“Don’t you fucking speak to me!”
“As you wish. Would you prefer I explain what I’ve been up to through the medium of interpretive dance or a series of collages made out of dried pasta?”
“Prick.” Miller folded her arms. “Come on then; let’s have it. What the fuck are you doing dressed up like Oscar Buzz?”
“I must say your language has deteriorated since we last met. Our illustrious chief inspector’s influence, I suppose.” He sensed from the dark look that clouded Miller’s face that another storm of invective was headed his way. He changed tack. “Listen, Miller; I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact for a while -”
“- Six months!”
“Yes, six months but, well - once I went into deep cover - you know how that is.”
“Deep cover, my arse.”
“Miller - Melanie - I know you’re upset but these interjections aren’t helping me tell you my story.”
Miller harrumphed and stuck out her bottom lip but she said nothing further while Brough explained.
“After all that... business in the cellar, I was going to leave. For good. I was ready to hand in my notice and warrant card and turn my back on Dedley forever. But I didn’t.
“Instead, dear old Wheeler persuaded me to take extended leave. It wasn’t just that last case, unpleasant and disturbing though that was. I had some personal troubles and - anyway, I needed to get away.
“And that’s where Oscar Buzz enters the scene. I really have been talking to him online for over a year. I kept it to myself because - well - people would say I was being taken for a ride and it wasn’t really him. But I knew it really was. One of the most famous people on the planet - and one of the hottest! - was talking to me. Insignificant little me! I decided to keep our friendship to myself. It was my thing. It was just for me.
“I almost told Jason about it but I changed my mind. I assumed he’d see it as cheating on him, in a way. Like I was having an affair. I suppose I was, really, and perhaps that’s why I thought I deserved -
“Anyway. Oscar and I had talked about meeting up. If ever I was in Los Angeles I was to pop in and we’d go out for dinner and see how we got along in person.
“I was on the verge of booking my flight but - what with everything that happened my self-confidence was at an all-time low. I was a fool, I told myself. What would a hot-shot Hollywood heartthrob see in me? I was a mess, Mel. I chickened out.
“Then I heard he was coming to Dedley - I couldn’t believe it. Now was our chance to meet up. But I was still unsure of myself. So I approached him in disguise - in disguise as himself! Oh, it was crazy, I know but my thinking was, if we could get to know each other in the flesh, I could at some point tell him who I really was. And the safety net was if he didn’t like me - if there was no chemistry there - well, we could resume our online friendship and he’d be none the wiser.
“It was deceitful of me and I was really uncomfortable about it and was going to tell the truth at the start. But the longer I left it, the harder it became - stop smirking, Miller! - We were getting on so well, I didn’t want to spoil it. I began to worry: what if he only likes me because I’m like him? What if he prefers fake-him to real-me?
“And then people started disappearing and getting murdered. I went to Wheeler - she was annoyed (to put it mildly) that I was ‘fucking about playing dress-up’ but she saw the advantages of having a man on the inside - really, Miller, if you can’t stop sniggering... ”
Miller did her best to compose herself. She gestured to Brough to continue.
“So, I’ve been back at work since shooting began. By which point it was impossible to tell anyone - you - Oscar - anyone what was going on. You do see that?”
“And Wheeler knew about this?”
“Yes. She’s had my back - oh really, Miller! I leave you for five minutes and you devolve into Benny Stevens.”
“It wasn’t five minutes,” Miller sulked. “It was six months.”
“Yes. Well. I’m back now. You must tell me what you’ve been up to. Still see much of your gravedigger friend?”
Miller shrugged. “Nah. Anyway, you’re not the only one with a famous friend, you know.”
“Oh, yes?”
“Oh, yes! While you’ve been sneaking around with that terrible dye job, I’ve been getting chummy with a certain superstar.”
“Really, Miller? Who?”
Miller paused for dramatic effect. “Only... the one and only... Bunny Slippers!”
Brough looked at her blankly. “I’m sorry, Miller; I’ve never heard of him.”
“Her!” Miller corrected. “Call yourself a gay man? They’ll be revoking your membership.”
“Well, excuse me!” said Brough. And they laughed. The air between them was clear again.
“Well, fuck my arse!”
“Here we go,” Brough muttered as Detective Inspector Benny Stevens approached the table. “Hello, Ben.”
Pattimore was lurking behind his partner. He ventured to peer over Stevens’s shoulder. “Hello, Davey - David,” he said quietly.
Brough didn’t answer him. Instead he swatted Stevens’s hand away from his blond hair.
“Back, are you?” Stevens pulled out a chair and straddled it back-to-front.
“Looks like it,” said Brough, rising. “Good to see you, Miller.”
He left. Pattimore chased after him, calling his name. In the corridor he caught Brough by the arm. Brough wheeled around, flinching. Pattimore released him.
“I’m sorry - I wasn’t - I wouldn’t!”
Brough shook his head. Pattimore seemed to have nothing further to add. Brough carried on walking away.
“I’ve changed!” Pattimore called after the receding figure of his ex-boyfriend. “I’m getting help. Every other Tuesday. Davey, please!”
But Brough was gone.
Pattimore turned to find Stevens towering over him. It was Pattimore’s turn to flinch, expecting some sarcastic remark.
“Give it time,” was all Stevens said. He led the detective constable back to the canteen and even offered to get him a sticky bun.
***
“It’s not going to happen.” Oscar Buzz wore a determined expression and he wasn’t even acting. He was perched on a desk in the producers’ office. “I’m not putting my own money into this shit-storm of movie. That’d be crazy.”
“Oscar! Bubbeleh! Please reconsider. Think of the tax incentives!”
“Sorry, gentlemen; you’ll have to find some other rube. But as a gesture of goodwill, I won’t take my fee for the work I’ve already done. That should help you out a little bit.”
The producers flew into a panic.
“You can’t walk off this picture!” declared one.
“We’ll sue your ass!” threatened the other.
“Guys, there is no picture. You ought to cut your losses and go home. I mean, really.”
They both seized Oscar by the hand. “It can still happen. Monty’s sending new pages. That poor girl’s murder. He’s writing it in.”
“Sick!” Oscar pulled his hands free. “Talk about your artistic integrity. I’m out of here.”
“Wait!” one of the producers threw himself against the door.
“The net is on fire. Delia Cartwright’s murder is making Hospital Corners the hottest property around.”
“Oh, yeah? Then why not two minutes ago were you begging me for money?”
“Well - well -”
“Don’t bullshit me. The backers are pulling out. And guess what! So am I.”
He shoved the producer out of the way and almost wrenched the door off its hinges. He strode out of the office with his head held high.
“Good scene,” said Detective Inspector David Brough, who had been waiting for
him in the corridor.
“Dan!” Oscar’s joy was plain to see. “It’s wonderful to see you! Where have you been?”
“Never mind that for now,” said Brough. “We need to talk about Luka.”
16
“It’s twins, Mrs Buzowski,” the doctor announced as though it were good news. Lina Buzowski was too taken aback by the news that she forgot to correct him about her marital status - or lack thereof. She put her arms around her balloon of a belly. She tried to imagine two children in there, top to tail - is that how they share a womb, twins?
The doctor was babbling on about something. Regular appointments and a diet sheet. Lina wasn’t listening. Two mouths to feed - one for each breast! But when they got too big for the free milk, how would she afford to fill their bellies, these little belly-fillers.
She wandered from the doctor’s office in a daze. Walking was increasingly difficult with the extra weight, and it was hot. She fanned herself with her hand but because that gesture is always a waste of energy, pushed her way into a diner and ordered tap water with ice and plenty of it.
Stella, the waitress, took pity on the bedraggled, sweating preggo and seated her in the booth nearest the fan. When she brought a pitcher of iced water, she also slipped a jelly doughnut in a napkin. “On the house,” she winked.
“I couldn’t,” Lina pushed the parcel away.
“Sure you can. You’re eating for two now.”
“Actually three,” said Lina glumly. Stella’s chewing gum came to a halt.
“Oh, boy,” she said. “I’ll bring you another doughnut.”
From then on, every day, Lina would occupy the same seat and order a jug of water, and Stella would sneak her bread rolls and bagels whenever she could. Al, the proprietor, grew wise to Stella’s generosity, which was by extension his generosity albeit unwittingly.
“Aw, quit griping,” Stella told him when he pulled her up on it. “It’s mainly the stuff that would go in the dumpster anyways. She’s on her own.”
“She can be on her own somewhere else,” said Al. Stella swatted him with a dishcloth. “I’m serious,” he said. “This ain’t no drop-in centre for deadbeats and dropouts. You start feeding one and before you know it you’re up to your eyes in lame ducks and good causes.”
“I never knew,” Stella cracked her gum. “You’re all heart.”
Al jabbed a finger at her. “I mean it. Anything you give her, you pay for. Then we’ll see how generous you really are.”
Stella pulled a face behind the boss’s back. “I’ll keep a tab,” she called after him. “Settle up with you at the end of the month.”
“Whatever,” said Al, without turning around.
As Lina got bigger with her impending twins, Stella kept the mom-to-be well fed with two square meals a day and, more often than not, a doggy bag to take home to whatever hole Lina spent her nights in. Stella dreaded to think.
Whenever Al walked by the table, he would look disapprovingly but said nothing.
“He does not like me, your boss,” Lina whispered to Stella.
“He doesn’t like nobody,” said Stella, bustling past with her arms laden with plates.
But Stella died. Her heart just gave out one day and she didn’t show up for work. Lina sat in her usual booth. Al came over to break the news.
“That’s too bad,” said Lina, shedding a tear for her friend. She struggled to her feet, her huge belly pushing against the table. “I no bother you no more.”
“Not so fast, lady.” Al blocked the exit. “There is still the not-so-little matter of your tab.”
“My... ?” Lina was confused. “But I order nothing.”
“Not today you didn’t. But there’s three weeks of meals you’ve put away, all marked up in Stella’s notebook.” He pulled the document from his apron pocket. “Big appetite! Stands to reason with your little one on the way. What you cooking in there, anyway? An elephant?”
“Two,” said Lina. “Two elephants!”
But Al was in no mood for jokes. “Listen, lady. These meals have got to be paid for, and with you already in trouble, that rules out payment ‘in kind’ if you get my meaning.”
Lina didn’t. She offered to wash up, to clean the place from top to bottom until she had worked off the debt. Al shook his head. “You’re too pregnant,” he said. “It’s too risky. I cain’t have no health official clamping down on me because you collapse in my kitchen.”
“Then... how can I pay?” Lina was wracked with sobs. “I have no job, no family... ”
Al nodded at her belly. “The babies’ daddy. He around?”
Lina shook her head, fighting back more tears. Al closed his eyes.
“Go on, scram,” he said. “I’ll think of something. You come back tomorrow and we’ll work something out.”
Lina grabbed his hands and squeezed them in hers. “Thank you, thank you. You are very kind.” She sniffed wetly. Al handed her a paper napkin. When she’d blown her nose, she found he was holding out a parcel of food.
“Ain’t nothing but a couple of buns,” he said, almost shyly. “For your young uns in your oven. You come back tomorrow, you hear?”
Smiling tearfully, Lina nodded and left.
Al watched her wobble down the street. I’ll never see her again, he realised. And that’s me out of pocket for three weeks of meals. He cast his eyes skyward. Thanks a lot, Stella; thanks a bunch.
But when he opened the diner for breakfast the following morning, Al was surprised to find Lina waiting there.
“May I come in?” she asked.
“Come to feast on my other arm and leg,” said Al, bitterly. But he let her in and showed her to her usual booth. He fetched her a pitcher of water.
“You think of something, boss man?” Lina asked.
Again, he was eyeing her belly. “When they due, those young uns?”
“Any day... ” Lina shrugged. “They feel ready. All night they kick. I am giving birth to football team.”
And this time, Al did laugh. “Well, I want to be the first to know when those little guys make their appearance, okay?”
Lina was puzzled. Why would boss man want to know when my babies born? A sweat of fear slicked her back. Monster! He want to take my babies to pay for food!
Al slid a slice of apple pie and cream across the table. The way Lina shrank from it made him laugh. “I ain’t going to bite you. I ain’t going to lay one finger on you or your babies.” Seeing her confusion, he went on to explain.
“There’s a fellow comes through here every month or so. Works for a modelling agency or some such up in Oklahoma City.”
Lina blushed. The idea was ridiculous. “Me, a model?”
“Not you!” Al patted her belly. “The babies. He’s always griping on about needing babies for campaigns. They takes twins, you see. One can work while the other one sleeps. You get twice as much work done as you would with just the one.”
“Work? You want my babies to work?”
“They do owe me a lot of money. Listen, sweetheart; I’m just trying to help you out. If this agency man likes the look of your young uns, there’s big money to be made. You’ll pay me off in one go, and still have money over. I’m talking the big time here. Movies, television. Twins is in high demand, I’m telling you. Those babies will want for nothing. And, furthermore!” he chuckled, “I’ll get you out of my damned booth once and for all.”
Lina said she would think about it. Al said there was nothing to think about - she had no other option.
“Time for thinking over,” said Lina, looking him in the eye. “Water just broke.”
Al paled. He rang an ambulance. “Dang me, lady; I’ve got food here.”
Lina’s sons, identical down to the last eyelash, were born eight hours later. Lina was exhausted but she h
ad never been happier. With a baby in each arm, she kissed their little skulls and named them for her grandfathers, Luka on her mother’s side, and Oskar on her father’s.
“My beautiful boys,” she sang to them. The modelling agency man would fall in love as soon as he saw their big blue eyes.
Six months later, a cab pulled up outside Al’s diner. Lina, in her fine new clothes, got out and carried two carrycots inside. She handed Al an envelope fat with banknotes, but Al was more delighted to see the boys. They really were two peas in a pod. He was constantly mistaking the one for the other.
“How do you tell them apart?” he marvelled, as Oskar - or it could have been Luka - held onto his finger.
“Luka is the one on the left,” said Lina.
“Wait! What?” Al saw the twinkle in her eye and that she was joking with him.
They became regular visitors from that point, Lina and her boys, and they always paid their way - although Al did spoil the boys with desserts. But one day, Lina announced they were leaving town. There was an offer of a television series in Burbank.
“Long way from Oklahoma,” Al observed, sadly. He would never admit it but he had grown rather fond of this little family.
“We will come back,” said Lina, squeezing his hand and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Boss man very kind.”
He stood on the doorstep and waved them off in the car that came to take them to the airport.
Except on the TV screen or in the pages of a magazine, he never saw any of them again.
***
When the boys reached their third birthday, there was talk of giving them lines in the sitcom in which they appeared, taking it in turns to play Little Timmy. Lina was delighted; her boys were going to be proper actors and not just props or set dressing. And the money would go up too.
Oskar was a natural. He remembered lines with ease and not only could he articulate the words clearly, he could also say them with inflection. The directors were amazed and delighted. Luka, on the other hand, found it impossible to retain half a sentence from one moment to the next. He also had a slur when he spoke. Teach the kid some fucking consonants, one director spat at Lina when yet another take was ruined. Lina tried to push Oskar forwards, saying he was Luka. He was on set longer than regulations permitted and, despite his apparent aptitude for acting, would grow tired and irritable - of course, the directors thought it was just Luka being rubbish as usual.
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