Last Tango in Aberystwyth

wearing concrete boots out of Milford Haven harbour last night. He'd been in the water for quite some time so they just got the dental records sent over for an ID.'

'Is it anyone we know?'

'Yes, a man called Harri Harries.'

I stared at him thoughtfully. 'Any chance of a mistake?'

'Not unless he stole Harri Harries's teeth before he went for his swim.'

'So who's our friend with the plumbing-tools?'

'I don't know. But something tells me I'm going to enjoy asking him. You might like to come along.'

He threw me the plastic saddle. It was some sort of medical contraption, a prosthetic.

'What's this?' I asked.

'It's Jubal's hunch.' And he laughed like a morgue attendant. 'Keep it. Every detective needs a hunch.'

Chapter 19

The needle jumped a couple of times with soggy, bass thumps and then through the clicks the crackles and pops the voice of Myfanwy emerged, singing 'Ar Hyd a Nos.' 'All Through the Night', a gentle stream of notes that perfectly captures the objectless longing and confusion of a night that won't end. 'Ar Hyd a Nos,' the mid-point in her act at the old Moulin and the song that would get me through this night with help from my faithful friend, Captain Morgan.

I raised a glass to the photo of Marty and to the picture of Myfanwy on the record cover. And I thought of Calamity. I raised a glass to them all, drained it, refilled it, drained it, refilled it, toasted them all once more and drained it, and finally felt better. I pondered whether I should go out now and get another bottle rather than wait until there was no more left and mild panic set in. My deliberations were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing on the wooden stairs; the door banged open and a gale blew in scattering papers around like snow in a giant paperweight. When the door closed, the paper settled to reveal Ionawr holding a brown paper bag. She was drenched and the bag was soggy.

'I baked you some rock cakes,' she said holding the bag up. 'Probably ruined by now. And I found this on the mat.' She handed me a letter.

'Thanks,' I said without enthusiasm.

She looked at me a little uncertainly. 'Having a party?'

'Just a little get-together with all the people I've let down recently.'

The bright spirit slowly drained from her face.

'That's why there's no one here then, isn't it?'

I made a circling gesture with the hand clutching the glass. 'Oh they're all here, Myfanwy and Marty ... sorry to say I don't have a photo of your sister.'

'You didn't let her down, you helped her. She thought the world of you.'

'That just makes it worse.'

'You're talking crap because you're drunk.'

'I'm not drunk yet.'

She took the glass from my hand. 'You're drunk and feeling sorry for yourself. And if Bianca's ghost was here she'd call you a twat for talking like this.'

She put the glass down and I picked it up. She grabbed it again and threw it against the wall. It didn't break, just bounced and landed on the record player. The arm jerked back to the beginning and clicked to a halt.

'You never let Bianca down, it's other people who always let you down.'

'Oh sure! It's sweet of you but you don't need to.'

'But it's true. That girl for instance ...'

'What girl?'

'Oh nothing.'

There was something in her tone that signalled there was more than nothing.

'Go on, you might as well say it.'

'Well ... that Judy Juice, I know it's none of my business ... but I can't help what I hear.'

'And what do you hear?'

'That you and her ... you know ... I mean it's nothing to do with me and I don't care what you do but they say you should be very careful of her ...'

'They, whoever they are, always say the worst things about the best people, surely you should know that.'

'Yes but sometimes they're right, and —'

'If it makes you feel better there was nothing between me and Judy. But I do like her.'

'Of course, all the men do, but what sort of girl would go with Jubal?'

'She hates Jubal.'

'Well that just makes it worse.'

'She wouldn't give him the time of day.'

'She's given him a lot more than that from what I've heard.'

'You must have heard wrong.'

'No I didn't. She was seen with him tonight, kissing him, and cuddling, and then they went off together ...'

I groaned. 'Oh God.'

'I'm sorry, I mean if you liked her and that ...'

'It's not that, it's just I've been such a fool today. I trusted her and it sounds like she was working for Jubal all along. Telling him everything I said ... shit. Such an idiot.'

'No you're not.'

'Oh believe me, I am. All it takes to make a fool of me is a jar of damson jam.'

Ionawr rushed forward and grabbed my head and held it to her. 'Oh come on, Louie!'

I put my arms round her waist and squeezed and then she broke away and said, 'Have a rock cake.' She opened her bag and took one out. 'I baked them myself, just for you.'

'That was nice of you.'

'They're pretty crappy actually. I've never done them before.'

I took a bite. 'You got the rock bit right!'

She grinned.

I put the letter down on the desk and then noticed the writing on it. There was no address, just the name 'Louie' in a childish scrawl. I tore it open and groaned.

Dear Louie,

I have decided to Kwit because I no your going to fire me for screwing

up like a dumbkopf. I cant believe I fell for that stupid bird seed

rootine. Do not worry about me. I am going to bring custard Pie

in on my own. It's the only way. We probably wont meet again

for a while because I'm going to leave Aberystwyth and get a job

in another detective agensy some place where they won't know what

a bungler I am.

Thanks for everything.

I love you,

Calamity Jane

I let out a long deep sigh of despair. And then staring at Calamity's handwriting a thought struck me; a soft tingling hunch that you sometimes get when you least expect it. I stood up and walked over to the bureau in the corner of the office. She had left a file of Aunt Minnies there, gathering dust in the way that often happens when a kid gets a passion for something and then moves on to the next. I took it back to the desk and started leafing through. It was the longest shot in the world, of course, but worth trying. Maybe there was something in them that might help, that might give me a clue to her movements. The photos had been neatly filed according to time of year, time of day and geographical vicinity. Shot after shot taken around town of people chosen only because something was happening behind them. On the Prom, down at the harbour, the camera obscura, outside the Cabin, and one at the railway station. It was clear that, try as she obviously had, the people in the background were no