Read V 02 - Domino Men, The for Free Online Page A

Gordy.”
    I set my coffee down on the table, frightened of spilling it.  “Who’s Gordy?”
    “He’s a mate.  Don’t fret, darling.  He’s in the biz.”
    “Not another actor?”
    “Producer, actually.  He’s booked us into the most marvelous hotel.”
    “Great.”
    “Don’t look so down.  I’m happy.  Just keep an eye on the old bastard for us, will you?  Give us a tinkle if anything happens.”
    I stared down at the remnants of my sandwich and nodded.
    Mum’s handbag began to trill.  She pulled out her mobile and clasped it to her ear.  “Gordy!  No, I’m still with him.”  Tittering, she turned to look at me.  “Gordy says hi.”
    “Hello, Gordy,” I said.
    “No, no,” she said, suddenly putting on a baby voice.  “I think he’s Mr. Grumpy ’cause of his granddad.”  She kissed me on the forehead, waved goodbye, walked out of the café and into the street, still bellowing her endearments, broadcasting her sweet nothings for all the world to hear.
    I looked at what remained of my sandwich and pushed the plate aside, my appetite suddenly curdled.

    I had just got back to my desk when Peter Hickey-Brown summoned me into his office.
    A stranger sat beside him.  Baby-faced, clear-skinned and enviably exfoliated, he radiated good health.  He was a walking advert for diligent grooming.  When I came in, he looked at me but offered no smile and simply stared, unspeaking, in my direction.
    “You wanted to see me?” I said.
    Hickey-Brown, uncharacteristically grave, told me to sit.  I was surprised to see that he had put on a tie since the morning and that he’d removed almost all of his jewelry.
    “This is Mr. Jasper.”
    I stretched my hand across the desk.  “Hello.”
    The man just stared.  I noticed that he had a flesh-colored piece of plastic buried in one of his ears and I remember wondering (how naïve it seems now) whether he was hard of hearing.
    “I’m Henry Lamb.”
    Still nothing.  Embarrassed, I withdrew my hand.
    Peter cleared his throat.  “Mr. Jasper’s from another department.”
    “Which one?”
    Hickey-Brown looked as though he didn’t really know the answer.  “A special department.  I’m told it keeps an eye on the personal well-being of our staff.”
    At last, the stranger spoke.  “We like to think of ourselves,” he deadpanned, “as the department which cares.”
    Hickey-Brown clasped his fingers together as though in prayer.  “Listen.  We know that something happened yesterday.  Something to do with your grandfather.”
    The man who had been introduced as Jasper looked at me icily.  “What is the matter with the poor old fellow?”
    “They think it might be a stroke,” I said, just about resisting the temptation to ask why it was any of his bloody business.
    “Is he likely to recover?”
    “The doctors aren’t sure.  Though I suspect it’s unlikely.”
    Mr. Jasper turned his eyes upon me but said no more.
    I looked over to my boss.  “Peter?”
    He managed an insincere smile.  “We’re worried about you.  We need to know you’re OK.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Sure.  But listen.  You need any time off — just say the word.  Just give the nod.”
    “Of course.”
    Jasper was still staring, coolly, unblinkingly.
    “Is that all?” I asked.
    Hickey-Brown glanced toward Jasper and the stranger gave the tiniest inclination of his head, a motion which might, in the right light, if you squinted a bit, have been a nod.
    “Alrighty,” said Peter Hickey-Brown.  “You can go.”
    As I walked out, I felt the stranger’s unsympathetic eyes boring into my back like lasers.
     
     
    After work, I retrieved my bike and cycled over to the hospital.  Although there was no change in my granddad, he was, at least, no worse, and it didn’t seem to me as though he was in any pain.  I held his hand and told him something about my day, about the fat woman in the basement, my lunch with Mum and the visit of Mr. Jasper.
    Someone