Roxanne called two days later at the appointed time, after Daisy had come back from work. She sounded very shy, but she assured her new friend that Dragon had a lot of information about Loretta, and that if they could get together, Daisy would hear the whole story of what had happened to her. It was Roxanne who suggested that they meet up in a pub in Shepherd’s Bush. “That is, if you think you can find the place…”
“Oh, don’t worry, darling. There are always people willing to help a blind lady to find her way. So the White Horse it is, tomorrow morning at ten thirty.”
And so the three of them ended up at a table, nursing the beers paid for by Daisy. In the background you could hear the clang of billiard balls colliding on the pool tables, conversations and bursts of laughter in a far corner; the air was redolent of stale tobacco smoke mingled with the sour stench of the wet rags that the table tops had been wiped with. What Daisy could not see, was that the two hippies had some plastic bags by their side, containing all of their meagre possessions.
“Well?” Daisy asked, “Has Amber shown up yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, no sweat!”
“And did you talk to her?”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re cool…”
“What did she say? Come on!”
“What Dragon is dying to tell you,” Roxanne explained, “is that he followed your advice and declared his love to her…”
“Really? Good!”
“This is none of your business, Roxanne!” Dragon growled. “In fact, it is none of Daisy’s either.”
“You’re right, of course. Sorry. I just hope she wasn’t angry and didn’t mock you, that’s all…”
“No, you were right, she was very nice about it, but she argued that she believes in free love and doesn’t want me to be in love with her only.”
“The conceitedness of a smasher,” Roxanne grumbled.
“Anyway, we two are together now, I mean Roxanne and I, and we want to leave the Island and go to Roxanne’s place.”
“My parents are rather nice, unlike Dragon’s. We will tell them that he persuaded me to go back home; my parents will be mighty impressed by the fact that Dragon is one of the founding members of the commune, and that he’s giving it all up for my sake…”
“Ah yes, Dragon, I remember you told me you were there a year ago when Tiger and Piglet set up the thing…”
“Yeah. Tiger and Piglet and Dragon-Slayer… the new names we chose for ourselves when we started our experiment.”
“So you’re saying you were on an equal footing with them?”
“Oh yeah! Yeah.”
“But you don’t have a penny in your pocket to pay for a couple of beers. And I bet that Tiger and Piglet do have money in their pockets, even a lot of it…”
“Yeah, well, we don’t believe in money and possessions, but someone has to take care of paying the rent and stuff…”
“Still, I think you will be better off if you get out now.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that… But before Roxanne and I ‘elope’, as you suggested, I wanted to tell you what I know about Loretta. I remember her well.”
“All right, I’m very grateful for that. So she joined you very soon after the three of you started the commune?”
“You could say that, yeah! Just a few days after we started, in fact. So here we are, Tiger, Piglet and me with the girlfriends we had at the time and a couple of other kids we knew, and in walks this girl with her boyfriend and tells us she wants to join us…”
“The first kids you didn’t know beforehand.”
“Yeah, that’s right! But others followed very soon. It was amazing how fast this thing grew…”
“But Loretta was only fifteen, and so was her boyfriend, I guess?”
“Yeah, but they were not the only ones who were a bit young. A lot of kids are running away from home. We never ask how old anyone is; you don’t need to give your real name, even; you can make up a new name and start a new life…”
“But Loretta kept her real name…”
“Oh yeah! Only, we started to call her Lorry, which annoyed her a bit, but we found it a lark, ’cause she was such a wisp of a girl. In fact, Lorry was the right name for her, ’cause she was angry and determined. Her boyfriend soon decided to go back home, but Lorry said ‘no way’ and stayed on.”
“Did she tell you about her Irish background? Did she talk about her father?”
“Oh yeah. Yeah. Loretta loved all the Celtic stuff. She wore a Celtic cross around her neck, but she hated her father, because her old man only believes in blowing things up, killing people. Loretta was a real pacifist…”
“We all are,” Roxanne remarked, “Make love, not war!”
“And this cross, did it have a semiprecious stone in the middle?”
“Yeah! Yeah. How do you know?”
“Her father showed me the one he wears around his neck, and he told me that Loretta had the same, and so do her mother and her kid brother.”
“Oh? I didn’t know that…”
“Well, anyway, one day Loretta was taken away, right? Like Amber the other day. But she is one of those who didn’t come back.”
“Actually, no. She wasn’t really taken away like Amber… No. She eloped with an older bloke. Then she never came back, but we didn’t expect her to!”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the guy she left with was a photographer. He always carried a huge bag with an expensive reflex camera and a lot of fancy equipment. First he wanted to make a book about hippie girls, and he kept taking pictures of all the girls; well, the youngest and the prettiest ones, that is. Then he told Loretta that he was going to do a book about her; only her; and that it would launch her career as a model. Just like Twiggy or Jean Shrimpton.”
“So she went off with the guy…”
“Yeah.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t know. We called him Jumping Jack.”
“And what did he look like? Can you describe him?”
“Well, first of all he was a lot older than most of the freaks and pushers that hang out at the Island. I mean, he had long frizzy hair and everything, like a hippie, kind of, but he also had a bald pate… And he was fat, and pretty short, with a pot belly, so he didn’t look like a real hippie at all. But he was cool all the same, you know? You shouldn’t judge people on how they look! He was handing out pot and acid to everybody all the time… that’s why we liked him.”
“And you called him Jumping Jack. Why?”
“Oh, you know, just because he was a kind of bouncy guy, always bubbling over with energy. Always joking and laughing…”
“So you guys gave him that nickname… or was he the one who suggested it?”
“Yeah, now that you ask: he suggested it. Definitely.”
“Very convenient! That way no one ever thought of finding out his real identity while he was plying you with drugs and taking pictures of the girls…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know… We’re not very smart that way.”
As calmly as she could, Daisy inquired more specifically about the physical appearance of this child molester: colour of eyes (dark brown) and hair (golden blond, probably out of a bottle Daisy thought); pug nose, thick lips, a bit like a postcard Santa Claus… But in the meantime she felt thoroughly appalled by what she had just heard.
“And so Loretta went off with this Santa Claus, and both were never seen again… And no one ever wondered what had happened to her?”
“Well… I guess we were just assuming that she was having a great time, happily modelling for her photographer boyfriend…”
“But if she’d had such a great time, she would have come back to hang out with you at the Island from time to time, and she would happily have told you about it all, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, maybe… I dunno…”
“And I mean, her father and the police turned up and made inquiries…They told you she had disappeared from the face of the earth. Didn’t that make you wonder?”
“Nah, not much… The pigs are always trying to bust us for drugs possession, and the daddies always blame the hippies for everything that went wrong with their precious kids anyway…”
“I still find it strange that none of you had second thoughts about this… I mean, assuming Lorry was really having a good time with her new paramour and that she was having a fulfilling experience as a budding model, she was only fifteen! To become a model she would have needed her parents’ consent to sign a contract!”
“Never thought of that… What do you want me to say? We were busy with other stuff… We didn’t stop to think!”
Roxanne now intervened, “But tell me, Daisy, what exactly are you and Lorry’s father afraid of? That she’s been raped and killed?”
“Yes, of course! Or worse still, that she’s still alive, being held against her will by some pervert who does unspeakable things to her…”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute… Isn’t someone running away with a pretty sick imagination here?”
“Well yes, you could have a point there, Dragon… That would be Martin McCullough’s imagination, of course. Me, I couldn’t even start to imagine what a pervert would want to do to such a young girl.”
“Yeah! Yeah: me neither. But that’s why I have my doubts. I mean, is it really out of the question that everything’s all right, here? Maybe one day Lorry will just turn up at home and say hello to her Dad, when she is ready for it, you know?”
“Yes, maybe you’re right… I certainly hope so. Anyway, I’m grateful that you went to the trouble of telling me all you know. But now I think I’ll go to the police with this information, and with all the other things I’ve found out… Maybe this will mean the end of the Island, I don’t know, but you two had better get out now! And that reminds me: there’s one more piece of the puzzle you could provide, Dragon. Or rather two. Do you know Tiger’s and Piglet’s real names?”
“Yeah, of course. We all went to school together…”
“Well? Do you care to tell me?”
“Erm… I’d rather not…”
“Oh, come on, Dragon. It’s not like they will be accused of Lorry’s murder or anything, but I still need to know, otherwise the police are not going to listen to me. The thing is, you see, here you have a dragon or two that still need to be slain, and you’re the only one who can do it…”
“Okay, okay. Tiger’s real name is Phil… that is: Philip Underwood, and Piglet is really Ian Lindon. Do you want me to write it down?”
“No. Hold on a minute.” Daisy retrieved her pocket-size Braille slate with its stylus from her handbag. “If you can just spell those names, I’ll braille them…” And once again she made a great impression while she punched the letters on a little card.
“Right, I’m very grateful to you both. Now, do you and Roxanne need some money to get to Roxanne’s parents?”
“Actually, yes!” Roxanne exclaimed. “My parents live in Birmingham. We’ll need to buy train tickets…”
“All right. I’ll give you five Pounds. That should tide you over nicely. I consider it as money well spent…”
“Thanks, Daisy,” they both muttered.
That day, after she got home and had eaten something for lunch, Daisy called the number that Martin McCullough had given her. This time it took much longer for him to answer the phone. “Hey, Daisy Hayes! Sorry to make you wait, I was kinda busy. What news have you got for me?”
“Well, I’ve got all the information you asked for, including the real names of the ringleaders.”
Then Daisy reported to the father that a year ago his daughter had left the hippie commune of her own accord with a man who pretended to be a photographer. “I have a description of the man, who went under the alias ‘Jumping Jack’. Now I think it is time to go to the police. It seems to me that I have unearthed some elements of the puzzle that they may not be aware of…”
“Let’s not rush into anything like that! There’s no need to call in the help of the cops just yet. You see, they’ve already concluded that Loretta went away of her own accord with a ‘person unknown’.”
“What!”
“Yeah, but you see, there’s the rub. Just because she left voluntarily, they concluded that there is no foul play. But that’s where they’re completely wrong… That this ‘Jumping Jack’ bastard was able to lure my Loretta away, does not mean that he’s not a pervert and a rapist, you know?”
“Of course, I can see that! But how do you happen to know all this? How do you know what the police has concluded?”
“It was all in the report they handed over to me when they closed the case.”
“What! Couldn’t you tell me that before? Couldn’t you have given me a copy of that report, you bastard!?”
“What good would that have done? You’re blind! You couldn’t have read it anyway.”
“Don’t be disingenuous, McCullough. You could have told me what you know; I could have asked a friend to read out that report to me; I could even have had it printed in Braille by a transcriber… By the way, do the police also know the real names of the leaders of that prostitution ring?”
“Yes, if you’re talking about Philip Underwood and Ian Lindon, their names were mentioned in the report as well. Those two probably couldn’t refuse to show some identification, under the circumstances. However, the police did not seem to reach the same conclusion you did about the nature of the transactions taking place at that commune… But I tend to share your point of view, my dear Daisy.”
“Don’t you ‘dear Daisy’ me, you bastard! This is really the limit!”
“You’re pretty mad at me, huh?”
“You bet! If only I knew where to find you, I’d come over and punch your face!”
The man just roared with laughter.
“How on earth can I work for you if you keep such essential information back from me!”
“Okay, listen, I’ve got my reasons. I know how to handle an agent: I’ve had a lot of experience in the field myself… If I had briefed you on all the information I had, you couldn’t have helped me any further. But now that you have found out all this stuff on your own—which is absolutely brilliant of you—I’m pretty sure you’ll know exactly what to do next. In fact, I’m sure you already have the next step planned right now! Am I right?”
Daisy sighed deeply, and reluctantly admitted, “Yes, I guess so. On the tube on my way home this morning, I was thinking things over…”
“Go on, I’m listening…”
“I came to the conclusion that there are three possibilities. Either Loretta is having a perfectly good time with her mature lover, or she is being held against her will by him—which is what you’re very much afraid of—or she’s long since dead. Well: in each case Jumping Jack is the key anyway. He’s the only one who knows which possibility applies. So we have to find out who he is. And the only useful piece of information we have about this man, is that he was handing out pot and acid to the hippies like a sugar daddy at a child’s birthday party. This fact alone makes the man traceable, provided you have a good source of information about the drug market in London… Of course, the police would be a good source of such information…”
“No, no, not the police… Think it over, Daisy Hayes. For a year the police have had exactly the same information about Jumping Jack that you have now… If they had wanted to trace the man through his drug dealings, they would already have found him…”
“Well, I was also thinking that while the police worked on the case I could make inquiries of my own… I have at least one contact in the London underworld: Victor. You know him as well, don’t you?”
“Yes, good thinking, Daisy Hayes! You do that: you go and talk to Victor!”
“And a good day to you too, you bastard!”
Daisy had last met Victor at the opening of her exhibition. That had only been a couple of weeks back—three weeks at most—but it seemed ages ago. She had the feeling that she was now living in an entirely different world; even the prospect of meeting potential buyers for private viewings had slipped to the back of her mind. “I should call the gallery owner and ask if there have been any developments,” Daisy reflected. “Maybe he has already received some clients without me; I should at least pretend to show some interest!”
For Victor, however, the opening, being a very unusual experience, loomed much larger in the mind and seemed very recent. He did not find it strange or unexpected that Daisy suddenly called him on the phone and said, “We need to talk.” He invited his old acquaintance to his home—a first—and said mildly, “I want you to meet the Missus…”
“Victor! I had no idea that there is a Missus!”
“Oh yes, there sure is. You just come and visit us and you’ll get to know her… She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Victor gave Daisy an address in Stoke Newington and told her to take a taxi, as the place was rather hard to find. And so Daisy discovered a new house, mainly by her sense of smell, of course. This is something you’ll experience even if you’re not blind: when you visit the home of other people for the first time, you’ll notice without even trying that their place has its own distinctive odour, hanging heavily and unmistakably on the premises. It will be a mixture of the food cooked, the cleaning agents used, the aftershave of the tenant and the favourite perfume of his wife. Victor’s wife Blanche came forward and hugged her guest heartily and firmly. Daisy always enjoyed a bearhug immensely. She concluded that the house smelled a lot more like the lady than like the man.
“I’ve heard so much about you, darling Daisy,” Blanche exclaimed, “and I’m so happy to meet you at last!”
“Well, dear Blanche, why didn’t you come with Victor to the opening of my exhibition? I would have loved to make your acquaintance as well!”
“Oh no! An art exhibition is nothing for me, I wouldn’t know how to behave!”
“Well, there’s nothing to it, really. Just be yourself. Victor and the crew managed to do that just fine…”
Daisy asked Blanche and Victor how long they had been married. As she had never suspected that Ralph’s old batman had a wife, she was really curious to know.
“Well, we were married in the spring of 1937,” Victor replied. “For our thirtieth anniversary, this May, we went on a cruise down the Rhine. I wanted to visit the Ruhr, Düsseldorf and Cologne, where so many of our bomber boys lost their lives…”
“Thirty years! Well, congratulations. I was something like fourteen years old when you two got married!”
“Well, I was only eighteen at the time,” Blanche explained. “I married young, and so I’m not that much older than you are, darling. Victor, on the other hand, was all of twenty-five!”
Now Daisy was dying to tell Victor about Martin McCullough’s assignment and about the latest developments in her investigation, but she had no idea how much Blanche knew about her husband’s activities. There was a moment of awkwardness. “Do you still run a betting shop?” Daisy asked innocently.
“Good God, no! I’ve retired ages ago. Betting is heavily regulated nowadays and there’s no money in it anymore… I was smart enough to see the changes coming and to step out on time with a nice egg nest to my name. As any banker in the City will tell you: crime only pays if you stop at the right moment!”
“Speaking of which: do you still have contacts with people like McCullough?”
“My dear Daisy, I’m being awfully thoughtless! You said on the phone that we needed to talk. Well, you may speak freely in front of Blanche, you know: my darling is aware of all the facets of my past activities…”
“Very well,” Daisy said, and she started to tell her hosts what Martin McCullough had demanded of her and what she had found out about his daughter’s disappearance.
At length, when she had finished her story, Victor exclaimed, “My poor Daisy, I’m appalled by McCullough’s behaviour! Not only is he blackmailing you, but he’s been manipulating you like a pawn, and it’s not at all clear what game he’s playing. That’s by far the most disturbing part of your story… Now what can I do for you? I’d be only too willing to help if I can.”
“Well, dear Victor, at the time you seemed to know the London drug scene quite well. I seem to remember that the Americans were clamouring for cocaine! So what I had in mind is this: ‘Jumping Jack’ was handing out LSD—among others—to those hippie kids; now if only we could circulate the kidnapper’s description in the small world of London drug dealers, we might get to know more about the man’s identity…”
“Yes, good thinking, but…”
“Of course I proposed to ask the police to look into this, but McCullough wouldn’t hear of it!”
“No, he wouldn’t, would he? But what I was about to say is this: I don’t know th