2-17: The Long Night
‘Just Donnie,’ said Donnie, accepting the Trilby from Smith. ‘Any chance of something to eat?’
‘I’ll just have the waiter bring us a menu,’ Smith replied sardonically as he sat down. ‘I want you to tell me what you know about these people.’
Smith opened the folder and pulled three photographs from it.
One photograph was of Madame Pink. Another, Monsieur Bleu. The last was Elvis Presley. Donnie read their names from the back of the photographs, and denied knowing any of them.
‘Do you think I’m stupid Penfolde?’ bellowed Smith.
When the echoes died down, Donnie replied: ‘Don’t know you well enough to have an opinion.’
‘Good,’ said Smith in a more even tone. ‘A woman was seen on surveillance tonight at 23:50 EST by Checkpoint Barry. She seemed to resemble this woman.’ He pointed to Madame Pink. ‘And you were seen with her.’
‘The woman I was with was wearing a pink skirt and jacket,’ said Donnie. ‘Pink wears nothing but black if I recall.’
He needed the cash he’d get from the completed case which meant he had to lie somewhat. It wasn’t a big lie, he’d been as surprised as anyone to see Pink wear anything other than slimming black.
‘I do remember,’ said Smith. ‘How about these others. Met any of them recently?’
‘Haven’t met any of them,’ said Donnie, sensing a trap. ‘Not recently in any case. Elvis is dead isn’t he?’
‘Not last time I looked,’ said Smith.’I’d be annoyed if he died in detention. The paperwork is a nightmare.’
Donnie was surprised. Two in one night was hard to deal with, but he did his best to mask his feeling by coughing into his hand. He decided to get himself some mouthwash once he was out of here, his breath wasn’t quite the boquet. That’s what a diet of peanut butter and vegemite on toast did to a person. Well, at least now he knew.
‘Pink and Bleu,’ said Smith. ‘Think of when you last saw them. And remember that I’m not a patient man. People to do. Things to see. You know how it is.’
Donnie didn’t.
There are a few ways to describe one's self when effectively trying to mask the fact that you're a complete hermit and spend your entire existence behind a computer screen sipping hot tea and eating cakes. The first would be to suggest that you're somewhat introverted and avoid coffee. Another might be to suggest you're a fan of Apple Macs but are cutting-down from the 6 you used to have to an even two (Macbook and Mac Mini in turn). Finally you might choose to say that despite the massive pay-drop, this writing thing is quite a lark isn't it? Not to mention enjoying the creative life a lot more than mindless tedium in corporate jobs, working the 40 hour week to the drumming of endless meetings and political intrigue that would have made Machiavelli blush and hand his pen over to the corporate slugs that run companies these days. Enough said really.
