Read Online Zip Gun Boogie by Mark Timlin - Free Book Online

allowed to finish cooking in the pan. That way they don’t get heavy. There’s nothing worse in my opinion than heavy scrambled eggs.’
    I didn’t argue.
    â€˜This way they stay fluffy,’ he went on.
    He spooned a little egg on to a plate. It certainly looked fluffy enough. He removed the lids from the rest of the dishes like a conjuror. ‘Bacon – grilled lovely and crisp. Mushroom, tomato, sausage, kidney.’ As he spoke he added a little of each to the plate and placed it in front of me. It looked good and I felt a little better. I forked some egg and tasted it. It was delicious. ‘This is great.’
    â€˜I’ll leave you now, sir,’ he said. ‘If you need me I’m in my kitchen at the end of the corridor. I’m on until two this afternoon. My name’s Wilfred.’
    I was getting stuck into the breakfast. It was the best I’d had for ages and I told him so.
    â€˜Before I go, sir, I brought you up a couple of papers. I thought you might be interested.’
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ I said.
    â€˜Oh, I do, sir. Everyone was talking about it this morning.’
    â€˜It?’
    He opened the Sun to the pop page. You know, where you can learn which star has had liposuction, or is gay, or a drunk. Slap in the middle was a photo of Ninotchka and me leaving the Korean restaurant. It wasn’t a bad photo of either of us. I could have done with a little more light on my left side, but otherwise OK. I was identified as the mysterious new man in her life seen dining intimately, etc, etc. ‘You’re right, Wilfred,’ I said. ‘I am interested.’
    He showed me a couple of the other tabloids which both had variations of the same picture. ‘You make a handsome couple, sir, if I may say so. Is there any chance of a permanent liaison?’
    â€˜You going to sell the story to Rick Sky?’ I asked.
    â€˜As if I would, sir. Here at Jones’ we are noted for our discretion.’ He seemed genuinely upset.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Wilfred,’ I said, and meant it. The guy had just saved my life single-handedly after all. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
    â€˜Of course not, sir,’ he said, brightening up somewhat. ‘You weren’t to know.’
    â€˜No permanent liaison,’ I said. ‘And that’s official. In fact, I think I lost the lady at some point last night. You haven’t seen her anywhere, have you?’
    He looked around as if she might have been stashed in the kitchen cupboard. ‘No, sir, but apparently she and her driver helped you into the hotel about 4 a.m.’
    â€˜Is that a fact?’ I said. That bit hadn’t come back to me yet.
    â€˜I wouldn’t worry, sir,’ said Wilfred. ‘Worse things happen at sea.’
    â€˜Unfortunately I was supposed to be on dry land at the time,’ I said.
    â€˜Quite so, sir. I’ll leave you now. As I said, if there’s anything you need, just ring.’
    â€˜Thank you, Wilfred.’ And he backed out discreetly, leaving the trolley and the coffee pot with it.
    Five minutes later there was another knock. ‘Come in,’ I said. The door opened and Roger Lomax entered. He was wearing the same style and colour jacket as I’d been wearing the previous night. Now I knew what Ninotchka meant about shopping in hotels. ‘Morning,’ I said.
    â€˜Barely.’
    â€˜Is that a rebuke?’
    â€˜I thought we were going to see Trash this morning.’
    â€˜What’s stopping us?’
    â€˜The state of you.’
    â€˜Yeah, I know, I’m a mess.’
    â€˜This is a mess,’ he said, and threw the paper down in front of me. It was the Daily Mail.
    â€˜I don’t read shit like that,’ I said.
    â€˜Read it this morning as a favour to me.’
    I shrugged and picked it up. It was opened to the diary page and there, six inches deep and two columns wide, was a picture