"Ay Mam, of course I bleeding am." Archie
pulled the duvet over his throbbing head, trying to block out his
Mother’s piercing voice, but more importantly trying to eradicate
the vivid flashback to the incident in Rome, some four years ago, that
still haunted him. He closed his eyes and tried to relive his
favourite, and most pleasurable dream. He was Captain Scabies, king of
the pirates and ruler of the waves. He took no prisoners and had the
beautiful Ruby to share his every adventure. But it was no good; any
hope of fleeting escapism was gone.
He often wondered if it had been a good idea to
move his Mother into his luxury penthouse apartment, instead of
leaving her back at the family home in Leeds. He wondered, on a more
frequent basis, about his decision to allow his two best mates from
Yorkshire, namely Gaggie and Parkie, to also share his abode!
Fortunately the huge flat was big enough to avoid them, whenever it
was deemed necessary. Although his manager and chairman might suggest
that he didn’t avoid them enough!
As Archie lay there various flashbacks from the
previous evening began to flood back, until, one by one, the pieces
were added and the whole horrible jigsaw had been completed. Archie
pulled the duvet over his head, hoping that it might possess magical
powers, and that it would be possible for the memory of last night to
be wiped out. It wasn't!
He could not recall exactly how many pubs in
downtown Newcastle they had visited but remembered the MirrorBall
Nightclub with vivid clarity. It was there that he had met the woman
he would eventually spend the night with. What was her name? Nancy
seemed horribly familiar. From there on, the rest of the night was a
nightmarish blur of strange faces and stranger places. He did remember
waking up sometime in the mornings early hours. Nancy was naked, and
for some reason seemed to be bouncing up and down on him. They were
actually having sex, but how was that possible? Surely he had been
unconscious? He felt a little glow of pride, and congratulated himself
on being capable of shagging while asleep. And then Archie had felt
the nausea kicking in and he began to groan. Nancy looked down at him
and smiled, but as he sprayed the combined juices of Guinness, Lager,
various spirits and Indian cuisine over her, she felt her own nausea
rising.
Archie remembered in all it’s Technicolor beauty,
the scene as the two of them sat on the bed, stark naked, wiping each
other’s puke off one another. Bobby "Archie" Archibald, a
footballer who had cost over £150 million in transfer fees alone, was
a mess; he just hoped that this story never got out. The press would
destroy him. They were just waiting for a story like this, and the way
his career and marriage problems were going at the moment it could be
the final nail in the Bobby Archibald story.
* *
* * *
* *
He wished that he had turned back when he had the
chance. He could have taken the easy option, and simply have driven
on. But he couldn't. How could he? She had meant so much, that to
resist the chance to help her, when she was in trouble, was something
he could not contemplate. Danny found reverse, smoothly engaged it,
and returned to the large town house that he had just passed. He
parked the gleaming, black Audi TT on the road outside, and gave it a
loving slap on the roof. The beautiful sports car had been a bonus to
himself due to the success of his last case, and that success had been
long overdue. He sat on the bonnet so that he could view the house;
memories started flooding back.
Six years. Christ, was it really that long? Had it
really been that long since Izzy had told him she was leaving to go
off to college? Six years since he had even spoken to her, never mind
seen her. Even her letters had stopped after a few months. He had been
surprised at the way they had just come to a sudden halt, as if
something had happened to Izzy. But he realised it was because she
just wanted to cut herself off from him. Had she found someone else?
Got married? Had Kids? He suspected that it would take a very strong
character to shackle Izzy down to a life of suburbia and school runs.
Danny himself, had had a few short-term relationships since Izzy, but
he had never managed to shake the ghost of her from his mind.
Inevitably those relationships had all suffered as a consequence.
Danny smirked, recalling the occasion when, after a dozen, or so,
tequila slammers, he had called out Izzy’s name in the middle of a
delicate sexual moment. Needless to say, his girlfriend of the time-
Susan had left him the next day.
Instead Danny Keally had thrown himself
whole-heartedly into his work. He soon found the dividends paying off,
when he was employed by a government minister to carry out
surveillance work for him. Not to check on a terrorist suspect, or
drug cartel, but on his daughter's boyfriend who the Minister
suspected was a low-life petty criminal and hard drug user. In fact
the boy turned out to be nothing worse than an under age cider
drinker, whose only crime was that he couldn't hold his drink! At
least this contact had soon led to bigger and more complex work, and
Danny eventually managed to put Izzy to the back of his mind. But her
memory had never completely been erased.
He looked at the house, where Izzy had once lived,
and realised he was no longer overawed by it. It was a Gothic style
house, its stonework a pale, washed pink, its windows embellished by
ornate shutters. It certainly dominated the tree-lined avenue but it
now seemed ostentatious. It felt very strange to be back here after
all these years and he would never have even considered it, were it
not for the message he had received on his answering machine from Izzy’s
mother.
"Daniel Keally, this is Helen Sinclair. As I
suspected you are still working as a private detective after all these
years, I always thought you were a waste of space. Well, I may have a
job for you. I need your professional assistance. Call at the
house tomorrow afternoon." Helen’s attitude, as ever, was cold
and sarcastic.
Danny didn’t take it personally, as he would have
done some years ago. He realised how bitter and twisted Helen had
always been. He knew enough about Helen Sinclair to understand that
something extraordinary must have happened for her to turn to him for
help. Curiosity had compelled him to answer her summons.
But any trepidation he felt was not for Izzy’s
mother. The ball of fear in Danny’s stomach was due to his
overwhelming fear that he might bump into Izzy herself. What would he
say? How would she look? Would it be awkward? Of course it would be.
Bracing himself, he rang the large brass doorbell. He waited. No
reply. He rang it again. Still no reply. He knew that the house had a
huge conservatory at the rear and since it was a sunny afternoon, he
wondered if Helen could be back there. He made his way to the back of
the house, and then looked nervously through one of the glass panels
of the conservatory door.
"My God, you look even more like council
estate rubbish than you did all those years ago."
Danny swung around, to be confronted by the sight
of Helen, clearly drunk, lying in a hammock tied between two small
apple trees.
"And it is so nice to see you too, Helen,
" he said with little emotion. She had aged considerably since
the last time that they had met. She had once been a strikingly
good-looking woman, although Izzy had inherited and improved upon the
original. Their personalities, however, were thankfully completely
different.
"Well, well, well, the one and only Daniel
Keally. Come here. Let me have a good look at you, my boy."
As Danny walked towards her, he realised just how
haggard she had become. Her arms and neck were heavily wrinkled,
although her face was surprisingly free of creases. Plastic surgery
possibly? She could afford it and besides it looked like her skin was
so tight, that she was having trouble blinking; a sure sign of the
surgeon of vanity’s handiwork.
"Care for a drink, my darling?"
spluttered Helen. Danny nearly keeled over, as her odious breath hit
him like a toxic sledgehammer. "Aren’t you a bit over the top,
for one o' clock in the afternoon?"
Helen’s eyes narrowed. "Just what the hell
do you know, you piece of shit? I have picked up better than you in my
poodle’s poop scoop."
Danny didn’t even blink. Helen’s poison
invective no longer had the power to wound him. "Could you just
tell me why you’ve asked me here? I get the feeling that its nothing
to do with discussing the latest stock prices, or to ask me if I have
taken up polo yet."
Helen was crying now. She had always been rather
unstable and the odd bout of tears was never far away. As she went to
wipe the black, mascara stained tears away from her cheek, she lost
her balance and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Danny sighed
then went to pick her up. He was surprised to realise that he actually
had some sympathy for the old witch. More importantly, it was obvious
that something was desperately wrong.
"Get off me, you idiot, I am just a little
under the weather, that’s all." Helen stood up and dusted
herself down. Sitting back on the hammock, she buried her head in her
hands.
Danny was tempted to leave her to it but gut
instinct told him that something was very wrong. "Come on Helen,
who are you trying to kid? You're a real mess. Lets get you inside and
get the kettle on the go. After all, the last thing you want is for
the neighbours to see you like this."
"Oh fuck the neighbours! They will love every
minute of this. They have waited years to see me crack up, and now I
am really going to give them a show they will not forget in a
hurry."
With this, Helen, threw away the glass she was
holding in her hand, and started to unbutton her dress.
Danny didn’t know whether to laugh, or feel sorry
for her. Personally he didn’t give a damn if she wanted to show her
wrinkled old arse to the world. But first he had to make her explain
the message she had left on his answering machine.
"Bloody hell Helen, this isn’t the
solution." Danny went to grab her but before he had the chance,
her eyes rolled upwards and she fell to the floor, in a state of
drunken unconsciousness.
"Oh bloody fantastic," he cursed aloud.
How the hell had he got into this? He would have to get her inside and
stick her in bed, to allow her to sleep it off. He wrapped his arms
around her waist, and started to pull her to her feet.
"Its okay, Danny, I’ll give you a hand with
her." The husky female voice was familiar.
Danny’s heart missed a beat. He turned around and
looked up to find Rachel, Izzy's younger sister, watching him. He
recognised her instantly, but she looked very different to the last
time he had seen here. Almost effortlessly, as if she had done it a
thousand times before, she hoisted Helen back to her feet.
Within half an hour, they had got Helen into bed
and cleaned up the trail of puke that she had left behind. That done,
they retired to the kitchen and sat down at the enormous oak table.
"I can’t believe its you, Danny. How long
has it been, five, six years?"
"Six years," he replied, looking at her
more closely. Was this really the scrawny little brat that he last
seen all those years ago? Back then she had been a hormonally
challenged, sixteen year old, who seemingly detested Danny, as much as
her mother did, if not more. And the feeling had been mutual; Danny
could not stand to be in the same room as her. But the Rachel that sat
before him now had metamorphosed, from a skinny, buck-toothed
teenager, into a beautiful young woman.
"I’m sorry about Mother. She’s not been
the same since Father left her."
"Don’t worry about it, Rachel. I’ve seen a
lot worse over the years, believe me." Danny felt sorry for her,
something he thought he would never have done the last time they had
met.
"What’s your poison? Coffee, tea, something
stronger - although after seeing Mother in that condition, you might
want to give the bottle of toilet cleaner a miss?"
Danny smirked; at least she had developed a sense
of humour. "Yeah, coffee would be fine, Rachel. So, what have you
been up to? Still in love with Jason Donovan?"
"Well, Jason went off to be a sexually
challenged, coke snorting drag queen in the Rocky Horror Show, leaving
me to finish school and start my own business."
"Mmm, somehow I never imagined you as the
business type. I always expected you to be lost in the magical world
of academia, studying to be a professor of origami or something."
Danny could not resist teasing her.
Rachel resisted the bait. "It did cross my
mind. My parents both wanted me to go to university, especially after
what happened to Izzy, but I was always good with computers and
decided to just go for it. So now I’m running my own business,
selling computer systems to such clients as city bankers and
entertainment companies, and it pays well. Well enough for me to have
my own cottage by the time I was twenty."
He heard the pride in her voice and Danny was
impressed by her enthusiasm. "Good for you, Rachel! I’m still
living in that knackered old ice cream warehouse, which doubles up as
my office. At least I can pride myself on the fact that I own it now,
rather than renting it from that old bastard of a landlord. I guess
that the life I have led over the past years means that I haven't had
chance to allow middle aged comfort to kick in just yet!"
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Too much sex, drugs
and rock ‘n roll?"
Danny smiled. "At the moment I would be happy
with the rock ‘n roll."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Business is so good
at the moment, that I haven’t had a good shag for bloody ages,"
she said, with a mischievous smile on her face. She was watching him
closely, wanting him to be shocked by her words.
He stifled a laugh and answered with a straight
face. "Yeah, well, when you’re a private dick, working the most
ridiculous and unsocial hours possible, it does affect your love
life."
"Never mind. Mother always did say you were a
bit of a wanker."
Now Danny chuckled aloud. "Ah yes, but now the
very same woman who used to laugh herself silly, when I told her what
my job was, actually wants to hire me. Now that’s a fine bit of
irony."
Rachel sighed. "I wish I could join in with
the joke, Danny, I really do, but the reason that Mother wants to hire
you is to find Izzy. She's in trouble."
Danny’s heart sank. "What kind of trouble?
The last time I saw her she was on her way to study geology in Wales.
Surely playing with rocks isn’t that dangerous, is it?"
"God, how I wish she was studying rock
formations, in some beautiful little backwater. But she never even
finished the course. She disappeared and we never heard from her
again."
Danny stared at her in disbelief, and then asked,
"Why the hell didn’t you contact the police, or tell me sooner?
I might have been able to help find her before now." The
controlled anger was plain to hear in his voice.
Rachel look towards him, the guilt suddenly felt
overwhelming. "When she disappeared she phoned mother and then
me. She told the both of us that she intended to go away for a long
time; that something unexpected had happened. She told us how she
loved us both, but under no circumstances were we to contact the
police. The selfish bitch never thought about anyone else but
herself." Now it was Rachel’s turn to put her head in her
hands.
Danny felt decidedly awkward. Should he reach out
and place a comforting hand on her shoulder? Should he just sit there
and pretend that everything was normal? There was no need for him to
make a decision, for the difficult moment was broken, by the sound of
Helen’s voice.
"Yes my dear Rachel, you are so right.
Isabelle never thought about anyone but herself and that is why you
are here today, Danny. She is in great danger and that is why we need
your help." Helen had wrapped a thick tartan blanket around
herself, and looked like death warmed up, even her voice seemed to
come from beyond the grave.
But Danny did not see Helen’s terrible state. His
mind was mulling over various scenarios that could explain Izzy’s
disappearance. He tried to push the worst of them to the back of his
mind.
Helen rubbed her aching head. "We have had
some news of Isabelle’s whereabouts. But it was not through any
direct contact from her, it was from a friend of mine, who is a
production assistant for a television company. They have been working
on a documentary called Death of a Generation and it is due to
be screened in two weeks time."
Danny frowned with confusion. "How is this
relevant to me being here?"
"Believe me young Mr. Keally, you will soon
see the relevance."
