The phone buzzed for about five seconds before she answered.
“Well, good morning. I suppose this means you’re in town?”
“Yeah, you busy?”
“You mean now, tonight or both?”
“Either, neither, both.”
“Just starting work now. Good tonight. You coming over?”
“Will we meet in town around six? Somewhere nice; my treat.”
“OK, send me a text.”
“Will do; see you then”.
I hung up. Janet and I weren’t exactly an item, more long-term Friends With Benefits. We normally got together when I was in town, and occasionally she called to my apartment down the coast. We had known each other since college where, as well as doing the same course, we also joined the same Reserves unit. Our FWB arrangement had survived through several more committed relationships on either side. It helped that we were both in the same line of work, freelancing IT security consultants. We occasionally worked together, and offloaded work to each other when busy. I opened a website and in a few minutes we were booked for the early bird offering in the Saucy Scribbler, an intown, upmarket and expensive eatery. Things had been going well, and I felt like a good steak with a half bottle of good red wine before we repaired to hers for dessert. Right now, I needed a coffee.
The commuter train pulled into its station and the hoard of scurrying wage-slaves alighted and ran off to their places of daily confinement, there to sit before screens and dream of life… whatever they imagined that was. Maybe the two weeks getting sunburned and wasted in the Costa del Sun and Fun each summer? I had plenty of time and walked leisurely along the river in the May sunshine towards my appointment, a new client. Unusually, I was to meet him in his place of work, the Fordtown Criminal Courts, just before a case commenced. He was by profession a Solicitor whose firm had just had a visit from the bane of current business and the provider of my livelihood, the dreaded Hacker, who had managed to divert the Solicitor’s firm’s accounts-receivable to their own account, thus purloining the proceeds of a great many billable hours.
I still needed my coffee. There was a coffee trailer pulled up on the plaza leading into the lofty Place for the Dispensation of Justice, or at least the Application of Law, its ongoing presence secured by the provision of free coffee to those who might feel it to be their duty to cause it to “move along”. Unfortunately I was not amongst this august group and had to pay for my americano, no milk, no sugar. At least it was full. I took a few sips to lessen the possibility of spills, replaced the lid and set off amongst the throng of wage-slaves, accused, witnesses, solicitors and a scattering of ridiculously attired barristers, heading towards the Hallowed Halls, planning my day in my mind.
First, talk to the principal here in the courts. This wasn’t really necessary, but it was what he wanted, and he was paying for my time. Then head for his nearby office and do some real work there for the rest of the day. I was enjoying the irony of this defender of the criminal classes being relieved of his takings by members of the same class and barely noticed a slight kerfuffle up ahead along with two pops like a little motor scooter backfiring. I did notice a motorcycle courier in a full face helmet sprinting towards me, knocking over an elderly gentleman in the process. Feeling rather pissed about this, I threw my coffee towards his neck, aiming just below his helmet, side stepped and tripped him. As he went sprawling, I was almost run over by a stampede of police and quickly departed the scene in order to avoid being any further involved in what was really none of my business. I should have known better; throwing the coffee definitely constituted assault, and possibly Actual Bodily Harm, better known as ABH amongst the criminal fraternity.
I met my client and we chatted for about half an hour before I headed out a side door to his nearby office. This was a routine enough job, not too taxing, very embarrassing for my client who would throw money at it to ensure no publicity, and a nice little earner. (©Dell Boy, Only Fools & Horses). First order of business was to text Janet then, as usual, I worked straight through lunch subsisting on the banana and yogurt in my laptop backpack before wrapping up and heading directly to the Saucy Scribbler. It was still relatively warm and dry and the walk was pleasant enough despite the stink of exhaust fumes which ensured that I was not a permanent residence of this minor metropolis.
I arrived first and ordered a beer while I waited. Janet arrived soon afterwards, wearing a short-sleeved, mini, denim dress. She had been working from her apartment that day and must have taken some time off to prepare as she was perfectly made up. I stood up and gave her a quick peck-on-the-cheek greeting; as I mentioned, we weren’t an item, just two ships berthing alongside as the opportunity arose. We chatted about work while we waited for our food; she was slack so I would pass her some work for next week. Starters arrived so work was shelved.
“You were in the Criminal Courts today?”
“Yeah, just meeting the client before starting.”
“You heard about the shooting?”
“No, what happened?”
“Kingston case; a witness was shot, dead, just outside the building. They got the gunman.”
The case was fairly prominent; the accused was a big wheel in a drug gang and getting him to trial was the first time that such a senior member of the notorious organised crime gang had faced the courts.
“Good job I missed that. All I saw was a lunatic motorbike courier running down an old man.”
We chatted some more as we worked our way through €120 of my “client entertainment” budget. Janet was going on holidays to Algarve in June, before the heat and the main rush of holidaymakers, with her girlfriends.
“Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do!”
“I’m trying to think of something that you haven’t done!”
“Speaking of, have you any client meetings tomorrow?”
“No”.
Knowing the import of my question, she tilted her head back slightly and passed her tongue along her lips, feigning, well maybe NOT feigning, anticipation.
Meal finished, I retrieved my rucksack from the cloakroom, and we wandered off to her apartment. We got in the door and she took a wrap-around denim miniskirt from the wardrobe and passed it to me. She liked me in a skirt; so did I! She moved close to me and unbuckled the belt of my slacks, kept solely for client meetings! As she was taking off my slacks, I was unbuttoning the top half of her denim dress. I paused and moved back as she wrapped the skirt around me and buttoned it in place, before catching her, turning her around and pulling her dress off her shoulders to trap her arms. She resisted just enough to make it seem real; she was already breathing hard. By the time I pushed her into the bedroom and onto her bed, she was already noisy, something between a moan and a whimper. I opened the lower drawer of her bedside locker and retrieved the length of soft white rope kept there and tied her hands behind her back. Not too tight, but enough to be real: With no client meetings tomorrow, a few rope marks wouldn’t be a problem…
We showered together the next morning and were having breakfast listening to the 7am News. We were both big, cooked-breakfast types and I knew her apartment well enough by now to be able to get the scrambled eggs with bacon and tomato while she made wholemeal toast and a pot of Assam tea.
“… the death of this witness will be a serious setback for the prosecution as well as an embarrassment for the police who were supposed to protect him. Police will only say that they have detained a suspect in his twenties who expected to be charged later today. In the meantime the police have requested that all witnesses come forward and are particularly anxious to talk to a fair haired man in his twenties carrying a rucksack who accosted the alleged shooter at the scene. They have also asked that pictures of the incident NOT be shared on Social Media.
Now for other News, the American President…”
I turned off the radio and opened my iPad. Janet did likewise and soon we were looking at pictures, mostly of poor quality, but recognisably me. Various contributors were waffling on about this guy who had singlehandedly brought down the shooter and had simply disappeared immediately after the incident… silly words like “hero” and “quick-thinking” were being bandied about.
“Shit! I never even knew what was happening”.
“You mean I slept with a hero last night and he didn’t even know it?”
Janet was teasing; she hadn’t thought this through.
“Janet, you don’t get it. If these guys were prepared to take out a witness in front of the Criminal Courts, they might decide to do the same to me in revenge or just as an example”.
“Shit!”
I thought some more…
“Given time, they might associate you with me. We were together at the Saucy Scribbler. The staff will see the pictures and will hardly stay quiet. And they know our names!”
We were not regulars, but had eaten there often enough to be known to the staff. She went pale.
“What’ll we do?”
I thought for a minute… or maybe ten. I would have to go to the police, but did not want to be recognised on the way. Neither did I want to draw attention to Janet’s apartment by asking for police to call around to collect me. If they arrived in uniform or in marked cars, they might as well put up a sign saying “LOOK HERE… SOMETHING INTERESTING GOING ON!” I was also uncomfortable about leaving Janet on her own; it was highly unlikely that the thugs would be able to identify her so quickly, but I felt that she needed to at least have a talk with the plod about her own safety. She let me think… we knew each other well.
“OK; I’m going in as Jesse.”
“You what?”
Jesse was my alter ego that we had cooked up in Janet’s apartment last December. She was simple enough to devise: A flared denim skirt hid narrow hips, a well-padded longline bra mimicked boobs, my hair was long enough to be dressed appropriately and Janet was a dab hand at makeup. Jesse and Janet had had a few fun nights out together, mostly with Janet’s girlfriends who rather liked her.
“Everyone on the street will recognise me if they’ve seen those pictures. I can go to the copshop as Jesse and nobody will know it’s me. And, I think you should come too; just to find out how to be safe. Sorry to have landed you in this!”
“It’s OK; you couldn’t have known. Let’s move fast so before the copshop fills up with the usual.”
We were well practiced. The clothes lived in Janet’s wardrobe so I was fairly quickly dressed in nude tights, ankle boots, denim mini, padded bra and top. I didn’t even have to shave my legs; I had kept them shaved from even before Jesse appeared. Janet did my hair and makeup then sat down to do her own. When she was ready, we headed out and, once on the street I dodged into a doorway and rang Independence Street Police, the copshop dealing with the incident.
“Hello, Independence Street Police.”
“Hi, I’m the guy who bumped into the shooter yesterday. I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”
“What’s your name?”
“Tell you when I get there; you’ll pick it up from my number anyway. It’s on your system.”
As a licenced gunowner, I knew that my mobile number was already in their database.
“Where are you? Can we come and get you?”
“No, I’ll come in myself. Look, I don’t want to come through the Public Office.”
“OK, go around the side to the carpark entrance and ring us when you’re there.”
“OK.”
I hung up. I knew that my mobile could now be traced to its location, even if moving, and wanted to get to the Police Station before some genius decided to intercept us on the street. We walked along in the morning rush-hour, just two well made-up girls heading to work. I decided to enjoy the walk. Most of my previous forays en femme had been at night or in the evening. This was a new experience. Janet didn’t have any such pleasant feelings to distract her and was clearly worried. If she didn’t stop looking around like a rabbit at a greyhound convention she would draw attention. I moved closer and linked her.
“Just relax, don’t look around, there’s nobody there.”
“Sorry; as I’m thinking about it, I’m feeling more and more scared.”
“Let’s see, can we think of anything that you could remember that would take your mind off all this?”
“Maybe a few things, but I might get there all hot and bothered.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that now!”
I pulled her over and gave her a light peck on the cheek; couldn’t ruin the lipstick.
“Bloody Lasers”.
A scruffy middle aged man passed by, going the opposite way: We ignored him.
We were at the police station in twenty minutes and went around to the carpark door. I took out my ‘phone and rang. A youngish, tall, gawky guy in civilian clothes came out the side door and looked around, almost looking through us.
“I think you’re looking for me?”
A male voice emanating from an apparent female seemed to confuse him; this guy was more Clouseau then Maigret.
“The shooting yesterday? The person who bumped into the shooter?”
I was definitely giving him more clues than even Dr Watson would need.
Eventually the penny dropped and he ushered us into the station and into a small interview room. We set up our iPads to get some work done while waiting, but had barely sat down when the door opened. Clouseau and two colleagues arrived in. Two sat down on the two remaining free chairs leaving Clouseau standing, as obvious a rank marking as if he had been in uniform.
“I’m Detective Inspector Jones, this is Detective Sergeant White, and I believe you’ve met Detective Byrne.”
The speaker was a heavy-set woman, around fortyish. Her similarly aged companion was a well-built man.
“I’m Jos McNamara; this is my friend Janet Murphy. I wanted to get in here unrecognised, hence the disguise.”
DI Jones looked at some pictures in her file, then at me, then back at the pictures.
“Good job on the disguise. You do the makeup?”
The last question was directed at Janet. She nodded.
“Friend?”
The DI was looking at the marks on Janet’s wrists.
“Friend with Benefits”.
Janet was rather proud of her sexual prowess. Then seeing the DS shift a bit uncomfortably in his seat, continued on:
“We were at it like Rabbits all last night; didn’t hear about this until we surfaced this morning.”
Clouseau and the DS looked even more uncomfortable; the DI went on, impassively, looking at me this time:
“Maybe you can tell us what happened?”
“Actually from my perspective, very little. I saw this courier, or whatever, running towards me knocking this old guy over, so I tripped him. I didn’t know what had happened. I had a meeting so I moved on, and a load of your lot piled in and got him.”
“Nice job with the coffee”.
The DS, unlike Clouseau, was obviously allowed to speak.
“That was an accident; I got a fright, jumped, and spilled the coffee.”
“And it landed in just the right place. Even had you done that deliberately, in the circumstances it would be classed as “reasonable force.””
The DI had guessed that I was not exactly sure of my ground here and moved to reassure me.
“Look, I can sign a statement or whatever. I’m more bothered about me being identified, or someone trying to get at me through Janet.”
“When it goes to court, you will be named, and even before that your name goes to the defence lawyers. And you’re all over social media so it’s only a matter of days, if that, before your name is in the public arena. There’s no reason for Ms. Murphy to be involved; she has nothing to add to the case.”
“But if the Kingstons decide to come after me, and can’t find me, that leaves Janet and my family exposed.”
The DI thought for a moment. I liked that; I hate it when people throw out an answer because they think that they are expected to know everything immediately.
“OK; there’s no evidence of a threat at this stage. In relation to your family, the Kingstons have a kind of code; they don’t go near families. It’s probably got to do with the fact that their own families would be vulnerable if they were to go down that route. In relation to Ms Rabbit, I mean Ms Murphy, there’s no reason to suspect that they even associate her with you, particularly if you have a wide range of “friends”?”
Janet shook her head; we were FWBs but not polyamorous in that neither of us had a wide range of current partners.
“OK, so what I propose is that we keep our ear to the ground, you stay alert, and we reassess the position if it changes.”
“OK, so I wait until someone takes a shot at me, hope they miss, and you’ll take it from there.”
“That’s not exactly fair; we will be carrying out investigations in the background. I’ll give you direct numbers for myself and DS White. If you’re in trouble, you can call us directly. Just for today, stay at home to give us a chance to take the temperature on the street.”
“OK; let’s just do the statement. Janet, do you want to wait or go? It might be better to sneak off now without me?”
“Are you not coming back to mine? You’ll need to change.”
I had forgotten that I was dressed as Jesse, and didn’t want to blow her cover if my apartment was under surveillance.
“Ok; won’t be long.”
Janet started back into work while I sat with Clouseau to work on the statement. It was tedious; he was every bit as thick as he appeared at our first encounter. If I’m relying on this calibre of copper to keep me safe…
Finally, statement completed, we were dropped back to near Janet’s place in an unmarked car. I changed and called a taxi to the station. It was easily walkable, but I didn’t want anyone to meet me en route. I got in the train and, keeping my head down, made it unrecognised to suburbia. I got into my apartment; someone had slipped a note under the door.
“Nice job Jos.”
Looks like I’d been recognised here, where I live. F***!
First things first: I locked the door and pushed my two-seater against it. It wouldn’t do much, but might give me a few seconds. Then I opened the gun-safe at the bottom of my wardrobe. It held two, almost identical pistols, both S&W Victory target pistols; one mine, one Janets. Her apartment was rented and she could not fit a safe so, in keeping with regulations, I stored it for her. I took two magazines, removed the metal bar restricting them to 5 rounds, and loaded each with ten. Technically illegal, but I’d take my chance. I did the same with two more for Janet; I’d get them to her tomorrow, along with her pistol. The police wouldn’t risk a prosecution in the circumstances even if we were discovered. I gave her a quick call; like me she’d barricaded the door and would have to rely on the police reaction if anything happened, but we were both confident that it was far too soon for her to be associated with me. She wished me luck.
I did a few hours work before taking a pizza from the freezer and having it with a beer. Then a few more hours work; it’s amazing how an unplanned half day off can really impact on one’s schedule! Anyway, I had nothing better to do. Normally I’d go for a walk or the gym; I just didn’t feel like it today and the DI had asked me to stay at home. Eventually, tired out, I decided to turn in.
I checked the windows; all secure and I was on the sixth floor: Only Tarzan could get in that way. I tied the door handle to the fire extinguisher bracket with a power cord and then plugged it in. If someone pushed the door open a fraction and went to cut the wire they would get a nasty surprise. I changed into a cotton nightie, poured myself a scotch, put the (unracked) pistol under my pillow and went to bed…
I woke early. At this time of the year it is getting bright around 4:30 and I had not slept well. What had started out as a good day two days ago had developed into a bit of a nightmare all due to an impulsive act involving me in something that wasn’t really my business. On top of that, I had possibly endangered Janet, and maybe my family. I hadn’t called home yet and was a little surprised that they hadn’t made contact with me. I would do it later; first things first. Keeping the lights off, I looked out through my venetian blinds at the roads that were visible from my windows but saw no lurking hitmen or surveillance cars. There was no surface carparking in my field of vision so anyone trying to keep my apartment under surveillance would have been readily obvious. I could not see the underground carpark entrance which was at the back of the apartment block, but would not be exiting that way in any event.
I felt that I had complied with the Detective Inspectors request in that I had remained home for the rest of the day yesterday. I suspected that the DI would rather that I’d checked in with her before leaving my apartment, but reckoned that I’d be back there before she had her first cup of coffee in the Police Station. I quickly packed my small laptop rucksack with my iPad, Janets pistol along with her two ten round magazines and a box of 50 rounds. I put my own pistol into the inside pocket of a light summer jacket, loaded but not racked, with my spare magazine in the left outside pocket. The first inbound train was passing my nearest station at 05:40 so I slipped out the front door of my apartment block at 05:25 and walked quickly to the station; nothing unusual about this, just another commuter heading for an early start in the big smoke. Reaching the station I backed into a corner, pretending to be half-asleep leaning back against the wall, and scanning the platform, my neck and face wrapped up in a scarf, as if against the morning chill. There were very few commuters, none looking suspicious, at least to me. Just to be sure, I got off the train after two stops; no one else got off this inbound train. I got on the next one and texted Janet.
“Chez vous 30 mnts”.
Her thumbs up reply came almost instantly; she wasn’t sleeping either.
I took a tram from the station to a stop near her apartment, got off, stopped to see if I recognised anyone following me, then walked to her apartment block taking a circuitous route. I let myself in, took the elevator to her floor and knocked gently on her door. She let me in: Black rimmed eyes testified to a bad night. She locked the door after me, fastening the security chain as well. I pulled her into a long hug, then sent her to have her shower while I got breakfast. I knocked on her bedroom door when I heard the shower stop and brought her a mug of freshly brewed coffee as she dried herself off.
“Why’d you knock? It’s not like we’re strangers.”
“Just didn’t want to give you a fright, not this morning… breakfast ready in five, ok?”
She took the coffee, sipped it, and nodded. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and headed back to the kitchen to finish the two omelettes that I’d prepared. She came into the living area just as they were being plated and about to be placed into the oven to keep warm. We ate together in relative silence, not even bothering to turn on the radio for the morning news. Eventually I spoke:
“I’ve brought your pistol, some mags, and a box of ammo.”
“Do you think I’m going to need it?”
“No; just nice to have around for a few days. The mags are expanded to ten rounds.”
“Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”
She got up, went to the bedroom and returned in a few minutes with a shoulder bag. She tried the pistol in it. It fitted, just about; the Victory is a range pistol, not really suited as a concealed carry gun, but it was the best we had.
“You going back to yours?”
I nodded.
“At least until that DI contacts me again; she’s supposed to be checking if there’s a contract, or whatever they call it here, on me.”
Janet gave an involuntary shudder.
“It doesn’t seem real; more like we’ve just been dropped into a movie.”
“I’m sorry, really sorry, I’ve dropped you in this.”
“Not your fault, and nothing we can do about it now.”
“Suppose not; will you be OK here?”
She hesitated for a minute.
“Yes; but don’t you think that you should move out of yours? They probably know your name, and it’s not hard to find out where someone lives now. You could move in here.”
“Thanks, but that would put you right in the frame. I’ll stay in my place for a while and see how the police call it”.
“You said it yourself, you’re just waiting for someone to take a shot at you and hoping that they’ll miss.”
“I’ll stay put for a while. I’m more protected than they think; they won’t expect me to have a pistol.”
“They might if they follow you to the range.”
“They’d stand out like a blue rhinoceros.”
That I was very sure of. The range was down a country lane, with nothing else around. Anyone following me there would be more than obvious.
“Any client meetings?”
I was hoping that Janet would have some reason to leave her apartment during the day. Staying in too long is not good for either mind or body.
“Not until tomorrow.”
“OK, we’ll talk tonight so?”
She nodded. Another long hug and I was gone. I stopped in the hall outside her apartment door for a minute and could hear her locking the door, fitting the security chain and a thump as something was pushed against the door. I was starting to get more worried about her wellbeing than the Kingstons following me.
The morning rush hour was over by the time I was back on the streets. I walked around a bit checking for a “tail” before eventually getting the tram to the train station and heading for home. Again, nobody appeared to be following me from the train station or around my apartment block so I decided that it was safe to get my car, drive to the local supermarket and buy some food. Just as I was heading back to my apartment the DI rang. I answered on hands-free.
“Hi, Jos here.”
“Jos, DI Jones here. Can you talk? Are you driving?”
“Yeah, hands-free.”
“I thought you were staying at home?”
She sounded a bit like a teacher talking to her pupil.
“That was yesterday; today I needed some food.”
She obviously decided not to have an argument with me so got straight to business.
“Well, the good news is that there’s no word yet that there’s a contract out on you. The bad news on the street is that it’s only a matter of time before there is one. The Kingstons will be furious that their man was caught and will want to make a point.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Nothing yet; we’re looking at options. In the meantime, we’re asking the local police to step up both uniformed and under-cover patrolling around your apartment area.”
“How’ll I know that your undercover people aren’t the bad guys?”
“I’ll get you a number so you can call the local police station if you see anything suspicious. If it’s one of theirs, they can tell you.”
“Thanks; one other thing. My building has security cameras on each landing, the perimeter, front door, garage and garage door. It’s monitored by Active Watch. Could I get access to this so I can check around before leaving or coming to the block?”
Our condominium management company had installed this security monitoring system almost as soon as the building was occupied and had outsourced the surveillance to Active Watch as we had no permanent concierge on site.
“I can try; there’s GDPR and all that stuff to consider.”
GDPR, the General Data Protection Regulation, had become the goto excuse for anyone trying to be uncooperative.
“HMLL trumps GDPR.”
“HMLL; what’s that?”
“Help Me Live Longer.”
“Look, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, just be cautious. It’s probably too soon for anything to happen.”
I hoped she was right. I wondered about Janet.
“Have you heard anything about Ms Rabbit?”
“Sorry about that; it was a slip of the tongue. No; I think she’s in the clear.”
“Don’t worry about the name; after all she started it. Are you going to ring her? She needs to hear it from you.”
I felt that any messages passed to Janet through me might just seem like friendly reassurance.
“I’ll do that. Speaking of Ms Murphy, and your disguise… am I correct in assuming that that wasn’t your first time? I don’t want to be nosey, but you carried it off very well.”
Of course I did; I’d had five months of intermittent practice.
“You’re not nosey, and you’re right. Jesse is my alter ego. Why do you ask?”
“It just might work to your advantage, but right now I’m not sure how.”
“OK. You won’t forget to ring Janet?”
“No; I’ll call her now.”
“Thanks.”
I rang off; I was almost back at my apartment. I looped around the block, saw nothing, and drove into the underground garage and parked. As I was getting my shopping out of the car, my neighbour from across the hall came out the door heading off to work. An on-site engineer, he normally did his emails and admin in the morning before heading off on site, thus missing the rush hour.
“Hi Jos; did you get my note? Nice job on that guy.”
“Thanks Tom, I got the note. Please, say nothing to anyone; it’s very important.”
His bonhomie disappeared in an instance. Being a smart chap, he got the point immediately.
“Oh, shit! I never though. Are you OK?”
I gathered from his reaction that he’d probably already been telling his friends that I was his neighbour.
“Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way. We don’t want any visitors. Speaking of which, if you see anyone strange, can you call me?”
“Sure, I will. Stay safe!”
He climbed into his truck and pulled off. I gathered up my shopping and rode the elevator to my apartment. Once in, a quick check out the windows, nothing to see. My phone rang; Janet.
“Hi Ms Rabbit.”
“Oh yeah; she apologised for that. She just rang; I’m still in the clear.”
“Great; she told me that. Will you go out tonight with the girls?”
I wanted to get her to leave the apartment; she needed to get out.
“Yes; I’ll send them a mail. Would Jesse like to join us?”
I’d never thought of that. It would probably be a good idea to get some fun time in before things moved on to a more serious threat level.
“Hmmm, not a bad idea; what you have in mind?”
“Just a few drinks; I’ve a client meeting tomorrow. Probably the Palace Bar around 9pm.”
“OK; I’ve just bought some lamb shanks which I was going to freeze. I’ll cook them in the slow cooker and bring them over to yours around 6pm if that suits.”
“Great; see you then.”
Given that she was bringing me out for the night, and I’d be staying over, I thought I could do dinner. I like to cook, but first things first; I rang my parents. My mother answered:
“Are you all right? We didn’t want to ring in case you were hiding somewhere!”
I had briefly worked in Africa and had been given a security course. One of the things not to do is to call someone who might be hiding from an active shooter and I’d warned my parents not to call me if they heard of any security situation on the news, I would call them. They had obviously erroneously transposed this advice to the current situation which explained why I hadn’t heard from them.
“Sorry, I should have called you. I was just busy with the fallout. When did you hear?”
“Well, your Aunt Mary called this morning. We hadn’t heard about all the fuss until she told us.”
That made sense. Neither of my parents bothered much with social media although they were around the Facebook generation. The farm would be very busy at this time of the year with milking getting into full swing.
“Look, I’m safe, but I have to be careful for a while….”
We chatted, and my father came in on the call for a few minutes. They were concerned, although they tried to hide it. They wanted me to come back to the farm for a few weeks where the remote location, the dogs and the shotguns would provide a significant level of security but the very remoteness would mean that I couldn’t work as the broadband reception was inadequate. Besides, it would put them in harm’s way as well. I declined on the basis that the threat was minimal; I wasn’t sure that they believed me. Eventually I got off the call by promising a daily text or call, and that I’d come back to the farm if the threat escalated.
I seared and sealed the lamb shanks on a hot pan and put them in the slow-cooker with shallots, garlic and red wine, I would add carrots later, and finally got down to work.
My solicitor client had emailed: In view of the circumstances, he did not consider it appropriate that I continue to provide services to his firm. Scumbag! I computed my hours, added €1,000 for the inconvenience and breach of our non-existant verbal contract and sent him an invoice. I was sure he’d pay just to keep everything quiet. It also suited me not to have any further work in the criminal legal system; too big a chance of being seen by the bad guys. I worked until 5pm, stopping only at 2pm to add the carrots to the slow-cooker and have a snack of corn and sardine with a small glass of (boxed) dry white wine. Then, a check out the window, nothing there, so I got my overnight bag, put the slow-cooker into a cardboard box in the boot of my car, and drove off towards town. At this time, I would be going against the traffic, and a hot slow-cooker with lamb shanks is hard to manage on a train and tram!
I drove sedately out of the mixed estate of houses and apartment blocks and turned onto the inbound motorway. I would only take this for a few kilometres before turning off towards town. I kept a careful eye in the mirror going onto the motorway. There I put the boot down until I got to the exit, weaving through the lanes of traffic, and then turning off. A grey Ford Mondeo had been with me, at some distance, all the way. Heading towards town, I went right around a roundabout, acting as if lost by indicating to go off and then correcting myself, ending up behind the Mondeo and getting its number, before continuing on my way. It also looped around the roundabout and continued after me. I used the speed dial to call DS White; he answered almost immediately.
“Hi, DS White, Jos McNamara here. I’m on the N32 inbound and being followed by a grey Mondeo, Reg ABC123D.”
“OK; how’d you spot him?”
“Stood out like a parson in a brothel; not one of their smartest thugs.”
He sighed, sounding really pissed off.
“You’re OK; it’s Detective Byrne. We sent him out until the local police took over tonight.”
Shit! Clouseau. I had definitely trodden on their toes now… time to try to make amends…
“Ah, he probably wasn’t trying to stay covert so. Thanks for the escort; I’m heading to Janet’s place for the night.”
“Try to get some sleep!”
He must be remembering Janet’s description of our last night in her apartment.
“Janet and Jesse are going to meet some girls in the Palace Bar for a drink around 9pm. It won’t be a late night so if Detective Byrne is happy that I’m not being tailed by someone else we’re OK for the night.”
“Ah yes, Jesse. DI Jones told me about her. Have fun.”
“Thanks; we’ll try.”
I continued into town and towards Janet’s apartment block. I had some time to spare so I drove around a few loops to check if I had a second tail; I wasn’t confident of Clouseau’s ability to detect one. Not seeing anything, I drove into her block and parked in her underground space. As usual, she’d already moved her car into a visitor’s space to ensure that I’d somewhere to park. I looped the handles of my overnight bag over my arm, picked up the cardboard box with the slow-cooker, rode the elevator to her floor and rang her doorbell; with arms full I couldn’t manage the keys. The chain came off and the door opened; good, no couch blocking the door this time. Janet looked a lot better; she had just showered and her hair was drying naturally in a tousle of curls and waves falling down onto her shoulders. I put the slow-cooker down on the kitchen worktop and pulled her into a long hug and kiss.
“You’re looking great!”
“You’ll be looking good soon, once I’ve finished with you!”
I plugged in the slow-cooker to ensure the lamb was hot while Janet prepared some cous-cous. As it was mid-week, and we were going out later, we restricted ourselves to a small glass of arak, our preferred drink with lamb. Then we got to work. I showered and shaved, face, legs, underarms. This was easy as it was just a top-up. I had long since learned to ignore the sometimes curious stares of some guys in the gym at my lack of body hair. Over my knickers I carefully slipped my legs into a pair of M&S Rose Quartz 10 Denier tights which Janet had left on the bed and a lace, underwired long line bra. I popped in my breast forms, pulled on a robe and sat at the vanity to wait for Janet to dry my hair. This time it was more like a tutorial. She showed me how to towel-dry my hair and add product to give it volume and a natural appearance as it fell in curls onto my shoulders. She was doing us up as a matching pair. As my hair was drying naturally she started on a make-up tutorial; moisturiser, foundation, under eye concealer, eye shadow, mascara, eyebrow pencil and lipstick.
“And now for the pièce de resistance. I was keeping this for your birthday.”
She reached her hand into the wardrobe and pulled out a short, shift dress which was, in effect, a mass of gold sequins. She helped me into the dress and zipped it up. I looked at myself in the mirror; I was delighted at the effect. The dress hung perfectly, coming down to mid-thigh, shimmering as I moved.
“You’ll have no problem picking up a man tonight!”
Janet was looking over my shoulder, leaning in against me. I turned and went to kiss her; she put a finger on my nose.
“Lipstick, remember.”
“What’s my chances of picking up a lovely, sexy woman?”
“Great if she’s a lesbian.”
“Well, that moron on the street yesterday thought we were even though he didn’t appear to approve of us!”
“Come on, watch me doing my makeup… keep learning…”
I sat on the bed and watched Janet intently. We hadn’t discussed this yet, but instinctively we both knew that Jesse was going to have to learn to stand on her own two high heels and that she was going to become a very important part of my, hopefully long, future. Janet talked me through her makeup application, explaining what she was doing and where I would need to do it differently. Eventually, about 8:30pm, both ready, we decided to get a taxi to the Palace Bar. I carried my pistol in a totally unmatching bag; Janet had bought me one to match the dress, but fashion sometimes has to take second place.
The taxi dropped us three minutes away from the bar so we walked the rest of the way, slowly, in our heels. I found that I was enjoying the looks we were getting from passing men, some open, some surreptitious, all admiring. Funny, I’d never envisioned myself with a man, always seeing myself as a man playing a role, so why was I enjoying their attention? Janet’s friends hadn’t arrived so we grabbed one of the booths surrounding a large open floor used sometimes for dancing, other times just as a circulation space, ordered drinks and waited. Tonight I was on mocktails; drinking a lot of alcohol while carrying a gun is simply stupid. I did feel that Janet needed to have a few and, within the limitations of her meeting schedule tomorrow, let her hair down. Her two friends arrived soon afterwards; air kisses all ‘round.
Men and women seem to hunt in pairs so, as a group of four girls, we weren’t approached in our booth by any aspiring Lotharios. Anyway, it was mid-week and most of the patrons were, like us, probably working the next morning so the hunting season was deferred to the weekend. Janet’s friends, Louise and Grainne, knew me only as Jesse and were not fully sure of exactly what Jesse was all about, knowing only that she and Janet were FWB. For that matter, I was equally unsure about Jesse, although I liked having her around, and so did Janet. Leaving all that uncertainty aside, we were just out for a few drinks. We chatted for a while; Louise was sitting on the inside of the booth, opposite me, and looking outwards.
“Don’t look now, but I think there’s two guys eying us up.”
“What?”
Janet and I both had a brief moment of panic and the same reaction.
“Only two? That’s disappointing after spending all that time getting ready. What do they look like?”
Grainne, thankfully hadn’t noticed our discomfort.
“A bit nerdy, one tall, gangly, looks like his mother just let him out for the night, the other a bit older, eying up every woman in the place.”
I looked at Janet:
“Maybe Clouseau and a friend? I’ll check. If I walk away it’s him”
I slid out of the booth, collected my bag as if going to the Ladies’ room, turned around and saw Clouseau and a friend both looking at me. I ignored them and walked off to the Ladies’. As I rounded the bar I saw Clouseau’s friend slide out of his booth and start after me. I continued on, visited the Ladies’, came back out and there he was, loitering in the vicinity of the door. I moved quite close to him and whispered:
“Our friends have spotted you. Don’t follow me back too closely or they might ask too many questions.”
I walked back to our booth, swaying a little provocatively, and sat back in.
“I was just telling the girls how we met Clouseau on a client video call; bit of a coincidence he turns up here!”
Janet had invented a cover story in my absence. I nodded and sat down.
“Why’d you call him Clouseau?”
Louise’s question was reasonable in the circumstances; he didn’t remotely resemble Peter Sellers. I looked over at Janet and winked with my hidden eye.
“We figured after the call that he made as much sense as Clouseau did when he was talking to the accordion player and the monkey.”
Thankfully we moved on. The girls were planning their trip to Algarve and seemed to forget that I was an imposter and Janet’s sometime sex-partner. I didn’t mind; I was enthralled by their conversation about what they would wear going out at night, who was bringing what sexy dress, how to avoid sunburned boobs when sunbathing topless, whether to go the nudist section of the beach this year. I would have loved to be going, but as one of them, not just pretending to be.
We broke up around 11:30pm, more air kiss goodbyes with Louise and Grainne, and we walked along the street to the taxi rank. I noticed Clouseau and his friend following us at a discreet distance. Again, I decided to take the maximum enjoyment from being out on the street, all dressed up, and still being noticed. I was linking Janet; she was marginally tipsy as indeed was everyone on the street at that time, me and hopefully the following policemen excluded. We were almost at the cab rank when I felt my rear being fondled by a guy who passed close from behind and made off down a side alley just as quickly.
“That f***er just felt my ass!”
Janet sniggered.
“Get used to it, it happens! Good job he didn’t go for anywhere else.”
“Yeah; he’d have gotten some surprise. What do those creeps get out of it anyway?”
It was a rhetorical question. We got our cab after a short wait and were soon back at Janet’s. Once inside, I declined her offer of a G&T and persuaded her instead to have a glass of water and two paracetamol. She’d thank me in the morning.
“You enjoyed yourself tonight!?”
I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.
“Yeah, I did. I like just being out with the girls.”
“As a girl?”
“Yes; do you find that strange?”
She paused for a minute to compose her answer. Definitely the water had been a good idea; I refilled her glass and handed it to her.
“No; I think I like it. I mean you just blend in… a bit of work on the voice and…”
I was sitting on her two-seater. She put a knee either side of me and sat on my lap. I reached my hands behind her, unzipped her dress and opened her bra. She lifted her hands into the air to let me take both off over her head, then leaned in and rubbed a boob across my face.
“Maybe Girlfriends With Benefits?”
I couldn’t reply; it is rude to talk with your mouth full!