A police officer! Well, well, well. That makes things doubly interesting. He has never worked his magic on a police officer before. The closest he came was with a man who claimed to work in ‘high-level security’; it turned out that he just monitored the shoplifting cameras at Tesco.
If he’s to be honest, Franklin must confess that he was a little concerned at first. So much so that he almost allowed the drunkard to win his little bet. A cautionary voice whispered to him to play safe, to seek less dicey candidates.
But then he thought, why should he? Why is this Megan Webley any less deserving of love, simply because of her occupation? For him to turn his back on her because of that would be cowardly. She needs him, as does Parker.
He found the name out later. He thought initially that the man was supplying his surname, but no, that’s his first name, blame the parents.
The information flowed more freely as Parker became increasingly inebriated. Despite winning the wager, Franklin insisted on buying most of the drinks. That way he could control their respective alcohol intake. By the end of the session, he had managed to winkle out from Parker where he and Megan live and work. He maintained a demeanour that was both professional and objective, but at the same time he avoided any explicit reference to his being hired as a private investigator. That was a given, at least in his own mind. Whatever hazy recollections Parker might have about the evening, he will soon learn how concrete the arrangement is.
Franklin continues his night-time meander. The air is much cooler now, but groups of girls stagger past dressed in mere scraps of material. Drunken males shout and leer and laugh. One young man falls and bangs his head on the pavement. His comrades cheer, then haul him to his feet and drag him away. Despite the blood pouring from his head, he seems as joyful as the others.
Franklin feels no fear or intimidation, even though he is unfamiliar with this city. Raucous though its revellers are, they mean him no harm. When they shout to him, he smiles and waves back and they give him the thumbs-up. When they stop him and invite his opinion on Liverpool’s chances in the game at Anfield this coming Saturday, they seem in full agreement with his predicted score and continue on their merry way.
It’s love, of course, Franklin thinks. That’s why they are all so happy. Doesn’t matter that they’ve been drinking. He has seen time and time again how alcohol can intensify love and free it from the shackles of inhibition. It’s not for him, though. The small amount he allowed into his system when befriending Parker was enough to make his reasoning less sharp, his mind overcast and filled with thoughts that usually creep out only in his darkest moments. He is glad that his walk has cleared his head again, solidifying his purpose. That purpose being the helping hand he will extend to Parker and his girlfriend.
Well, ‘girlfriend’ in the loosest sense of the word.
It became clear during their discussions that Parker wasn’t entirely accurate in his portrayal of the relationship with Megan. Turns out they were once engaged, and in the spirit of equality Megan insisted they both have rings, but she later threw her own ring back at Parker when he questioned her feelings towards a previous boyfriend. What makes the situation even more complex is that said ex-boyfriend is also a copper – the sergeant in her unit, to be precise.
He’s an interesting one, is DS Nathan Cody. According to Parker, who in turn heard this from Megan, Cody has, to put it politely, ‘issues’. To Franklin, that just makes this case even more attractive. He could have fun with this. All in the name of spreading the love, of course.
As though to confirm his thoughts, a scantily clad hen party bundles out of one of the many nightspots in Concert Square. As they clatter down the steps in their heels, they sing All You Need is Love at the tops of their voices. Franklin smiles and watches them go. He almost wants to run after them and attempt to share their joy, but he knows that would be a mistake. He accepted long ago that his role in life is to help others experience the love denied to him.
An hour later, on a narrow, poorly lit side street, he thinks about calling it a night. It has been a successful few hours, but now he is tiring, and there is much to do tomorrow.
As he reaches a junction, he hears raised voices. But there is no friendship in these voices, no amusement, no elation. These are voices filled with hate and anger and threat. They run contrary to all that Franklin wants in this world.
He halts at a concrete pillar and peers around it. On a small forecourt in front of a garage on the adjoining street, a young couple are arguing fiercely.
‘You kissed him!’ the man yells in her face. ‘You fucking sucked his face off!’
‘No, I never,’ the woman protests. ‘Where did you get that from?’
‘You were seen, girl.’
‘I wasn’t, ’cause it never happened. Seen where, anyway?’
‘In the club. Vicky saw you.’
‘Vicky? Oh, fuck off. Vicky’s a shit stirrer. She’s saying that because she hates me.’
‘Or because it’s true.’
‘It’s not true. Stop being such a wanker, Sean.’
‘Don’t call me a wanker, you fucking bitch.’
Franklin watches and listens. As the argument escalates, his heart sinks. Usually, he manages to maintain a sense of optimism, because most things can be fixed. All they need is the right touch. But sometimes a tipping point is reached. Relationships become so damaged they are irreparable. Franklin senses that this one is well down that slippery slope.
The love has gone here, he thinks. Its absence is leaving an ugly, gaping hole.
He is not surprised when the violence begins. Something had to fill the hole, and love is often replaced by its opposite.
She hits out first. A simple slap. A real man would accept the message of it and walk away, realising that continuance would be fruitless and damaging. But Franklin reads the atmosphere and knows that a starting pistol has been fired.
He sees the return slap from Sean, and then the way in which the girl launches herself at him with fingernails brandished, and then he sees the punches, the retaliatory blows that are as forceful as they are disproportionate, raining down on the woman even after she falls at his feet, continuing until she is barely conscious and moaning through her shattered jaw and teeth.
‘You asked for that!’ Sean screams at her in a pathetic attempt to justify his actions. ‘You fucking asked for it!’
He makes no attempt to tend to her. He does not even apologise. He simply turns his back on her and marches stiffly away, fury still knotting his muscles.
As Sean heads his way, Franklin secretes himself behind the pillar. His heart rate is normal, his breathing calm. The outbreak of violence has not caused any measurable rush of adrenaline within him, and he is not afraid for his own safety. His only emotion is a profound sense of loss, and even that is quickly washed away by a crystal-clear understanding of what must happen next.
He waits for the man to come past him, and then he says in a measured tone, ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Sean.’
Sean whips around, clearly startled. He narrows his eyes at the figure in the shadows.
‘Who are you?’ He takes a step closer, his fists bunching. ‘Who the fuck are you?’
Franklin doesn’t move. He keeps his gaze fixed on Sean. ‘I saw what you just did to that girl. You went too far, Sean.’
Another step forwards. ‘What the fuck’s it got to do with you, dickhead?’
‘Everything. It’s got everything to do with me. We all share this planet. We need to be nice to each other. We need to love each other.’
Sean shakes his head. ‘You’re mental, you are. Go on, piss off!’
He starts to turn away but stops when Franklin says, ‘I can’t do that, Sean. You need to be shown where you went wrong. You need to learn by your mistakes.’
