wouldn’t mind putting them somewhere the general public can see them. Her name is Martina Ferris. She’s been missing for almost a month.”
“Poor thing,” said Ivana, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s so sad-looking .”
Naomi nodded in agreement.
“She was last seen in and around the Custom House Square area,” continued Karl. “Her last fixed abode was –”
“Ivana?” cut in Naomi. “Are you okay? You’ve become pale.”
“What? Oh! No, I’m fine, darling. I think it’s the orange in the vodka. Doesn’t taste right. That’s all …” Ivana pushed her drink to the side. “They never use fresh fruit in this place.”
“You’re leaving yourself wide open with that remark, Ivana,” said Karl, a wry smile appearing on his face.
“Enough, Karl,” said Naomi.
“Okay. That
was
tasteless. Would you like me to order another one for you, Ivana?” asked Karl reluctantly, not too sure how much money was left in his skinny wallet.
“No … no, I think I’ve had enough. I’ve been drinking most of the evening anyway. Time to call it a night. Give me one of the posters. I’ll make sure it gets a prominent display.” Standing, Ivana hugged Naomi. “Thank you for making this a very special birthday, Naomi – both of you. I’ll see you during the week. Goodnight.”
Naomi waited until Ivana had left before asking Karl, “What do you make of that? She looked terribly sad once she saw Martina’s poster, didn’t she?”
Karl nodded, his thoughts the same, only darker.
C HAPTER T EN
“There are no secrets better kept than the secrets everybody guesses.”
George Bernard Shaw,
Mrs Warren’s Profession
“K arl? We have a visitor,” pronounced Naomi, her face a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Bet you’ll never guess who.”
“You’re right. I’m all guessed-out. So why don’t you tell me?” deadpanned Karl, eyes not moving from the horse racing section in the morning’s
Irish News
. There were four-legged certainties inked somewhere in these Monday morning pages, but the only certainty at the moment was Karl having a difficult time sniffing them out. He hadn’t picked a winner in over four weeks, and forced himself to believe that the law of averages – like fortune – would eventually favour his braveness.
Before Naomi could reply, a voice from behind her said, “I don’t know how you stick him, Naomi. He’s such an ignorant bastard.”
This time, Karl’s eyes did move, before registering shock at what stood before them.
Ivana was wearing tight, expensive Italian washed-out jeans, a T-shirt with the distinctive red and white cursive Coke swirl emblazoned on it and a pair of purple-striped Nike tennis shoes, tied with red laces. Herhair was done in a bun, shamelessly exposing a professional make-over done less than an hour ago.
Karl did a wolf whistle.
Ivana seemed quite pleased at the response.
“You really look stunning, girl,” enthused Naomi, giving Ivana a loving hug.
Karl nodded in agreement. He had never seen Ivana looking so lovely, almost feminine.
“You shouldn’t have got all dolled-up just to come here to see me, doll,” said Karl, doing his very bad Humphrey Bogart impression. “It’s been what? All of three days since we last locked eyes at your birthday gig.”
“Very funny, Karl Kane. For your information, I have a date on Thursday night. These are just casuals,” stated Ivana, parking her arse on a table like she was taking up permanent residence.
“A date? Tell me quickly!” gushed Naomi excitedly. “Who is he?”
Ivana’s face beamed. “Vincent Harrison.”
“
Ohhhhhhhh!
That new waiter in Billy Holiday’s, the one who served us on your birthday?”
Karl had a sudden vision of Tarzan swinging through the room, dangling on vines, peeling his banana.
“Do you think he might be a bit too young for my taste?” asked Ivana.
“Well … no …”
“You can’t lie to save your life, Naomi! All those old bitches are
“Poor thing,” said Ivana, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s so sad-looking .”
Naomi nodded in agreement.
“She was last seen in and around the Custom House Square area,” continued Karl. “Her last fixed abode was –”
“Ivana?” cut in Naomi. “Are you okay? You’ve become pale.”
“What? Oh! No, I’m fine, darling. I think it’s the orange in the vodka. Doesn’t taste right. That’s all …” Ivana pushed her drink to the side. “They never use fresh fruit in this place.”
“You’re leaving yourself wide open with that remark, Ivana,” said Karl, a wry smile appearing on his face.
“Enough, Karl,” said Naomi.
“Okay. That
was
tasteless. Would you like me to order another one for you, Ivana?” asked Karl reluctantly, not too sure how much money was left in his skinny wallet.
“No … no, I think I’ve had enough. I’ve been drinking most of the evening anyway. Time to call it a night. Give me one of the posters. I’ll make sure it gets a prominent display.” Standing, Ivana hugged Naomi. “Thank you for making this a very special birthday, Naomi – both of you. I’ll see you during the week. Goodnight.”
Naomi waited until Ivana had left before asking Karl, “What do you make of that? She looked terribly sad once she saw Martina’s poster, didn’t she?”
Karl nodded, his thoughts the same, only darker.
C HAPTER T EN
“There are no secrets better kept than the secrets everybody guesses.”
George Bernard Shaw,
Mrs Warren’s Profession
“K arl? We have a visitor,” pronounced Naomi, her face a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Bet you’ll never guess who.”
“You’re right. I’m all guessed-out. So why don’t you tell me?” deadpanned Karl, eyes not moving from the horse racing section in the morning’s
Irish News
. There were four-legged certainties inked somewhere in these Monday morning pages, but the only certainty at the moment was Karl having a difficult time sniffing them out. He hadn’t picked a winner in over four weeks, and forced himself to believe that the law of averages – like fortune – would eventually favour his braveness.
Before Naomi could reply, a voice from behind her said, “I don’t know how you stick him, Naomi. He’s such an ignorant bastard.”
This time, Karl’s eyes did move, before registering shock at what stood before them.
Ivana was wearing tight, expensive Italian washed-out jeans, a T-shirt with the distinctive red and white cursive Coke swirl emblazoned on it and a pair of purple-striped Nike tennis shoes, tied with red laces. Herhair was done in a bun, shamelessly exposing a professional make-over done less than an hour ago.
Karl did a wolf whistle.
Ivana seemed quite pleased at the response.
“You really look stunning, girl,” enthused Naomi, giving Ivana a loving hug.
Karl nodded in agreement. He had never seen Ivana looking so lovely, almost feminine.
“You shouldn’t have got all dolled-up just to come here to see me, doll,” said Karl, doing his very bad Humphrey Bogart impression. “It’s been what? All of three days since we last locked eyes at your birthday gig.”
“Very funny, Karl Kane. For your information, I have a date on Thursday night. These are just casuals,” stated Ivana, parking her arse on a table like she was taking up permanent residence.
“A date? Tell me quickly!” gushed Naomi excitedly. “Who is he?”
Ivana’s face beamed. “Vincent Harrison.”
“
Ohhhhhhhh!
That new waiter in Billy Holiday’s, the one who served us on your birthday?”
Karl had a sudden vision of Tarzan swinging through the room, dangling on vines, peeling his banana.
“Do you think he might be a bit too young for my taste?” asked Ivana.
“Well … no …”
“You can’t lie to save your life, Naomi! All those old bitches are
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