Free The Toyminator by Robert Rankin Page A

conventional mechanism.
    But then
that
in a watchcase was Toy City. It still made little sense to Jack. Watches without mechanisms that kept perfect time. Telephone receivers connected by pieces of string. Wooden folk and folk like Eddie, a bear all filled with sawdust, yet a bear that walked and talked and thought and felt. And Jack felt for that bear.
    “You’ve gone somewhat glassy-eyed,” said Eddie. “Are you drunk already?”
    “No,” said Jack. “No, I’m not. I was only thinking.”
    “About the dolly?” Eddie raised his glass and would have winked had he been able.
    “About a lot of things,” said Jack.
    “Well, don’t let me keep you from the dolly.”
    “No,” said Jack. “The dolly can wait. We have a case to solve.”
    “Case-solving is done for the day,” Eddie said. “We will start again upon the morrow, as refreshed as and as ready as.”
    Jack sank two more glasses of beer.
    “Go on, Jack,” said Eddie. “I’ll be fine here. Go and have a good evening out. I’ll see you here later if you want, or if you have a big night of it, then at Bill’s office at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow.”
    “Okay,” said Jack, and he rose from his stool, being careful not to crack his head upon the ceiling. “If it’s okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow. Is it all right if I –”
    “Take Bill’s car? Of course.”
    “Nice,” said Jack. “Then I’ll be off. And don’t drink
too
much, will you?”
    Eddie slid Jack’s share of the remaining beers in his direction and said, “Goodbye, Jack.”
    And Jack left Tinto’s Bar.
     
    Jack drove slowly through the evening streets of Toy City. He could have driven at his normal breakneck pace, of course, but he only really did that to put the wind up Eddie. So Jack drove in a leisurely manner, even though he was late to meet the dolly.
    Jack did do some thinking as he drove along, about Toy City and about Eddie, and Chief Inspector Bellis and the mysterious deaths of the cymbal-playing monkeys, and at length, when he arrived at Nadine’s Diner, he was none the wiser than when he’d set forth.
    The dolly, Amelie, stood outside the now-lit-up diner, her shift done and her temper all-but. As Jack approached her in Bill’s car, he wondered a lot about her. She was, well, how could he put it? So
lifelike
. Just like a
real
girlfriend. Whatever a
real
girlfriend was. One of flesh and blood like himself, he supposed. Did that make his relationship with Amelie somewhat …
indecent
? Jack asked himself.
Perverted? Wrong? Twisted?
    “Easy now,” Jack told himself.
    Amelie noticed Bill’s car before she recognised the driver. She made a very winsome face towards the shiny automobile and hitched up her short skirt a little to show a bit more leg.
    “Strumpet,” said Jack to himself.
    Bill’s car whispered to a standstill and Jack cranked down the window. “Care for a ride?” said he.
    “You?” and Amelie lowered her skirt. “It’s
you
. You’re late, you know.”
    “Blame the garage,” said Jack. “I have just taken possession of this automobile.”
    “It’s
yours
?” The dolly now fluttered her eyelids.
    “All mine,” said Jack. “I have taken a new job. One with considerable cachet. Would you care for a ride?”
    “I
would
.” And Amelie tottered around to the passenger door and entered Bill’s automobile.
    “It smells of manky old bear in here,” she said as she twitched her pretty nose.
    “Mechanics,” said Jack. “Highly skilled, but rarely bathed. You know how it is with the lower ranks.”
    “Oh, indeed I do.” And the dolly crossed her legs. Such long legs they were, so shapely and slender. They were almost like re –
    “Where to?” Jack asked. “A romantic drive in the moonlight?”
    “A show,” said Amelie, adjusting her over-tight top, which looked to be under considerable strain from her enhanced front parts.
    “A show?” Jack said, and his wonderings turned to his wallet. He wondered just how much money he