Nocturnal Read Free Page A

turn on the TV for months – I was sure they were going to pop up on Jerry Springer.”
    I sniggered with my mouth full, and a thick glob of chili suddenly went shooting up my nose, launching me into a raucous coughing fit. I backed away from the stand, bending over to clutch my thighs while I rode out the convulsions, all the time thinking – so much for playing it cool . But she only saw the funny side of my abrupt loss of composure, giggling as she circled the table to hand me a bottle of water. Even with my eyes watering and nostrils dripping, I loved being the focus of her attention.
    “Well, thank you Mister Reporter,” she teased as my spluttering drew to a close. “Who’s going to try my chili now?”
    I held up my hand, warning her not to make me laugh again. “Sorry, it was no reflection on your cooking.”
    “Oh well,” she sighed, moving back behind her table. “It’s not like I had a chance, anyway.”
    I righted myself and grabbed a wad of paper napkins from the table, wiping my hands and mouth. “Let me make it up to you,” I said, retrieving my camera from its satchel. “How would you like your picture in the paper?”
    She grinned wickedly. “I would love my picture in the paper. Do you know how much that would tick off the people round here?”
    She didn’t wait for direction, taking a proud stance beside her chili pot and flashing her best Suzy Homemaker smile. Watching her from behind the camera lens, I realized it wasn’t just her breathtaking appearance giving me goose bumps – it was the slow, deliberate way she moved, the mischievous lilt to her voice, and the hint of intimacy behind every subtle gesture. There was definitely an element of theater about her, like she was playing up to her sensual good looks, but I didn’t mind. Performance or not, she was completely captivating.
    “I should take your name,” I said, pulling out a pen and notepad even though there was zero chance I’d forget it.
    “Lucy. Lucy Piper.”
    “Thanks, Lucy,” I said, scribbling down her name. “I’m Peter, by the way.”
    She screwed up her nose. “ Peter? No, you don’t look like a Peter. I think Johnny suits you much better.”
    “I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.”
    “I guess it’s an insult to your name but a compliment to you.” Her eyes drifted into the meandering crowd and she sighed softly, perhaps thinking of the hours ahead. “Thanks for coming over, by the way. It can get pretty lonely out here.” 
    “No, thank you . My taste buds are still tingling. Honestly, that was some of the best chili I’ve tasted.”
    “Then you really should get out more,” she laughed.
    I shrugged, half turning. “Don’t forget tomorrow’s paper. It’ll be in the lifestyle section, next to the recipes.”
    “I’ll look out for it, Johnny.”
    I forced myself to leave, heading to the judges table to see if I could get an early word on their decision. I was already looking forward to driving straight home, locking my bedroom door, and fantasizing about Lucy Piper in her white keyhole dress. The fact she was probably married with young children crossed my mind, but only briefly. Instead, I chose to believe she was a bored, restless divorcee on the lookout for adventure – whether it was skydiving, a romantic weekend in Paris, or a long, passionate affair with a younger man.
    The wedding ring, I decided, was just to ward off the sleazebags.

3. “I don’t pretend to be normal”
     
    I left a note on Ralph T Emerson’s desk, advising him that a strange man had phoned at 1.05am, asking for Johnny. If he knew who the caller was, terrific, but if Ralph himself had been responsible, I hoped the nonchalant tone of my note would frustrate and bewilder him.
    Studying Ralph’s family snaps again, I found it hard to reconcile the ruddy-faced man with the sinister late night caller. Ralph appeared completely ineffectual, the kind of schlubby, middle-aged dad who appeared in ads for