It was a pleasant enough room, fancier than any place Brian had ever lived or even stayed in, and Ted had given him not one but two games consoles. That piece-of-shit PI was trying to buy Brian off with amenities and electronics. The joke was, it almost worked. Though the more Brian considered his reality, the sicker he became. Trapped in a single room for so long could get claustrophobic, not to mention he’d need food and fresh air. He’d said as much to Ted, who’d reassured him he was no prisoner and could roam the house and grounds as often as he liked. Brian was happy to hear he wasn’t being kept captive but given Ted wasn’t allowing Brian to go home, he called bullshit on it. Added to which, when Brian had asked if he could nip into town Ted had laughed, saying: “That I would not try.” Brian had asked follow-up questions to clarify whether it was some sort of threat or merely a statement of fact because of the distance from the manor house to the town centre but Ted had lost his temper, shouting obscenities and punching a damn wall. Shortly after Ted had left the house, leaving Brian cross-legged on the centre of the plush bed, considering his options.
Brian reached for his smartphone, dropping a text to Helen: Out of town for a bit. Call you in three days. Xx
A little insurance policy in case Ted tried any funny business. It wasn’t perfect, seeing as he didn’t know where the fuck he was, but it was better than nothing. After sending the text message he turned off his phone. He didn’t have his charger and wanted to conserve the battery. Plus he didn’t want notifications going off and Ted taking an interest in his business. He’d pried enough.
There was an original Xbox and a PS3, with a handful of games for both. Dead Space 2 caught Brian’s eye. He turned on the TV and loaded a recent save file of a game in progress. After a few hours, Brian was running low on ammunition and health, so decided to save the game and stop playing. See how you like that, Teddy boy! As if in agreement, or perhaps disapproval, Brian’s stomach rumbled.
He headed downstairs and into the kitchen where he began opening cabinets at random, hunting for a plate. Brian soon found the fine china cabinet. Staying in style meant dining in style, even if he was only making a sandwich. Ted’s food supplies did not disappoint, in the cupboard lay a loaf of wholemeal bread that looked fancy without being pretentious, whilst in the fridge sat a fresh packet of honey roast ham, alongside naturally smoked cheddar cheese, chopped lettuce, and one of the reddest tomatoes Brian had ever seen. He built a sandwich, finishing the piece with a drizzle of spicy brown mustard.
He sat at the counter and ate, relishing every bite. His phone rested next to the plate. Periodically Brian reached for it as he contemplated turning it on and calling Yuki, but each time he went to power up the device he’d stall, remembering Ted’s words: her motivations and such aren’t clear. But Yuki couldn’t be involved with the bearded man, right?
What if she was?
What if this was some weird game she liked to play, and Brian was a minor part of it? Maybe this was how she got her kicks, knowing the bearded man was watching her, throwing rocks at her window, tracking her movements. And now there’s this other plaything, a man called Brian, who watches me dance every night.
Did Yuki know he was watching her, too?
Brian shook the thoughts away, embarrassed that in even thinking such things he was insulting Her, debasing the divine. Ted was trying to confuse Brian, planting seeds into his mind, playing tricks with his imagination to question his very loyalty to Her. D.T.A. Don’t trust anyone. For Brian, that ultimately meant don’t trust Ted. If there was a game, it was likelier it was Ted’s. Some sick mind-fuck—perhaps a power play of sorts? Ted seemed the type who might be into that. Everything’s all nice and squeaky clean at the house, but outside, in secret, he got his rocks off watching people. Ted said he’d been watching Her and the bearded man for a while. Ted bold-faced admitted he had been watching Brian as well.
Maybe Ted and the bearded man were co-conspirators, watching Her together.
And what did they do whilst they watched? Was there anything they didn’t do? Were they both involved? Did they film it? Film each other as they—
Brian shook his head, was getting carried away, his thoughts, his fantasies—was that what they were?—swimming into overdrive. This all made little sense, but then wasn’t that what Ted wanted everyone to believe—how could he be the pervert in this complete mess—how could he be the ultimate perpetrator? He was the private investigator. The very man working the case. Whatever ‘the case’ even was.
It was almost the perfect alibi.
Brian left the dirty plates and utensils in the sink.
Trying to remember where the main bathroom was, Brian tried a door in the hall that opened to a training room. There were a couple of dumbbells on the floor next to a weight bench, and in the corner lay a martial arts dummy covered with a ratty sheet. For a second Brian thought the sheet moved. He really didn’t need to be in that room any longer, so closed the door behind him.
In the bathroom, Brian found a large towel under the sink and an unopened bar of soap. He preferred body wash, but this would do. The shower was one of those glassed in units with the drain in the centre. He set the water temperature just right and took a long and steamy shower—exactly what he needed to clear his mind and relax his nerves.
Whilst drying off, he realised there was one thing Ted hadn’t thought of for Brian’s brief holiday away from the apartment. Brian wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to the room he was staying in. There was plenty of clean underwear in the chest of drawers, and trousers and shirts in the wardrobe, but none of it would fit Brian properly. Ted was more or less Brian’s height, but around two stone heavier. There was no way Brian was wearing those baggy trousers, even if he was simply lounging around the house. Should he ring Ted and demand he pick up some new clothes? Brian reached for his wallet, retrieving the card Ted had given him earlier—he stared at the number like it might give him a sign or at least a new pair of trousers. Fuck it, he’d wear the clothes he’d had on earlier—a simple reminder that Ted was just another bastard—a bastard who didn’t give a shit about anything other than his precious investigation.
Back in the bathroom, Brian found a new can of deodorant under the sink, as well as a sealed toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. Whilst brushing his teeth, the reality of the situation dawned on him. Every second he stayed in the house, two things were happening. One, Ted was practically holding him against his wishes, and two, assuming Ted was right, Yuki was in grave danger. This investigation concerned Brian, and yet Ted refused to share much of the details. That wasn’t fair. Brian had a right to know, especially if his or Yuki’s life was at risk.
What if Ted had stirred up so much trouble with all his snooping that they—whoever the fuck they were—knew of Ted’s movements?
What if they were watching him? Tracking him?
That being the case, they’d surely know Brian was here, in the manor house.
Oh fuck!
Ted might have unwittingly kicked up one shit-fuck of a hornet’s nest. A good private investigator would know how to cover their tracks, but whether Ted was a good PI Brian could not say. Matter of fact, the only thing proving he was a PI—let alone a decent one—was Ted’s word and the card he’d handed Brian.
Brian got dressed into his now crumpled clothes, which was what he deserved for scattering them across the bathroom floor.
He paced into the bedroom. Brian hadn’t closed one of the drawers properly, a pair of Ted’s grey briefs jutted out the side. The last thing Brian wanted was for Ted to think he’d been going through his underwear. He pulled the drawer out, folding the briefs neatly. But that didn’t look right either. They were too tidy. The rest of the underwear had been haphazardly stuffed into the drawer. Fuck’s sake, Ted, I hope you handle your business better than your clothes. Brian shuffled the underwear as if a deck of cards, which was when he discovered the Polaroids sandwiched in the middle. He lay the photographs on the top of the chest of drawers.
#1 The front of Pelagic Court. Nobody about. Notes of purple in the sky. Brian’s Ford Focus parked up.
#2 A close-up of a window.
#3 A second window close-up. Yuki stared out, hair wrapped in a lilac towel, black night robe on.
#4 Yuki standing outside Dylan & Son supermarket. Camera facing. Carrier bag in her left hand. Bottle of water in her right, raised to her lips.
#5 A park playground. Empty save for a woman in the distance, sitting on a swing. Long hair swaying in the breeze.
#6 The ocean at dawn. A woman in rainbow yoga pants bent over, buttocks towards the camera, hands in the sand, in some sort of yoga pose.
What in the hell was going on here? Ted had said he was investigating, asking questions, making enquiries, but this right here was pure voyeurism. He’d said the guy with the beard was a person of interest, not Yuki. She’d been what? Just someone he needed to follow up with, to possibly protect. Brian’s stomach gurgled. His bowels loosened. He rushed to the bathroom.
After Brian had finished arse and mouth puking, he made his way into the sitting room and sat in the recliner—staring into space. Was there an innocent explanation to those photographs or was the most dangerous threat of all to Yuki, Ted himself? Those snaps were salacious, especially that final shot on the beach, the lens practically ogling her arse. And what of the shot in her night robe? Even the way she held the water bottle to her mouth had an element of eroticism to it.
Ted was a fucking creep.
Unless … No, it couldn’t be, but Brian supposed there was the slim possibility, but no he was a good person, but even so what if, what if it was Brian who was adding the damn near pornographic bent to the photographs? What if it was all in his mind? What if Brian was the sick one?
“Yeah, right. This is a literal wank bank!” Brian screamed and Marcy scurried over. “No, fuck off, Marcy, I’m trying to think.” And as if well-versed in English, she exited towards the dining room.
Brian rapped his fingernails against the recliner’s arm. They were just photographs. He needed to stop assuming things, making wild leaps with no evidence. This was why Ted was the investigator and Brian wasn’t, because he was too heavily influenced by his heart and not his mind. He couldn’t divorce emotion and feelings from reality and facts.
Brian wanted to call Yuki, to hear her voice, to know she was okay. But he didn’t want to do anything rash, didn’t want to risk bringing more harm to her or himself or even Ted. He needed to look out for the three of them. Ugh, was that how it was now? Three of them? Brian clenched his fists. He didn’t like the thought of that one bit.
Did Ted being on the case mean the local police had either exhausted their evidence or were no longer interested in the leads?
Could it be worse? Were they somehow involved? Complicit?
The net of who They were was forever widening.
Too many questions and yet they kept on coming, because the truth was, Brian knew almost fuck all. He could count the points on one hand, which was nowhere near good enough. There were plenty of reasons to be wary of Ted. And yet he’d put Brian up in a well kitted-out room and given him permission to explore the entire house—to take and use whatever he needed. He hadn’t taken his wallet or phone or anything like that. The PI’s hospitality was generous and without too many reservations other than the whole ‘don’t leave the house’ thing.
Brian wouldn’t call Her.
Couldn’t risk it.
What if Ted was legit?
Even if everything Ted was and wasn’t telling Brian was true, even if those photos were innocent, it angered Brian that he wasn’t the one getting Her out of danger. How dare Ted, some rich-ass private investigator, take that privilege—that absolute honour—away from Brian.
Yuki needed Brian. And he needed Her. And not after waiting it out for three fucking days. This was an emergency, god damn it.
Brian sat bolt upright. Absolute clarity washing over him for the first time since entering the manor house. He had to be the one to get Her out of danger and into safety.
Into his loving arms.
Brian stood up, ready to act. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, he’d get away from the house and find Her. If he had to get his hands dirty, if he had to bleed, it would all be worth it for Yuki. For Her was energy, Her was life, Her was everything.