by A. B. King
“Come to that, I'd probably raise a few eyebrows myself if I went out dressed like this,” she pointed out “Actually, I was going to arrange for dinner to be sent up, but if you really want to leave, then I cannot stop you, can I?”
If you have never tried wrestling with a caveman, don't try it! The one I tangled with at that moment masquerades as my animal desire, and although my remaining shreds of common sense put up a valiant but hopeless battle, the result was likely to be a foregone conclusion if I didn't stick to my metaphorical guns. I honestly did try, but I guess the guns weren't loaded. Just why she wanted my company I didn't know, but after one more look at her in that negligee and I capitulated.
“Well,” I said dubiously as my defences swiftly crumbled into rubble, “if you really want me to, I suppose-”
“Oh good, I was so worried you would leave me to a lonely supper,” she said, her face suddenly wreathed in a smile that only served to make her even more desirable in my eyes, “I'll order it right away.”
She rose again from the sofa as she was speaking, contriving to show, either by accident or perhaps on purpose, a rather amazing length of extremely shapely leg. I hoped she didn't actually see my tongue hanging out. She walked over to the telephone, but just as she was about to pick it up, it rang. She hesitated for a moment and then picked up the receiver.
“Benny!” she exclaimed in an exasperated voice after a few seconds. “Benny, I don't care, this is neither the time nor the place...........If that's what you want to do then just get on and do it!........No, it’s not a good time.............Even if I do have somebody with me its none of your damn business.........Oh, don't make me laugh!..........Listen; you try that and I'll feed your wife enough evidence for her to take you to the cleaners...........Shut-up! Benny, I'll say this to you just once; back off now, or I promise you that I will ruin you both personally and professionally..... I mean it... That's better; just think yourself lucky I'm letting you off the hook so easily!” and with that she slammed the phone down.
In a sense the phone call came at a providential time; the heady tide of emotions that had been drowning me simmered down just a little. The man called Benny was clearly yesterday, and as I had previously surmised, Danny obviously had very sharp claws. Me, I didn't want to be 'yesterday' in any sense. Maybe I didn't have a wife tucked away anywhere, but I was very small fry compared with her, and she was obviously a person that one did not take chances with. Right there and then I was a grand to the good, but if I got in out of my depth I could so easily finish up with nothing. Much as I hated doing it, I knew it was politic to beat a decent retreat while I still could. I stood up as she put the phone down.
“Look, Danny,” I said, “on second thoughts, if it’s all the same to you, I'll skip the dinner. It was lovely of you to ask me, but I really do think I ought to be off.”
She looked at me in genuine surprise. “That's a sudden change of heart,” she commented. “What brought that on?”
“Conscience?”
“Conscience; what on Earth are you talking about?”
“Well, how shall I put it? Would you happily sleep with a customer just to secure a big order?”
“I won't dignify that with an answer.”
“Quite, now just put yourself in my shoes for a minute. You are one hell of an attractive girl, and I'm sure you've already guessed that I fancy you like crazy. But you live in a totally different world to me, and I can see us both winding up getting hurt, me probably much more than you I expect. I don't mind so much about me, I'm used to life kicking me in the teeth, but there it is. Maybe all this sounds stupid to you, I wouldn't know, but that's why I'm leaving; my conscience will kick me to death in the morning if I don't.”
I thought for a moment she was going to lose her rag, but she suddenly sighed as if she accepted the reality of the situation. “Very well,” she said airily, “if that's really how you feel, then perhaps it is for the best after all. I will just get you Julia's address and phone number.”
She went across the room to the highly polished bureaux on the far side and scribbled for a few minutes on a piece of paper. I had expected some degree of unpleasantness, after all, in a way I had just insulted her, but she appeared to be taking it much better than I imagined she would. I remembered that somebody once said to me that one day I would be hung by my own principles; maybe they hadn't hung me today, but they were sure as hell shoving me into the torture chamber. I looked at her slender form as she leaned over to write, and so help me I was soon trying to think of a valid excuse to change my mind yet again!
“There you are,” she said as she returned and handed the sheet of paper to me. “I will see what I can dig up in Willows End tomorrow. If you will give me your mobile number I will phone you sometime towards the end of the afternoon, and we can arrange to meet somewhere to compare notes, if that is ok with you?”
“I'll look forward to it,” I said truthfully, “and, Danny?”
She looked at me questioningly.
“I am sorry about tonight,” I said, and really meant it.
“So am I,” she answered enigmatically.
I walked resolutely over to the door before I crumbled and gave in to my seething desires, and she followed close behind me. She reached over and opened it for me, and just as I was about to step out she suddenly reached up and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Before I had a chance to realise what had happened she vanished back inside the flat and I was left outside wondering if it was Christmas or Easter!
By the time I had reached my own exceedingly humble abode I had succeeded in getting myself thoroughly depressed. I kept thinking of Danny in that negligee; she must have guessed what effect it would have on a red blooded male, only I was so damned stupid I hadn't realised that that was exactly why she had put it on. Why had I been such an utter idiot and turned down what I now knew was being offered to me on a plate? It certainly didn't help when it crossed my mind that if Pete had been in the same situation he'd be nicely tucked up in bed before you could say Jack what’s-'is-name! It wasn't that I didn't fancy her; I was positively drooling at one stage, nor was it really the fear that I would finish up as just another Benny. Or was it? I tried to reason that one out, and only succeeded in making myself feel even more depressed! Once I'd let myself in, the flat seemed really cold and empty, and I was struck by how tawdry it must have seemed to her. The biggest mystery was why she ever wanted to stay when it was now obvious that she could easily have paid for a taxi and gone home as soon as she had dried out.
I ambled through into the bedroom, and as I crossed the threshold I caught just the faintest whiff of perfume; a suggestion of a beautiful woman that was no longer there. I ambled round the room, and on a chair by the bed I saw the delicate wisp of a nightie that she must have worn. I opened a dressing table drawer, and neatly laid out was a selection of new and very feminine underwear. I sighed as I looked at it and felt even more depressed, if that were possible. I debated whether to go out and get drunk, and eventually decided that there was no point. I dragged a suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and carefully stowed her clothing in it. There was no good kidding myself, she wasn't coming back to this third-rate dive, and just keeping all her personal things would only drive me nuts. I would put the case in the boot of my car in the morning and hand it back to her when I saw her next.
I was half way through packing the case, having placed skirts and what-have-you at the bottom, and I had just laid the underwear drawer on the bed so that I could transfer the contents when there was a knock on the door. I admit that I was somewhat surprised; not many people bother to call on me, particularly at that late hour. For the briefest possible moment I thought it might be Danny, and dismissed the thought as rampant wishful thinking. I went across and opened the front door of the flat, and standing on the threshold was not quite the vision of loveliness I was dreaming of, but the formidable contours of Mrs Axeman. Mrs Axeman, I should explain, is the Building Superintendent, and I had
long suspected that in another incarnation may well have been a member of the Nazi SS. Out of her hearing I always referred to her as 'The Hatchet', not only because her name had suggested the sobriquet, or because her features bore more than a passing resemblance to that otherwise very useful tool, mostly because her manner and attitudes put one in mind of the thing as well. Ever since I had moved into my flat I had suspected that she didn't much care for me, and I will readily confess that if she was the last woman on Earth I'd willingly become resigned to celibacy. One glance at her expression and I knew I was in for a rougher passage than usual.
“Good evening, Mr Hammond,” she announced in tones that suggested that shortly it would become anything but.
“Hello Mrs Axeman,” I said with a decidedly forced smile of welcome on my face, “how nice to see you!”
Her expression indicated that she believed that outright lie less than I did, and I didn't believe it at all.
“Mr Hammond, I have reason to believe that you are harbouring a woman in your flat,” she announced in a tone that suggested that I had at least committed murder most foul. “ As you are well aware, that is contrary to the terms and conditions of your tenancy.”
“Honestly Mrs Axeman,” I expostulated, which is not an easy thing to do when you would much rather spit or snarl, “I really don't know where you could have got such an idea from; I'm a confirmed bachelor.”
“A woman has been seen entering and leaving this flat.” she announced accusingly, as if daring me to deny it.
“Oh, you must mean Miss Fortescue,” I said, as if that explained everything. “She is a client, and called to discuss some details of her case.”
“A client, you say,” she sniffed sarcastically, “I've heard these creatures of the night called many things; I think it would be more truthful if you should admit that it is you who is the 'client'!”
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” I protested. “I am running a detective agency, and Miss Fortescue is one of my clients.”
I took the much louder sniff she indulged in to indicate that she was not in the least impressed by my explanation.
“Under the terms and conditions of tenancy that you have signed I have the right, as Superintendent of this building, of entry into your apartment if I suspect that said terms and conditions have been contravened; please stand aside.”
“You won't find any woman in here,” I called as she marched past me, “You can look where-ever you like; you won't find a single shred of evidence supporting your mistaken belief that I have been entertaining a lady in contravention of my tenancy agreement.”
It was only as she marched straight into the bedroom that I recalled the open case on the bed. As I have mentioned before, I do have this tendency at times to open mouth before engaging brain. If only I had thought to close the case and hide it somewhere before going to the door. I'm afraid that life is full of 'if only's'
“I think,” she said, with a satisfied gleam of sheer triumph in her eyes as she presently emerged from my boudoir, “that I have seen quite sufficient, and before you come out with some ridiculous story of you being a covert transvestite, I can assure you that none of that frivolous erotica I have just seen would fit you.”
“Mrs Axeman, “I protested, “It isn't what you think, I-”
“Oh come, Mr Hammond,” she admonished sneeringly, “I can see that there are soiled women's clothes in the linen basket by the bed as well as new in the case. You undoubtedly have a woman living here; therefore you will receive formal written notice in the morning. As you well know, under the terms and conditions-”
“-I have to be out in a week,” I finished for her in a tone of utter resignation, “but I protest, there is no woman living here, I can assure you that all these things will be gone in the morning!”
“No doubt this ah; what did you say the name was? Ah, Fortescue, that was it, has seen what an incredibly shallow and immoral person you are Mr Hammond,” she replied with an expression of icy satisfaction, “and equally without doubt she has already had the sense to leave you. Frankly, I cannot see any woman with even a modicum of taste ever wishing to associate with a person whose moral principles are as lax as yours appear to be. Good night, Mr Hammond, sleep well; your formal notice to quit will be delivered first thing tomorrow morning. You have one week.”
As she flounced out of the door, utter satisfaction of a job well done written all over her unprepossessing features, I feared that her wish that I should sleep well was scarcely likely to come true. Thanks to Danny, and my own stupidity, I was about to become a homeless heart-broken insomniac!
Chapter Twelve.
When I reached my office the following morning, and late even by my own customary slack standards following a night of restless tossing and turning, I found that 'spotty face' was already in, and had thoughtfully switched the kettle on for a coffee when she had heard my car arriving. My opinion of the girl went up one small notch when I found the coffee was excellent, and I appraised her with new eyes. Up to that point I hadn't bothered to give her more than a casual glance, but as I sat there sipping coffee and wallowing in my deeper than usual early morning blues I actually looked at her. To me she still appeared to be a very plain and completely unsophisticated youngster not long out of school, and patently pretty nervous about everything. Obviously Danny had found something in the girl that appealed to her, and whatever it was, it certainly wasn't her looks! Still, if I was honest, she looked better than when I had seen her the previous day; she was a little less gauche in dress, although she still wore the glasses that seemed somehow too big for her face, and her hair looked like something an inebriated crow had tried to make a nest out of. I eventually decided that perhaps with the passage of a few months or more likely a year or so, together with a loss of not a little weight round the midriff she might turn into something vaguely resembling a young woman, but right there and then she looked both gawky and lost. No doubt it was her first real job, and found it a little daunting
“I've sorted the post for you, Mr Hammond,” she said nervously, “and unless there is anything else you want me to do, I'm going to deal with the filing this morning. Do you want it all done alphabetically?”
“Oh, yes Tania, that will be fine,” I said, trying my best not to sound like the ogre her expression suggested was how she perceived my person, “but don't overdo it. I mean, give yourself a break.”
“Thank you, Mr Hammond.”
“Look, you can call me Neil,” I said, trying to convince her that despite appearances I was actually vaguely human, “except when there is a client here.”
“Certainly, Mr Hammond,” she said, and then added hastily; “I mean, Neil.”
“Good, any messages for me this morning?”
“Only one; Mrs Throgmorton phoned at nine o'clock.”
“Mrs Throgmorton?”
“Hunston Road; the missing cat?”
“Oh, yes, 'Truffles' or some such silly name.”
I looked at her reflectively. “How would you like to earn yourself a commission?” I asked after a couple of moment's thought.
“Me?”
“There's no-one else here.”
“What do I have to do?” she asked dubiously, and it suddenly crossed my mind that she might suspect that I was propositioning her!
Smoothing down incipient panic at the very idea that she might think that I had a latent taste for spotty and overweight ex-schoolgirls, I hastened to explain what I had in mind.
“You look a very bright girl to me,” I said, beaming in a beatific way, “so you can go out and find the cat.”
“Find a cat, but I don't know how?”
“It's very simple; look upon it as being your first lesson in becoming a fully fledged and thoroughly qualified private detective,” I announced boldly. “You start with Mrs Throgmorton's original letter, and with it you will find a picture of 'Truffles'. As you will see for yourself, it is a decidedly overfed and pampered black-and-white creature,
and unlikely to stray far from a cosy bed and plenty of highly unsuitable food. You can get a number thirty bus from here, which will drop you at Hunston Road. Armed with the picture you can call at houses in the vicinity, and particularly the one's in the next road that near enough back on to its home. I'll bet you a pound to a pinch of peppermint that you will find that someone has either taken him in, or knows who has. What do you say?”
She looked absolutely stunned. “Me; a detective?” she stammered. “Me?”
“Of course. Look; here's a couple of pounds that will more than cover your bus-fare. If you can wind this case up for me, there will be a ten pounds bonus in it for you. How does that sound?”
“Well, if you're sure?”
“Of course I'm sure. I'm working on a big case, and I need a clever young assistant. Get this right, and who knows what it may lead to?”
“Oh, Mr Hammond, I don't know what to say!”
“Neil.”
“Sorry, Neil. When do you want me to go?”