'Why don't I treat you at the Glit sometime. Best grub in town,' lied Joe.
'You wouldn't be trying to bribe me, would you?' said Dildo indignantly.
Joe put on his shocked look. Chivers emerged from the loo and bellowed, 'Doberley, move your ass! You're as much use as a doctored cat!'
'Six o'clock in the Glit,' murmured Dildo. 'And I'll be hungry!'
'I bet,' said Joe, getting into the lift which the impatient nurse had been holding open.
On the third floor, Iris left him in a waiting room. A few moments later the door opened and Beryl Boddington came in, her strong handsome face anxious.
'Joe,' she said, 'what's wrong? It isn't Desmond, is it?'
'No,' he said. 'Nothing's wrong. I just dropped by to say, welcome home.'
She went immediately for Option 2, which was both reassuring and somewhat disappointing.
'Bull,' she said. 'I got more chance of a visit from the Angel Gabriel telling me I'm a pregnant virgin.'
Time to come clean.
'There's a patient I want a word with. Iris showed while I was making enquiries and things got sort of confused. But I'm real glad to see you. You look great.'
She did too. Joe had no particular fixation on uniform, nor did it occur to him to try to analyse how come a woman so solidly built as Beryl Boddington could hit his hormones more resoundingly than many a more conventional cent refold shape. He just knew she looked great and he really was glad to see her.
It must have showed. It usually did. Beryl grinned broadly and said, 'One of these days I'm going to find a way of being really offended by you, Joe. So who's the patient?'
'Lawyer called Naysmith. Came in last night, got attacked at home.'
'Wait here. I'll check.'
It didn't take long.
'He's on the top floor. Room to himself, and there's a cop sitting outside. No visitors but family and close friends with a chitty. Woman tried to get in earlier, refused to give her name and got bounced. Word is he's a bit concussed still, he got a lot of bruising and cuts about the head, but no real problem. His wife's in there with him now. And she came along with that lawyer friend of yours from Bullpat Square. She's in the waiting room up there.'
She spoke a touch coldly of Butcher. OK, her heart was in the right place, but she seemed to encourage Joe to persist in this crazy PI business. Also there was no need for Joe to go on about her as if the sun shone out of her affidavits! His face was lighting up now.
'Butcher? That's right, she said she was a great mate of Mrs. Naysmith's. I'll get up there and have a word with her. No one guarding the visitors' room door is there?'
'No, Joe. You got free access there. Anything else I can help you with?'
'Maybe. What exactly is dyslexia?'
She looked as surprised at hearing the question as he felt at hearing himself ask it.
'Dyslexia? It's a sort of word blindness, you know, finding it difficult to recognize written words. It covers a whole range of things from just confusing some letters that look alike, such as p's and q's, to having huge difficulty in learning how to read and write. Why do you want to know?'
'No idea,' he replied honestly. 'Just came into my head.'
'Plenty of space,' she grinned. 'Now get out of here and don't let Sister see you.'
She stood aside as he moved towards the door. He paused as he passed her.
'It really is good to see you,' he said.
'I was only away for a week,' she said.
'Yeah, well, it seemed longer.'
She regarded him, smiling and shaking her head at the same time.
'How come the old lines sound so new when you say them, Joe?' she said. 'And if you're so glad to see me, shouldn't you shake my hand or something?'
Joe might be slow but he could take a hint when it was less than a foot away and smelt delicious.
He drew her towards him and for too short a moment forgot dead lawyers and threatened runners and gas- filled rooms in the warm moist depths of her lips.
She pushed him away saying, 'OK, so you missed me, I believe you. But we'll have to continue this out of working hours, Joe. If continuing it's what you had in mind?'
'Oh yes. Please.'
'Then drop by sometime. I'll be at home tonight if that suits. Don't be late or you'll miss Desmond, and you know how he really likes to have you visit.'
Always the little sting in the tail, he thought as he climbed the stairs to the next floor. A lot of marriages might be made in Mirabelle's apartment, but Beryl had made it clear from the start she didn't dance to anyone's tune but her own.
In other words, if we get something going, it'll be down to us, not to the Luton Matchmaker. And by us, I mean you, me and Des.
