And then one day, to Cobb’s horror, he found that he could actually shift between his dimension and other ones. To begin with it was only in times of extreme stress or danger that it would somehow occur; he couldn’t do it at will. The first time was when, as a young policeman on the beat, someone had pointed a gun at him and fired. Something welled up inside Cobb and he just sort of pushed. The next thing he knew, he was standing in a strange street he had never seen before. Without really thinking about it he walked a few paces forward and pushed again. He came back to where he had left but now he was standing behind the gunman, who he clubbed to the floor, with his truncheon.
The next time was when he was chasing a burglar across a roof one dark and rainy night. Cobb had slipped on the wet tiles and as he slid down the roof towards the ground, it had happened again. He found himself in another place, stuck up a tree, on a dry, sunny day. (Which was lucky really as he could have ended up in mid-air.) He had climbed down to the ground and then shifted back to find himself down on the street, watching the criminal escape over the rooftops.
Over time, he found by practising he could sometimes make it happen at will but never consistently enough to rely on it happening when he needed it. Besides, there was no telling where he might end up, so it wasn’t something he wanted to overindulge in.
He had never told anyone about it until he married Esme, then he told her everything.
And then came the fateful day of Esme’s accident. They had been walking together through one of Londum’s parks when a runaway horse and carriage had bolted around the corner behind them. Cobb only had a split second to act. He had grabbed Esme by the shoulder and shifted but Esme had turned to stare at the horse bearing down on them and inadvertently twisted out of Cobb’s grasp. Cobb landed in another park, somewhere else. With a cry of anguish he realised he was alone and shifted back but it was too late. Esme’s broken body lay crumpled on the ground, a group of people gathering around her. He could have saved her! He should have saved her! It was his fault she was dead.
After the funeral he had told Thornton about his ability to jump between dimensions and how he was responsible for Esme’s death but Thornton would have none of it, refusing to accept it was Cobb’s fault. But that did not stop Cobb blaming himself.
Cobb sat on the Embankment watching the barges going up and down the Isis. Eventually, he realised that he was beginning to sober up so he roused himself and went and found a pub.
Cobb sat in the public house staring into his glass of brandy, uneasy about his conversation with Thornton. Thornton was right of course. After Esme’s death Cobb had taken to the bottle and, slowly coming apart at the seams, he had begun to risk his life in a series of dangerous situations. After being “invited” to leave the police force, he had resolved to sit around drinking himself to death. Unfortunately for his plan, his stamina and recuperative powers had outlasted his meagre savings.
He drew a small pension from the force, which paid for the rent on his house, but he still needed money to survive and pay his drinks bill. So he had been forced to call on the only talent he had … detecting. He had put himself out to hire as a Private Detective. Hardly a business to make him a wealthy man. Thornton was right on the button with his assessment of that, lost dogs and divorce cases. Following unfaithful spouses to seedy hotels, for their love trysts. Still it kept him in drink and Lucifer in cat food.
Cobb went to the bar and bought another drink. As he returned to his table a flash of bright colour in the corner of his eye made him look round but when he looked in that direction he saw nothing. He sat down at his table and looked round the room. The usual drab working class pub filled with the usual drab working class folk. No sign of bright colour except on the advertisements on the posters behind the bar.
There it was again, over at the corner of the bar. Cobb stared in that direction. At first all he could see was two men leaning on the bar, talking to each other and then from out between them, where he had been hidden by one of the men, stepped a most unusual man. He was dressed in a costume made of red and white diamond shaped patches. White ruffles at collar and cuffs. The trousers came down to just below his knees and below that he wore white stockings on his legs, leading down to shiny, black shoes with large silver buckles. Dark hair slicked back over a frankly, Cobb had to admit, handsome face, his olive skinned complexion making him look foreign. Definitely not someone who’d been raised under the weak Albion sun.
The man, now in full view, stood out like a red rose on a compost heap. But everyone seemed to be ignoring him or not even aware of his existence. The man leaned between the two talking men who carried on their conversation without even leaning around him to talk, as if totally unaware of his presence. One of the two men put down his glass on the bar and the man in red immediately picked it up and took a swallow. That was a quick way to a short life in most Londum pubs like the one they were in, but the owner of the glass never batted an eyelid. Cobb gazed on curiously.
Suddenly the man in red and white did a double take as he realised that Cobb was watching him. He stared back at Cobb with a puzzled look on his face and then slowly smiled a broad smile. He began to act up, apparently for Cobb’s benefit. Waving his hands in the faces of the two men, who didn’t react at all, taking drinks from their glasses, he began to wander along the length of the bar, taking a sip from a glass here, kissing a pretty girl on the cheek there, taking a handkerchief from someone’s pocket and dropping it on the floor. All without any reaction from anyone, it was as if he didn’t exist.
Cobb was at a loss to explain why no one noticed the man in the clown’s outfit. Finally the man had worked his way to the end of the bar and after turning to Cobb and giving him a deep bow, he turned and sort of merged into the crowd. He didn’t exactly push his way through as nobody moved to let him pass, he just sort of slid into the throng of people and disappeared.
Cobb was baffled by what he had just seen. What apparently he alone had just seen. He picked up his brandy and sniffed it curiously. It smelt all right. Oh Gods, he thought, I’m getting the DT’s. Time I went home. He swigged down the rest of his drink, pushed the glass aside and went out into the street where he hailed a Hansom cab. Cobb gave the driver his address and climbed aboard.
***
At the same time as Cobb’s Hansom rattled its way to his house over the cobbled streets, in another part of Londum Bepe the Clown headed towards his home. He was returning after an evening’s work at the Children’s Hospital. The hospital patrons had arranged an evening’s entertainment and feast for the patients. Bepe had amused the children and their parents with balloon animals and all the usual pie in the face and water down the trousers antics. His pay had been a meagre sixpence but he had been allowed to help himself to the buffet. He only lived half a mile away from the hospital so he had remained in his costume and make up as he went home.
As Bepe turned into the alley leading to his digs, he thought he heard someone following him. This being one of the shadier parts of town he stopped to listen. He had earned that sixpence; no one was going to take it from him. Hearing nothing, he turned to go on when THUMP! something heavy hit him on the back of his head. He toppled forward like a felled tree but two men caught him before he hit the ground. Between them they dragged him over to a rain barrel at the bottom of a drainpipe. They levered off the lid and then manhandled the groggy Bepe head first into the full rain barrel. His legs waved weakly in the air as his size 37 clown shoes flapped pathetically against the wall. After a moment they fell silent as their owner took his last, and biggest, bucket of water in the face. ‘Laugh at that, clown!’ said one of the men before they disappeared into the night.
It’s More Than Just a Job, It’s an Adventure
It was next morning and Cobb was standing in his shirt sleeves at his office window, sipping a cup of tea and watching the world go by, when he saw a carriage pull up outside his house. The single occupant was a man who Cobb judged to be a few years older than hims
elf, say mid forties. He had short hair and no facial hair except for a well-trimmed moustache. In an age where most men, including Cobb, grew masses of facial hair, and long hair was quite usual on men of all ages, such neatness usually suggested that the man was a direct and to the point sort of person. One who dealt in precision and facts and figures, like a doctor or a banker or an engineer, one of those professions where accuracy was essential.
Cobb had been like that once, when he was at the Yard, short, clipped hair parted in the centre and greased down flat. His sideburns and moustache trimmed to an eighth of an inch, no more. But since Esme’s death he couldn’t be bothered about that sort of thing anymore.
The man in the carriage was well dressed and Cobb could see he had a muscular frame, indicating that he had once done some kind of manual exercise that had kept him in shape, but now he was filling out around the waist. Cobb had seen it before on ex-boxers, once they quit the ring they started to go soft. It was probably accounted for by the obviously soft life that the man was living now. The fact that he had arrived in his own carriage and not in a cab indicated a certain degree of wealth. Mind you, the carriage was functional and not overly showy, with no coat of arms on the door, so the man was probably in business.
Also the fact that he opened the carriage door himself and climbed down instead of waiting for his driver to do it, meant that he had not been brought up being waited on hand and foot, which suggested to Cobb that this wealth had come to him in later life.
As the man climbed the steps to his front door, Cobb put on his jacket, opened the door and welcomed him.
‘Good day, can I help you.’
‘Are you Mr. Cobb?’ The man looked around to make sure no one was listening and then lowering his voice so he couldn’t be overheard, ‘The private detective?’
‘Indeed I am, please come in.’ Cobb waved him in. He took his topcoat and then ushered him into his office.
‘Good morning Mr. Cobb. My name’s Ronald Wilkes, here’s my card.’
Cobb took the proffered card and read the name Wilkes Engineering Ltd. Cobb indicated that Mr. Wilkes should take the seat in front of the desk. ‘And what exactly do you ‘Engineer’, Mr. Wilkes?’
‘All sorts of light engineering, valves and stopcocks mostly. If you have any indoor plumbing you’ve probably got a few Wilkes valves in the system somewhere. I have a factory over in Hammersmith and over the past few years as the fashion for indoor plumbing has taken off, I’ve made a small fortune.’
‘Well, this is the age of the manufacturer and the entrepreneur, I’m glad you’re taking advantage of it. Now then, how may I be of assistance?’
Mr. Wilkes didn’t answer at first, he just gripped the arms of the chair and he bowed his head slightly.
Unfaithful wife or a death in the family, guessed Cobb. To encourage him to talk he said, ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea?’
‘Mr. Cobb, I’ll come straight to the point. I think my wife is being unfaithful.’
Bingo! ‘Ah,’ said Cobb. ‘Perhaps a whisky then?’
Wilkes nodded wordlessly and he avoided Cobb’s gaze as his own eyes became moist. Cobb poured them both whiskies, placed one on the desk in front of Wilkes and took the other over to the window, where he sipped it as he resumed his street-watching, while he gave Wilkes time to compose himself.
After a few minutes, Wilkes took a swig of whisky, cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m ready, Mr. Cobb.’
Cobb finished his whisky, sat down behind the desk facing Wilkes and drew up a notepad and pencil.
‘I’ve been told that you’re a very good private investigator and most important, can be discreet,’ said Wilkes.
‘You can rely upon my discretion. Now, please begin by telling me about your wife.’
‘Her name is Laura, I have her picture here,’ he pulled a portrait photo from his inside pocket and placed it on the desk. She was around the same age as Mr. Wilkes and very attractive, Cobb could see why he’d married her.
‘Laura and I both married late in life, our late thirties. I was never in a position to marry until my business became successful and Laura had lost a fiancé in the Sepoy Mutiny in Bharat when she was younger, so it kind of put her off marriage, I guess. But you know how it is, when you get older and you face the prospect of growing old by yourself, it kind of changes your perspective on things.
‘Laura and I were introduced by friends and we hit it off splendidly. We kept company for several years but I never had much money and she worked as a governess, so I could never ask her to marry me but that didn’t seem to bother her, we were happy and that’s all that mattered. That’s how I know she didn’t marry me for my money; we were already in love before I became rich. That just provided the opportunity.’
‘Any children?’
‘Alas no, the Gods have not seen fit to bless us with offspring which is a pity, I always wanted a son that I could pass the business on to.’
‘So,’ said Cobb, ‘sorry to be blunt but I have to have all the facts, exactly what makes you think that she is having an affair?’
‘Have you ever been married, Mr. Cobb?’
‘I was once, now I’m a widower.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, but having been married you’ll understand what I mean when I tell you that no matter how great the marriage is and how much two people love each other, after a few years the initial sparkle goes out of the marriage. Oh don’t misunderstand me, there is still plenty of love and kindness there, I’m just saying that the level of excitement goes down and you settle into a different but still happy routine that is satisfying in its own way. It’s perfectly natural.’
‘I take your point, go on.’
‘Well, for some time now Laura has had that spring back in her step, that sparkle in her eyes that she used to have for me when we were first married, but now I fear it’s for someone else.’
‘And do you have anything to go on besides a hunch? Any evidence that she is seeing someone else?’
‘I’m afraid so. As I said my factory is in Hammersmith so I don’t go into the centre of town much but a week or so ago I had occasion to go there to see a prospective customer, a bathroom supplier wants some valves for his boilers. Anyway, I saw Laura coming out of a hotel with a … with a young man.’
‘Ah,’ said Cobb. ‘Yes, that does look suspicious doesn’t it? However, it may be perfectly innocuous, so don’t jump to conclusions until I have some evidence, one way or the other. Do you have any idea who the man was?’
‘No, I’ve never seen him before, he was about half her age.’
‘Did you ask her about it?’
‘In a roundabout way. I casually asked her what she had been up to that day and she claimed to have stayed at home all day.’
‘What does your wife do all day, if you don’t mind me asking, I don’t imagine with your wealth she works but how does she occupy her time?’
‘Oh the usual, charity work, lunching with her friends.’
‘There you go then,’ said Cobb. ‘Perhaps it was one of her charity colleagues or he was related to one of her friends.’
‘Well, that’s what I’d like you to find out. Here’s our address,’ he wrote on Cobb’s pad. Cobb noted that it was also in Hammersmith. ‘I want you to follow her when she leaves the house and see what she’s up to. Will you do it?’
‘Very well.’ Cobb based his charges on how much the client could pay. ‘My fee is one pound a day plus expenses.’
‘Agreed,’ said Wilkes, opening his wallet. He placed a ten-pound note in front of Cobb. ‘Come and see me in Hammersmith if you need more. Any information you have, you can contact me at the factory. No chance of the wife finding out then.’
Cobb said, ‘Now I want you to go home or go to work or whatever you would normally do this time of day, don’t give your wife any reason to think that you suspect her of anything. Just play it normal and keep calm. I’m sure it will all work out okay.’
Wilkes stood up an
d offered his hand to Cobb. ‘Thank you for agreeing to help me, Mr. Cobb. I regret I’ve had to involve you in this sordid business but I’m out of my depth here and needed some professional assistance.’
Cobb shook the outstretched hand and then said, ‘Mr. Wilkes, can I offer you some advice?’ When Wilkes nodded assent, Cobb continued, ‘Don’t assume the worst until I have some proof either way. Will you do that?’
‘And if it turns out to be true?’ asked Wilkes.
‘Sometimes even when it’s bad news it’s best to know the truth.’
Wilkes nodded glumly and Cobb led him into the hall and helped him on with his overcoat. After he let him out he walked back to the front window and watched his carriage pull away.
Lost dogs and divorces cases, Thornton had said. Not far off the mark there was he? So, tomorrow he would go and try and find out what Mrs. Laura Wilkes was really up to.
***
Later that day, Cobb took a trip down to Soho and wandered up and down Wendover Street reading the nameplates outside the offices until he spotted Jarse’s. He went into the building and up the rickety stairs to the third floor. He walked along the landing until he found the right door. It had a glass pane on which were painted the words:
H. Jarse
Financial Consultant
You mean Loan Shark, thought Cobb. He knocked on the door and the Missing Link opened it. Cobb walked in to find himself facing a giant bruiser with a face that only a mother could love. It looked like a battlefield with ears. He was about six inches taller than Cobb and glowered menacingly down at him.