Part 7 (1/2)

'Christian Porphyry? You're working for Christian Porphyry?'

Here we go, thought Joe, recalling Beryl's reaction to the Young Fair G.o.d. 'That's right.'

'I met him couple of days back,' she said, dreamy eyed. 'First time I went out with Chip. He took me back to his flat out at the Hoo. He was showing me round, shouldn't have been, really, but it was a dead quiet time, then we b.u.mped into Mr Porphyry. He was just so nice! Anyone else and Chip might have been in bother. He says some of the members there act around him like he was invisible, like a footman in one of those big old houses you see on the telly. But not Mr Porphyry. What are you doing for him, Joe?'

'Sorry, can't tell you that, El,' said Joe. 'Mr Porphyry wants it kept confidential. You'll make sure Chip understands that, won't you?'

This got through.

'Sure, Joe. Chip thinks he's great. If that's what Mr Porphyry wants, you can rely on Chip.'

Whereas if it's just what I want ...

Joe pushed the unhelpful thought away and looked for upsides.

Some of them act around him like he was invisible ...

He said, 'Yeah, Mr Porphyry's having a spot of trouble at the club. Chip knows all about it and, from what he said, he's very much on Mr Porphyry's side. In fact, it might help Mr Porphyry a lot if I could have a quiet word with Chip away from the club ...'

Eloise knew a hint when she heard one.

'I'm meeting him down the Hole tonight, half seven, if you want to catch him before we go clubbing.'

'Might just do that,' said Joe. 'Sorry.'

His mobile was ringing. He didn't recognize the number in the display nor the voice that said, 'May I speak to Mr Sixsmith?' in response to his noncommittal, 'Yo?'

The voice was a woman's, young, confident, educated but not posh, and above all friendly rather than menacing.

'That's me,' he admitted.

'Oh good. Tried your office number but just got your answer service. My name's Mimi, Mr Sixsmith. I'm Mr Ratcliffe King's PA. He would like to see you with a view to employing the services of your agency. Would it be possible to make an appointment?'

Sam Spade might have growled, 'Why not? I'll be in my office about four if he wants to drop round.'

But Joe was a pragmatist.

He said, 'Sure. What time would be convenient for Mr King to see me?'

'Three o'clock this afternoon?'

He liked the question mark. It could have come out as a statement or even a command.

He said, 'That's fine.'

'You know where we are?' Mimi asked.

Which, considering how ProtoVision House dominated the north end of the High Street, was like asking if he knew where the Queen lived in London.

'I can always ask a policeman if I get lost,' he replied, risking a joke.

Mimi laughed a bubbly genuine kind of laugh.

'See you at three then,' she said. 'Bye.'

'Bye,' said Joe.

He looked at Eloise, who was busy scrolling incomprehensible spreadsheets down her computer screen.

He said, 'You know someone called Mimi, PA to Ratcliffe King?'

'Maggie Hardacre? Yeah, we went to school together. That her you were talking to?'

'Yeah. Her boss wants to hire me.'

'King Rat? Get yourself a watertight contract then, Joe, and a couple of good witnesses to his signature.'

'Why do you say that?'

'I've seen the kind of discount he gets from Ram.'

Her boss, Ram Ray, was rated one of Luton's sharpest in a commercial deal.

'So this Mimi ...'

'Maggie's OK,' said Eloise. 'Went off to secretarial college in London, turned herself into Mimi and a top-flight PA, but she hasn't lost herself, know what I mean? Never wanted to come back here, but King made her an offer she couldn't refuse, so they say, and every time she gets restless, he makes her a better one. That's one thing about King Rat; he's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but if he really wants you, he doesn't count the pennies.'

'I'll remember that,' said Joe.

The door opened and the head mechanic said, 'Tyre's done and back on your car, Mr Sixsmith.'

'Thanks,' said Joe.

'I'll come out with you and make sure the job's been done up to Ram Ray standards,' said Eloise.

They walked out to the car together. Across the road from the garage Joe noticed a Chrysler PT Cruiser. Leaning against its bonnet with a mobile in his hand was a skinny guy who either had a nervous twitch of the head or was being bothered by flies. Joe was sure he'd been there when he got out of the Morris. Maybe his car had broken down and he was trying to contact the AA rather than stroll over the road and pay Ram Ray's charges.

Not only was the repaired tyre back on the Morris and the spare locked back in position, but the layer of dust and dead insects had been sc.r.a.ped off the windscreen.

'Nice one, Eddie,' said Eloise, smiling at the mechanic. 'Ram will be pleased you looked after Mr Sixsmith so well.'

She knows how to pour the oil after stirring up the water, thought Joe. Those women who went around moaning they didn't get a fair shake at power should spend more time in Luton.

He started pulling his billfold out of his back pocket.

'That's OK, Joe,' said Eloise. 'This one's on Ram.'

'Tell him I'm grateful.'

'You are? Well, this one's on me.'