Their problem to recover it. My name and address are on the agreement there if you should need to contact me later.'
One of the officers scratched his head. 'Ye're an awfy cool lassy, for someone just out o' an accident.'
'Accidents happen!' B.J. snapped, then bit her lip. 'Look, I realy am in a hurry. I'm sorry if I appear ungrateful Too late. Her attitude had been all wrong and sorry wasn't going to put it right.
In the police station in Perth they recorded her statement and had a doctor look at her anyway, if only to cover themselves.
Which meant it was after ten before she could call a taxi and get under way again ...
A PICTURE OF THE MIND, A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE FUTURE
III
A PICTURE OF THE MIND, A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE FUTURE
In case her place was under observation, Bonnie Jean rode the taxi to within a quarter mile of 'B.J. 's,' paid her fare, then walked or was blown the rest of the way. It was a little after midday, raining, and blowing a gale. Buffeted along the slippery pavements, she thought: The windy fucking city, indeed!
Furious by the time she arrived at the bar - mainly with herself, but also with the way things were or were not working out - she had to call one of her girls down from her bedroom, from where she was supposed to be watching the street outside, to let her in!
- 'Didn't you see me arrive?'
'I... I was using your toilet,' the girl told her.
Two other girls, who were in the vicinity and witnessed B.J. 's arrival, reported to her in the bar as she was towelling her hair and trying to dry out.
'Any luck?' She glared at them. 'What of the watcher? Has he been back? And Harry Keogh? Have you found him?' But seeing the negative look on their faces: 'Let's get this place tidied up, sorted out. We open tonight. If we stay closed any longer, it will only attract attention. I'll make adjustments to your duties as soon as I get the chance.' And finally, as she made to head upstairs: 'Any calls?'
'A few,' the girl from her bedroom told her. They're on your answering machine. I didn't monitor them. You didn't tell me to . .
B.J. rushed through the bar and up the stairs to her bedroom. There were three calls from regulars wanting to know when the bar would be open again, and two more from someone or ones who said nothing, but the next and last -
- Was from Harry:
'B.J.?' (He sounded unsure of himself, tinny, distant). 'I said I would call you before I went off. So, I'm calling. Tried to get you twice already - nothing doing. Too early, I suppose. Sorry about that. So, I'll be away
maybe a month, I'm not sure. About a month, yes. I don't know why I'm bothering you, really. That's it, then ... " But after a long pause:
'Oh, and by the way, that Greek wine of yours is ... good stuff? Well, let's say it's an "acquired taste," eh? But a damn good way to get to sleep nights, when your mind just can't stop ticking over! Know what I mean? No, I don't suppose you do ...'
(Another pause, then):
Til be in touch ... " And. again a long silence before the 'phone went dead.
And: 'Damn!' B.J. said under her breath, expelling all of her air in a heavy sigh before taking her first deep breath for what seemed like the first time that day.
She breathed in ... and held it. Now what in all - ?
Aftershave? Old Spice? Harry's aftershave? It must be. But lingering on, all this time since he'd been here? Except... he hadn't been here, not 'up' here, not in her bedroom! Or was it just his voice that had set it off? But damn it all, she could smell him - him, and not just his aftershave! He was that real, that vivid, tantalizing, in her mind ... And in her room?
B.J.'s eyes were suddenly feral in the gloomy quiet of her room, with the curtains drawn and the rain pattering on the window panes. Her nostrils gaped; she turned her head sharply this way and that! She sniffed, as she tracked the essence of a man, his scent, his odour. But here, in her bedroom ... where he had never been.
Oh, really?
She flew down one flight to her living-room. Nothing! His scent wasn't here - or