0 comments
Thursday 05-30
Knock, knock, knockin’ on Heaven’s door.
That’s what’s playing on my radio as my alarm goes off. And actually, I ought to have a sign outside my office door to that effect. People ought to come knocking. After all, my charges are very reasonable; and divorces, debts owed and missing persons found are all catered for. And, yes, even missing animals. Mike Heaven PI will take anything on.
Well, I suppose I’m never short of work. Mind you, sometimes I wish I was - like today, for instance. Up at half-past five on a pitch dark, freezing, February morning, and all to get evidence of a certain Mr Leonard Barking’s sordid affair with a voluptuous, trainee belly-dancer named, improbably, Marissa Mustard. I grab a cup of tea - though I know I’m unlikely to get any sympathy to go with it. My wife left me five years ago. She ran off with a student from Hong Kong who was on a cultural exchange visit. Well, I wouldn’t have minded so much if I’d at least been prepared for it. When she said she liked Chinese, I always thought she meant sweet and sour. Oh, well, it does me no good to dwell on the past. I’d best get going to the alleged love-nest of Leonard Barking, which is at 10, Rhubarb Gardens.
Thursday 06-30
Right, here I am at the love nest, in body at least. God knows where my spirit is. Still tucked up in bed, if it’s got any sense. Though talking of bodies puts me in mind of my sexy assistant, J-Lo. Now, don’t go getting all excited - unlike me - it isn’t the J-Lo, but Janice Loot (Ms), and even if she’s not actually film star quality, she’ll do me! Or, rather, she would do me, if she’d let me touch her with a barge pole. It’s not my fault my marriage failed, but I don’t think she can see that. She seems to think that I’m some sort of serial womaniser! As if! I couldn’t afford it for a start. I mean, I know I’ve had plenty of work, but I do have overheads as well. There’s my flat, and the office to pay rent for, not to mention Miss High-and-Mighty’s wages. I may just have a chance to chat her up tonight, though, when she has to come out on surveillance duty with me. It’s the bane of my life, but it does have its little bright spots! I just wish that Janice wouldn’t call me ‘Heaven-help-us’. It kind of undermines my authority. Not to mention being a little unromantic. After all, you never heard that kind of back chat in Romeo and Juliet. The Bard soon put the kibosh on that sort of talk!
Oh-oh, here we go. Some-one’s emerging from No.10 - and it ain’t the Prime Minister. Though if it was I wouldn’t complain - I’d earn a fortune selling that to the tabloids. Now what did I do with that flamin’ camera.
Thursday 09-00
Back to the diary. These voice recording devices weren’t meant for my journal - but it’s a great way to pass the time when I’m on surveillance alone, because there’s nothing more boring, except maybe political party broadcasts on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Anyway, it will be useful when I write my memoirs and become a famous author. Then I could pack this job in and retire, laughing all the way to the South of France.
This fantasy is far too good to have to give up, but I do have a report to do as well as my life story.
Anyway, the gist of it was that I followed old Leonard - it was him, the silly old fool - and managed to get a good few snaps of him, too. Enough to satisfy Mrs
Leonard, I should think. And, if that wasn’t all, Ms Mustard appeared on the doorstep - minus certain essential garments - to wave him off! Try passing that off as a Tory party conference, mate. Which was where he was supposed to be. They’re always a mistake, these affectionate mistresses. Mind you, I wouldn’t say no! Now, though, it’s back to the office - and J-lo!
Thursday 11-00
My wonderfully efficient mistress, er, I mean assistant, Ms J-lo Loot, has typed up the notes of the Barking/Mustard case. She’s now in the process of making the elevenses, over which we usually have a cosy little chat; so, I’ll sign off for now, before she comes out of the kitchen.
Thursday11-30
I’m pleased to report that the chat went very well! After absolutely no silver-tongued persuasion or even out-and-out crawling on my part, Jan has agreed to go for a drink before our surveillance job tonight. The conversation went something like this:
“Mm, this coffee’s good, I’m thinking of promoting you to chief coffee maker,” I said.
“Don’t bother. Anyway, that makes me sound like the head of the Comanche tribe.”
Did I tell you that J-lo has a wicked sense of humour - mostly, I’m afraid, at my expense. It’s a cross I have to bear.
“Look, J-lo, I mean Jan, I’ve been thinking lately and...”
“Hey, don’t do too much of that, will you - that’s my job.”
See what I mean?
“Very funny. As I was saying, Janice, I have realised how good you’ve been for the business, and well, I just wondered if, actually, you fancied…”
“A partnership? Oh, yes, go on then.”
“Pardon?”
“I thought you were asking me to be a partner in the business, and I said, yes, I would. That is what you were going to say, isn’t it?”
“Good God, no. I mean, I would like you to be a partner, just not that kind of partner.”
I was digging myself a deep hole here. I took a deep breath instead.
“What I wanted to ask you was…”
“Do I want to come out for a drink with you. Well, the answer is yes.”
“How on earth did you know that?” I was amazed. Was she psychic or something?
“Well, blinkin’ heck, Mike, it’s not hard. And you’re supposed to be the detective round here! Anyway, it’s a girl’s job to know these things.”
Janice was looking very pleased with herself and I suppose I must have been, too, because then she said:
“Don’t go getting any grand ideas, mind - it’s only a drink.”
But a man can dream, can’t he?
Thursday 15-00
Lunch has whizzed by. I’ve completed the paperwork regarding the Barking case, so I think I’ll just take this opportunity to catch up on my journal - it’ll be great to see all this in print! I wonder how many copies it’ll sell when it gets published?
I just can’t wait for this evening. I’m picking J-lo up at 8 - and I’ll have to remember not to call her J-lo. Would she take it as a compliment if I forget? I hope she wears something sexy! But she probably won’t, as we are going straight out on surveillance duty after the drink. It’s another case down Deptford way, and it gets cold near the river. She’ll probably have her thermals on. Anyway, I bet she’ll turn out to be one of those women like Bridget Jones - all repressed emotions and big white knickers. It’d be just my luck, that. Not that I’d mind - I’m not bothered what size they are. Women don’t seem to realise these things.
I think I’ll just nip home early and put some aftershave on. Should I bother having a shave first? Oh, no. J-lo won’t mind a bit of rough. After all, she seemed mad keen earlier. You don’t know your own power, Micheal, old son. Heaven - sent to the ladies, you are!
Thursday 23-00
I’m here on surveillance - alone. What went wrong? It’s what I’ve been asking myself all night. It started off well, I picked J-lo up at the agreed time and we went to the Coffin and Gravestone, my local pub - it’s okay, but a bit quiet - I don’t know why.
I thought the evening was going quite nicely. We had a couple of drinks, not too many because of this job; but it seemed clear that me and Janice don’t have much in common, really. I like beer, she drinks wine. She watches ‘meaningful’ films, but I only like action. I was just telling her about my ex-wife when she started yawning and saying how tired she was. She thought she’d maybe caught a bug, so I told her to go home and sleep it off. Hang on! Hope she wasn’t just saying it to get rid of me, because the car door nearly fell off when she slammed it - well, it’s ruined the surveillance work, that’s for sure. Everyone came out to have a look!
Mmm, wonder if she likes dahlias? My dad’s got loads growing in his allotment. She’ll soon be putty in my hands with this sort of treatment!
Yep, I can see it all now. Me and Janice on cloud nine - Mr and Mrs Heaven! How can she resist?
THE END
You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.
0 comments