Free The Last Girl by Stephan Collishaw Page B

say?’ I persisted.
    He did not answer. He did not even look at me. He scuffed his ragged sports shoes against the doorjamb.
    â€˜I’ve got work for her,’ I said, indicating the bag I was carrying. He looked up then.
    â€˜Where’s the money?’ he said.
    â€˜I pay her when they’re done,’ I said.
    He pushed out a hand. ‘Give me the money now and I’ll give it her.’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜No money, no work!’ His voice rose, setting him off into a paroxysm of coughs, doubling him up.
    â€˜You’re her husband?’ I asked, when he had managed to half straighten up.
    He nodded his head. ‘Yeah, I am. So, you can trust me and give me the money.’
    I gave him the bag of washing and pulled out a few Litas.
    â€˜This is for you, if you give the washing to Svetlana. Tell her that Steponas Daumantas left it. If she brings it around to my apartment I will pay her a little extra,’ I said.
    â€˜She’ll do it,’ he said, nodding his head. He had grabbed hold of the money and stuffed it into his pocket.
    Before he closed the door, I asked, ‘A man called Jonas didn’t just call here, did he?’
    For a long moment he looked at me without answering. Then he said, ‘Yes he did, if it’s got anything to do with you.’ His voice was so threatening I did not ask anything further.
    â€˜The quicker she can get the shirts done the better,’ I said.
    But he had closed the door and was locking it behind him. I trudged home.
    As I pulled off my shirt, about to go to bed, the telephone rang. I answered it quickly.
    â€˜Daumantas?’ a man’s voice asked. ‘Yes.’
    â€˜Jonas, here.’
    â€˜Yes, I recognised your voice.’
    â€˜I’ve got something that might interest you,’ he said. His voice trembled slightly, excited. Or maybe drunk.
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Well, I say I…’
    â€˜What have you got?’ I asked, impatient. ‘Did you find it? Did you find the bag?’
    â€˜You were looking for some papers, yes?’ he said. ‘A kind of book that you had written?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, my heart lifting with joy. ‘You’ve found it? That’s wonderful!’
    â€˜Hey, hey, hold on. Don’t go jumping the gun. I didn’t say I found nothing.’
    â€˜Well, have you or haven’t you?’ I asked angrily.
    â€˜You want to talk about it, I suggest we have a meeting,’ he said. ‘You know the Red and Black?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, annoyed and bewildered by his opaqueness. ‘Meet me there, tomorrow. Eleven thirty.’
    â€˜You’ll bring…’ I began, but the telephoned growled in my ear. I dialled his number. The telephone rang. It rang and rang but nobody answered. Excited and annoyed I went to bed.

Chapter 13
    At eleven thirty I sat in the Red and Black cradling a brandy. The whole night I had tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When finally, just before dawn, I managed to drop off, I dreamt a series of very vivid dreams. The first was of Jolanta. We were sitting at a table in the restaurant opposite the Filharmonija. She was angry. ‘How could you have lost it?’ she said. Over and again she said this. I insisted, ‘I have not lost it, Jonas has it.’ But my words made little difference. After this I dreamt of Rachael. She did not speak but there was no anger in her eyes. She looked at me and I wanted to turn from her but I could not. Her eyes cut deep. By the time Jonas pushed open the door and limped into the bar I was tired and angry.
    He nodded, seeing me, and limped over to the bar. He ordered himself a drink and came over with it. Sliding into the seat opposite me, he winked. His breath reeked of vodka; he had obviously been drinking already.
    â€˜Well?’ I said, seeing that he carried no bag.
    He raised his glass. ‘Maybe we should toast to good