Golden Hour (Part 3)
“You know something, Joe, what is it?” I chased after him, shouting out directions to where my car was parked. Joe rocked on his feet, bobbing with impatience. “Tell you on route.” He scrunched a sleeve, peering at his watch. The keys were already in my hand, it wasn’t central locking, so I undid the passenger side first, then ran around the back of the car. Donny bounded in, over the front seats into the back, Joe a couple of seconds behind him. By the time I’d fastened my seat belt, his face filled the rear-view mirror. “Out of here, left, onto the main drag and right before you get to the pedestrian area.” “What are we doing?” He glared at me from the back, eyes only softening when I started the engine, wound the window down to check that there was no traffic and pulled out. “Left here, left here.” I rounded my car carefully, easing into the congested main road. Two cyclists shot past on the outside, casting their shadows into interior. Donny watched them like a greyhound following a rabbit. Joe tapped his feet, watching the people walking faster. “I didn’t lie to Amanda, but I also didn’t want to give her false hope.” “Okay.” “I don’t know how much you know, and you know more about me than I do you, but there is a slim chance that I can get help finding her. I’ll not kid you, it’s dangerous.” “You mean contacts?” Was he talking about criminal contacts, so he didn’t want the police involved, giving her plausible deniability? “So, I’m Joe Mancer, but you already know that, and I heard you introduce yourself as Brad Johnson. Who do you work for, why are you interested in me?” “I’ve just started working for ‘Aint it the truth,’ first day out of the office, my editor told me that you would be here and to try and get a photo.” “Is that Vincent Hall or David King?” “Vincent. Dave’s the accountant.” “Yeah, I remember now. Did he say why he wanted a picture?” “Not much detail really, said that you were a storm-crow, a ghoul, who might have stolen a body from the hospital mortuary.” Joe shrugged, “was that all?” I nodded, also focusing on the roads ahead. We were going against the flow of traffic; most people were trying to get out of the city and after a couple of turns we were heading deeper into quieter old part. Donny whined, and Joe stroked his grizzled chin, whispering soothing words. “He’s good for you.” I said. “His name’s Polo. He was my neighbour’s dog.” “I thought Hank said he had him since he was a puppy.” “I re-appropriated him. They were a young family, pet for Christmas, you know how it is. Hank had lost his wife, and was pretty much dying of loneliness. It was clear who needed the pet more. I lifted him out of the window, went around to Hanks and left him tied to his front porch. He’s going to hate me.” “Where to now?” Driving through the streets made me realise how little I actually knew the place. I lived there, or close by, all my life, yet the turns and directions that Joe gave me were completely unfamiliar. The street was wide and fractured. A single traffic light stood sentinel on one side of the road, the other had been toppled, folded back on itself, so it’s shattered unseeing eye pointed skyward watching for planes. The tarmac was bejewelled with shards of bottles or broken window panes, and what glass remained was imprisoned behind metal bars. At the corner, I could see a shop, light flickering from within as though it was lit by a fire, and a single fragment of glass hung down like a tooth from the main window. “Where the fuck are we?” “We are here. Park beneath that street light.” “I think it’s going to stand out a bit.” “You’ve still got four wheels, of course it’s going to stand out.”
I got out, pulling back the seat and letting Joe and Donny spill from the back. “Are you leaving Donny here?” I asked. “They’d set fire to the car just to roast him. You are insured, aren’t you?” “Third party, fire and theft.” “Well, one of those should cover it.” “That doesn't fill me with confidence.” Joe looked at his watch again. “With any luck, we’ll be on our way before anything can happen.”
Parallel to the street, set behind a decayed hedgerow and fence, was a large front of a building. It stretched from one end of the street to the other, where I could just make out the steeple of a church. “Used to be a hotel,” Joe explained. “More of a dosshouse, druggies trashed it a few years ago, then Max turned up.” “Max?” “You're going to see some weird shit, I don’t mind what you write about, if you take photos whatever, but be aware there is a consequence for everything. I’m politely saying, be respectful.”
Having the animal with us, didn’t make me feel any more secure. I followed Joe who was already vanishing into the shadows of the foyer.
