Russell Hoban - Linger Awhile

‘I got the idea for the I Ching coin from A2 Feng Shui on the internet. I don’t know what’s on theirs.’

‘What’s the hexagram on yours?’

‘Number forty-two, I, Increase , SUN CHEN, with nine at the beginning, so it changes to number twenty, Kuan, Contemplation , SUN K’UN.’

‘That’s a very hopful toad, Grace.’

‘Where there’s life, there’s hop,’ she said, and we drank to that and sighed a little. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Talk seriously to me.’

‘Form is emptiness and emptiness is form,’ she said. ‘You know what I’m saying?’

‘Of course, ça va sans dire , ’I said. ‘It walks without talking.’

‘That’s what I like about you, Irv, everything doesn’t have to be spelt out.’

‘So tell me, I’m all ears. Tell me while we’re still coherent.’

‘I think,’ she said, ‘it’s time for me to stop getting mad and start getting even.’

‘Every woman’s right,’ I said.

‘Justine,’ she said, ‘was put together from an image on videotape, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Got any more Justine on tape?’

‘Oho!’

‘Righty-oh,’ said Grace, and we drank to that.

‘But from the video to a walking-around Justine is a whole big project,’ I said, ‘and I have no idea where to start. Do you?’

‘No, but I know a man who does and I’ve got keys to his place. All I need is a little time alone in Hermes Soundways and I’ll find his notes. Now that Justine’s up in Golders Green he’ll probably drop in on her and that’s when I’ll do it.’

‘OK, say we get the whole thing figured out and we end up with Justine Number Two, have you any idea what to do next?’

‘If we build her it will come. When we’ve got her standing in front of us the next thing will make itself known. Do you think you’ll fall in love with this one too?’

‘I’ve done that particular folly once already; I’m not likely to do it again. Besides, she’s not as amazing as you are, Grace.’

‘You silver-tongued seducer,’ she said, and we retired to the bedroom with the Stolichnaya.

‘Don’t ever say you’re not a player,’ said Grace as we freshened our drinks. She’s very gracious.

‘Well, I don’t do the full orchestra,’ I said, ‘but if you like chamber music, I’m your man.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Grace.

Mutiny on the Bounty , the one with Clark Gable and Charles Laughton, was on TV that evening and we both enjoyed seeing it yet again. ‘Every now and then,’ I said, ‘I come across some mention of Bligh in the papers where they say he wasn’t all that bad.’

‘He was a hell of a navigator,’ said Grace. ‘Thirty-six hundred miles in an overloaded open boat!’

‘And he had no charts and there were only about a week’s rations,’ I said, ‘but he got them all to Timor safely.’

‘Well,’ said Grace, ‘he suspended his disbelief and all that remained was the belief that he could do it.’

‘Plus his practical knowledge and his seamanship,’ I said. ‘If I had to be cast adrift in that longboat I’d rather have Bligh at the tiller than Fletcher Christian.’

‘He was the man,’ said Grace. ‘No doubt about it.’

All in all, a very pleasant evening and we fell asleep talking about DIY Justines.

18 January 2004. Harry Burke and I were drinking London Pride at The Anchor & Hope by the River Lea. A cold winter evening but we took our pints outside and sat down on a bench under the street lamp to enjoy the peacefulness of it. Across the river a train clattered with its windows all lit. It went over the bridge and the Sunday quiet moved in again behind it. Four murders, two suicides, three rapes and assorted burglaries this past week. Life goes on.

We didn’t say much for a while, drinking in the quiet with the London Pride. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘we’ve had nothing new in the vampire line.’

‘Early days,’ said Burke.

‘You’re still expecting another one?’

‘You’re the detective, not me. What do you think?’

‘I think I’d feel a lot better if we could catch whoever killed Rose Harland.’

‘Have you made any progress with your suspects?’ He was looking at me the way he looks when he’s waiting for me to catch up with his mental processes.

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I’m pretty sure Istvan Fallok didn’t kill her.’

‘How do you explain his saliva on her jacket?’

‘I think you know what’s in my mind about that, don’t you?’

‘Maybe,’ said Burke.

‘Go on,’ I said, ‘say it.’

‘You’re wondering if someone else left Fallok’s saliva on Rose Harland’s jacket?’

‘That’s right. How could that have happened?’

‘And you’re wondering why Justine Trimble’s saliva on the 10th of January was a match with Chauncey Lim’s?’

‘OK, why was it?’

‘This is as new to me as it is to you, but what if Justine has no cellular identity of her own?’

‘Go on.’

‘What if she needs blood in order to survive, and Istvan Fallok gave her some before she killed Rose Harland? And Chauncey Lim topped her up before we took her saliva on the 10th of January? Tell me, am I talking nonsense?’

One of the locals came out of the pub and nodded to Burke. ‘All right, Harry?’ he said.

‘All right, Mick?’ said Burke.

‘Inspector,’ said Mick. I’m known there because Burke is local and we always go to The Anchor & Hope when I visit.

‘Good evening to you,’ I said.

‘Terrible, that vampire case,’ said Mick.

‘What are you talking about?’ I said.

‘That woman as didn’t have no blood left in her,’ said Mick.

‘Don’t believe everything you read in the tabloids,’ I said.

‘Didn’t read it,’ said Mick. ‘My wife works at the mortuary and she saw the body when they brought it in. Proper drained, it was. Have you got any leads?’

‘I’m not able to say anything at this time,’ I said.

‘Right you are, guv,’ said Mick. ‘Mum’s the word.’ He nodded again and left.

‘What can I say?’ said Burke. ‘His wife does work in the mortuary.’

‘Small fucking world,’ I said.

‘To get back to Justine, what do you think you’ll do?’

‘I think I’ll have to talk to her and Fallok and Lim again and this time I’ll ask better questions.’

‘I’m looking forward to the answers,’ said Burke. And on that note we finished our last pints and went home.

29 January 2004. When Irv went home I felt kind of low. I dragged myself into the morning with black coffee and a stale bagel, then I sat looking at the three-legged toad on my workbench. It was commissioned by a man in his thirties who’s an investment broker in the City. He makes a lot of money and wants to make a lot more. His eyes are like rivets that keep his brain in place but the rivets are a little loose by now. He showed me a drawing of Liu Hai and the toad in a book, Chinese Symbolism and Art Motifs . Liu Hai was a tenth-century Minister of State who hung out with this toad. Sometimes it would hide from him in a well and he’d tempt it out by lowering a string loaded with gold coins. ‘This toad attracts wealth,’ said Mr Rivet-Eyes, ‘and I’m going to put it in a corner diagonally opposite my front door for the best Feng Shui effect.’

‘Do you need more money than you have now?’ I asked him.

‘You always need more money,’ he said.

I said, ‘I think in cases of greed the toad might work against the one who asks for its help.’