Out of Time

by Steven Allinson

With no alarm to rouse him, Neil awoke shortly before nine next to Dawn, as content as he had ever been. He lay there, her slender body heaving gently with her breathing, wrapped in the fullness of her beauty.

  An hour, maybe two drifted by, as he watched her every movement. She pouted as she dreamt, her body writhing occasionally as tender sounds issued from her. Her every twitch sent tactile shivers through him, the urge to hug her even closer as the sensations came almost impossible to ignore.

  Was this what it was to be in love? If it was, not only had he never truly experienced it before, but it was also as amazing as it was unique.

  Neil prepared a late breakfast, Dawn’s presence making the usually humdrum task a joy, as they shared small talk.

  Grabbing the morning paper, Neil scanned it for any press release on the arrest from last night. However, his eagerness faded when there was none. It appeared Henry was playing this one very close to his chest.

  The distant look must have piqued the interest of Dawn, who nudged him, snapping him from his ruminations. “Hey Mister Townsend. Don’t you go zoning out on me. Artimus told me to watch out for your moments.”

  “Did he now?” said Neil, playfully wrapping Dawn up in a hug. “What else did he tell you about me?”

  “Nothing much else to say, was there? Especially after the other night.” said Dawn, slapping Neil’s buttock. “There was that strange comment that went along with his request for me to look into Alexis Grayson’s Isle of Wight transactions, but I don’t think that was about you.”

  “Was the old goat trying to chat you up?” said Neil, tickling Dawn.

  Dawn shrugged Neil off, kissing him as he left to do the dishes. “I hope not!” she said, picking up the accoutrements from the table and returning them to their cupboards. “People laugh when they tell the truth, and only get serious to lie, he said. Weird. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

  “He’s frustrating like that. All the way through the case he was constantly…”

  Neil’s subconscious latched onto the words as he chatted away with Dawn, deciphering the meaning and blanking his conscious to the present. As his thoughts churned, he never noticed himself drop the plate he was holding onto the floor, he never noticed Dawn ask him what was wrong, and he never even felt her shaking his shoulders to try and snap him from his fuddle.

  Five minutes later, now sitting at the kitchen table with a fraught Dawn pacing up and down beside him, his vision returned and he looked around.

  “Away with the fairies?” he asked, looking apologetically at Dawn.

  “It’s like a catatonic state. It’s very unsettling.” she said, unsure whether she wanted to hug him or slap him. Her newfound love won over, and she wrapped him up, clasping his face in her hands. “What took you away from me?”

  “Artimus.” said Neil, his brain still running through the possibilities. “I think he’s about to do something immeasurably stupid.”

  “Never!” said Dawn in jest, her smile fading as she caught the serious look on Neil’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve got to hurry.” said Neil, looking around for his keys. “Get to the office. Tell DCI Blackwater I’ve gone to find Artimus. Tell him I think he’s in danger.”

  Before she could utter a response, Neil grabbed his jacket, pecked her on the cheek, and dashed out of his flat.

  Starting his engine and pulling out into traffic to the annoyed horns of other road users, he connected his phone to his car and dialled Artimus.

  The phone rang and rang, but no answer came. Panicked, he rang the Cittie. After a few rings, a gruff Yorkshire voice answered the call.

  “Who’s’it?”

  “It’s Neil Townsend, I’m looking for Artimus Crane.”

  “It’s five t’eight in’t morning sunshine.” said the man, his voice loaded with disgust. “E’ don’t live ‘ere, you know.”

  “Was he there last night?”

  “Was he ever!” the man laughed. “Spent a bastard fortune too! Never seen Craney splash the cash like that before.”

  Neil’s mind was spinning. Did Artimus try something last night? Even he was not that foolhardy, surely? If he did, would he do it alone?

  “Was there anyone with Mister Crane?”

  “Everyone in here at one point!” said the man, coughing violently before continuing. “But mostly Gobbler and Cyril. They were with him through t’t end. All looked like they’d been given a talking to by’t wives too. Glum as chuff they were when they left. I thought Cyril w’gonna flippin’ cry when I asked him to leave.”

  “Did they say where they were going?” said Neil, pressing.

  “Nah. Think they were splitting up. Craney might’ve given Gobbler a lift mind. Think Cyril walked.”

  “Do you have a contact number for Sir George?”

  “I can’t go handing…”

  “If you don’t give me it, one of all of those men might die!” shouted Neil, banging his steering wheel. “A number, now!”

  A couple of grunts and rustle of paper later, the man gave Neil the number. “They really in that much bother?”

  “Not sure, but hopefully I can now find out.”

  Hanging up, Neil rang the number given, his call answered after three rings.

  “Detective Townsend.” said George, his voice shaky. “Artimus said you would ring early, but I never expected it to be before midday! You will have to forgive me, I did not finish my consumptive exploits until just before sunrise.”

  “Tell me where he is.” said Neil, not wanting to make small talk.

  “Artimus said...”

  “Fuck Artimus!” shouted Neil, his anger bubbling over. “He had me arrest…”

  “Two guilty people.” said George, calmly. “Just not the ones you wanted to arrest.”

  “Those two imbeciles are guilty of a great many things, but not of the crime I was investigating.”

  “You can’t have everything detective. Do as Artimus asked. Forget this, and go enjoy yourself.”

  Neil snarled. He wanted to drive up to Artimus’ house and punch the man in the face. He had been lied to. Not only that, but he had arrested two people for the wrong reasons. However, that was not quite as important as finding Artimus and finishing this whole affair properly.

  “He gave Dawn a clue, and told you I would ring. If he did not want finding, we would not be talking.”

  Neil waited, an echoed sigh reverberating down the line as George considered his options.

  “How about I meet you for a coffee somewhere and we sit and discuss this like gentlemen.” said George. “You pick the venue.”

  “Kaffeine, half an hour.” said Neil.

  Without waiting for a response, he hung up and swerved through traffic. Narrowly avoiding an oncoming bus, he did a U-turn and started to head back to where this case began.

  If he could get George to talk, maybe he could get an explanation and stop what he was sure was about to happen.

  Chapter 34

  Tracing a Friendship