Dr. Yes (7 page)

    'He
is, isn't he? And he's currently eating me out of house and home.'

    'He's
not! Oh, how awful! How did that happen?'

    'Well
he came into the shop all ranting and raving, and I kind of felt sorry for him.
I'm sure you've gathered how passionate I am about crime fiction, and he is a
bit of a legend, so I thought I'd do the old guy a favour seeing as how he was
so distressed and had nowhere else to put his head down. Tell you the truth, I
wish I'd never bothered.'

    'Oh,
I don't envy you. I mean, yes, poor man, but honestly, the trouble he's caused!
He's been scaring our customers away and I've had to phone every pizza company
in Belfast and tell them to stop delivering to us because we haven't ordered
any. He's a menace.'

    'He's
convinced his wife

    'I
know! But what does he think we've done with her, buried her under the patio?
Honestly! She's a perfectly nice woman, she had her procedures, everything went
like clockwork and she looked wonderful. Tell you the God's truth, after being
pampered for a few weeks, the prospect of returning to
him
would put me
on the first plane to South America as well!'

    'You
think that's where she is?'

    'I've
no idea. Though I have to say, there's a lot of sitting around recovering in
what we do, and I couldn't help but notice that Arabella - lovely name, don't
you think? - was reading a teach-yourself-Portuguese book. Now, what do you
think, is that a clue? Brazil, maybe?'

    'Or
Angola. Or Cape Verde. Or Guinea-Bissau. Or Mozambique. Or Macau. Or East
Timor.'

    She
blinked at me for a little bit, and then said, 'Or Portugal.'

    And I
said, 'Oh shit,' without really meaning to, because I happened to have glanced
up, and there at the counter, just taking delivery of two frappuccinos, one of
them undoubtedly for me, was Alison; and in that instant she looked round, and
spotted me, and was halfway towards a smile when she realised I wasn't alone.
The staggering beauty of the woman I was with seemed to strike her like a
metaphorical brick to the face. The humour drained out of her and she just
looked shocked and mortified in the same breath, neither of which stopped her
from crossing the couple of metres to our table. My mouth dropped open as she
glared at me, and I vaguely pointed at Pearl and mumbled something like,
'Alison ... I wasn't . . . this isn't. . . this is Pearl. . .', and it must
have made some sort of sense, because she responded instantly with, 'I don't
give a flying fuck, you two-faced fuck face.' And then she flung her coffee at
me, and I would have been burned, but Starbucks put their tops on
really
well, so it just hit me in the face, which was like being punched, especially
with my brittle bones, and even though it wasn't really sore I let out a little
yelp, a learned reaction to the slings and arrows of everyday life, and then Alison
was away, storming out the way only an enraged, hormonal and heavily pregnant
woman can, even though she was only three months gone.

    Pearl
said, 'Ooops.'

    And I
said, 'She works with me.'

    'Don't
worry,' she said. 'I know who she is. You're thinking about having surgery to
make her find you more attractive.' She reached across the table and put a hand
on my arm. 'She'll understand once you explain. But listen to me. I've taken a
good long look at you. And no amount of surgery could make you look any more
attractive.' It sat in the air for what seemed like an eternity, during which
my heart sank to the pits of hell. Wasn't she saying that I was the ugliest man
on the planet? But then she squeezed my arm, and her touch was so soft. 'I
think you're just lovely as you are.' Our eyes met for a perfect moment, and
then she moved her hand away. 'It's probably time I got back to work.' She
.stood and gathered up her books and I wanted to say, stay, just a little bit
longer, but before I could she had opened her purse and taken out a business
card and set it down and said, 'Why don't you give me a wee call sometime? My
mobile's on there too,' and she smiled that smile and walked away.

    I
watched her go.

    Everything
had happened so quickly.

    When
she had slipped from sight, leaving only her scent and the outline of her
bottom on the armchair opposite, I picked up the card she had so recently
caressed and read what it said:

    
THE YESCHENKOV CLINIC

     
Pearl
Knecklass

    Alison
was a jealous, moody cow and I was quite prepared not to speak to her for the
rest of her life. We could communicate through our respective solicitors. I
wouldn't demand visitation rights with the child even if she produced proof it
was mine. Children are overrated. If I wanted to see it, I could stand in her
shrubbery at night and watch through the window the way I usually did.

    Then
I saw her opposite No Alibis, waiting to cross the traffic.

    So,
another showdown.

    She
didn't scare me. But mostly to protect my property, I put my hand on the mallet
beneath the counter. It used to be a meat cleaver, but that was too dangerous.
You could cut someone's head off with a cleaver. With a mallet you would just
flatten anything that stuck out, like a nose. I didn't necessarily want to
flatten

    Alison's
nose, but I was prepared to, and just about had the strength, thanks to the
steroids I'd been taking for the past ten years. You wouldn't necessarily
notice my muscle definition but you could tell by the size of my penis, which
had shrunk further. Alison said that size wasn't everything, and I was in a
fortunate position to agree with her, particularly when applied to bookshops.

    She
opened the door and gave me a bright smile and said, 'So how did it go?'

    'How
did what go?'

    'Your
meeting.'

    'I
believe you were there. I believe you threw coffee at me and called me a
two-faced fuck face.'

    'Ah,
I was only putting on an act. You're so easy. Jeff told me where you were and I
came across to offer moral support and to take a gander at her, working for a
plastic surgeon and all. She's a bit of a beauty, isn't she? Well out of your
league.'

    It
was a double bluff, because I can read people, years of training, and I'd seen
the fear on her face and the terror in her eyes at the thought of losing me,
and you don't hurl a steaming cup of coffee at someone and hit them in the face
with it as an act. You could scald someone.

    And
she said, 'I couldn't have scalded you with an iced coffee, halfwit.'

    And I
said, 'Did I say all of that out loud?'

    She
ran her finger along the counter top, checking for dust, which was just
ridiculous. 'She was gorgeous, though, wasn't she? So skinny she only needs one
eye. And isn't a girl allowed to be a teensy-weensy bit jealous? After all,
you're my man.' I snorted, although, actually, I liked the sound of that. 'So,
did you think she was fantastically sexy and lovely?'

    'She
was all right. It was work.'

    'Did
she not look a bit pinched?'

    'Not
that I noticed.'

    'Like
her skin was tied up behind her neck and all you'd have to do is snip the knot
and her whole face would fall into her chest, which, incidentally, appeared to
be pointing upwards. A sixteen-year-old would be lucky to pull that one off.'

    'I
wasn't aware of her pulling anything off.'

    'Yeah,
you wish.'

    I
said, 'Is there a point to this conversation, or did you come over to apologise
for your appalling behaviour?'

    'Apologise
for what?'

    'Throwing
. . . and calling .. . and embarrassing me in front of an informant.'

    'That
was nothing; you should see me when I'm angry.'

    'You're
really selling yourself. You're going to end up an old maid.'

    'How
can I be an old maid when I'm carrying your child?'

    'So
you say.'

    We
both sighed.

    If
I'd had a single customer, he or she would have been embarrassed by the
exchange. Fortunately, I did not. And unfortunately. Times were hard and
getting harder; I needed to get on with finding the lovely Arabella and start
on my quest to ruthlessly exploit Augustine's back catalogue and treasured
fourth instalment. No Alibis needed an injection of cash, and I needed to eat.
I had to stop swapping insults with this strange impetuous woman from across
the road.

    I
said, 'Bangles?'

    She
said, 'I'm on flexi. What did she say about Arabella?'

    'Pearl
said Arabella was learning Portuguese.'

    'Pearl?'

    'For
that was her name.'

    'Your
granny's called Pearl.'

    'My
granny's called Frank, but that's another story.'

    'I
mean, it's an awful old name. Pearl what?'

    'Pearl
it's-none-of-your-business.' Nevertheless, I took Pearl's business card out of
my pocket and briefly examined it. It still said:

    
THE YESCHENKOV CLINIC

    
Pearl
Knecklass

    I slid
it across the counter to Alison. She picked it up and read what it said. Her
lips moved silently. They were nice lips. I had kissed them before, and since,
and told complete strangers that I had. She looked up at me. There was a glint
in her eye.

    'You're
serious?' she asked.

    'Always.'

    'I
mean, Pearl
Necklace?'

    'Yes.
With a K.'

    'But
nevertheless.'

    'Are
you feeling some sort of connection to her name because it sounds like
jewellery?'

    'I'm
not feeling any sort of connection to her, and her name doesn't sound like
jewellery, it sounds like - you know what it sounds like.'

    'I
know exactly what it sounds like. A string of pearls. But spelt differently.'

    'You
know what it sounds like, and it's not that, although spelt differently.'

    'I
have no idea what you're talking about.'

    'You
think it's a coincidence that a woman who looks like that has a porn name like
that?'

    'A
porn name?'

    'Yes,
a porn name.'

    'What're
you talking about? What's a porn name?'

    'Oh
for God's sake. A porn name, a porn name. A porn-star name. She has a porn-star
name. Pearl
Necklace,
for frig's sake.'

    'How
is that a porn-star name?'

    'How
is it not? Pearl Necklace!' She was laughing, and examining me at the same
time, and then abruptly she stopped and shook her head and said: 'You honestly
have no idea, do you? You know more irrelevant shit than anyone I've ever met,
but you don't know anything important.'

    'Like
a porn-star name?'

    'Yes!
Man dear, Pearl Necklace! Even with a K. Come here.' She waggled a finger at
me, but actually she was the one who moved nearer, leaning over the counter. I
thought she wanted a kiss, but her lips diverted to my ear and she whispered to
me what a pearl necklace meant in sexual parlance, and then she stood back and
raised an eyebrow. 'You're shocked,' she said.

    'I am
shocked that anyone would want to do something that wasn't directly linked to
procreation. Next you'll be telling me that Pussy Galore has nothing to do with
the love of cats.'

    'Sometimes
I don't know whether you're the world's greatest wind-up artist, or you're
slightly autistic.'

    'I
think you know what the answer to that is.'

    She
sighed again. 'Bloody hell, you're so infuriating. I'm going to Starbucks.'

    'You
can't.'