Steven Janklow was being led from his neatly made bed in the white-walled room. He liked night time. Every night on the way to the bathroom with his warder, he passed a window. He always stopped in his tracks when he saw his reflection in his white cotton institution gown. ‘Oh, hello, darling,’ he whispered, before he was led into the bathroom. He never spoke to anyone else, only to the image in the dark window-pane, but he was always smiling. He seemed happy and contented. Often singing the same few lines from some half-remembered song.
Brad Thorburn returned to France. He made one last attempt to contact Lorraine but received no reply. ‘If I say I love you, do you mind...’
Rosie and Lorraine had worked hard all week. They had bought some cheap office furniture, a bookcase and filing cabinets. They had arranged for the phone to be connected and delivery of a word processor. Lorraine dropped by the gym to see Hector and explained that she was taking over the office next door. The close proximity of the gym would make it very convenient for workouts.
They did not hire a sign painter as no good agency wants their work broadcast. They were to keep a low profile and advertise in newspapers and magazines. Lorraine would require a licence and a permit to carry a weapon but she felt she should give Bickerstaff a few weeks before she asked a favour. She’d left the number and the address in case he wanted to talk to her but he hadn’t called.
She and Rosie were surveying their handiwork when there was a rap on the door. Lorraine turned. ‘I thought you were doing Europe.’
Rooney took off his hat. ‘The wife still is. I was called back for the Craig Lyall business.’
She tilted her head on one side and he gave an odd, rueful smile.
‘Okay, I’m lying. I called Josh to see what was happening and, well, in case they needed me I thought I should come back.’
‘Do they?’ she asked, wanting to give him a hug but deciding against it. Rooney was not the kind of man you hugged often.
‘Got the bum’s rush. They’re all very pleased with themselves and now there’s no nasty smears about the Art Mathews suicide, which makes the FBI happier.’
He edged further into the new office and looked around. ‘You won’t get a licence, you know,’ he said flatly.
She shrugged. A lot of agencies were working without one.
‘Won’t get the good clients. You won’t even get a weapon licence.’
‘I’ll take it day by day, Bill.’
He sniffed and looked around, twisting his hat. ‘You got my home number?’ he asked. He had something on his mind but was too embarrassed to come out with it so he merely shrugged his shoulders. ‘I might go and have a curry. I don’t suppose you’re in the mood for a vindaloo?’
‘Not right now, but thanks for the offer.’ She let him plod all the way to the door before she called his name. ‘Bill...’
He turned, plonking his hat on. ‘Yep?’
She walked slowly towards him, arms folded. ‘I know you’re retired and looking forward to sitting back and enjoying a life of leisure, but I was just wondering...’
He couldn’t hide it: his face lit up as he looked at her expectantly.
‘Well, as you said, I couldn’t get an investigator’s licence or a weapon permit. I’ve only got my driving licence thanks to you. What would you say to helping me out — not full time, I wouldn’t ask that of you, maybe just a couple days a week?’
She let him do a lot of frowning and head scratching but then he smiled. ‘I’ll make the licence application today. I’ve got a lot of contacts — we could make a go of it.’
She put out her hand and he shook it and then he pulled her towards him. The big man that nobody dared hug clasped her tightly, his voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘Always said you were one of the best. I’m proud you pulled yourself back up. I’m proud of you, Lorraine.’
Rosie watched him walk off before she snapped, ‘I thought I was your partner!’
‘You are. We need him, Rosie, he’s got his retirement bonus, he’s got contacts. It’s all to do with contacts and he’ll be a good front man.’ She put her arm around her fat friend’s shoulders. ‘I’m feeling good, Rosie, positive. How about you?’
Rosie was as tickled as old Rooney had been. Lorraine had this ability to draw you to her, make you want to please her — kill her at times too — but more than that, you felt if she was happy then you were part of that happiness.
‘I’m feeling good, partner. I know we’ll make a go of it, I just know it.’
Rosie and Lorraine went on to an AA meeting. They both went regularly twice a week. Jake was waiting for them to join him. He was the greeter at the door as they took their places in front of the small informal platform. This meeting was important because Lorraine was going to share her story. Rosie glowed with pride. She herself was not ready yet to stand up and be counted, as Jake called it, but she was closer than she’d ever been before and she felt she owed it to her friend Lorraine. Rosie had a future. It wouldn’t all be plain sailing, she knew that — she was no fool — but at least she was in a far better position than she had ever dreamed possible. She was thankful that she’d taken that crazy chance on the strange skinny woman minus a front tooth because they’d both come through. To see Lorraine sitting up there, elegant, strong and vital, made the long, hard journey they’d travelled together worth every minute.
Jake took out a big square handkerchief. He couldn’t stop himself: Lorraine was making him cry, not because of what she was saying but because, like Rosie, he was so proud of her, and it was hard for him to believe that the wretched creature Rosie had brought back from the institution was now facing the demon head on. She had fought it, and almost been beaten, but now he was sure she was on her way to recovery. You could almost feel her energy, her optimism.
‘My name is Lorraine and I’m alcoholic. Eight years ago, I was a police lieutenant. I was also a drunk. I committed a terrible injustice. I mistakenly took a young boy’s life because I was drunk. There is no excuse. Nothing will ever take away the guilt I felt, still feel, will always feel.’ Lorraine continued the story of her life, how she had lost her children and her husband, how she had sunk into prostitution, how she had fallen downwards to every kind of depravity simply to earn enough money to drink herself into oblivion. She talked about meeting Rosie, about her introduction to Jake, how she came to be there, and lastly that she had opened up a private investigation agency and was hoping she would make a success of it. She then thanked everyone for listening to her story.
‘I don’t want oblivion any more, I want my life, I want to live my life and I want to live it sober. I will always be indebted to AA and to my friends. At last I feel more at peace with myself and with God.’