Hunter.

‘Texas.’

‘And your occupation?’

‘I’m an actress. I’m …’

‘The daughter of Justine Trimble who starred in so many westerns back in the 1950s,’ said Fallok.

‘Unusual for the daughter to have the same name as the mother,’ said Hunter.

‘Yes, I’m Justine Trimble Jr,’ said Justine. ‘I’m not a big star. Mostly I appear at motor shows and conventions.’

‘Can I see your passport, please?’ said Hunter.

‘It was stolen when she got mugged the other night,’ said Fallok.

‘Where did this happen?’ said Hunter to Justine.

‘Argyll Street,’ said Fallok.

‘Please let the lady speak for herself,’ said Hunter. ‘When did it happen, Ms Trimble?’

‘Between eight and nine,’ said Justine. ‘Night before last.’

‘That would be Thursday the eighth of January?’

‘Yes.’

‘Give the details of the incident to Sergeant Locke and we’ll get it into the system. You should go to the
United States Embassy and they can issue you with a new passport if you can show proof of your identity.’

‘Yes,’ said Justine.

‘I assume you have such proof?’

‘Everything was stolen when I got mugged,’ said Justine.

‘Where was your birth registered?’

‘El Paso.’

‘When?’

‘Twenty-five years ago.’

‘Nineteen seventy-nine,’ said Hunter.

‘Yes.’

‘Where is your birth certificate now?’

‘At home.’

‘Which is where?’

‘Tornillo.’

‘Is there someone there who can be contacted?’

‘No, I live alone.’

‘Right. Well, if you go to the embassy I’m pretty sure they can get this sorted. How long are you here for?’

‘Three weeks,’ said Fallok. ‘She’s staying with me.’

‘Yes,’ said Hunter. He looked at all of us as if he would have preferred to lock us up but he contented himself with paying close attention while Justine gave the rest of her mugging details to Sergeant Locke which took about thirty seconds. Then Hunter nodded and they started to go but when he was half-way out the door he did a Columbo. With his back to us he stopped and raised his left arm as if he’d been brought to a halt. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘there’s just one more thing.’

‘What?’ said Fallok.

Hunter turned to face us and looked apologetic. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to take saliva samples from the four of you.’

‘What for?’ said Fallok.

‘I don’t know,’ said Hunter. ‘It’s a new procedure the medical examiner keeps nagging us about. It’ll only take a few minutes of your time.’ From his pocket he produced four plastic tubes, each containing a swab. We opened our mouths in turn, he did his swabbing, replaced the swabs and stoppered and labelled the tubes one by one, said, ‘There we are,’ and left.

‘What was all that about?’ I said.

‘Obviously they want to match up some DNA sample they’ve got,’ said Fallok, looking at Justine, ‘and you can be sure they’ll be back again. In any case, we’re fucked. It’ll take Hunter about ten minutes to establish that Justine is technically and officially a non-person and that’s when the shit hits the fan.’

‘I’ll be damned if I’ll go to jail,’ said Justine. ‘I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t even ask to
be
. I think I was better off dead.’

I was wondering if she mightn’t be right about that. ‘What did she mean before about half a pint?’ I asked Fallok. ‘Half a pint of what?’

‘Hello?’ said Fallok. ‘The blood is the life?’

‘What,’ I said, ‘she’s a vampire?’

‘No racist remarks, please,’ said Fallok.

‘I don’t want any blood from him,’ said Justine. ‘Besides which he’s got none to spare.’

‘You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me,’ I said.

‘That makes you Number One on my shit list,’ she said.

‘Let’s not squabble among ourselves,’ said Lim. ‘Right now we need to find a safe house for Justine.’

‘Any ideas?’ said Fallok.

‘Rosalie Chun’s got a big house,’ said Lim, ‘and there’s nothing to connect her to Justine.’

‘Sounds good,’ said Fallok. ‘Better get her out of here before Hunter pops in again.’

‘That OK with you, Justine?’ said Lim.

‘That’s the first time anybody’s asked my opinion about anything,’ she said. ‘Let’s haul ass, Chaunce.’

10 January 2004. Being alive after being dead for forty-seven years is weird to begin with, and it gets weirder from one minute to the next. I didn’t know when I was born or when I died but Chauncey looked me up on the Internet Movie Database and found that I was born in 1932 in Amarillo and I died in 1957 on location in Arizona when I was thrown by a horse. I don’t remember that. I was married to an oilman named William Connors and I don’t remember that either. He’s probably dead by now or as good as.

When we left Hermes Soundways Chauncey took me to a place called Topshop in Oxford Circus. This was on a Saturday afternoon and Oxford Circus was full of traffic and big red buses and people and noise. Topshop was noisier inside than it was outside. The music was so loud you couldn’t think and the store was full of wild-looking girls. Chauncey bought me jeans and sweatshirts, underwear and pyjamas and sheepskin boots and a lilac duffel coat with lime-green lining and toggles. And a pair of leopard-print sunglasses
because the sunlight hurt my eyes. ‘A little bit of retail therapy is always good for what ails you,’ he said. ‘How’re you feeling?’

‘I’m feeling pretty good,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ll need topping up today.’

‘Good,’ said Chauncey, ‘but we’ve got the transfusion kit just in case.’

We took the Underground to Golders Green and it was a very long ride. There were more different kinds of people than I could remember ever seeing before: black, brown, yellow, white, and all different shades of those colours. Some of them looked at me and I wondered if they could smell what I was.

When we came out of the Underground we walked to Elijah’s Lucky Dragon. It was closed for the Jewish Sabbath but Rosalie Chun was still there and she came to the door when Chauncey knocked. A big woman in one of those Chinese dresses that’s slit up to the thigh. A nice face and she must have been pretty when she weighed fifty pounds less if she ever did. ‘What’s up, Chaunce?’ she said.

‘I’ve got an emergency here, Rosalie,’ said Chauncey. ‘Can you help us?’

‘Yes,’ said Rosalie. ‘What’s your name, emergency?’

‘Justine,’ I said.

‘Come on in and set right down and make yourself at home,’ said Rosalie, and I did feel at home right away.

Chauncey explained the situation to her and he said to Rosalie, ‘Do you think there’s any chance of weaning her on to regular food?’

‘You came to the right place,’ said Rosalie. ‘Give me about half an hour in the kitchen and let’s see what I can do. Don’t you worry, love,’ she said to me. ‘I’ll see you right.’

After a while she put a bowl of broth and a plate of dumplings in front of me. ‘This is Golem broth,’ she said. ‘The spoon can stand up in it which is about right. And these on the plate are gosky patties Ba’al Shem Tov.’

‘Gosky patties are from Edward Lear,’ said Chauncey.

‘His recipe is nonsense,’ said Rosalie. ‘Mine has been in my family for generations and it’s the real thing.’

‘What about your North Chinese cuisine?’ said Chauncey.

‘There’s a time for multicultural,’ said Rosalie, ‘and there’s a time for going with 4,000 years of your own people.’ To me she said, ‘Eat, and be strong.’

I ate and I did feel better. My momma didn’t raise no vampires. I don’t know how long this second life will last but however long it does I won’t forget Rose Harland. I hope I don’t do any more killing.