Moondog and the Reed Leopard

by Neil Mach

  ‘Warning signs? Yes or no?’

  ‘Yes, this Korean fellah has warning signs. But, Hopie, I do not want you to get involved in this, there is something I haven’t told you. Something I ought to have told you a long while ago —’

  ‘Does he flash? Does he flash weapons and drugs? Is Woo Hoo dangerous?’

  The Chief nodded, then looked at the screen again, ‘Hopie, I want you to stay away from this investigation, do you hear? And the most important thing of all, and it’s something I have to tell you… you must stay clear of —’

  ‘Does he have a marker for violence? Does the man flash V?’

  ‘I don’t think you’ve listened to a damn word I said...’

  ‘Does Ram flash V for Victor?’

  ‘Yes, he does. V for Victor and firearms...’

  ‘Good grief. I must warn Moondog.’ Hopie stood quickly and felt the blood rush to her head. She twisted her neck from side-to-side.

  ‘Young lady…’ the Chief shouted. ‘Sit down and shut up for a moment. Listen. I’m trying to tell you something important. I require your full attention...’

  ‘Don’t yell, uncle...’ she said, offering a pucker and a frown. ‘I’m not one of your constables, you know... I need to get going...’

  ‘But I have not finished barking yet...’

  ‘Bye.’

  *

  Hopie popped by the Beau-Manor Corner Store in Wylie Road on the way back to her cottage. She needed essential items, such as milk, bread, and chocolate. She checked her postcard was still visible in the shop window before she went inside. In the shop, she grabbed a packet of chews. She handed her choices to the lady and asked if she’d had any response to the advert in the window. ‘Nothing, love,’ said the shopkeeper with a shake of her headscarf. A lady with a dog-on-a-lead (even though animals weren’t allowed inside the store) came from behind and asked loudly for a copy of the Daily Mail. Hopie left with her confectionery.

  Outside her Porter’s Cottage, she had to balance her bag on her knee to retrieve door-keys from her bag. They’d fallen to the bottom. She’d already decided to take the glass back to the Teahouse later in the week. She found her phone right at the bottom, of the bag too, and this reminded her to alert Moondog before he got to his rendezvous with Woo Hoo Ram.

  She sent him a quick text: The meeting is dangerous. Woohoo is high risk. Do not go — violent, weapons, and drugs.

  She heard a beep so felt satisfied the text had gone through. The extra beep was probably him texting back to say thanks. She patted her phone-case, then put the mobile away for a moment while she jingled her keys. She opened the front door and pushed her in.

  At first, as she began to take off her jacket, she didn’t think anything was wrong. Then she heard a soft shuffle. The sound made her stop and concentrate on what she was doing. She heard a man-sized noise; it sounded like a cough or maybe a splutter. As Moondog had recently taught her, she stabilized her muscles, closed her eyes, and began to breathe deliberately and slowly. She used all her senses.

  A weak crack from the floorboards followed the first shuffle. Then Hopie heard a crunch that sounded much closer. She smelled an aroma that seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Although she knew it wasn’t hers. The scent came from an intruder.

  The situation became clearer when she grasped the reality of what was happening —an intruder had entered her house — she trembled uncontrollably. What was there to clench? She looked around nothing. The heaviest thing she had in her possession was a pint of milk. Pathetic!

  Then it went unnaturally quiet as if the prowler was preparing a get-away. Hopie willed her limbs to stop shaking and decided to do something. But what? The most sensible thing was to retreat; run through her front door and run, run, run. But when was she ever sensible?

  She did the opposite, she forced herself to confront the housebreaker, after all, that’s what Agent Carter would do. Or Moondog.

  Hopie took several gulps of air and put a bold foot forward. She rushed into the living room, holding her only weapon (the pint of milk) and screamed her lungs out.

  ‘Aargh,’ she yelled with all the strength she could manage.

  The figure in the corner leapt perceptibly. Maybe he jumped as high as one centimeter. She saw his pale hair shake as he shot from a crouching position. Then she took in a pair of teary eyes on an emaciated face, then a thin neck. Lastly, she noticed the intruder’s lower lip protruded beyond the upper one. The facial feature told her all she needed to know. ‘Jimmie? What kind of almighty fudge are you doing in my house?’ she screamed.

  ‘I can explain...’ Jimmie offered, he crept from behind her sofa and wiped down his hair. He started to approach.

  ‘Stay back,’ she shouted. She threatened him with the milk carton. ‘Shisterhosen, your gullion faced cock-a-cock, you really scared the willies out of me. Why are you here?’

  ‘Please, Hopie. Let me explain —’

  ‘Stand still. Stay back. I need to think this through. I ought to phone 999. But that would get you the sack, you freaking idiot. I need to think with a clear head. Do not move a damn muscle until I figure this out, moo-fugger.’

  Jimmie Lavery remained motionless while Hopie assessed the situation. He’d broken into her house, and for all she knew, he’d be armed and dangerous. She needed to think wisely and quickly — how much longer could she keep him at bay with a milk carton?

  ‘What did you come here for Jimmie? Have you come to sniff my underwear?’

  ‘Not any of that. I came because —’

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘Clues.’

  ‘Clues? Concerning what? Don’t lie...’

  ‘Him.’

  ‘Who him?’

  ‘You know, the gypsy.’

  ‘He’s not here, right? He has never set foot in this house. What about you, Jimmie? Is this the first time you’ve fingered my drawers? Or have you been coming into my place to get your kicks regularly? Did you get a warrant, Jimmie? No, I didn’t think you had. You’re in a whole heap of trouble this time, my laddio.’

  ‘I’m sorry Hopie, but I —’

  ‘How did you get in? Did you force a window?’

  ‘No, I —’

  ‘I should tell the Chief about this; I could get you transferred off borough. You need to see a psychiatrist Jimmie, get some therapy because you’re becoming fruit-loop crazy.’

  ‘It won’t do any good...’

  ‘What won't?’

  ‘No good telling the Chief. That’s what I’m trying to explain. Give me half an opportunity to tell you why I’m here.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You asked how I got in...’

  ‘Yes, I want to know that...how?’

  ‘A key.’ Jimmie moved his hand slowly to his pocket and tugged carefully until a house-key came free. He held it over his head so she could see the thing glint.

  ‘How did you get a copy of my key?’

  ‘That’s what I want to explain...’

  ‘Well get on with it...’

  ‘It’s not a copy — it’s your spare, the Chief gave it to me. He’s the key holder, right? He’s worried about the gypsy man too. He asked me to state sniff around, to see if the gypsy had been here and left any clues. I did not expect you to be back so early. I was told you worked in the office until four.’

  ‘What? Holy shithouse bananas.’

  Jimmie started to move again, but this time with greater confidence. ‘So, you see honey; there’s nothing you can do about this. The boss sanctioned it. I have his full authority to be here. And, to be honest, I think it’s for your own good.’

  Hopie stepped back, but Jimmie’s approach was inevitable, ‘If you touch me, if you lay a finger on me, if you even dare breathe on me, Jimmie Lavery — I swear I’ll rip your eyes out with these claws. You dirty-dirty, double-crossing, scum-talking, shit-dunker.’

  ‘Please don’t talk that way, Hopie. You know I would never harm you.
You know we should be together. I’m here to protect and serve. Don’t you understand?’

  ‘Get out, get out...’

  ‘I’m going...’

  Lavery paced the room in a relaxed way — as if he owned the place. Hopie stood still and tensed every fibre, ready to attack him in an instant, if he so much as breathed at her. But Jimmie walked away and went to the door. ‘Never come back,’ she hollered. ‘I never want to see your ugly face again, do you hear?’

  *

  Once she felt sure Jimmie Lavery had skulked away properly, she went to the door to check that he’d truly gone. She saw his stupid head bouncing along in the distance. She guessed he scuttled back to a police car that he’d hidden close-by. She slammed the door and pushed her backbone against the cold door frame. That’s when she started to cry. Who could she turn to now? Her uncle had been disloyal to her — it had been a total bloody betrayal. He had never once told her he kept back a sparer key. What a bloody nerve. And why had he given the key to Jimmie Lavery of all people? It was one holy-hell of a screw-up. She didn’t know if she felt disillusioned or angry. She acknowledged her heart hammered into her chest like a sledgehammer —and felt fury run through her bones — so Hopie decided it was anger.

  She’d have to call Moondog. He was the only person who might offer sympathy, maybe something more? Loyalty? Solidity? Temporary shelter? Emotional support? Oh my God, Hopie, she scolded. Surely, Moondog can't be the only person in the world you can turn to in a moment of difficulty? How did you land yourself in such a sorry state?

  She found Moondog’s number from her phone directory and pressed dial. She got through to his answering service.

  ‘Erm, Mister Moon Dog is currently unavailable…’ said a polite female voice. ‘My name is Annie; can I help you?’

  ‘Er, hello, Annie. My name is Hopie. Do you know where Moondog is right now? Because I need him urgent.’

  ‘No, this is a commercial answering service. I can take a message though and pass it to him.’

  ‘What’s he doing right now?’

  ‘Sorry, I do not have that information. Do you want to leave a voice message?’

  ‘No, simply tell him I called.’

  Hopie put her phone down and felt an uncomfortable squishy-crumpled feeling in the pit of her stomach. She slid to the floor. She took several shallow breaths and checked the time. ‘God, it’s almost four... of course, I’ve been a selfish idiot. He’s seeing Woo Hoo Ram.’

  She typed into her smartphone as fast as her fingers would manage:

  It’s me, Hopie. URGENT. I need to get away from here. I’m fretting. Please help at once. She sent the text message off.

  She waited. Her heartbeat thudded ever louder.

  She experienced a little flinch when her phone beeped. Her heart raced as she read the return message:

  Text messages are not read by this user. Please send a voice message or try later

  What? What’s he playing at? She called Moondog’s number and left another message with Annie from his answering service: ‘It’s me, again. Tell Moondog it’s vital he contacts me at once. At the Holiday Inn. I’m going there now. Desperate.’

  *

  Moondog inserted himself into a cleanish ditch alongside the truck-stop lay-by. Then Hopie called. ‘Darnitt,’ he whispered as he took the voice mail. He hated being disturbed when he was engaged in a clandestine operation. Hopie seemed upset. Moondog saw that text messages stored on his device too. What fool left those?

  Just as he pushed his phone into a side pocket, a rickety Nissan hatchback stopped in the parking area. The vehicle had dirty windows, a thunderous exhaust and insufficient air in its tyres. Moondog watched from his hidden location as a thin Oriental man stretched long legs out of the motor and switched-off the clacking engine. The man who appeared from the vehicle had a disheveled, dark top knot, a scruffy beard, and wore a blue T-shirt. He paced from the car and went to investigate the gully. It meant the game was up for Moondog right away. He had to show himself.

  He’d hidden his frizzy hair under a woolen hat and had removed the ring from his nose, but otherwise, Moondog still looked jaunty, even elegant, especially when compared to the scruffy Oriental guy. Moondog stood to his full height and smiled. ‘Mister Ram?’

  ‘Are you the geez what called?’

  ‘That’s me — the best of the day to you...’

  ‘Let’s get this over with, friend. Do you have the money? ‘

  ‘Yes, I have cash but...’

  ‘Show me the dosh; I’ll show you the gear...’

  ‘I had a change of heart...’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘I thought I’d come to explain face-to-face. You see, I don’t need the gear any more...’

  ‘You better not start being prissy with me bruv. I got the product — now I want my lolly. You better understand this — we’re going to mix and match this out now.’

  ‘But I don’t need the product any more...’

  ‘You what? I’ll shank you for this. For wasting my time, bitch...’ Ram pulled a peculiar weapon from his belt. It looked like a garden implement, and Moondog guessed it was probably a weeder. It had fearsome talon-like prongs.

  ‘I will recompense you for any expenses incurred...’ Moondog added.

  ‘Yes, you bloody will. Give me your wallet...’

  ‘But I never....’

  ‘Give me your wallet now or I’ll go into the ditch and claw your face off, get me?’

  Moondog widened his mouth then took a billfold from his back pocket. He’d prepared it earlier. The fold contained sixty nicker, all in fives. ‘This is all I carry...’ Moondog said. ‘Just folding. I don’t own a wallet. But please, I need cash for my minicab ride home, so don’t take it all...’

  ‘You should have fought about all that when you brook your promise with me, shouldn’t you, twat? You owe me now, that’s how this thing operates. Throw the crinkle here...’

  Moondog tossed the money to Woo Hoo Ram. He stooped to collect it. After he’d counted the loot, he gazed at Moondog. ‘Right, I’m off. You won’t ever contact me again, get me?’

  Moondog nodded.

  ‘I don’t want to see your pathetic face around town neither. If I ever see your face again, I’ll cut your smile off, yeah?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘If you ever try to contact me, I’ll cut you. If you ever waste my time again, I’ll cut you. In fact, if you do anything, I’ll cut you. Yeah?’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘Enjoy your walk home, bitch,’ Ram spat into the ditch then tucked the weeder back into his belt. He threw Moondog an extended, disdainful look and turned.

  After a moment, his car rumbled away, and Moondog released a long, audible, sigh of relief.

  *

  Holiday Inn

  Moondog’s taxi left him outside the front entrance of the Holiday Inn. He handed his diver a five-pound tip and thanked him. When the Mercedes roared off, he scanned the front of the hotel. At first there was no sign of Hopie, then she dashed through the revolving doors. She ran toward him, looking wind-swept.

  ‘What’s wrong, Hopie?’

  ‘You get my message? I became worried... I discovered that Woo Hoo Ram is not a good guy. He’s violent, and he carries weapons.’

  ‘Yes, I met him...’

  ‘Oh, no! I tried to stop you.’ Hopie clutched Moondog’s arm. She looked into his eyes, and he seemed different somehow as if he’d been beaten. ‘Did you get hurt?’ she asked.

  ‘No, although he just assaulted my dignity...’

  ‘I was worried...’

  ‘Sometimes, the best way to stay safe is to play the fool. The abyss between presumption and dignity is an exposed crack. But most don’t have the determination to cross it. I don’t mind losing my coolness if it gets the right results....’

  ‘So, you discovered things? You found out what you needed to know?’ Hopie asked as she clung to his arm.

  ‘More or less. However, Ram is not
the character in the night photo so we can rule him out. But he sells opium, and that’s all I need right now. ‘Moondog raised an eyebrow and looked into her face. ‘What’s up with you? What is your emergency?’

  ‘I’m sorry I should not have bothered you. But I did not know who else to turn to. It’s Jimmie, bloody Lavery… the idionk broke into my house. He went through my stuff...’

  ‘How do you know Jimmie broke in?’

  ‘I caught him. He was there when I got home early; I found him lurking in my back room... It gave me a terrible shock. But the thing is, the thing is...’

  ‘Did you call the fuzz?’

  ‘What’s the point? They as thick as thieves; they will unite against me.’

  ‘But surely they have a specialized complaint department that handles things like this. Who watches the watchers?’

  ‘It’s worse than that...’

  Moondog gave Hopie a gentle squeeze, and she felt the kindness of his hand as it brushed against her hair. At that moment, all she wanted to do was dissolve into his strength and warmth. To hold onto him. She felt her knees weaken, and her breathing became easier as he soothed her. ‘What happened next?’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s okay — he didn’t touch me. But he has a key to my place, so he’ll return. Perhaps he’ll sneak in while I’m sleeping. He’ll come back when I’m helpless to take advantage. Oh, Moondog, how can I ever go back there?’

  Moondog took her hand and led her away from the hotel entrance.

  ‘You’ll stay with me tonight,’ he told her. ‘Tomorrow we will decide what to do...’

  Those were the words she wanted.

  *

  Moondog led her across the overflow parking lot, past the staff parking area, past industrial-sized rubbish containers, past emergency generators, past an incinerator, and beyond the far sheds.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘To my trailer.’

  ‘Is your trailer at the hotel?’

  ‘Yes, hidden around the back. They keep a wild area. That’s where I camp. I make a small payment to be there. It’s mutually beneficial.’