him was an atheist. One matter I had to look at very seriously. It was a thinly veiled invitation to shoot a witness in a criminal trial. It had a peculiar smell to it and I concluded that it was a set-up, either by the police or some old enemy, designed to put me deep in the shit. Big bait, but I didn’t bite.
The doubt was pretty much dispelled when Robert ‘Bobby’ Forrest turned up to keep the appointment he’d made by phone. Forrest was tall and lean, say 188 centimetres and 80 kilos. He was also remarkably handsome, with fair hair and regular features. Good teeth. His knock lacked authority though, and he was clearly nervous as he took a seat.
‘My father recommended you, Mr Hardy,’ he said.
I sighed. The generation gap with a vengeance. Forrest was in his mid-twenties at a guess. That probably put his dad in his fifties.
‘Who would that be?’
‘Ray Frost. I changed my name for professional reasons. Dad said you handled a delicate matter for him way back when. He said he thought you’d gone out of business, but I found your web page.’
‘I took a break. I’m sorry, I don’t remember the name Ray Frost. Did he tell you what it was about?’
He shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t say. He was a bit of a wild man back then, I gather.’
‘Probably best to leave it then. Anyway, I’m glad I gave satisfaction. What can I do for you?’
I have misgivings about grown men using a diminutive like Bobby, but it happens and probably more in show business than anywhere else. He was wearing sneakers, jeans, a T-shirt and a leather jacket. All good quality and expensive-looking. He fiddled with the zip on the jacket. ‘It’s like, kind of embarrassing.’
I nodded the way the psychiatrists do, trying to look comforting as well as professionally concerned.
‘I’m being stalked.’ He blurted it out.
Another nod. ‘By whom?’
‘I. . sort of. . don’t know.’
He had my attention. A changed name and a mysterious stalker will do that every time. I must have got the comforting look right because he stopped fidgeting, sat up straight and told me the story.
Bobby Forrest was an actor. He’d changed his name because Frost had connotations of cold and discomfort, and Forrest suggested something natural and, in these greening days, valuable. He said he’d dropped out of NIDA and hadn’t regretted it. A good part had come along and he’d grabbed it and been in regular work ever since, in television, films and commercials. He wasn’t surprised when I admitted I’d never heard of him.
‘No offence,’ he said, ‘but I’m geared towards a younger market.’
‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Very wise.’
‘I’m pretty well known. I’ve done a lot of TV and some movies. I’ve been on the cover of a few magazines and stuff like that. But I know I’m not that smart,’ he said.
I made the sort of gesture you make but he was serious. He said he’d been good at a variety of sports at school. He could sing and dance a bit and play a couple of musical instruments, but he’d never been interested in studying and his talent for acting was just a knack. He’d always liked to show off. He planned to start reading books and developing his mind.
‘I’ve got a girlfriend who’s helping me with that. Her name’s Jane. I’ve got a photo. .’ He started to reach for the inside pocket of his jacket but stopped. ‘I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t been much of a success with girls-shy, really. So I tried the online dating thing and that’s how I met Jane. But before I met her I got into a sort of online relationship with this other woman.’
He took two photos from his jacket and studied them. ‘I don’t know if you know how online dating works, Mr Hardy.’
‘Call me Cliff. I’ve got a rough idea. You exchange information and photos and if you tick enough boxes with each other you arrange to meet.’
‘That’s right. With no obligation on either side. If you don’t get along, all bets are off with no harm done.’
Just stating it so matter-of-factly made me see a whole minefield. No obligation, the bet’s off, no harm done, can mean very different things to different people.
He selected one of the photos and put it on my desk as if he was glad to be rid of it. It was a full-length shot of an extremely attractive woman. She was slim and dark, provocatively posed in a tight dress that showed an impressive length of shapely leg.
Forrest held the other photo as though it was fragile or so light it might float away. He pointed to the photo on the desk.
‘I met her once. You don’t have to use your real names. I didn’t use mine. She said her name was Miranda but it probably wasn’t. She said she was an actress.’
‘It didn’t take?’
‘She was awful. Very conceited and aggressive. Tried to. . run everything. It was a disaster and I couldn’t get away quick enough.’
It was mid-October and getting warm outside. He was dressed a bit too heavily in the leather jacket but it was the memory of his meeting with Miranda that was making him sweat. He transferred the photo to his left hand and rubbed his fist across his damp forehead.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Like I say, it was awful. . in every way. I thought that was it and I went back online, looking, and I found Jane. We met and hit it off right away. She’s terrific. She’s very smart, much smarter than me, but she somehow makes me feel smarter than I am, better than I am, if you can understand that.’
I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could. ‘A good feeling.’
‘The best. But this other one, she won’t leave me alone. She bombards me with text messages and emails. She’s turned up a few times at places where I’ve been. I’ve no idea how she finds out my movements. I get the feeling that I’m being followed sometimes, but that might just be paranoia-isn’t that what they call it?’
‘Yes. Does Jane know about her?’
‘No, and that’s one of my worries. Jane is sort of insecure about me.’
‘How’s that?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s hard to explain and it’s bound up with one of my other problems. The whole fucking thing’s all bound up together and with my. . I’m sorry, Mr. . Cliff, I’m not sure I can go on with this.’
It was 4 pm, late enough under the circumstances. I had a bottle of Black Douglas in the bottom drawer of the desk. I got it out, opened the bar fridge and put a couple of ice cubes in two plastic glasses left over from the party. I added solid slugs of the scotch and pushed the drink across to him.
‘Have a drink, Bobby, and collect your thoughts. Nothing you say to me gets said to anyone else without your permission.’
He took the glass and had a sip, then a longer pull. ‘Okay, thanks. This is the really embarrassing bit. . bits. Being stalked by a woman and not being able to handle it, that’s bad enough, but. . I went home with Miranda. I don’t know why. I suppose I thought I should. I couldn’t get it up for her. She was beautiful and all that, but I just couldn’t. I’ve had some trouble in that department over the years. .’
‘You’re not Robinson Crusoe.’
‘What? Oh, yeah, but nothing like this. It was miserable.’
‘Do I have to ask the obvious question?’
‘No. With Jane everything is wonderful. Amazing, really. But Miranda, or whoever she is, has threatened to harm Jane. To physically hurt her. And she says she’ll tell her I’m really gay and that I’m just using her as a. .’
‘Beard, the Americans call it.’
‘Do they? Okay. She says she knows I’m not and that she can fix my problem, but she says she’s so hurt that’s what she’d do.’
‘Unless?’
‘Unless I agree to see her, respond to her messages and emails, go on a holiday with her, all that.’
‘These threats come how?’
‘Emails, letters, cards, phone calls.’
He handed me the other photograph. It showed a young woman sitting in a chair smiling shyly at the camera. She had curly, cropped hair, a pug nose and slightly droopy eyes. She wore a blouse and a skirt that covered her knees. Forrest cleared his throat.
