Free Slow Burning Lies by Ray Kingfisher Page A

I mean?’
    And then Patrick knew he would never do it. There was too much danger, too much chance of being bombarded with advice that might euphemistically be termed ‘less than wholly constructive’.
    So he listened, and he went to the toilet, and he listened, and he ordered another beer. And he listened.
    And then the conversation stopped, and all eyes looked to a point just above Patrick’s shoulder.
    He turned to see what was so distracting.
    ‘Deedee?’
    ‘Patrick isn’t it? I remember you. You’re Joni’s friend.’
    ‘Yeah. Tell me, how is she?’
    Deedee paused just long enough for some of Patrick’s non-friends to interject.
    ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ Ed, the used car salesman, said to Patrick, not taking his eyes off Deedee.
    The bartender snorted. ‘Why the hell would he want to introduce the likes of you and me to a beautiful girl like Deedee?’
    ‘Oh, “Deedee” is it?’ Calvin, the newspaper sub-editor, said. ‘So you’re already on first name terms? Some of us wait to be introduced before we dive in all presumptuous like your good creepy self.’
    Patrick stood. ‘Just ignore them,’ he said to Deedee. ‘Let’s go somewhere else and talk.’
    Deedee frowned. ‘Talk?’
    Patrick flicked a look to his bar buddies. ‘Somewhere a bit quieter.’
    Patrick moved away from them, placing a gentle hand on Deedee’s elbow to bring her along with him.
    ‘Say,’ she said. ‘You’re not trying to…?’
    ‘To what?’
    ‘I mean, I’m already with some friends.’ She pointed to a small group on the other side of the room.
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘I just wanted to say hi. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you.’
    ‘No worries. I was going to ask how Joni was, that’s all.’
    She gave Patrick a sideways Who’s been a naughty schoolboy? look. ‘Well, how do you think she is? A little mad at you.’
    ‘Does she want to see me again?’
    ‘You know, somehow I thought there was a chance, even after what you said to her.’ She shook her head slowly, grimacing. ‘But after this…’
    Patrick paused, waited for an explanation that Deedee obviously thought unnecessary.
    ‘After what?’ he said.
    ‘You were, weren’t you?’
    Patrick shrugged. ‘I was what?’
    ‘You were hitting on me just now.’
    ‘ Hitting on you?’
    ‘It certainly felt like it.’
    ‘But you came up to me .’ He gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘Look, can you just tell her I was asking after her?’
    ‘Oh, I’ll have a word with her, don’t worry about that.’
    ‘Look, you tell her what you want,’ Patrick said. ‘I need another beer.’ He turned to step away from her, but felt a tap on his shoulder and turned back.
    ‘You don’t need another beer, mister,’ Deedee whispered. ‘What you need is a confession .’ She frowned at him then turned away sharply and sashayed over to her friends.
    Patrick ordered another beer and sat back down at the bar.
    But he wasn’t taking in the banter crossing back and forth in front of him. All he was doing was hugging his bottle of beer. That and thinking.
    He’d just been given the answer to his prayers, and couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t thought of it before.
    ‘Hey, you haven’t touched that,’ the bartender said, nodding to the full bottle of beer Patrick placed on the counter.
    ‘Sorry,’ Patrick said. ‘Change of plans.’
    He left the bar, and only when the fresh air hit his lungs did he feel drunk.

15
    Patrick had lived in Chicago long enough to know about St. Godric’s Church, in Old Town, but never actually been in it.
    The story of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 had also been mentioned to him more times than he thought strictly necessary, but only now did he appreciate one of the few buildings to survive the fire, and how out of place it looked in its otherwise modern neighbourhood, the result of many redevelopment schemes in the intervening century and a half.
    As edgy and apprehensive as he was, Patrick stood in awe