Authors: George McCartney
‘I can’t believe that you just did that,’ hissed Jack.
‘Don’t be silly, the old dears are really good sports. They’ve obviously been wondering what on earth was going on, with you poncing around the carriage in a tux getting you picture taken, so they were delighted to give you a candid review.’
‘To be perfectly honest, Annie, I was hoping to be mainly dating women who were born a good bit
after
the start of the Second World War. But anyway, what was the verdict?’
‘Well the first lady said that your Photoshopped picture looks like a handsome young Ronald Reagan.’
‘Fair enough, what about the other one?’
‘She asked if there are any good pictures of your todger on the dating website.’
Jack sprayed a mouthful of coffee over the window of the train and yelped,
‘what did you just say?’
‘Sorry, I’m kidding,’ said Annie, who was briefly consumed by a fit of the giggles. ‘But, seriously, they both said you’re a fine looking young man and, if you played your cards right, they would definitely offer you one of their Liquorice Allsorts, which perhaps tells you something about how old they are.’
Jack waved in acknowledgement to the old ladies and then used a napkin to clean the coffee-streaked window.
However, if he thought he was now off the hook, he was sadly mistaken. ‘Okay, that’s your profile picture done and dusted. Now tell me what you’ve listed so far under interests.’
'Right, but first I need you to explain some things for me, Annie. So I can understand the subtext, the in between the lines stuff, when I’m reading all these different women's profiles. I think that’s a big part of the problem, because I don't know what they're talking about. It's been an absolute minefield for me.'
'I'm not a complete expert on online dating, but I'll try. Okay, shoot.'
'This one for example, she says she’s 'a tactile divorcee, who is looking for
“strictly NSA fun times.”
I get the first bit, she’s touchy feely which sounds promising, but what does NSA mean?'
'That means she’s after strictly
no strings attached
fun times.'
'Okay, which means?'
'I think it means you’re almost guaranteed to get your leg over, probably without even buying her a drink. But remember, every other man within a hundred-mile radius probably has as well. So there’s a good chance that chlamydia and several other nasty sexually transmitted diseases will be included as a free bonus. Just a thought to bear in mind, boss, before you go ahead and set the bar too low. Next one.'
'This next woman is
"seeking friendship and cuddles, maybe more."
'She's also looking for a quick shag. But she has slightly higher standards than the first one and would like a little bit of foreplay first please, guys, if you don't mind.'
'Phew … I'm scared to ask about this one, she says she's
"a super fit, fun-loving extrovert, who likes long walks in the country under the stars, dressing up and meeting lots of new exciting people."
'Okay, let me see her picture,' said Annie. 'Yeah, by the look of her, she's definitely into dogging big time, that one. Probably accommodates bus parties and definitely not fussy.'
'For heaven's sake, Annie, all of these women can't be raving sex maniacs?'
'No, of course not, I'm just pulling your chain. Let's try and wrap this thing up before we get to Edinburgh. Go back to your interests.'
‘Well, so far, I’ve listed crosswords, country music, beer and football. You know, all the things I really like.’
‘No,
that
doesn’t work,’ said Annie emphatically. ‘Unless you want to have a date with another old fart, like yourself.’
Annie’s fingers moved in a blur over the keyboard, then she announced, ‘okay, how does this sound? I am a solvent home owner, with my own business. I love long walks, visits to the theatre and romantic candlelit dinners, followed by rose petals, chocolates and champagne.’
‘But that’s ridiculous, I don’t like
any
of that. It makes me sound like bloody Liberace. Although, obviously, he wouldn’t be trying to hook up with women. Especially since he’s dead.’
‘Look, don’t worry about it, boss. Everybody lies about this kind of stuff in their online profile. It’s just a means to an end, so that you can get within grabbing distance of desperate women.’
‘So let me get this straight, Annie … on these online dating sites,
everybody
lies about their age, appearance and interests?’
‘I’d say ninety, ninety-five per cent of people probably do lie to some degree, yes.’
‘And they all use a much younger picture of themselves and then trick it up with Photoshop, into the bargain?’
‘Absolutely. It’s probably ten years younger, minimum, for the women. Okay, there will be the odd straight shooter out there, but I’ll bet that the vast majority of the older crowd on these websites are in full spin control mode. It’s like that old song, they’re trying to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative.’
‘So is there
anything
that’s one hundred per cent real?’ said Jack, shocked and amazed at such rampant duplicity.
‘Yes … the recorded voice message. Maybe.’
As they got out of a taxi in Moray Place, Annie paused for a moment to take in her surroundings, before saying, 'oh my God … this is
so
cool. Did you say the guy we're here to see owns the
whole
thing? What a fantastic pad and take a look at some of the fancy cars parked right along the street.'
'Yes, it's all very nice but remember, Annie, don't be intimidated by the glamour and money. Most of the people you’ll meet inside will probably be world class bullshit merchants, just like old Henry and his boss. So my advice is, take everything they say with a pinch of salt and, if you're going to tell a lie … lie big, okay?'
'I can do that,' said Annie, with a confident nod.
Henry Dunn warmly greeted Jack and Annie at the entrance door to the townhouse, where their coats were taken by one of the hired flunkeys hovering around the lobby. He then led them up an elegant winding staircase to a huge drawing room on the first floor, where the drinks party was in full swing. Squeezing through the crowd towards a temporary bar, which had been set up in a corner of the room by the caterers, Henry wasted no time in getting his retaliation in first.
Rubbing his hands together, he announced in a loud voice, 'we've got everything else on offer guys, but I'm afraid we don't seem to have any Buckfast for our honoured guests from Glasgow. But I'm sure we can get the caterers to pop down to an off-licence in darkest Leith somewhere, to pick up a couple of bottles, if you're starting to feel withdrawal symptoms.'
Jack could feel Annie tensing beside him and quickly defused the situation by joking, 'we’re okay, thanks, Henry. Annie never leaves home without a half-bottle in her hand bag, just for emergencies.'
They each got a drink and Henry, thankfully, made his excuses saying he’d been summoned to help his boss with a last minute problem of some kind. Jack and Annie heaved a collective sigh of relief and decided to split up and work the crowd, to see what they could learn about their mysterious host.
After almost an hour spent mingling with the other guests, Jack bumped into Annie back at the bar. She was looking slightly flushed and animated.
'What have you been up to? You're looking a bit guilty, Annie. You're not drunk already, surely? We’ve only just arrived, for heaven’s sake.'
'Please … that's a good one coming from you, of all people. Nope, I've only had three glasses of champagne and, big surprise, I'm actually enjoying myself. I've met some really interesting people already
and
I've been hit on twice. So far.'
'The cheeky bastards,' growled Jack, looking around the room for possible culprits. 'Just point the two guys out to me and I'll warn them off.'
'Don't you dare. They were just being polite, but in a posh horny kind of way. The first one was the older guy over there at the window, who looks a little bit like Russell Crowe. Okay, admittedly on a very bad day.'
'Yeah, I see him.'
'He's a famous artist, apparently. Don’t laugh, but he said I remind him of a young Julie Christie and he’s offered to paint me in the nude, which you have to admit is a really great chat-up line. He cooled down a bit when I told him I have absolutely no idea who Julie Christie is. Then I think I annoyed him, when I asked if he usually keeps his socks on when he does that type of painting.'
'What?'
'You know … so he has somewhere to keep his brushes,' smirked Annie.
Shaking his head in amazement, Jack asked, 'okay, who was the other chancer?'
'Standing right behind you,' whispered Annie, pointing a finger beyond Jack. 'Have a quick peek, but try not to be too obvious about it.'
Jack casually half-turned to check out a striking androgynous, forty-something figure with short black hair, who was wearing bright red lipstick, a leather neck choker and a shiny black silk trouser suit with red spiky heels. Somehow sensing his gaze, the object of his curiosity looked up and met his eyes with a disconcerting, piercing stare. Then turning her attention to Annie, she winked conspiratorially and slowly, deliberately, licked her lips.
Turning away quickly in surprise, Jack spilled half a glass of red wine on the thick pile carpet, before spluttering, 'but … but she's a
woman,
Annie.'
'I know boss. People who wear silk couture evening jackets, with nothing on underneath and matching trousers by Versace, which probably cost at least four thousand quid, usually are. I'm a detective now, remember. I know stuff.'
'I'm almost scared to ask, what did she want?’
Annie giggled and said, 'she asked me what I did for a living and I followed your earlier advice and lied big. I told her I was actually Dakota Johnston's bum double in the
Fifty Shades of Grey
sequel and you're my sleazy agent. She laughed and said that, in her opinion, the film was kid's stuff, strictly for amateurs and beginners only. However, she did say that if I was interested, I was welcome to join her and a select group of friends later in the basement gym for the after-party, where we could share a couple of lines of coke and I would get an introduction to the real-deal version of S&M from an expert.’
'That's fucking unbelievable, Annie, I hope you told her to get lost.'
'No, I said I'd think about it. Then she whispered in my ear that if I did accept her invitation, I would need to think of a safe word.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know, it’s a pre-arranged word or phrase that’s used in S&M role-play, when the person who’s on the receiving end of the punishment wants the other person to stop whatever it is they’re doing.’
Jack shivered slightly and said, ‘bloody hell, I’ve never fancied trying any of that kind of pain, pleasure stuff myself. I don’t care if they call me boring old Jack, but I think I’m definitely more M&S than S&M. But there was this one time I remember, while I was still married, when my wife suggested to me, with a twinkle in her eye, that we should go upstairs. I was to bring my police issue handcuffs with me, so we could try something new she had been reading about in a magazine.’
‘Really? And did you … you know?’
‘Well, I’m pretty broadminded as you know and try anything once has always been my motto, Annie. So I quickly scuttled upstairs rubbing my hands, got my kit off and lay down on the bed. She came into our bedroom a couple of minutes later, put the handcuffs on me and hooked them round a strut on the headboard before locking them. Then she winked and told me to shut my eyes, count to a hundred and wait while she got changed into something really sexy. It was all so unexpected and completely out of character that I could hardly believe it.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Absolutely nothing. The big surprise was that, a couple of minutes later, I heard the front door slam and I was left lying there stark naked, trapped on the bed like a spare whotsit. I learned later she’d got tarted up to go out with her pals, for a curry and a few drinks. That was a sign even I couldn’t miss, Annie, regarding the state of our marriage. We got divorced not long after that.’
‘That story would probably make a good country song, although it might be a bit too racy.’ Annie giggled and said, ‘that reminds me, if I do take my new best friend up on her invitation to the after-party in the basement, I’m definitely going to make
Hank Williams
my safe words.’
‘I don’t think old Hank would have had anything to do with any of that sleazy S&M stuff,’ said Jack rather sniffily.
‘Well that’s where you’re completely wrong, boss, because I’ve
already
been extensively tortured by him, remember. I spent nearly six weeks listening to his miserable songs every time I got into your car.’
'Look, wait a minute, this conversation is completely ridiculous,' spluttered Jack, helplessly as he struggled unsuccessfully for the moral high ground. 'I mean, what would your auntie Peg say if she could hear you talking now?'
'Well, actually, after my last conversation with her, about online dating, I now see my auntie Peg in a totally different light. So I reckon, if she was here, she'd probably tell me to hedge my bets and see how things go with the randy old painter. But if he can't hack it, like most of the old guys who are all just talk, according to her, then I've still got the foxy lezz and her kinky gang down in the basement in reserve. You know, as a back-up.’
'I'm shocked, Annie James, I really am.'
'Well don't be,' said Annie, now in full wind-up mode. 'We’re not in the Royal Bar now. This is a sophisticated party, boss, where grown-up people enjoy themselves and probably get up to all sorts of grown-up things, after a few drinks.'
'Well all I'm saying, Annie, is that If Dominic Strauss bloody Kahn has an invite and shows up here later on, I'm going to set off the fire alarm and carry you over my shoulder straight down to Waverley station.'
'Don't be silly, boss,' giggled Annie, as she skilfully stepped to one side and retrieved another champagne flute from a passing waiter. 'Anyway, how did you get on working the crowd?'
'Well I've obviously not had anywhere near as much fun as you seem to have had. First off I spoke for ten minutes to a boring old bastard, who told me that he’s actually done some property related business in the past with our host. I obviously tried to get him to open up a bit about how things went, by saying that I was on the point of agreeing a similar deal with him myself. But the old guy just smiled ruefully and advised me to remember to count my fingers, to make sure they’re all still there, if I do ever shake hands on a deal with our new client.
‘Mmm … that’s interesting,’ said Annie.
‘Yes, interesting but annoyingly vague. Of course, it could just be sour grapes, if he got the short end of the stick on a business deal. Anyway after speaking to him, I saw a good looking older woman who was standing on her own over at the window. She was looking a bit bored and miserable, so I thought, why not? I sidled up to her and introduced myself.’
‘Very good, boss. Did you manage to get her phone number?’
'Not quite. I asked if I could get her a drink and she asked what I do for a living. Everybody seems to do that at these kind of posh parties. They immediately want to try and work out how much you earn, to see if it’s worth their while talking to you. I told her I’m a private investigator from Glasgow.’
'And?'
‘She didn’t seem very impressed. In fact, she started yawning and just wandered off without saying another word.’
‘Well nobody’s asked me what I do for a living, so far. Apart from my new best friend.’
‘Yes, but that’s because they all have nasty ulterior motives as far as you’re concerned, Annie. They probably want you to be their kept plaything.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Annie, cheerfully. ‘Do you think I would I get a platinum Amex card and my own limo with a driver as part of the deal?’
‘No, Annie, what you have to remember is that
this
is Edinburgh, not Paris or Rome, and they do things a little differently here. So, if you’re lucky, you might get a spare coffee and cake voucher for the John Lewis cafe, or the loan of a season ticket to see a Hearts game at Tynecastle. But only if they’re playing Hamilton Accies. Oh, and as part of your duties you’ll probably have to put the buckets out as well.’
‘Oh well, fair enough, I don’t think I’ll bother then.’
‘So my evening hasn’t been an unqualified success, so far. But, on the plus side, I did make myself a fiver. I was standing outside the front door, just about to light up a fag, when a couple of toffs screeched to a halt in a fancy convertible Jaguar, with the top down and some kind of electronic dance music blaring from the car's sound system. You know the type, screaming to the world …
look at me
. Anyway, they left the car double parked with the engine still running and swanned up the steps to the front door. The prick who was driving tossed me the keys, slipped a crisp five spot into my breast pocket and told me to hop in and find a parking space somewhere close by. I was about to tell him exactly where to stick his fucking Jag and then I thought, well a fiver's a fiver, right?'
Annie nodded, then looked Jack up and down and said, 'it's definitely that old dinner suit, boss. You've obviously put on a good few pounds since the last time you wore it. So a combination of the poor fit and those mystery stains down the front of the jacket makes you look like one of the help.'
'I think you might be right because later, when I was standing at the bar, an old bag made straight for me, poked me in the ribs with her spec case and complained bitterly that I hadn't put the right kind of olive in her dry martini.’
'It's definitely not easy being a toff, boss. There are so many problems trying to find the right type of staff, when you have a few friends round for drinks and nibbles.'
Henry reappeared at that moment, to invite Jack and Annie upstairs to a newly created penthouse office in the attic floor of the townhouse, to meet the client who was, apparently, too busy to put in an appearance at his own party.
As they entered the office, a trim well-groomed man in his mid-forties was in the middle of a heated telephone call, which he abruptly ended, saying, ‘I’ll have to re-run those numbers on the short-term financing and get back to you.’ He then breathed deeply and regained his composure, before standing up to shake hands.