hoped they were sober enough to know what I was talking about. Two of them just rambled, but the third pointed to a lone figure at the far end of the embankment. He indicated that this was the only woman amongst their number at the moment, her name was Hilda and she had known Anton.
I approached her carefully, not knowing what horrors a woman might have known to find enduring a life out here preferable to normal, domesticated life in the city. I made sure she saw me coming and announced myself when I was a good 10 yards from her.
“Hey, Hilda? My name is Johnny Jerome. I’m a private investigator – I’m looking for a guy, a young kid, Anton, here look at this.”
I held out the photo and cautiously approached. She didn’t look up. She must have been about mid fifties, short, and skinny – probably from malnutrition. Her body was entirely obscured in rags of various articles of clothing – it was hard to see where one ended and another began, it appeared that as one piece of clothing worn down to the bare threads, she simply draped herself in another. The tips of her fingers protruded from filthy fingerless gloves and her equally grimy looking face, with a few strands of lank, greying hair dangling in front of it, were the only things that marked her out as being a human being.
“There is a bit of cash in it for you if you have any information, and probably a lot more if it helps me find him. Anton’s father is a very rich man, Hilda, you could do very well for yourself by helping me.”
“He ain’t here. He went to score and never came back. Took all the money I had, the son of a bitch.”
“But he was staying here?”
“Some nights, when he wasn’t getting high with that whore of his.”
“I know he came here to lie low, you took him in? This isn’t a great place for anyone to be.”
“He showed up here in his fancy clothes, with money in his pocket. More than most of us sees in a year. He had no idea. We sometimes get kids like that turn up, they don’t last long. Some of the guys here would rob you blind for everything you have, leave you beaten and bloody – sometimes they get a bit too rough, when that happens it’s not unusual for the body to get dumped in the river.”
“You didn’t want that to happen to Anton, you stuck your neck out to help him. Why?”
“My son. He looked a bit like him. Like he used to look, anyhows. I was being stupid and sentimental. So I kept the guys away from him, helped him blend in a little better. He still looked like the richest bum you’re ever likely to see, but it was enough to not get him robbed or killed around here.”
“That was good of you, Hilda. What happened after that?”
“Then the stupid fool took up with that whore at the drugs den. My God, he fell for her something bad, cheap piece of trash that she was. If it weren’t for her he wouldn’t have got himself hooked.”
“Heroin?”
“Yep. I drink. Too much. Every day. It’s killing me, I can feel it, bit by bit. But it’s nothing compared to what that shit does to you. What money he had he threw away on it, and scoring for her too. Then he had to go stealing to get the money he needed. I’ve stolen stuff. Food and booze mostly. But Anton went out and stole anything he could, anything he could sell. Some of the shit he brought back here to try and sell, it was crazy. Then the last time I saw him, he robbed me, after all I’d done for him. He couldn’t help himself. I knew he wouldn’t dare show his face around here again, he’d be crazy to, no-one would help him now.”
“Hilda, Anton is in trouble, some people turned up at the drugs den that night and took him away. He knew something he wasn’t supposed to, had been talking about it. What did he know?”
“He didn’t know shit. About anything. But he got obsessed with all this business about the people going missing around here. It was nothing but crazy talk.”
It might have been nothing but crazy talk to Hilda, but
I approached her carefully, not knowing what horrors a woman might have known to find enduring a life out here preferable to normal, domesticated life in the city. I made sure she saw me coming and announced myself when I was a good 10 yards from her.
“Hey, Hilda? My name is Johnny Jerome. I’m a private investigator – I’m looking for a guy, a young kid, Anton, here look at this.”
I held out the photo and cautiously approached. She didn’t look up. She must have been about mid fifties, short, and skinny – probably from malnutrition. Her body was entirely obscured in rags of various articles of clothing – it was hard to see where one ended and another began, it appeared that as one piece of clothing worn down to the bare threads, she simply draped herself in another. The tips of her fingers protruded from filthy fingerless gloves and her equally grimy looking face, with a few strands of lank, greying hair dangling in front of it, were the only things that marked her out as being a human being.
“There is a bit of cash in it for you if you have any information, and probably a lot more if it helps me find him. Anton’s father is a very rich man, Hilda, you could do very well for yourself by helping me.”
“He ain’t here. He went to score and never came back. Took all the money I had, the son of a bitch.”
“But he was staying here?”
“Some nights, when he wasn’t getting high with that whore of his.”
“I know he came here to lie low, you took him in? This isn’t a great place for anyone to be.”
“He showed up here in his fancy clothes, with money in his pocket. More than most of us sees in a year. He had no idea. We sometimes get kids like that turn up, they don’t last long. Some of the guys here would rob you blind for everything you have, leave you beaten and bloody – sometimes they get a bit too rough, when that happens it’s not unusual for the body to get dumped in the river.”
“You didn’t want that to happen to Anton, you stuck your neck out to help him. Why?”
“My son. He looked a bit like him. Like he used to look, anyhows. I was being stupid and sentimental. So I kept the guys away from him, helped him blend in a little better. He still looked like the richest bum you’re ever likely to see, but it was enough to not get him robbed or killed around here.”
“That was good of you, Hilda. What happened after that?”
“Then the stupid fool took up with that whore at the drugs den. My God, he fell for her something bad, cheap piece of trash that she was. If it weren’t for her he wouldn’t have got himself hooked.”
“Heroin?”
“Yep. I drink. Too much. Every day. It’s killing me, I can feel it, bit by bit. But it’s nothing compared to what that shit does to you. What money he had he threw away on it, and scoring for her too. Then he had to go stealing to get the money he needed. I’ve stolen stuff. Food and booze mostly. But Anton went out and stole anything he could, anything he could sell. Some of the shit he brought back here to try and sell, it was crazy. Then the last time I saw him, he robbed me, after all I’d done for him. He couldn’t help himself. I knew he wouldn’t dare show his face around here again, he’d be crazy to, no-one would help him now.”
“Hilda, Anton is in trouble, some people turned up at the drugs den that night and took him away. He knew something he wasn’t supposed to, had been talking about it. What did he know?”
“He didn’t know shit. About anything. But he got obsessed with all this business about the people going missing around here. It was nothing but crazy talk.”
It might have been nothing but crazy talk to Hilda, but
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