Joseph's Case

Joseph's Case

'Excuse me. My friend fancies you.'

'Brilliant. That's what ten-year-olds say.'

'Her, over there: she fancies you.'

'Thank you.'

'Don't pretend you haven't noticed. You've been looking at us.'

'I might have been looking past you.'

'At the wall? You finished your coffee ages ago but you're still here.'

'I've been reading this book. Time flies with a good book. I'm just sitting here outside my favourite cafe in the sunshine with good coffee and good reading.'

'And looking at us.'

The impasse was acknowledged.

'OK, I was looking,' he said. 'But I was looking at you.'

A pause. 'Oh?' She sat down beside the man, letting her shoulder bag slide to the ground between them. She thought about it. She reached a conclusion and offered him a hand. 'Sophie.'

The hand was accepted. 'Joseph.'

'You weren't looking at my friend?'

'Oh no.' Joseph met Sophie's gaze and contrived a glare of narrow-eyed menace. 'I'm an assassin on a case. Your ex-boyfriend has put out a contract on your life for ten grand.'

'You're a hit man?' Sophie's gaze flickered between Joseph's eyes and the black briefcase standing upright against his chair.

A nod. 'But that doesn't make me a bad person.'

'You've made me nervous.'

Joseph shrugged. 'You approached me.'

'Tell me you're not going to shoot me.'

'I'll lose ten thousand pounds.'

'But you're not going to kill me.'

A pause. 'No. I can't now.' He removed his sunglasses. 'Talking to you has transformed you from a target into a human being. And the more I look at you, the more I like you. It's a professional hazard.'

'You're not really a hit man.'

A shrug.

'So what's in the briefcase?'

'A gun: Browning semi-automatic.'

Sophie smiled and relaxed into her chair. 'More likely your sad bachelor's lunch and a porn mag. You're full of shit.'

Joseph raised his eyebrows. 'But by the time we leave here I'm going to have asked you to go out with me, so if I can paint the darkest picture of myself, make you fear me, doubt me, think the worst and yet still get you to say yes, I think we'll stand a good chance together.'

'Fucking arrogant.'

'Isn't it? Another fault. But self-confidence might be hereditary. Our kids will inherit it.'

'Kids!'

'And they'll be great-looking, too. I'm gorgeous, you're stunning: our wedding photos will be works of art.'

'Who do you think you are?'

'You're free to walk away the moment I offend you.'

Sophie and Joseph sat looking at each other over his empty coffee cup for almost a minute. 'What do you hope to achieve by being so forward?'

'A lifetime of married bliss with you. Failing that, a one-night stand.'

'Do you think I respect such blunt honesty?'

'You mean you believe me?'

'Shouldn't I?'

'Why not? Then again, why? At least you won't hold any illusions about me. If you expect the worst, I can only impress.'

'You're a strange man, Joseph.'

'And you're still sitting at my table, Sophie.'

'How do you know about my ex-boyfriend?'

'Every woman has an ex-boyfriend.'

'Ah,' Sophie nodded. 'Mind games.'

'All part of the charm.'

'An introduction like this would lead to a turbulent relationship, which could only end badly.'

Joseph frowned. 'How else do relationships end? They don't end because they're going well. But our relationship would be one of the all-time classic romances.'

'I might meet somebody else.'

'I'd break his neck.'

'You're the jealous type?'

'The most insecure man you'll ever meet.'

'Still trying to make me think the worst of you?'

'Is it working?'

'In a way, but perhaps not in the way you expect. What if I like the wrong kind of man?'

'He can't be wrong if he's right for you.'

'You're no cliché, but sometimes a woman wants hearts and flowers.'

Joseph did not immediately reply. He delayed his next act long enough to avoid betraying that he had been awaiting such an opening. He opened his briefcase just wide enough to reach into it and retrieve a single red rose, which he offered to Sophie across the table. 'I think you good, gifted, lovely; a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you – and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.'

Sophie opened her mouth as she accepted the rose, but no words came for a few moments. But then, 'You cheesy cunt.'

'I don't think Mr Rochester could ever have predicted that response, but it was still worth memorising for. I always liked Bronte.'

'I'm almost impressed. How often have you tried this? And why were you carrying the rose?'

'Never before. I buy a fresh red rose every morning, hoping I will meet my true love that day.'

'Really?'

'Nah. I try this line on different birds every day, darlin', and I nicked the flower from a cemetery.'

Sophie wrinkled her nose and shook her head. 'Doesn't suit you.'

'Oh?' Joseph tried to sound offended. 'And what would suit me?'

Sophie leaned forward. 'I think I'd suit you.'

'Are you sure? I pick my nose, which isn't my worst habit.'

'Warts and all – if you'll allow the same for me.'

'You have warts? I'm having second thoughts. I'm very shallow.'

'When do you want to meet?'

'We've already met. Let's just stand up and leave together now – except that your friend is still sitting over there, and she thinks you're match-making for her.'

Sophie forced a serious expression and shook her head. 'She's not really my friend. That's the other police officer working on a case with me.'

Suspicion. 'What case?'

'Yours.'

'It's always been a fantasy of mine to be chatted up by a pretty copper.'

'Doesn't sound unlikely for a man who carries roses and guns around in his briefcase.'

'Well, sweet child of mine, whether we believe each other or not, we can't trust each other. Either we are what we both say we are, or we're both liars.'

'This is insane.'

'Yeah,' Joseph grinned. 'Ain't it cool?'

'We could leave separately.'

'That might mean the end of our relationship before it's even started. It'll give us both the chance to entertain doubt, bottle out and disappear without a trace.'

'I don't think so. We should choose a place and time to meet,' Sophie suggested. 'And if we don't find each other there, we'll just put it down to experience and say it wasn't meant to be.'

'But if we both turn up?'

'The we kiss, and our lives will never be the same again.'

'Agreed. The marina?'

'All right. In one hour.'

Joseph and Sophie nodded at each other.

Sophie rose from her seat but suddenly stumbled forward. Joseph reflexively reached out and prevented a fall. There was a moment's awkward entanglement before Sophie recovered and, in her embarrassment, hurried away. She spoke briefly with her friend, and then the women left at a hurried pace that left Joseph wondering. Though not for long. As soon as the pair were out of sight, he lifted onto the table the bag he had briefly kept below sight. Sophie's bag. He opened it and studied the contents with a look of troubled concentration. Then he lowered the bag and began laughing.

Joseph glanced at his watch and reached down for his briefcase. His laughter ceased abruptly.

 

A short walk from the coffee shop, Sophie slid into the passenger seat of a white BMW, her friend the driver's side. The pair did not speak as they drove away. Sophie settled a briefcase on her lap. Joseph's case. She flipped open the clasps and surveyed the contents with a look of horror.

'Well?' asked the driver. 'Is it what you expected?'

Sophie replied, 'Yes. But not what I'd hoped.'

Sophie stared out of her window for a few moments, gazing at the shops and people they passed. She looked at her watch, and then lifted one hand to its opposite shoulder in search of her bag.  

 

 

© Copyright Mark Crutchfield