18

“Any time you want to stop pacing up and down is fine by me.” Pattimore was finding his charge irritating. Oscar Buzz was like a caged animal although the door to Wheeler’s office wasn’t locked.

“I should be out there,” the actor gestured to the window and beyond. “Looking for my brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Neither did I. Until just now. I don’t remember him at all. Although, it’s funny: now I know I’m a twin, a lot of things are starting to make sense.”

He waited for the detective constable to ask, “Such as?” but Pattimore was in no mood to pick up cues. Oscar carried on regardless.

“Things like dreams. Dreams of places I’ve never been to, places I’ve never seen. The feeling of being shut in. Locked up. And doctors... All my life, these images show up in my dreams, over and over.” He stopped himself with a sideways smile. “You know, your buddy David used to try to interpret my dreams for me.”

At the mention of Brough, Pattimore bristled.

“You know, online. We used to talk about all sorts.”

“Liquorice?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Pattimore rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. His interest was piqued. “So how long was this going on?”

“What?”

“You and David - Detective Inspector Brough.”

“I don’t know; about a year. He’s a good guy.”

“Hmm,” said Pattimore.

“Don’t you think?”

Pattimore shifted uncomfortably on Wheeler’s chair. “Davey - David -er - D. I. Brough didn’t mention me in your little chats?”

“Um... should he have? Listen: I didn’t even know he was a cop. I don’t know what I thought he did for a living.”

“He lied to you.”

“No, not really. It just never came up.”

“So, it was all about you, was it? This online relationship? Him massaging your ego, interpreting your dreams... Hah! You self-centred, egotistical -”

“Hey, hey!” Oscar shouted him down. “It was not like that at all. We talked about many things, a couple of times a week. I got the feeling he was going through a tough time. He didn’t want to talk about it so I didn’t stick my self-centred, egotistical nose in. Besides, what business is it of yours? Are you his mate?”

Pattimore blushed. He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure - Besides, that’s none of your business.”

Oscar regarded the grumpy young detective with the red face and the folded arms. Very cute. He could see what David might see in him. He went back to the window and gazed out at brick walls. “How much longer do we got to stay cooped up in here?”

“Until the boss says we can come out.”

“Your boss - that little woman with the potty mouth?”

“Afraid so.”

“Christ. I wouldn’t like to tangle with her.”

“Not many would.”

Oscar met the detective’s eyes. He looked the young man up and down and parted his lips. “Say... ” he approached, running his fingertips over the desk top. “If we’re going to be here for a while, we could do something to pass the time... ”

“Uh?” said Pattimore. “What like?”

“Fucking travel Scrabble, I don’t know!” Oscar perched on the edge of the desk. His hand stroked the inside of his own thigh. “Ever fuck a movie star?”

Pattimore was startled. His eyebrows dipped. Was this even happening?

Oscar Buzz lifted his foot and placed it on the detective’s lap, maintaining eye contact as he did so. He licked his upper lip. “How about it?” he breathed.

Pattimore, nervous to the point of complete rigidity, managed to nod.

“Good,” said Oscar Buzz. He reached for the detective’s tie, loosened it and then pulled it away, like a magician pulling a string of handkerchiefs from his pocket.

Pattimore shrugged off his jacket. Oscar Buzz planted a hot, sucking kiss on the detective’s lips. He pulled Pattimore’s shirt, untucking it from his waistband. Famous fingers undid the trousers, pulling them down to Pattimore’s ankles. Pattimore groaned with pleasure and in anticipation of pleasure to come.

His world turned the colour of his shirt as the world-famous actor lifted it over his head.

And it stayed that way.

Pattimore felt himself being shoved roughly backwards. He heard Oscar Buzz say, “So long, sucker!” and the office door open and close.

Pattimore scrambled from behind the desk, fighting to get the shirt off his face. He was tripped over by his own trousers and fell flat on the floor - just as Chief Inspector Wheeler came in. Her trained eyes took in the scene in a split second.

“Oi, wanker,” she barked at the prostrate Pattimore. “Where’s our fucking actor?”

***

“Calm down, Miller! You’re where?” Brough put a finger into one ear so the other could hear the phone call better.

“Some layby outside Bridgnorth,” Miller shouted, as traffic roared past.

“And you’ve broken down?”

“No! Just listen. He’s here! I mean, he’s here but it’s not him.”

“You’re not making any sense. Who’s there?”

“The brother! The evil twin. Except he’s not. Evil, that is.”

“Luka! Luka is with you. My God, Miller; are you all right?”

“Yes! We’re all right. I went to pick up Bunny and he must have been in my car the whole time.”

A lorry rumbled past. Brough swore.

“Listen, Miller. Bring them both to Serious. There’s a bit of a situation. Pattimore has let the brother go.”

“The brother? No, I’ve got the brother here.”

“His brother! Oscar! Jason let him go. Fucking idiot.”

“And you think - what do you think? That Oscar Buzz is the killer?”

“No! Listen, Miller - we can’t talk like this. We’ll catch up when you get back. Will you need fetching? Have you got him in handcuffs?”

“No - there’s no need. He’s a real sweetheart. He’s listening to Bunny’s showbiz stories.”

“You don’t sound impressed.”

“I’ve heard all the stories. Twenty times by now. Bunny’s lovely, of course - but it’s just anecdotes-on-a-loop with her.”

“Lost her glamour, has she?”

“Well, at least my showbiz friend isn’t a killer.”

“And neither is mine. See you later, Miller.”

He disconnected. He didn’t want to entertain the idea that the man he had befriended was a violent and deranged murderer. It didn’t fit with anything that he knew about the real Oscar Buzz.

But he’s an actor, his inner voice reminded him. Perhaps he was acting all along...

***

“Incredible!” Luka stood in front of Detective Inspector Brough. “It’s like a mirror.”

Brough blushed.

“Apart from the eyes,” Luka continued. “The eyes are wrong.”

“Well, when I put the contacts in... ” He invited Luka to sit at the table in the interview room.

The two men sat opposite each other. Across the building, Wheeler and Harry Henry were watching on a monitor.

“So,” Brough began recording, “what’s your story?”

“My history, you mean,” said Luka. “It’s not a story; it’s the truth.”

“Prickly,” said Wheeler.

“Wouldn’t you be?” said Harry Henry, “If everyone thought you were a murderer?”

“Shut your face,” said Wheeler.

“I always knew I was adopted,” Luka began, “long before my folks summoned up the courage to tell me. I mean, they were dark-haired and thickset. I was tall and blond and slender. Years of farm-work built me up - I didn’t need the gyms and the personal trainers my brother must have spent a fortune on - and the kids at school always teased me for looking like the kid on TV. Buzz, they’d call me. Or Buzzer. Or Buzz-Off. And I hated it at first. But then I thought, it could be worse. Oscar Buzz is a handsome dude, with women all over the world falling at his feet. Sure helped me get past third base a few times. Girls liked to be seen with me. They could pretend they were being fingered by Oscar Buzz. And I didn’t mind that - I was getting laid every weekend. Of course, I knew they didn’t want me for me; they wanted to screw Oscar Buzz. I was the next best thing.

“But as you grow up, you want a girl to love you for who you are and not who you look like. I graduated high school but I didn’t go to college. My parents needed my help on the farm. And I got kind of used to the isolation. Nobody gawping at me in the street. Nobody making the same old jokes.

“My folks told me about the adoption on my eighteenth birthday. All they knew about my real mom was she was from Oklahoma somewhere. They told me she had died and the adoption agency brought me to them, and they couldn’t be happier. They love me - I know they do. Knowing I’m not theirs doesn’t change that one little bit.”

Brough winced. Luka didn’t know his adoptive parents were dead.

“They didn’t know anything about my biological family but one day, Oscar Buzz came to the farm. I didn’t speak to him but I saw him, all right. It was like just now - when I saw you for the first time, sir. Like seeing your own ghost. Well, he drove off before I could talk to him so I asked my parents what the hell he was doing there, and they told me he was looking for his brother.

“Well, it explained a lot - if Oscar Buzz was my brother - my twin brother - it was no wonder we looked so much alike. But my parents had sent him away, saying he’d got the wrong place! I went crazy. Why did you do that? I hollered. Why didn’t you let me speak to him?

“Well, I began to resent them afterwards. I guess I was an ungrateful brat. All my life I’d been in that one-horse town, working hard, struggling to make ends meet, while my twin brother was living the Hollywood dream, with more money than I could imagine and the world at his feet. It didn’t seem fair to me.

“So I left home. I just took off. Kind of regret that now - I’ll go back and make it up to them. I knew better than to try to front up and demand to see Oscar Buzz - I’d never get my foot in the door. So I decided to research our background. I wanted cast-iron proof that we were twins. I guess I was fuelled by resentment and envy and all those kind of negative things. I wanted my share of what he had. I didn’t want to be poor no more.

“I went to Oklahoma City and searched all the records I could find. Bit of trivia for you: his real name ain’t Oscar Buzz. It’s Oskar with a K. Oskar Buzowski. And I’m Luka Buzowski. But I ain’t his twin; no sir.”

Brough gaped. “You’re not?”

“I came here to warn him. I came to warn my brother there’s another one of us out there. We’re triplets, you see. The Buzowski triplets: Oskar, Luka and Kasper.”

Brough was dumbstruck. Luka leaned closer across the table.

“And Kasper’s one crazy motherfucker.”

***

Wheeler had to make another Skype call to the States. She decided to brazen it out. If Hardacre didn’t want to play ball, she’d speak to someone else.

“Sheriff Fat Bastard here,” the lawman tipped his hat. “What the fuck do you want?”

Wheeler reddened. “Hello, Sheriff. About that - what you may have misheard the last time we spoke... ”

“Bullshit,” said Hardacre. “I didn’t mishear nothing.”

Wheeler wrung her hands, “It’s just our British sense of humour, you know. We like to engage in a spot of banter when we’re at work.”

“You mean like, Fuck you, you poisonous fucking Munchkin?”

“Yes. Like that exactly.”

“As long as we’re clear. Now what the fuck can I do for you this time, ma’m?”

Wheeler, relieved the air was cleared - although fouled by strong language - told him about Kasper Buzowski. Hardacre promised he’d use all the resources at his disposal to find out what he could. Wheeler thanked him a fucking bunch and disconnected. Harry Henry was shaking his head. He would never understand his superiors.

***

“Detective Constable Pattimore, a word?” Brough called Pattimore away from the table in the canteen. Pattimore, who had been in abject misery since Oscar Buzz absconded, brightened immediately. He followed Brough along the corridor to the Gents toilet.

“Davey! Hi!” he grinned but Brough was in no mood.

“What the fuck did you do? Why did you let Oscar go?”

Pattimore hesitated. He was too embarrassed to tell the truth. At one point he might have relished telling Brough that his precious Hollywood heartthrob had come on to him, but now it had all turned out to be a ruse, a ploy to enable his escape, he didn’t want to mention it.

“He - um - snuck out. I was distracted. Sorry.”

“He’s out there,” Brough waved at the door and the world beyond, “And there’s a crazy fucking brother out there out to get him.”

“You’re wrong,” said Pattimore. “Miller found the brother; she brought him in.”

“There’s another fucking brother, you idiot.”

“Three twins? How is that possible?”

“Triplets. For fuck’s sake, Jason. I left Oscar with you because I thought he’d be safe.”

Pattimore hung his head. “I’m sorry. About a lot of things.”

“Don’t start.” Brough headed for the door.

“Davey, please! My counsellor says we really need to talk about what happened - about what I did.”

But Brough was gone.

***

“I really wish you’d let me do it, dear,” Bunny Slippers drained her fourth cup of tea. “Pardon me for saying so but you haven’t got the voice quite right.”

Miller was annoyed. If the truth be known, her accent was more authentic than Bunny’s attempt at the Dedley cadence. Bunny wasn’t even a native. She was from the East End of London, for pity’s sake.

“And stand up straight, dear. You’re a Matron not a shagged out hooker slumped against a lamppost.”

Miller straightened her spine. You annoying old bat - she was struck though by guilt. She had used to become irritated to the point of anger with her mother. Is this why I’m friends with Bunny, she wondered? Because I miss my mom so much?

“Now, say the line as though you mean it. It’s not rocket surgery, dear.”

Miller cleared her throat. Before she could utter a word, Bunny waved at her to stop.

“What’s all this? Do you clear your throat every time you speak? Like you’re going to make a speech? You’re just saying a line, dear. It’s got to sound like everyday talking. You’re a ruthless professional care-giver. Without you, the entire ward - the entire hospital - would grind to a halt. You’re not satisfied with the cleanliness of the bedpans and you want them cleaned and scrubbed again. It’s not an unreasonable request - not in your eyes. But if they’re not cleaned to your satisfaction, you imply with your eyes, with your intonation, well - you leave that to the imagination. That’s what acting is.”

Miller nodded.

She opened her mouth to say the line but was interrupted by the head of Benny Stevens appearing around the edge of the door.

“Aye, aye, so this is where we’re playing Doctors and Nurses?”

“Piss off,” said Miller.

Bunny was outraged. “Matron would never say that, dear, no matter how warranted.”

“Davey-boy’s going for a stroll around town. Bit of a decoy while the rest of us go to the set and get ready for tonight. So, if you’re coming with, you’d better come now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Well, I’ll be there.”

“No, I mean for Brough. Walking about town.”

“Probably,” Stevens’s face shrugged. “Come on. Chop, chop.” The head withdrew.

“Twat,” Miller muttered.

“I don’t know... ” Bunny reflected. “Reminds me of my fifth fiancé. Did I ever tell you about the time we were mugged in Jamaica?”

“Yes!” Miller snapped. “Now get your coat on, Mom, or we’ll miss the -”

She realised what she had said. Bunny pursed her lips. “I was never blessed with children,” she said. “But I would have been tickled to have a daughter like you.”

Miller felt awful. She helped the old woman get into her coat. Arm in arm, they walked through the building and out to the car-park, where an unmarked van was waiting.