Every Second Counts

Chapter Three

IT'S WEIRD. When Floppy and I get back to Red's apartment I sort of feel more at home here than I did at Athena's. I have a bounce in my step and I put it down to the fact I have purpose in my life again. I'm going to track down Reuben.

My first port of call is looking up the telephone directory. Just prior to his demise I coerced Patrick into telling me who Reuben Aberdeen really was. In my book, someone who was directly linked with the murders of my parents is a nasty piece of work and he isn't going to prance about using his real name. A bit more coercing and Patrick tells me Reuben's real name is John Franks and at the time, I believed him. However, now I know my Psychiatrist was a desperate liar and he told me the first name that came into his head. John Franks turns out to be the owner and occupier of the flat next to Patrick. I never knew the man's name, but had sort of met him on numerous occasions when I crashed into Patricks apartment seeking help, mostly in the middle of the night and very much worse for wear!

John Franks isn't the verbal neighbour who shouted abuse at us as Patrick ushered me into his apartment. John Franks is the neighbour on the other side... a demure 70 year old. I had to hand it to Patrick and his desperate ruse. He was one moment away from being pulverised by me in his apartment that fateful night and he decides to bluff his way out. For Patrick to keep Reuben's identity secret, this Reuben Aberdeen, is not a man any sane person would want to tangle with. But, I remind myself, I am not any sane person either.

* * *

The Fixer is exasperated. I hear it in his voice the minute I say, 'It's Athena Morisot speaking.' I'm in Reds apartment sitting out on her tiny balcony with my cell phone at my ear and looking down at the bustle of the street below. Wafts of diesel and general scummy air drifts up my nostrils and I cannot help comparing it to the million dollar view and relatively clean air Athena's apartment is privy to.

'Look, girlie. Just give it up, will ya?' The Fixer rasps.

'Excuse me!' My voice is riddled with posh and annoyance. I sigh and then add in a very condescending voice, 'Hey, it's just a little favour I need. Shouldn't cost me more than a grand.' I have spent a ton of money for The Fixer's 'favours' so far. He has been such a help. Actually he's been a fucking Godsend. If it wasn't for finding his number in my father's diary all those months ago, I would not have gotten my new identity, well two identities and a shit load of documentation relating to them. I owe this man a lot so in all fairness I shouldn't rattle him because I also know that the path I am taking, I will need him a hell of a lot more in future.

The Fixer is quiet for the longest moment while I hold my cell to my ear. I realise by his attitude that I should have rung his henchman, The Hulk instead. But I know if I had contacted The Hulk, he would have given me much of the same. The burner The Hulk gave me was for emergencies only. What I want from The Fixer is not an emergency.

'Whatever. Spit it out,' the Fixer gnarls out at me.

'I need a surveillance tape,' I tell him and then proceed to explain how I must get hold of a man who will be on the tape. The Fixer tells me he can't guarantee anything, but will contact me within 24 hours.

* * *

While waiting somewhat impatiently for the next 24 hours to pass I decide I can put the time to good use. I will go visit my parent's ageing next door neighbours, the Heslop's and obviously the trip to Cottonsdale will entail a meeting with Damien. Lust for this man appears.

As I move further from the city and into the peaceful countryside the anxiety of my life slowly evaporates being replaced with a feeling of low level contentment. This is the first time I have travelled to Cottonsdale since the death of my parents, that I haven't felt completely and utterly shattered. It will be good to talk with the Heslops. Then I will pop in to see Damien, flutter my eyelashes and pull a flirty smile.