credits go up, I
stood in tandem with a couple of others and squeezed my way through the
compacted bodies to where Jessica was still sitting, staring numbly at the
screen.
‘The name’s Blake. I’m from England,’ I
said extending a hand.
She offered an intrigued smirk, then
looked me up and down.
‘Nice to meet you, Blake from England.
Did you like the film?’
‘Thought it was very insightful,’ I said,
trying to sound interested.
‘How so?’ she asked, as if she knew I
wasn’t like the rest.
‘My daughter was all into nature and
that. Me, less so, if I’m honest, but it makes you think doesn’t it, the
film...’
She laughed softly. I wasn’t sure if she
was mocking me or not. She knew I wasn’t there for the documentary as soon as
I’d walked in. Maybe she just wanted to play with me for a bit for her own
personal amusement before blowing me out.
‘So, how can I help?’
I lifted my gaze from the outline of her
nipples, pressing through her tight maroon jumper and got to the point.
‘I’m trying to locate a missing girl. Her
name’s Olivia Deacon. She disappeared whilst over here on a work placement.
She’s from London like myself. I’m a good friend of hers and her father’s.’
‘Okay…’
I sat down on the arm of the sofa.
‘He’s seriously concerned about her, and
just wants to know that she’s safe. I’m not here to give her grief or drag her
back home. I just want to check that she’s still got a pulse while I’m passing
through Minneapolis on business.
‘The guy with the Mohican told me that
you may have taken a photograph of her while she was hanging out here a few
weeks ago. I’d be real grateful to have a look at it if you did...’
She eyed me up and down again as if
mulling over her response.
‘Well, I didn’t know her that well,
having met her only a couple of times. Only knew that she was interested in
art, that she’d met Ethan at the gallery, and was trying to escape some
tyrannical father who you now claim to be helping out.’
‘He’s a bit protective I know...but he
lost his wife recently and is scared of losing the one person left in his life
who means something to him. She’s his only daughter, you see...’
‘I didn’t know that,’ she said
thoughtfully.
‘Henry’s a good guy really,’ I said, as
if I knew him well enough to vouch for his character. ‘He’s just frightened,
that’s all. You can understand that can’t you, Jessica?'
‘Look, come up to my room and we’ll see
what I can do,’ she said, her defences softening.
I followed her out of the sweat-infused
lounge, up a creaking flight of stairs, along the landing to a darkened room
that smelt strongly of sandalwood. I waited respectfully at the door as she
went in and switched on the light.
‘Please...’ she said, beckoning me in
with a smile.
I stepped in and scanned the room
carefully. There was an old sofa to my left covered in Moroccan style fabrics
and a bed with a throw just as colourful. The walls were busy too, covered in
an array of nature photographs that looked artistic and pretty professional. I
assumed she’d taken them herself, judging by the expensive digital camera sat
on the side.
She bid me sit down at her work desk,
then leaned over and opened up an old laptop in front of me, leaving her
cleavage hovering dangerously close to my face. I shifted my attentions to the
screen as the photographic software loaded up, trying to ignore the flirtation.
If Jessica did indeed have a picture of the
girl, I could email it directly to Lenny, and that may be good enough to free
up an initial payment from Henry and put the smile back on Baxter’s face too.
Within a few scrolls of Jessica’s
alternately painted finger nails we arrived at the photo the Mohican guy had
mentioned. It was a shot of Olivia and another guy, who I deduced was Ethan,
sat arm in arm on a sofa, next to an older lady whom I presumed was Tug’s wife
from the pictures I’d seen back at
stood in tandem with a couple of others and squeezed my way through the
compacted bodies to where Jessica was still sitting, staring numbly at the
screen.
‘The name’s Blake. I’m from England,’ I
said extending a hand.
She offered an intrigued smirk, then
looked me up and down.
‘Nice to meet you, Blake from England.
Did you like the film?’
‘Thought it was very insightful,’ I said,
trying to sound interested.
‘How so?’ she asked, as if she knew I
wasn’t like the rest.
‘My daughter was all into nature and
that. Me, less so, if I’m honest, but it makes you think doesn’t it, the
film...’
She laughed softly. I wasn’t sure if she
was mocking me or not. She knew I wasn’t there for the documentary as soon as
I’d walked in. Maybe she just wanted to play with me for a bit for her own
personal amusement before blowing me out.
‘So, how can I help?’
I lifted my gaze from the outline of her
nipples, pressing through her tight maroon jumper and got to the point.
‘I’m trying to locate a missing girl. Her
name’s Olivia Deacon. She disappeared whilst over here on a work placement.
She’s from London like myself. I’m a good friend of hers and her father’s.’
‘Okay…’
I sat down on the arm of the sofa.
‘He’s seriously concerned about her, and
just wants to know that she’s safe. I’m not here to give her grief or drag her
back home. I just want to check that she’s still got a pulse while I’m passing
through Minneapolis on business.
‘The guy with the Mohican told me that
you may have taken a photograph of her while she was hanging out here a few
weeks ago. I’d be real grateful to have a look at it if you did...’
She eyed me up and down again as if
mulling over her response.
‘Well, I didn’t know her that well,
having met her only a couple of times. Only knew that she was interested in
art, that she’d met Ethan at the gallery, and was trying to escape some
tyrannical father who you now claim to be helping out.’
‘He’s a bit protective I know...but he
lost his wife recently and is scared of losing the one person left in his life
who means something to him. She’s his only daughter, you see...’
‘I didn’t know that,’ she said
thoughtfully.
‘Henry’s a good guy really,’ I said, as
if I knew him well enough to vouch for his character. ‘He’s just frightened,
that’s all. You can understand that can’t you, Jessica?'
‘Look, come up to my room and we’ll see
what I can do,’ she said, her defences softening.
I followed her out of the sweat-infused
lounge, up a creaking flight of stairs, along the landing to a darkened room
that smelt strongly of sandalwood. I waited respectfully at the door as she
went in and switched on the light.
‘Please...’ she said, beckoning me in
with a smile.
I stepped in and scanned the room
carefully. There was an old sofa to my left covered in Moroccan style fabrics
and a bed with a throw just as colourful. The walls were busy too, covered in
an array of nature photographs that looked artistic and pretty professional. I
assumed she’d taken them herself, judging by the expensive digital camera sat
on the side.
She bid me sit down at her work desk,
then leaned over and opened up an old laptop in front of me, leaving her
cleavage hovering dangerously close to my face. I shifted my attentions to the
screen as the photographic software loaded up, trying to ignore the flirtation.
If Jessica did indeed have a picture of the
girl, I could email it directly to Lenny, and that may be good enough to free
up an initial payment from Henry and put the smile back on Baxter’s face too.
Within a few scrolls of Jessica’s
alternately painted finger nails we arrived at the photo the Mohican guy had
mentioned. It was a shot of Olivia and another guy, who I deduced was Ethan,
sat arm in arm on a sofa, next to an older lady whom I presumed was Tug’s wife
from the pictures I’d seen back at
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