An hour and a bacon and egg sarnie later, Neil was sitting at his desk with Artimus, Dawn, and John. His head was almost on the verge of being back to normal, and the eggs had done wonders to bind his gut.
“So Neil.” said Artimus, drumming his fingers against the desk and checking his watch impatiently. “It’s now well after opening time, and we’re still just lounging around like stray cats. Make a move, or you will force me to go see what The Feathers is like. I’ve not been before, so it could be awful, but I am more than happy to take the risk to stave off my boredom.”
Neil laughed. “You have an alcohol problem Artimus.”
“Look at yourself Neil.” said Artimus, baulking at the suggestion. “Are you sure I am the one with the problem.”
“Okay, okay.” said Neil, finishing his coffee. “We’ll get moving. However, let’s have a quick recap from you guys on everything we’ve asked for so far. I want what we know and what is outstanding. You first Wordy.”
John held up his notepad and flicked through to a list of questions. All over each of the pages were doodles, random swirls, and crossings-out. Neil snapped his attention from the notepad and tried to focus on something else. Looking at the level of cognitive untidiness was enough to drive him insane. It was akin to eye torture.
“I was asked to find out if the Grayson’s had and links to Aperture Dramatics. They don’t.”
“Amateur.” said Dawn, smiling at John.
“Geez, I did my best. There’s no need to call me that!” said John, looking upset. “I was also asked to get details of the estate agent who sold the house. I’ve given those to you already.”
“You have John, thank you.” said Artimus, engrossed in every ridiculous word falling from John’s lips.
“No problemo.” said John, moving on. “I managed to get the contact details for the last surveyors too; they’re in that pack as well guys. Oh yeah, plus the sales history. Not of the surveyor’s though, that would be stupid. Just the house. Then finally, we had the whole thing with actors being hired, and as we all know, the picture had been circumvented, but could not be matched.”
“Circulated.” said Dawn, trying again.
“Thanks!” said John, smiling heartily as he closed his notepad.
“What?” asked Dawn, confused.
“Great run-through Wordy. Classy stuff.” said Neil, desperate to move on before John got chance to speak again. “Your turn Dawn.”
Still staring at John, Dawn took her own notepad and flicked it open, crossing her legs and balancing it against her thigh.
Neil was mesmerised, every movement of Dawn captivating.
Neil could remember only one other person with that kind of power over him, a girl from his school days called Olivia Hardy.
Olivia was one of those girls who grew up quick; tall, slim, athletic, and buxom, all by the age of twelve. She exuded womanhood, the heady blast of the perfect pheromones she must have given off trapping any male foolish enough to come within range of their effect.
Some boys, the Hardy Hunters as they were known by just about everyone in their school, would follow her around everywhere she went. These were not just boys from her year either. Young adults, some as old as seventeen, would shadow her like lapdogs; fawning over her every motion and whim.
Neil was fourteen when he first encountered Olivia. The loner crossbreed runt of his class, Neil was never going to meet a girl of her social stature in any other way than by chance.
One evening, running through the December snowfalls to make his bus in time, Neil slid and fell, twisting his ankle and slamming his head into a metal railing.
When he came to from what he presumed were thirty or so seconds of dizziness, Olivia was leaning over him, tending to the graze on his head with a perfumed handkerchief.
“Are you going to be alright.” she asked, her voice drifting through his conscious and pacifying his ability to form words.
Neil did not respond. He never responded. She left, smiling sweetly as she wandered home. He saw her every day after that. Every stolen glance, reciprocated with that same enchanting smile, faltering his heartbeats and lightening his spirit.
Looking back, it was clear there was some shared feeling, but at the time, he was an outcast and she was the most enthralling girl in the school. There was no chance.
It was the same with Dawn. There was no way in the world he was good enough for her. He should forget his musings and focus on his job.
“…and that’s about it.” said Dawn, closing her notepad as Neil zoned back into what was going on. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Er…” said Neil, turning red with embarrassment. “I was running through some other stuff all the way through what you just said. I missed every word, sorry.”
“No TiVo function?” said Artimus, disappointed. “Your brain cannot record and play at the same time?”
“Everything has limits.” said Neil.
“So, to recap for Detective Ignorant.” said Dawn, her annoyance clear. “The Grayson Family are not wealthy. Noel Grayson has ten times the total savings of his parents. However, Noel Grayson has made three large cash withdrawals from his accounts in the last four years, and he has made two sizable purchases, the last being eighteen months ago. A public house called the Prospect of Whitby.”
Neil glanced at Artimus, who nodded his understanding of what that could mean.
“I also found that Missus Grayson was given eight steroid injections for her Bell’s Palsy; all self-administered doses. Plus, I had the details of the conversations Officer Leeks had with Alanis typed up for you. I am expecting you to tell me if there is anything further you need when you get round to reading them. On top of that, the forensic results are due today, which includes the three sets of genetic tests, the brickwork analysis, and the returns from the patina on the chairs in the room.” Dawn turned to Neil, staring straight through him. “Would you like me to repeat myself again, or were you paying attention that time?”
“I was listening.” said Neil, averting his eyes from Dawn’s harsh gaze.
“Excellent.” said Dawn, standing. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“One thing before you go please Dawn.” said Artimus, apologetically. "I need to know which hospitals Mister and Missus Grayson were born at, plus a list of all the other babies born at those hospitals on the same day.”
“Sure.” said Dawn, throwing one last look of disgust at Neil before leaving.
“She really hates you!” said John, laughing.
“Actually, she’s just disappointed.” said Artimus, correcting John. “It comes across as hate because she and Neil have no common ground from which she can express what she is actually feeling and hate is like bass, it’s omnidirectional and seems to come from everywhere.”
“What?” said Neil, facing Artimus.
“You really are socially inept, aren’t you?”
“Great answer!” said Neil, sarcastically. “Let’s all pick on the guy with the hangover.”
“Okay!” said John, chirpily. “You smell like rat shit, and look like you’ve been dry-humped by a horny baboon.”
“That wasn’t an invitation John.” said Neil, disturbed by his eagerness to stick the boot in.
“Sweet.” said John, awkwardly, as he picked himself from his chair. “If you need me, I’ll be hiding downstairs with Dawn.”
As John left, Neil turned to Artimus. “Your turn.”
“Pardon?” said Artimus, a puzzled look crossing his face.
“It is now your turn to tell me everything you have learnt in the last forty-eight hours. Including those things you have outstanding.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” said Neil, in his most serious tone. “Partners have no secrets.”
“OK Neil, but this could take a while.” said Artimus. It was clear he was thinking hard to find where to start.
“Don’t do the entire Divergent Thinking thing. I don’t want every question and every an
swer.” said Neil, realising what he had just asked. “Just give me the key points.”
“Ah,” said Artimus, looking more comfortable with the request, “and what would be the point of that? If I only give you part of something I am unsure of, how does that help exactly?”
Neil sighed. “Let’s try this another way. Is there anything you think I should be aware of?”
Artimus thought for a few moments, his eventual response unsure. “I think we have two things that require immediate clarification. Why Clara Robertson’s secretary contacted Henry with a lie, why Noel Grayson bought that public house, and what has any of this got to do with those bodies.”
“That’s three things Artimus.”
“Oh, and we really need to discover when that wall was first built.”
“Four.” said Neil, as Artimus continued to ruminate.
“Four what?” said Artimus, returning his attention to Neil. “Don’t ramble man, it’s off-putting.”
“Whatever.” said Neil, picking up his phone. “Let me see if we can’t arrange to interview a few more people today and maybe get some of those answers for you.”
Chapter 21
All the Wrong Questions
Out of Time Page 20