Blog Noir

Today's blog is a noir-stylised fictional retelling of events. No offence is intended.

The cold had settled into the town like a tramp in a cardboard box. I’d forgotten my coat, so pulled my shirt closer around me. The office was like ice, the kind of ice that settles on your heart and never thaws. My contacts were running late, all of them. Frustrated, I stepped out into the evening air and winced. The reassuring clack of the dead bolts assured me the office was secure and I set in search of warmer surroundings.

The bar wasn’t much warmer. Clearly the cheaper prices meant cheaper heating. It made sense. I have no heating to speak of so I’m hardly one to talk. I walked to the bar, passing the usual degenerate scum and make-believe common people. In the corner, a man counted his fingers.

The bar itself had a coating of todays slops and the regulars’ dribble. I decided to make this my only trip. I order two whiskeys and retired to a quiet annex by the radiator. It was cold.

Ensuring all the exits were covered I settled in and waited. My phone barked like a day-old puppy with delusions of grandeur. It was Sadler and his new moll, Kate. I knew were I stood with Sadler. Preferably not back and to the left. But Kate was an unknown quantity. Most women treat me like a cockroach in bad trainers till they get to know me.

Then they leave.

Kate was different. She seemed warm and sincere, there was a sense of fun about her that I didn’t trust. This job makes you cynical.

They ordered coffee and gin - not together. We made small talk and reminisced about an older case. Sadler had clued Kate in and she had some sharp observations. Our mutual friend Seaweed was joining us tonight and our last outing had been decidedly eventful.

Seaweed was military, but did some work with us on the side. His style was a curious blend of unsubtle and downright stupid that had an unnerving knack for getting the job done. Though not always the job that you wanted done.

My reverie was broken by the arrival of Husky Huskinson and the beautiful Jenny-Lynn. Our party was almost complete. Usually I work alone, but certain situations require a less discreet approach.

Husky Huskinson is the kind of man you want on your side. A solid dog of a man, with a reputation for never backing down. If shit was gonna go down, I usually turned to him.

Jenny-Lynn was an enigma wrapped mystery. And it was the kind of wrapper a man’s eye would never get tired of. I knew her better than most others, and still felt that I knew very little. She always brightened the night and her presence kept Seaweed off-balance. It gave us an edge over him that could be useful should he step out of line.

Seaweed arrived shortly after. Banter was exchanged and then we headed back into the unwelcoming night to meet the Chinese.

The meet went as could be expected. Messy and ultimately disappointing, like a tub of cottage cheese. But we got out with no casualties and moved onto our only other lead. The 2 Pigs.

The place smelt of sweat and disappointment. We bought a round of drinks and settled into observe the scene. A horrific odour like burnt hair on a turd crossed the room. The smoking ban was not being kind to places like this. Husky and I retired to the courtyard so he could smoke and I could brief him on another case. This one was a delicate situation and I needed his direct perspective.

Sadler and Kate did their best to blend in, making contact with a few of Kate’s contacts under the guise of shoeing off Kate’s new ink - a stunning double rose tattoo across her back. It was an effective ruse and they quickly cased the joint.

In their absence, the friction between Jenny-Lynn and Seaweed escalated. It was clear we’d get nothing constructive from tonight. I touched base with some other contacts and resolved to call it a night. Husky and J-L had to make the journey back to Swindon and I had to be in the office early tomorrow. We slipt into the night and left the others to deal with Seaweed’s increasing beligerence. It wouldn’t make me popular with Kate and Sadler, but the night was effectively a bust.

We stopped by the office and I retrieved a few files, maybe I could make some headway before I got some shuteye.

Cheltenham had been a harsh mistress that night, cold and unforgiving. Rays of sunshine crept into my life in the small hours of the morning, but when you’ve been walking these streets - both here and elsewhere - as long as I have, you learn that life is what happens while you’re making plans.

Even the most proactive among us, is truly only reacting to a grander scheme. Forces of nature, acts of God and the mistakes of men can change your destiny forever. If you find a safe port in the storms, be grateful.

I think maybe I am.