Chapter 2

We rang all twenty-six of the car owners on Friday, after looking at the addresses and working out a circular route. Two had on-sold their purchase as replicas, both to American buyers. All of the others were happy to see us, after we told them that we had located the manufacturer. We had our first meeting on Sunday afternoon, with the last on the following Saturday.

We packed for a week and Hassam took Lena to pick up a car on Sunday. She arrived at the office in an old Austin thirteen hundred, great on fuel but short on space. We loaded me up and I drove to her to her home, where she dashed in and came out with her case. We went off to Surrey and our first call.

The car owner was happy when we left. His turbocharged MG V8 with its modified chassis would be coming out on our first social run. He gave us a cheque for his first year of membership of a club we had yet to start.

There was another call in Surrey, this time an ordinary looking, but highly modified Austin Healey would be seeing the light of day on club runs. We carried on to Brighton and our hotel, the next two calls being near Arundel on Monday, followed by one at Petworth before our hotel. By the end of that day, a Jaguar XK150 and two Triumph TR6’s had been shown to us and another three members had joined.

We worked our way up to Shrewsbury, and then across towards Leicester, Peterborough and down to Oxford, our last call on Friday being near the University City. That one was the odd one out. By the time we had arrived there, we had twenty-two founding members who we left with smiles.

The man we saw on the Friday afternoon had bought an Alvis, one with a vee-eight and disc brakes. It was a very lovely motor car, though. After we had explained about the reason we were there, and the idea of the club, he became the twenty-third founder member. Then he sat us down to tell us what was on his mind,

“My daughter disappeared more than two years ago. She went into London and never came home. I went to the police and reported her missing, but they haven’t found a trace of her. Can you take a couple of weeks to see what you can find. I have her picture and the list of her contacts that I gave the police.”

We took the job, took his cheque, the list and a couple of photos. Her name was Veronica, and she was eighteen when she left home. Instead of heading to our hotel, we stayed in the area and spoke to her friends. It may have been that we were women, or it may have been that we weren’t the police, but we left the area with a lot of information that they hadn’t given earlier. Veronica wasn’t the perfect girl her father thought she was. She was early in becoming a cocaine junky, more of a slut than I was at her age, and was spending nights at a boyfriends’ flat, rather than with the old school friend that would cover for her if called.

We checked in late and just had snacks in our rooms. Saturday morning, we had one last call near Windsor, signing up the twenty-fourth member and gazing at a another shed full of wonderful cars. I dropped Lena at her home, and then stopped outside the office to put my bags inside, before locking up and heading to give the Austin back, with a sigh of relief. I called Hassam on the way, stopped to fill the tank, and he delivered me back at the office. Actually, we stopped at the Italian restaurant where we had lunch and I walked from there, around the corner.

It had been a very successful week. We had cheques worth twenty-four thousand pounds to be deposited into a bank account that we had to open, for a club that didn’t exist. We had two cheques for five thousand each, one for the completed job for Winston, the other for working on the Veronica case.

That afternoon, I caught up with my laundry and relaxed, wondering why Veronica ran away. From what we had been told, she had been a good student, had a secure future with one of her fathers’ businesses, was well liked by her friends, and was quite beautiful. I looked at the photos we have been given. She looked radiant in both, as if she could be a model. Her crowning glory was just that, glorious, shiny, cherry-red hair, similar in colour to the wig that Lena had.

When Lena came in Monday, she set to work creating the ‘Replicants Car Club’. She would have to talk to the overriding federation to register the name, then see the authorities about registering it as an association. When that was done, the cheques needed to be banked. The first thing she did do, however, was to design a logo, create a letterhead and business card with the office as the club address, then she did an email which went to all the new members, and our patron, to announce the club was being formed.

I spent my time looking for Veronicas’ boyfriend. All I had been given was that his name was Duane Shipman, and that he lived somewhere in London. After finding about fifty Shipman’s in the phone book, I decided to get the assistance of my friend at the Yard, George Hounslow.

When I rang the Yard, they put me through to Superintendent Hounslow. I congratulated him on his elevation in the ranks, and after some small talk, asked him if he could see if there was anything on the computer on a Duane Shipman, aged in his early twenties, and likely to have some link with cocaine dealing. He told me that he would put someone on it and get back to me.

On Tuesday, he rang me back.

“You can sure pick them, Maxie. That Shipman lad has a sheet a mile long. Mostly assault, but a few cases of having drugs on his person. He’s been quiet for a year, or two. From what the uniformed on his patch tell me, he’s now almost ready to burst if he doesn’t get his fix every day. They make sure that whenever he’s involved, they see him in twos.”

He gave me the address in South Ruislip and wished me well. I checked the address on the map. It was an interesting location for a dealer. There was a business park only a stone’s throw away, the train station a short walk, and the shopping centre and cinema complex on the other side of the train tracks. If you could invent somewhere that you could deal without being noticed, this was it. George emailed me his mug shot, and he didn’t look half bad, in a bad boy sort of way.

On Wednesday, I got Hassam to take me to the end of his road, and to go around the corner to wait for me. I walked slowly along the street until I got to his address. The houses were all triple-house tenements, with one or two being just semi-detached, to fit into the available space. I kept my eyes wide open until I saw the flutter of lace curtain in the front window of a nearby house.

I went up and knocked on that door, which opened to reveal an elderly lady.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Duane Shipman, but I’ve forgotten the house number.”

“You don’t want nothing to do with that trash, lady. That man is bad news. If you’re after drugs, forget it, he looks like he can’t get enough for himself.”

“Oh dear, I was told that he could get me work, I’m a secretary and just got made redundant.”

“You poor girl. Come in and I’ll tell you the sort of jobs that he would be able to get you.”

Over a cup of tea, I found out almost everything I needed to know about Duane. He was a dealer, a pimp, and a violent man, although not as bad as his cousin, who hasn’t been around for a couple of years, thankfully. Duane had gone off the rails when the cousin stopped living with him, the bigger man seeming to be the leader. I also discovered that the endless stream of young girls that had been seen in the street had also tapered off, with me being the best dressed that she had seen.

I told her that I had been given the address by the daughter of a friend, a good-looking girl with gorgeous cherry-red hair.

“Her! She was in and out of that house for weeks, then I didn’t see her anymore. I expect that he passed her on to one of the brothels he supplied.”

“Do you know, for certain, that he supplied brothels with girls?”

“Angie, from four doors down, told me that her son had been to a brothel where he saw one of the girls that he lusted after. He had seen her in the street. Her son is doing time for burglary.”

When I left, I met up with Hassam and he took me back to the office. I called George again and got his direct email address, telling him that I was going to send him a picture of a girl, with the request that he ask Vice if she had come up in any raids. I gave him her name.

On Friday, I got an email from a Vice Squad at Ruislip. He sent me the sheet on Veronica, AKA Vonnie Red. She had been working at a brothel that had been raided due to an altercation with one of the clients. Veronica had been high as a kite when taken in, but wasn’t charged, as she wasn’t in any fit state to look after a client. That was the only time she was interviewed. The mug shot showed her looking a lot less beautiful than she had been less than a year earlier.

I contacted her father and organised a visit. I got Hassam to take me there on Saturday, taking my notes and the emails. The parents broke down as I gave them the news. There wasn’t any more that I could do for them. Their daughter was now lost to them, somewhere in the network of brothels or buried in a paupers grave due to an overdose. When they gathered themselves, they both thanked me for my work, saying that it did give them some closure, now knowing that she wouldn’t walk through the door.

He told me that he was looking forward to getting his car out and returning to a normal life, without the wondering. Hassam drove me home and I sat on my sofa, thinking that some girls throw so much away to get a fix.

The weeks went by with normal jobs that we were becoming used to. Retail crime, lost husbands, all the usual. Lena threw herself into getting the car club going, and we had our first social event on a sunny summer day. She had booked tables at a country hotel with a big car park. Hassam organised an old S-Type from his friend and drove us there.

It was the fulfilment of a dream for many that attended. The car park was an array of cars shining in the sun, and many spoke about how happy they, and their families, were, to be able to drive such a joy, without fear of being put down.

We had invited Grayson Smythe, and the owners all congratulated him on the engineering that went into their purchases. Many gave him a bit of complaint about his advertising methods, but it was all in good humour. He had notified a few of his customers about the event, and we had a few of the classic kit cars among the others. We had a good meal and Lena announced that, with the help of Winston, we would host a track day at Silverstone.

We left that lunch with five new members. Many telling us that it was nice to be able to appreciate the very special vehicles that they owned. The kit car owners must have spoken to their friends, because we had another ten members before the day of the Silverstone track day came around. Hassam took us there, wondering how many we would get.

What we didn’t expect on that day was the sheer numbers that turned up. We had charged a hundred a car to cover the cost of a few marshals and event insurance. I stood on the gate, taking money, as the cars streamed in, several on trailers, and some with families in cars behind them. By the time of the first open track came around, there must have been at least two hundred cars in the paddock. I shut the gate, putting a notice on it that the track was shut for a private event and to ring my mobile if anyone wanted to join in.

When I looked at what was happening, it was in amazement. Winston joined me and told me that the boys in the main car clubs had been talking about the Replicants, and that many of them had racing cars that only got out on big events, like the one at Goodwood. Not only was he not being pilloried by his fellow members for having a classic special, but he was also now being lauded for being the front man of such a laid-back club where the only intention was to have fun, not compete.

My mobile rang and I heard someone ask if they could come in, so I trekked up to the gate to find a familiar Aston Martin with a smiling Bertie in the driving seat. Behind him was a line of very expensive supercars.

“Hello, Debbie. Me and the boys from the bands are out for a drive. We had heard that there was to be a track day and wondered if we could join in.”

I opened the gate and took the money as he led another nine cars into the track. I closed the gate again, tearing the bit off the notice to call my mobile. Back in the paddock, the ones that had been to this kind of event were sorting things out. The order of the day was that there would be a forty-minute session for road cars, without the need for helmets but a hundred mile an hour maximum speed. Then one for cars with rollbars and proper tyres, helmets required and unlimited speed. Then one for pure race cars. After lunch it would be repeated until everyone went home.

I had two rides in the morning. One with Bertie in the Aston, with him driving for twenty minutes, with a stop in the pits to change seats and me letting it have its head for the next fifteen minutes. The other was with Winston in the XK special. That was a revelation, as he let me drive it for the whole session, and I had great fun. He had brought spare wheels with race tyres on, and it handled like a rocket. I found out that Grayson had installed rollbar mounts for just this sort of activity on all his cars, and the owners were having a ball, throwing their cars into corners.

We had lunch and I sat with Bertie, being told how successful the tour that he had organised went. The band members all had fun, the families enjoyed meeting them and there was a lot of joy and laughter during the day. In the afternoon, I sat, cuddled by Bertie, with him asking me why I wasn’t a blonde anymore, and why everyone called me Maxine.

I told him the truth that I had been under cover when I had met him before and was working for David and Dee. I gave him one of my cards to prove that I was a PI. I lied when I told him that I had been investigating one of the bookies for illegal insider dealings and possible horse doping. As we watched the cars go around, guys would come up and ask me about the club, with me handing out application forms that we had printed up.

I saw Lena in several different cars, having a lot of fun. It was good to see her so happy and enjoying life. While the last sessions were going on, she came over and I introduced her to Bertie, and she said that she recognised him from Ascot. He didn’t recognise her, as she had been Mauve Man at the time. I gave her the remains of the applications, and the bag with the money, and told her that I would see her Monday.

I don’t know why I felt the way I was feeling. I didn’t do boys the second time around, except for the soccer captain and Allan. It was weird sitting there with his arm around me, almost like being swaddled in a favourite dressing gown. I didn’t want to move, just sit back, and watch everyone have fun. That, in itself, was a feeling of contentment. I think that he may be feeling the same as he kissed my hair and whispered.

“I thought that I’d never see you again. I know it was a poor show to rush off, but that tour has been the making of me. There are others who want me to talk to them about tours, some up to five years away. I tried to ring when it settled down, but the number had been cut off.”

“A lot has happened since I gave you that number, Bertie. I have moved to a place in Soho with a first-floor office with living quarters over that. Lena is now my business partner, and we do a lot of retail investigating, as well as some special jobs. One of which led us to be where we are now. The man with the XK120 had bought it sight unseen, thinking that it could be an original. You can see by the way it goes today that it’s highly modified. He wanted us to find the seller, and we also found a couple of dozen others who had bought specials, thinking that they were genuine. Most of them are here today having fun and driving their cars as they should be driven.”

“And this Replicants club?”

“That was Lenas’ idea. We’ve registered it with our office as the home. Our original client is the patron, and, if today is any indication, the membership will be growing. It’s a thousand a year to be a member, and we organise socials. Lena has ordered a new-build Stag to relive her younger days, and Grayson is on the lookout for a Daimler Dart for me. I drove one that had been used as a motorway pursuit car when I was training for the police. I sold the Mercedes that I had when I met you, and we Uber at the moment.”

“Can I take you home, Lady Maxine?”

“You may, my Lord.”

I picked up my bag and we made our way towards his car. On the way, some of the band members came over and said how much they enjoyed themselves. One wanted to know where he could get one of those modified cars, so I pointed Grayson out to him. Another wanted to know where he could join up so I pointed out Lena, who, with her height and the very colourful kaftan she was wearing, couldn’t be missed.

Bertie said that he was leaving now, and they all gave me a hug and a kiss. It had been too long since that had happened to me. Bertie took us to the restaurant where he had taken me the first day we met. It was almost like coming home, as we were welcomed in. It didn’t seem like more than year since we were last here.

After that, we were back in his apartment at Canary Wharf, and not very long after that we were in his bed, and he was making me squeal with pleasure. There wasn’t any rush, and I wasn’t going anywhere else, even if he did snore. In fact, when he did go to sleep, he was quiet, just a snuffle or two. I cuddled into him and slept like a baby.

In the morning, we made love again before showering together. We had breakfast and he smiled.

“Did you notice the difference?”

“Only that you make wonderful love, and you don’t snore.”

“I took your advice and saw my doctor. I had a deviated septum, which didn’t take very long to fix. He told me that it could also lead to other sleep disorders of it hadn’t been fixed. Not only were you a lucky charm at the races, a lucky charm at that party, but you also improved my health.”

“My pleasure, my Lord.”

“Will you come back to me again?”

“I’m thinking about it. No more horse racing, though. That job I had to do last year was the last time I want to stand around watching horses.”

“When I met you, I had only gone to keep some friends happy. I wouldn’t mind if we could go to a few car races. When you do get your Dart, you can drive me. You can keep it here, if you want, I do have another car space to use.”

“That’s starting to sound like a more permanent situation. Is that what you want?”

His answer was to kiss me and lead me back into the bedroom. Just before lunch, and another shower later, we were dressed, and he took me to Soho. I guided him to Dean Street where we found a parking space, then took him to the office door. While I was opening up, he was looking at the toys in the shop next door.

I pulled him away and led him upstairs to show him the office, and then further up to see my home.

“This is impressive, all that talent confined to this space.”

“It’s a bloody sight bigger than the flat I was in before, and the two of us own it.”

We went back down to the street, and I locked up and led him to Little Italy, where we had our lunch. Afterwards, I told him that I had work to do before the morning. We arranged for him to pick me up on Friday evening, so I put together a small overnight bag with enough things to see me through to Sunday afternoon. He took it away when he left, after some prolonged kissing.

That evening, I sat on my sofa and did a lot of thinking. I was a girl who liked variation, yet I had just given him a bag with things of mine so I could spend forty-eight hours with him. I had felt happy when I saw him at the track gate, even more so as we sat, watching the cars. I felt relaxed, and at peace. Can it be love? Who knows, I certainly don’t, having never felt that way before. The earth didn’t move; should it? My heart didn’t go boombiddyboom. If it had I would have called for a paramedic.

On Monday morning, Lena came in with a big smile and gave me a hug.

“That event was a success in more ways than one, Maxie. We took over twenty grand at the gate, we already have ten new members, and you, my girl, looked as if you found love.”

“I’m not sure of that, Lena.”

“Tell me how many orgasms you had between then and now.”

I had to smile.

“I’m not sure, I lost count after the fifth, and that was only a couple of hours after dinner.”

Marianne Gregory © 2024