to arrest me for solicitation?’
Karl’s face froze for a second. ‘Cop? You’ve got me all wrong, Sandy. If I gave you the impression of being a–’
‘You’re a cop or cop
something
. I can smell it a mile away. Let’s not argue over semantics,
Jim
. Now, who are you and what exactly is it you want to know about Blake? If you start with more lies, I’ll leave immediately.’
‘I…’ Karl thought quickly. Reached inside his wallet, before handing Sandy one of his business cards.
Sandy studied the card. ‘Karl Kane. Private investigator. Wasn’t too far off the mark, was I?’
‘I’m trying to trace Blake because his brother is dying. The family need some sort of reconciliation or closure before death. Nothing sinister.’
‘Want my advice, Karl? Go back to Belfast. Tell his family you couldn’t find him.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because Blake is a scum bucket. Drugs. Loan sharking. Runs a brothel in the town centre. Anything the devil’s invented, Thomas Blake had his hand firmly in it.’
‘Oh…’
‘I know that look on your face, and what you’re thinking. Here’s a woman, a hooker, and she has the audacity to complain about a brothel.’
‘I might be thinking you’re trying to get me to lean on the opposition.’
‘If you saw how he treats the women in that place, then you’d understand.’
‘I’ve seen enough of it in Belfast to understand fully what women go through in those places, Sandy. Why don’t you just make a confidential call to the cops, make them disrupt his business, if you’re so concerned?’
‘He opens the cops’ palms with drug money and they close their eyes. Free membership to the brothel thrown in.’
‘Just like Belfast.’ Karl shook his head. ‘I wish I could be of help, Sandy. I really do.’
‘Then you’re not going to take my advice?’
‘Tell his family I couldn’t find him? No. Once I take a job on, I see it through. It’s a bad trait, I know, but I’m kind of stubborn that way. I usually end up in a mess of trouble because of it.’
Sandy stood. Walked to the door. Opened it. ‘You’re a good man, Karl Kane. You’ve got decency written all over you. I wish I’d met someone like you about ten years ago.’
‘If you’d seen the state of me ten years ago, you’d have run a mile, Sandy,’ said Karl, walking to the door.
‘If you ever tire of that lucky woman in your life, come andlook me up – anytime.’ She smiled, and then kissed him full on the mouth. It burnt his lips. ‘You’ll find Blake’s brothel over at Princes Street.’
‘Thanks for the info, Sandy, and the kiss. Very much appreciated.’
‘One word of warning, Karl. When you come to a ghost town like Ballymena, just be careful that you don’t leave as a ghost. Goodnight, and probably goodbye.’
Less than five minutes later, a fully clothed Karl lay on top of the soiled linen and saggy mattress. He tried not thinking about the warning Sandy had given him, but something about it rattled him.
Removing his mobile, he hit some numbers. Placing it to his ear, he listened to the tone. She’d probably be sleeping, but he needed to hear her lovely reassuring voice.
‘Karl?’ said the groggy voice of Naomi, a few seconds later. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Oh…’
He pictured her in bed, warm and snuggled under the sheets, and suddenly felt terribly lonely.
‘What’re you doing?’ he asked.
He could hear her moving slightly, getting herself comfortable.
‘I was sleeping until some big hunk woke me. What’re
you
doing?’
‘Me? Just finished having great sex with a lovely lady of the night.’
‘Good. You deserve it. How’s that hotel?’
‘Don’t ask. The only thing this dump has in common with any hotel is four of its letters spell hole.’
He could hear her yawning.
‘What’re you wearing?’ he asked, knowing she was probably wearing her Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too, pyjamas. Her “comfy zone”, as she liked to
Karl’s face froze for a second. ‘Cop? You’ve got me all wrong, Sandy. If I gave you the impression of being a–’
‘You’re a cop or cop
something
. I can smell it a mile away. Let’s not argue over semantics,
Jim
. Now, who are you and what exactly is it you want to know about Blake? If you start with more lies, I’ll leave immediately.’
‘I…’ Karl thought quickly. Reached inside his wallet, before handing Sandy one of his business cards.
Sandy studied the card. ‘Karl Kane. Private investigator. Wasn’t too far off the mark, was I?’
‘I’m trying to trace Blake because his brother is dying. The family need some sort of reconciliation or closure before death. Nothing sinister.’
‘Want my advice, Karl? Go back to Belfast. Tell his family you couldn’t find him.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because Blake is a scum bucket. Drugs. Loan sharking. Runs a brothel in the town centre. Anything the devil’s invented, Thomas Blake had his hand firmly in it.’
‘Oh…’
‘I know that look on your face, and what you’re thinking. Here’s a woman, a hooker, and she has the audacity to complain about a brothel.’
‘I might be thinking you’re trying to get me to lean on the opposition.’
‘If you saw how he treats the women in that place, then you’d understand.’
‘I’ve seen enough of it in Belfast to understand fully what women go through in those places, Sandy. Why don’t you just make a confidential call to the cops, make them disrupt his business, if you’re so concerned?’
‘He opens the cops’ palms with drug money and they close their eyes. Free membership to the brothel thrown in.’
‘Just like Belfast.’ Karl shook his head. ‘I wish I could be of help, Sandy. I really do.’
‘Then you’re not going to take my advice?’
‘Tell his family I couldn’t find him? No. Once I take a job on, I see it through. It’s a bad trait, I know, but I’m kind of stubborn that way. I usually end up in a mess of trouble because of it.’
Sandy stood. Walked to the door. Opened it. ‘You’re a good man, Karl Kane. You’ve got decency written all over you. I wish I’d met someone like you about ten years ago.’
‘If you’d seen the state of me ten years ago, you’d have run a mile, Sandy,’ said Karl, walking to the door.
‘If you ever tire of that lucky woman in your life, come andlook me up – anytime.’ She smiled, and then kissed him full on the mouth. It burnt his lips. ‘You’ll find Blake’s brothel over at Princes Street.’
‘Thanks for the info, Sandy, and the kiss. Very much appreciated.’
‘One word of warning, Karl. When you come to a ghost town like Ballymena, just be careful that you don’t leave as a ghost. Goodnight, and probably goodbye.’
Less than five minutes later, a fully clothed Karl lay on top of the soiled linen and saggy mattress. He tried not thinking about the warning Sandy had given him, but something about it rattled him.
Removing his mobile, he hit some numbers. Placing it to his ear, he listened to the tone. She’d probably be sleeping, but he needed to hear her lovely reassuring voice.
‘Karl?’ said the groggy voice of Naomi, a few seconds later. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Oh…’
He pictured her in bed, warm and snuggled under the sheets, and suddenly felt terribly lonely.
‘What’re you doing?’ he asked.
He could hear her moving slightly, getting herself comfortable.
‘I was sleeping until some big hunk woke me. What’re
you
doing?’
‘Me? Just finished having great sex with a lovely lady of the night.’
‘Good. You deserve it. How’s that hotel?’
‘Don’t ask. The only thing this dump has in common with any hotel is four of its letters spell hole.’
He could hear her yawning.
‘What’re you wearing?’ he asked, knowing she was probably wearing her Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too, pyjamas. Her “comfy zone”, as she liked to
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