Danny Dempsey and the Unlikely Alliance (11 page)

Around the fringes of the manicured lawn, red and white rose bushes grew in rows, each set the exact same distance from its neighbour. The garden sloped down towards the beach, and beyond it was a panoramic view of the sea. The judge never tired of looking at the ever shifting colours the different days brought to the ocean. Now, it was a mixture of blue and green, white foam forming on the surface of the waves the closer they came towards shore. He was lost in the beauty of it all, enjoying his martini, had all but forgotten the words flung at him in his own courtroom by that brash young woman, when the ringing of the phone disturbed his serenity. He sighed and reluctantly arose to take the call in his study.

The caller was extremely articulate. He spoke in a refined accent, and was very precise in the message he was conveying. He instructed the judge to listen very carefully. Not to utter a word until he'd heard what was about to be said. The judge was so flabbergasted at this impertinence, he immediately opened his mouth to demand who the caller was, or if he realised to whom he was speaking.

But the words were stifled in his throat by what came next. It froze the blood in his veins, and put a padlock on his tongue. His hands commenced to tremble, so that he found it necessary to use both of them to keep the receiver to his ear. When the line went dead after the caller hung up, the judge sat there staring in disbelief at the crimson and gold embossed paper decorating the far wall of his study. He had difficulty replacing the phone back in its cradle. Then he arose unsteadily, made his way back to the lounge, ignored the martini, instead pouring himself a stiff glass of brandy which he swallowed in a single gulp.

The next day, the judge somehow found it in his heart to display a compassion which had heretofore been alien to his nature. It surprised everyone except Myles Moran. The officials in attendance couldn't believe their ears when the Probation Act was applied in Anna's case. Afterwards, they whispered among themselves, asking questions of each other that none of them could answer.

One came up with a supposition which appeared to them all to be the only logical explanation for the judge's ruling. He was seriously ill. Another followed up by saying that that
had
be the reason for his change of heart. Yes, that must be it, another agreed. Did you see his face this morning? The first thing I noticed, came the reply. There was no colour in his cheeks. None whatsoever. It looked as though a vampire had paid him a visit in the middle of the night and sucked all the blood from his body.

*

Myles Moran saw more than mere potential in Anna Conway that day in court. He saw a young woman very much like he himself was at her age. But at the moment a little
too
brave and uncaring for her own good. She required careful tutoring to bring out to the full the excellent qualities she possessed. He'd teach her how to use those qualities in a more subtle way when circumstances required it. And knew he could rely on her to employ other methods when skill and diplomacy failed to achieve the aims of Moran Enterprises. And he was right. After a year of listening and learning from him, Anna was now the finished article. Like the daughter he never had. And for Anna, he was her new Father. One she knew would never desert her as her own one had.

‘
Thanks just the same, but I'll make my own way back to town,' Danny told Harrington as soon as the meeting on the river bank was over.

Harrington had offered him a lift in his car, an old banger he'd picked up from a second-hand dealer only a couple of months ago. It looked as though it was held together with blutack and sealing wax, but it was all Harrington could afford. He's taken it for a test drive before he bought it. It appeared the dealer's claim that it had been fitted with a reasonably decent reconditioned engine was the truth, for it hadn't let him down yet in that department. Granted, its springs weren't what might be referred to as state-of-the-art, for when it met an unexpected pothole, Harrington felt every bone in his body jar with the impact. But, for what he had paid for it, he supposed he couldn't really complain.

The Superintendent had no choice but to accept Harrington's invitation to drive him back to town, seeing as the wheelchair he'd set out in hadn't lived up to his expectations. ‘You can drop me off a couple of streets away from the station,' he said as he squeezed into the passenger seat, dumping his haversack between his feet. ‘Sergeant Neville might start asking awkward questions if he sees the two of us together.' He smiled at the thought of Neville having to scurry back and forth from his office to deal with matters the junior officers weren't capable of handling. ‘Besides, he might come rushing out and drag you back to man Reception again. He hasn't had an uninterrupted snooze since you ceased to exist.' He shifted his bulk, sought around for the seatbelt to strap himself in, his nose wrinkling as he did so. ‘Did you ever consider investing in an air freshener, Harrington? Eh? There's a pong in here you could shave.' He tried to roll down the window, but it wouldn't budge.

‘You have to give it a few taps first, sir,' Harrington explained, leaning across him and doing the needful. ‘But no matter what you do, it will only come halfway down'

‘So I see,' the Superintendent replied, nudging the door a bit more forcefully with his elbow to try and see if that would help the window to come down further, but all he succeeded in doing was making the entire car sound like a tambourine. ‘I suppose I'll survive somehow. If you step on it, it should create enough of a breeze to prevent us being suffocated altogether, though don't be too enthusiastic about it, or your foot might go right through the floor.' He laughed outright when he saw the look of dismay on Harrington's face. ‘I'm joking, Harrington! It's a fine car, splendid altogether. Far, far better than having to walk. You surely didn't think I was being serious, did you?'

Harrington smiled weakly in return. Sometimes it was difficult to keep abreast of the Superintendent's sense of humour, though Harrington had noticed straight away that Danny appeared to have no difficulty in that respect. There was a lot Harrington was learning about the two of them, and he was glad to have been chosen as part of the team, even though he was aware he didn't share the effortless understanding that seemed to flow between Danny and the Superintendent. But he was determined that he wouldn't let them down when it came to the crunch.

‘All strapped in, sir?' he asked, about to turn the key in the ignition.

‘Just a second,' the Superintendent said, looking out at Danny, with the Golden Retriever standing obediently by his side, waiting for them to leave. ‘Danny!' he called, ‘Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to come with us? I'm a little concerned - -'

‘It's okay, Super,' Danny replied, and again Harrington was impressed that Danny was already aware of whatever it was that was worrying the Superintendent even before he'd finished the sentence. ‘I'll wait until it's dark so nobody sees what way I'll go back.'

The Superintendent groaned audibly. ‘What's it to be this time? A giant marsupial bounding along with you snuggled up inside its pouch or something?' He held up a hand as Danny was about to reply. ‘Don't tell me! I don't want to know. It's better that way. Just make sure you steer clear of Mrs. Pearson's street this time. I don't want her descending on us again with more of her nonsense.' He looked at Harrington enquiringly. ‘Well, what's keeping you, Harrington? Eh? We've wasted enough time out here in the wilderness already. Speed is of the essence.'

Danny watched the car tremble into life, black smoke belching from the exhaust as soon as the engine turned over. It spluttered and coughed for a while, then settled down to a more even wheeze before it finally drove away in a reasonably smooth manner. Danny hoped that the Superintendent had more luck in getting to his destination in it than he'd had in the wheelchair.

Charlie had scurried behind a tree as soon as the black smoke had begun spewing from the exhaust, peeping warily around the trunk, with a look on his face that seemed to convey that he wouldn't have been at all surprised to see the vehicle explode at any second. He only came back out to join Danny when the car had disappeared into the distance. Danny stood thinking for a few more minutes before coming to a decision. As the Superintendent had already said, they'd wasted enough time already. He pointed his finger at Charlie, saying: ‘FLEXITORIOUS MOTORIUM FLEDILMUUSSE IMMLEDIAIUM!'

Within the blink of an eye, the Golden Retriever had vanished from view. Danny knelt down in the long grass, being extremely careful as he did so. He peered in amongst the green blades, his fingers searching in between them around about the spot where Charlie had obeyed his command. A plaintive squeak alerted him to the exact location of the tiny field mouse squatting there. Danny extended his palm towards it and it scuttled gratefully over his fingers and into the centre of his hand. He nuzzled its little nose against his own, then flicked its tail before gently depositing it in his pocket. Then he turned and walked briskly into the heart of the woods.

He met Belinda's Father not long afterwards. He trotted gracefully from behind some elerberry bushes, immediately making Danny suspect that he'd been up to his old tricks, even though it was obvious from his steady gait that he was perfectly sober. His artificial antlers were every bit as magnificent as the ones which had been shorn off in the drunken brawl, and only for the fact that it was Danny who'd fashioned them for him, he'd never have known they weren't his original ones. And as Belinda had informed Danny on an earlier occasion, her Father's hooves had healed completely. In fact, the visible portions of them were glistening brightly, evidently having been recently polished. Danny couldn't but stare at them in admiration. The stag was delighted.

‘It's elderberry juice, Danny,' Belinda's Father said, with a wicked gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. ‘
That's
what I've been doing behind those bushes, despite what you might be thinking.'

‘Why, the thought never entered my head, Aloysius,' Danny replied, smiling at him cheekily. ‘I don't know how you could even imagine something like that was on my mind.'

‘Well, whether it was or not, you can rest assured those days are over as far as I'm concerned.' Aloysius tossed his head proudly, making the air around him whish as his antlers cut through it. ‘I'm certainly not going to risk losing
these
, thank you very much. I wouldn't be able to enter any more darts tournaments without them.'

Danny feigned innocence. ‘Darts,' he said, forcing himself to look surprised. ‘When did you take that up?'

‘Just as soon as Belinda presented me with a dartboard for our wedding anniversary,' Aloysius replied. ‘I couldn't believe it. It was the very thing I wanted.' He paused and gave a little sigh of parental pride. ‘She's such a thoughtful daughter. And you'll never guess what she got for her Mother. Not in a million years you won't.'

Danny pretended to rack his brains, looking as thoughtful as possible as he did so. ‘Chocolates?' he ventured. Aloysius shook his head. ‘A voucher for the beauty parlour? A new hairbrush? Legwarmers for when the winter comes? No! Oh, I give up! What was it?'

‘A lovely silver necklace, Danny. You should have seen it. I really never knew Belinda had such good taste. It was absolutely beautiful. Sylvia only loved it. She kept asking Belinda which shop she got it from, but she wouldn't tell her. Sylvia wanted to get a matching ankle bracelet to go with it, but all Belinda keeps telling her was that it was a secret. She told her she'd get the ankle bracelet for her for her next birthday.'

‘And when is that?' Danny asked, wondering if the shop where he'd brought the necklace also stocked ankle bracelets.

‘Oh, it's not for another six months. But I know Belinda will keep her promise when the time comes.'

‘Of course she will,' Danny replied, taking a mental note to check up on the matter the first opportunity he got. Then, out of sheer curiosity on Belinda's choice of present for her Father, he asked, ‘And the darts, Aloysius, er, how do you manage to – to throw them?'

‘Through a blowpipe, of course. River reeds are perfect for the job. And I do special breathing exercises every morning to improve my puff. It's a very serious business, Danny, make no mistake about it. Some day I'm going to beat Phil Taylor and become world champion. I've already almost had a nine dart finish. I only missed the finishing double by a hairsbreadth.'

‘I don't quite understand, Aloysius. You were talking there a minute ago about how important your antlers were for darts tournaments. Now you're saying you use a blowpipe. Are you sure you haven't been - -.'

‘I most certainly have not!' Aloysius replied indignantly. ‘Haven't I just told you so?'

‘Sorry,' Danny mumbled apologetically. ‘But what you've been telling me sounds a bit confusing, that's all.'

‘It's all about balance, Danny. My antlers see to that. Without them to keep me steady as I fire off the darts, I'd be wasting my time. Just you keep your eyes on the sports pages from here on in. I'm going to be the first stag in history to win the world title.'

‘Good for you,' Danny answered, trying not to sound too dubious regarding his friend's prediction. ‘I can't wait to see your picture in the papers.'

‘Did you hear that?' Aloysius's asked suddenly, his ears standing up in listening mode, a look of suspicion taking over his face. He commenced to back away from where he's been standing, peering apprehensively into the thick grass as he did so, delicately sifting through it here and there with his newly juiced hooves. ‘There's a mouse around here somewhere.'

Charlie had squeaked in Danny's pocket. He looked at the stag innocently before saying, ‘What difference does that make, Aloysius? Sure there are thousands of them living in the woods.'

‘Ah, but this one was eavesdropping. Listening to every word I was telling you about my darts blowing. Phil Taylor's at the back of it. He's running scared. He's trying to find out all my secrets before the inevitable confrontation.' He pawed more vigorously and uprooted a few sods as he searched for the imagined spy. ‘He's evidently heard about how good I'm getting at the game. Give me a hand here, Danny. We've got to take this one alive. I'll hold him prisoner until I've scooped that title.'

‘I think maybe you're being a bit paranoid, Aloysius,' Danny suggested, kneeling down and pretending to assist in the search. ‘I mean, it could be just any old mouse scuttling through the grass. And if you don't stop digging around like that, you'll make mincemeat of it if it really is there.'

‘Good thinking, Danny,' Belinda's Father replied, immediately taking the advice, though continuing to gently sift here and there for the eavesdropper he was convinced was lurking somewhere in the vicinity. ‘But you don't understand. This isn't the first time Taylor's tried to discover what makes me such a threat to him. I've five of them under lock and key already, but he keeps sending more to spy on me.'

‘Er, under lock and key,' Danny said incredulously. ‘Mice? How do you manage that?'

‘I got Ollie the otter to make me a special mouse jail,' Aloysius explained. ‘Just as soon as he got over his malaria, that is. He told me that only for the remedy you gave him, he'd be in otter heaven by now. I asked him to help me out before he came down with something else. Sure enough, as soon as he had the jail completed, he contacted Backwater Fever, Bell's Palsy, Boils and Botulism all at the same time.'

‘And how is he now?'

‘The same as ever. Convinced he's going to die any second, but at the same time swimming up and down the river at a hundred miles an hour to take his mind off it. He won't be happy until you've given him another cure for these new ailments he thinks he has. I'm afraid poor Ollie suffers from a lot of delusions.'

He's not the only one, Danny thought to himself, as Aloysius continued to seek out the interloper he was certain his famous rival had despatched to find the chink in his darts armour. ‘I hope you're treating the mice you've already captured properly,' Danny said, anxious for their welfare. ‘You're not neglecting them in any way, are you?'

Aloysius looked at him in astonishment. ‘How could you say such a thing? Why, Sylvia and Belinda would have my life if they weren't being looked after under the terms of the Geneva Convention. They get three square meals a day, and as much exercise as they need to keep them fit and healthy, though I do have to keep them on the end of silk leashes as they whiz about the place during their exercise periods.'

‘I was just checking,' Danny replied. ‘I presume you intend releasing them as soon as you've knocked Phil Taylor off his perch?'

‘Of course!' Aloysius assured him. ‘You surely didn't think I was going to hand them over to those milk-drinking ruffians who frequent The
Tomcat's Whiskers
, now do you?'