Russell Hoban - Linger Awhile

‘Haven’t you heard about Istvan?’ she said.

‘No. What happened?’

‘He’s dead.’

It wasn’t as if we’d ever been that close, but Fallok’s death knocked me sideways. I sat down suddenly and Grace gave me all the details while I listened and shook my head in disbelief. ‘It was J Two that finished him,’ she said. ‘I told Inspector Hunter but he wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Two Justines!’ I said. ‘Whose idea was that?’

‘Mine,’ she said. ‘Irv and I did it together with Irv’s nephew Artie. Artie did most of the work, actually.’

‘Where’s J Two now?’

‘Nobody knows.’

‘And Irv?’

‘He’s in hospital.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘He came down with double bronchial pneumonia after we spent a night in the nick.’

‘You were locked up?’

‘That’s right.’

‘What for?’

‘As I said, Hunter wouldn’t believe us when we told him about J Two and he got pissed off so he nicked us.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t believe it, Grace. I shouldn’t have gone up to Golders Green. What you needed around here was a voice of reason.’

‘Whatever. I can’t get over it that Istvan’s dead because of me.’

‘“If you can’t get over it you must get over it anyway.” Wise words from a famous teacher, Grace.’

‘Confucius?’

‘No, Rabbi Yisakhar Baer of Radoshitz.’

‘Those famous rabbis could sit around being wise because their wives did all the work. Wisdom is foolishness and foolishness is wisdom in my book. What are your plans now?’

‘I’m waiting for word from Elijah.’

‘The prophet Elijah?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘How’s he going to contact you?’

‘In a dream, I expect. That’s how he did it last time.’

‘Lucky you. When you see him, maybe you could tell him I’d be grateful for advice if he’s in the neighbourhood.’

‘OK. What’re you going to do now?’

‘Finish this bottle. Would you like to help me?’

‘Yes, thanks. That’s the best offer I’ve had today.’ So we sat there drinking and shaking our heads. Grace put on some music to help us along: Johnny Cash, The Man in Black . She started the CD on ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’. We were well into Monday afternoon but that was the right song for the occasion.

By now I was feeling that wherever I was, I should be somewhere else. Trouble seemed to be waiting for me round every corner but if I didn’t go back to Golders Green I was afraid Golders Green would come looking for me. So I went. While I was standing on the platform at Tottenham Court Road I saw a rat down among the cables by the tracks. It was looking up at the platform, and when it saw me it seemed to take fright and scurried back the way it had come.

The train was half empty; stations came and went as it plodded northward and it emerged aboveground as the sun was setting in the full dreariness of Monday evening. When I got to Elijah’s Lucky Dragon I went right up to the flat. Justine was nowhere to be seen. Elijah greeted me with ‘How’re they hangin’, Chaunce?’

‘Don’t be familiar,’ I said.

‘Just a closer walk with thee,’ said Elijah. ‘Put on your red dress, baby, cause we’re goin’ out tonight.’ He’s acquired an odd repertoire of gospel and blues from Charles and he was starting the next verse when the doorbell rang.

‘Who is it?’ I said.

‘Detective Inspector Hunter,’ said the intercom. ‘May I come up?’

‘Come ahead,’ I said, and buzzed him in. When I opened the door there were DI Hunter and a sharp-looking black woman. I’d seen her in the Underground but hadn’t realised she was following me.

‘This is Detective Patterson,’ said Hunter.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Why not?’

‘Where’s Justine Trimble?’ said Hunter.

‘No idea,’ I said.

‘There is a balm in Gilead,’ said Elijah.

‘That’s a hymn,’ said Hunter.

‘That’s a her too,’ said Elijah.

‘Where?’ said Hunter.

‘Rice and beans, flour and potatoes,’ said Elijah.

‘In the storeroom?’ said Hunter.

‘Heal a sin-sick soul,’ said Elijah.

‘Where does this parrot get his material?’ said Hunter.

‘He hangs out with Charles,’ I said.

‘Who’s Charles?’

‘Black man who works here.’

‘In the storeroom?’

‘Wherever he’s needed,’ I said.

‘Like Mars bars,’ said Elijah.

‘What’s he talking about?’ said Hunter to me.

‘No idea,’ I lied.

Hunter fixed me with a very beady eye. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s visit the storeroom.’

We had to go through the restaurant and there we encountered Rosalie Chun. ‘So,’ she said, looking at Hunter and Detective Patterson, ‘who are you and what do you want?’

Hunter and Patterson identified themselves and showed their warrant cards. ‘We’re just having a look around,’ said Hunter.

‘What are you looking for?’ said Rosalie.

‘We’ll know it when we find it,’ said Hunter. ‘We’ll try the storeroom first.’

‘No violations here,’ said Rosalie. ‘I run a clean restaurant.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ said Hunter. ‘Would you like to lead the way?’

We all went down to the storeroom and there was Justine with blood all around her mouth and a headless rat in her right hand like a Mars bar. Before you could say Jackie Chan she threw the rat straight at DI Hunter. He ducked and it hit Detective Patterson in the face. While Patterson screamed and flailed about Justine scooped up a double handful of rice from a sack and flung it in our eyes. In the moment this gave her she went through us as if she’d been shot from a cannon and was up the stairs and gone.

‘ Gevalt !’ said Rosalie. ‘After all the wonderful meals I’ve made for her!’

‘You can’t expect gratitude from her kind,’ said Hunter.

‘Is that a racist remark?’ I said. I couldn’t help it.

‘Don’t you cheek me, sunshine,’ said Hunter. ‘You’re nicked for perverting the course of justice and hindering a police investigation. Read him his rights, Detective Patterson.’

Still wiping blood from her face, Patterson said to me, ‘You have the rat to remain silent, right. But anything you do say will be bitten off in evidence and taken down against you.’ With that we all left Elijah’s Lucky Dragon and that was it for Monday.

2 February 2004. During the night it blew a gale and the seas were running very high. In the morning wind and sea abated and I was going to give each man a teaspoonful of rum and a quarter breadfruit and a coconut but it was difficult to see anyone. A voice spoke up and said, ‘You are not Captain Bligh, Sir. You are not even Sir.’

I hate it when dreams become difficult. ‘Give me a break,’ I said. ‘I’m doing the best I can and I intend to sail this boat all the way to the Thames Estuary and Knock John.’ As the fog cleared the old fort came into view and I heard Charlotte saying, ‘Here on Britain’s Better Music Station the time is coming up to what it used to be and Jo Stafford has a song for all you haunted hearts out there.’

In the night, though we’re apart,

There’s a ghost of you within my haunted heart –

Ghost of you, my lost romance,

Lips that laugh, eyes that dance …

‘Charlie,’ I said, ‘is that you?’

‘Of course it is,’ she said, ‘always.’

3 February 2004. That son of a bitch Chauncey, he couldn’t leave well enough alone, he had to stick the police on me. What the hell was his beef? I was giving him as much white pussy as he could handle. So I was doing rats, big deal. Did he think I could live on that Jew-Chinese cooking and nothing else? I didn’t ask to be brought back from the dead and I’m sick and tired of being hounded by everybody and his brother. They made me a vampire and I do what vampires do. If they wanted Shirley Temple they should have used a different recipe.