Empty!

The following morning I rushed through my breakfast, then ran round to The Golden Ladder Bookshop. I was desperate to hear Fisher’s reaction to what Rossi had said. Eric was at his usual post behind the till. He looked at me with an expression of concern.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Just a few bruises, Eric. It’s only my pride that hurts now. Can I go through to see Richard?’

He waved a hand towards the doorway.

‘Be my guest.’

Inside the stockroom, Fisher was standing with his back to me, waist-deep in boxes and encircled by enormous piles of books.

‘Hi, Richard,’ I said, to let him know I was there.

He didn’t turn round.

‘Hello, Matt. I won’t keep you a minute. I’ve got a missing book. I mean, I haven’t got a missing book. No, what I mean is: there’s a book that’s …. Oh, bother! This is too much.’ He threw down a wad of delivery notes ‘Is it time for coffee yet?’

‘You know me. As far as I’m concerned it’s always coffee time.’

‘Good,’ he said, abandoning his boxes to switch on the electric kettle. ‘Can you ask Eric if he’d like a cup?’

I put my head round the door and, yes, Eric would certainly like a cup.

‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to see you last night,’ said Fisher, ‘but, unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped.’

‘I know. Marco explained it all to me.’

His eyebrows rose by several inches. ‘You saw Marco?’

‘Yes and he politely warned me off.’

‘Warned you off?’

‘Richard,’ I asked, ‘are you turning into a parrot?’

‘Of course I’m not. I was merely expressing my surprise. I know Marco a lot better than you, Matt, and I’m sure he’d never hurt anyone. He may look fierce, but deep down he’s a harmless, old pussy-cat.’

‘Really? That’s a side of him I failed to see. He went to a lot of trouble to warn me of the consequences there’d be if I offended his god.’

The kettle boiled. Fisher spooned coffee granules into three mugs and poured water over them.

‘You ought to take notice of Marco,’ he said. ‘He’s a very clever man and he’s absolutely correct. There are inevitable consequences to every action, whether it’s good or it’s bad. Everybody knows that.’

‘I wondered, after I’d spoken to him, whether there might be any connection between the mugging and my visit to you.’

A thoughtful expression crept over Fisher’s face.

‘I suppose it’s possible, Matt. I’ve been wondering for a while about all those Italian guys who walk round Lyonesse Court carrying violin cases and offering protection.’

I stared at him. ‘Really?’

He burst out laughing.

‘No, of course not, you idiot! Surely you didn’t think I was serious? I mean, this isn’t the Mafia we’re talking about here – it’s the Church of Perfection, whose members believe in love and peace, not violence and intimidation.’

I nodded.

‘You’re right, Richard. I must be getting paranoid.’

‘Of course you are …. Black or white, Matt?

‘Black, please.’

Fisher passed me a mug.

‘Give Eric a call, will you?’

I raised a hand to halt him.

‘Even though I admit I’m paranoid, I still expect you to give this all up and go back to Northwood.’

He shook his head.

‘Can’t do that, Matt. I’m part of the family now. And once you’re in a family you can’t resign your membership, can you?’

‘But what -?’

Eric opened the door and stuck his head into the stockroom.

‘Sorry to interrupt you, Fish, but have any more of those Three Steps to Perfection come in?’

Fisher turned to stare at the piles of books behind him.

‘No, not yet, but there’s still a load of boxes from the last delivery that need to be opened. Here, take your coffee while you’re here and, if you wait a minute, I’ll do some more unpacking for you.’

‘Thanks.’

Fisher watched the head disappear.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to get on now. I must say, though, I do like explaining things to you. You may not understand, but at least you listen – not like some people I know. See you here tomorrow?’

‘Okay.’

I left the shop to discover that, out in the real world, it was raining. If it continued into tomorrow, that would mean a day spent sheltering in the bingo halls of Margate. I shuddered at the thought.

In actual fact, after a cloudy morning, it brightened and I was able to pass the remainder of the day on the beach, an anonymous figure amongst the suntanned hordes.

In the evening, I approached The Golden Ladder with greater caution than usual, but I needn’t have bothered – it was empty. I looked all round the shop, and checked behind the counter, but, no – no bodies lay on the floor. There was only one more place to look. I opened the door of Fisher’s stockroom and went in.

‘Hello,’ said a stranger.

‘Who are you?’ I asked.

‘Ah,’ said the man cunningly. ‘Tell me who you are first.’

‘I’m Richard’s friend.’

‘Whose friend?’

‘Richard’s friend. You know Richard. His full name’s Richard Fisher. Perhaps you call him Fish.’

The man shook his head.
‘Never heard of him, mate.’

‘Of course you have,’ I said. ‘He works here. He’s about my age and height, with dark hair, and wears glasses.’

The man looked completely bewildered.

‘Sorry, mate. Can’t help you.’

‘What about Eric?’ I asked.

‘Who’s Eric?’

‘The bald guy.’

‘I’ve never seen a bald guy here,’ said the man. He gave a silly giggle. ‘Of course, this is only my first day.’

‘Who works in the shop apart from you?’

‘No-one, mate. I’m all alone. Sad, isn’t it?’

‘Peaceful, I’d say. Did Marco give you this job?’

‘Who?’

I resisted an urge to take the man by his shoulders and give him a thorough shaking.

‘Never mind. Just tell me who put you to work here.’

‘The manager, Bernard Parsons. Hey, you’re full of questions, aren’t you?’

‘I certainly am. And I’ll tell you another thing, I shall be asking a good few more.’

I ran out to the Mondeo, jumped into it and careered down the street to Lyonesse Court without due care and attention. The original receptionist – the woman who wasn’t Celeste – saw me coming and tried to grab me as I passed the desk.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Can I -?’

‘No!’ I snapped. ‘You can’t!’

~ by Christopher Jealous on October 20, 2008.