Russell Hoban - Linger Awhile

‘You got it, bro. I’m giving you cheese blintzes Jackie Chan with special kick-ass cottage cheese. If I tell you the secret ingredient I’ll have to kill you, so don’t ask.’

‘Who’s asking?’ I said. ‘Just lay them on me.’

Rosalie does not make exaggerated claims for her food. The blintzes put new heart into me but I still wasn’t sure what my next move should be. I’d seen what I’d seen, and Justine had definitely offed someone. Should I turn her in? I’m ashamed to say that if Justine had been ugly I’d probably have acted as a good citizen should. But she wasn’t ugly, she was adorable-looking, and I didn’t want to think of her behind bars. ‘Rosalie,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘What’s the problem?’ she said.

‘It’s a moral question,’ I said, ‘involving someone I know.’

‘This is something big, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Talk to Elijah,’ said Rosalie. ‘Moral, financial, whatever, Elijah’s your man.’

‘You mean the prophet Elijah?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘He took off for heaven in a chariot of fire,’ I said. ‘Surely he’s retired now?’

‘No, he’s not,’ said Rosalie. ‘You know why this restaurant is called Elijah’s Lucky Dragon?’

‘Not yet.’

‘It was The Lucky Dragon before I owned it but it wasn’t lucky. Back in 1982 the owner wanted to sell it for 150,000 pounds. I had 4,000 in savings but I couldn’t get a mortgage for the rest. This was before I was married. Elijah appeared to me in a dream, he looked like a tramp. “Is that you?” I said. “You were looking for someone else?” he said. “No,” I said, “you’re the one I want.” “Good,” he said, “call it Elijah’s and it’ll be lucky.”“Call what?” I said.“The restaurant you’re buying,” he said. “Who’s buying?” I said. “I haven’t got the money.”“You’ll have,” he said,“you’ll buy, and you’ll put my name on the sign so it’ll be Elijah’s Lucky Dragon, OK?” “OK,” I said. “Now what?” “Who knows?” he said, “But you can bet your arse on Elijah, I was always a fast runner.” I woke up and looked in the paper and it was the Grand National that day. There was no horse called Elijah but I found First Kings at a hundred to one so I got my 4,000 out of the bank and went to Ladbrokes and put it on First Kings to win.

‘There was a man standing behind me at the window, shorter than me and Chinese. I could tell that he liked my looks. “Who’d you bet on?” he said. “First Kings,” I said. “First Kings is a hundred to one,” he said, “you’re a plunger.” “The name excites me,” I said. He nodded as if he understood that. “Same odds as Foinavon when he won it in sixty-seven,’ he said. ‘How much did you bet?” “Four thousand,” I said. “I think you’re lucky,” he said, “so I’ll do the same, and if we win let’s go somewhere for drinks and dinner.” First Kings finished first and we won 800,000 pounds between us, Lester Chun and I. We had dinner at Mr Chow and Lester said, “What shall we do with all this money?”’

Rosalie looked around at the dining room. ‘This is what we did with some of it,’ she said. ‘Elijah done good for us.’

‘Right,’ I said, ‘but does he take on non-Jewish clients?’

‘Elijah is a stranger himself,’ said Rosalie, ‘so he’s always ready to help a stranger. What’ve you got to lose?’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘I’ll try for an Elijah dream.’ I wasn’t expecting anything to happen very soon but on the way home I fell asleep on the train and dreamt that it was raining and I was standing under a bridge. Another man came in out of the rain, he looked like a homeless person. ‘I wasn’t expecting rain this week,’ he said.

‘Are you Elijah?’ I said.

‘Who wants to know?’ he said.

‘I’m Chauncey Lim,’ I said. ‘Rosalie Chun’s a friend of mine.’

‘You don’t look Jewish,’ he said.

‘I’m not,’ I said, ‘but I’m a stranger and I’ve got a question.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘What’s your question?’

When I told him, he said, ‘Nobody likes a snitch, Chaunce.’

‘So I shouldn’t tell the police?’

‘I’ll have to think about this, OK? Leave it with me.’

Well, I thought as I woke up, that’s one less decision to make.

9 January 2004. When I arrive at the scene of a homicide the usual Scene of Crime crowd are standing around waiting for me to say something and it gets harder and harder to say anything original. Almost everything has been said before, a lot of it in films. By now I could mime the words while a soundtrack says them. Right, so I got called to this Euston crime scene at 02:25 because the medical examiner, Harrison Burke, was all excited about the case. When I got there it was all flashing lights and yellow tape and I stood looking down at the body and thinking how sad it was that her young life had been taken from her. ‘Any witnesses?’ I said, knowing there wouldn’t be. There weren’t. Then Burke said one of those Hammer Horror film lines: ‘There is absolutely no blood in this body, and look at those bite marks on the neck.’

‘Burke,’ I said in my best DI voice, ‘are you saying what I think you’re saying?’

‘What do you think I’m saying?’ he said.

‘That all the blood in this body has been sucked out through the holes in the neck?’

‘That’s pretty much it, John. You got it in one.’

‘I don’t want this part of it to be leaked to the press,’ I said.

‘There’s nothing left to leak,’ he said, having his little joke. ‘They’ve already done the photos, and if you’re all through here I’ll get back to the lab and make my report tomorrow.’

‘Any ID?’ I said to the sergeant who’d been first on the scene.

‘Only this,’ he said, and gave me an electricity bill, ‘and keys in her pocket. No wallet, no handbag.’ The bill was to Rose Harland at an address in Beak Street. A couple of detectives had already been round there and they reported that she lived alone and had moved in about two months ago. The neighbours didn’t know anything about her except that she was very quiet, always had a smile, and seemed to have no fixed hours for her comings and goings.

The sadness of Rose Harland’s death was depressing me. ‘I hope this is a one-off and not the beginning of something really ugly,’ I said, half to myself.

Burke stopped packing up his gear and gave me a long look. ‘Come on, John,’ he said, ‘you’ve seen enough movies to know better than that. We’re talking garlic-on-windows time here.’

‘Maybe you are,’ I said, ‘but I’m not getting ready to sharpen any stakes yet. There are all kinds of cultists and wannabes running around and they get up to all kinds of things.’

‘Indeed they do, and I’m betting that we’ll have another case like this before too long.’

‘You always expect the worst, Harry.’

‘And that’s what I generally get. I’m off. See you around.’

I looked at Rose Harland’s face again just before they covered it and took her away. Her lips were slightly parted, as if for a kiss. Where did I remember that name from? ‘Rose Harland on her Sundays out … te-tum te-tum te-tum. Walked with the better man.’ Housman. She’ll never walk with anyone again, poor thing. What sort of a person could do this to her?

I went on TV with an appeal for anyone who had seen her last night to come forward and tell us what they could. There were the usual useless calls but there was one from a woman who’d seen a young woman take off her anorak and drop it in a dustbin in Great Marlborough Street. ‘I thought it odd,’ she said, ‘because it was a cold night and she was left with only a shirt.’ You never know when a connection will pluck at your sleeve so I sent Sergeant Locke to Great Marlborough Street with two men. The dustbins hadn’t yet been emptied and they looked into all of them but found no anorak. There was a set of keys, however, on a keyring with a little torch bearing the name of Hermes Soundways in Dufour’s Place. I thought I might look in there later.