Felix in the Underworld by John Mortimer Page B

under a “suitable pseudonym”, “confidentiality guaranteed”. A well-known male sportswriter, who shall be entirely nameless, does the Sadie at School series under the name of Petunia d’Aquitaine. We could cloak you, Mr Morsom, under some such similar disguise.’
    â€˜I just called in here to see one of your staff’
    â€˜Staff Mr Morsom? We are a “slender outfit”, sir. Very “slimmed down” indeed.’ The chairman of Epsilon Books, who had introduced himself as Jasper Kettering – a name which sounded to Felix as spurious as Petunia d’Aquitaine – was a tall, florid man, dressed in a tweed jacket and spotted bow-tie, whose hands trembled and whose hair looked as though it had been dyed with boot polish. He spoke largely in inverted commas as he stood in the middle of the basement room in Gordon Square, among piles of cardboard boxes and forgotten manuscripts, and waved a large, shaky hand at his secretary who, wrapped in a plaid shawl, grinned at them from behind her typewriter.
    â€˜And Gavin Piercey?’
    â€˜Gavin?’ Jasper Kettering looked doubtful for a moment, as though he had been spoken to in a foreign language.
    â€˜Piercey.’
    â€˜Oh, Gavin Piercey!’ Kettering beamed in delighted recognition. ‘Epsilon, as I always say, stands on “twin pillars”. Miss Trigg is one and Gavin Piercey’s the other. “Tireless on the road”. Much loved in the bookshops which deal with “specialized and selective reading”. Gavin is the sort that “won’t take no for an answer”. Without Gavin, Epsilon would long ago have been on “queer street”. And without Miss Trigg too, of course. The only “fly in our own little brand of ointment” is. . .’
    â€˜Gavin seems to have vanished.’ The secretary was smiling broadly, as though Gavin’s disappearance was an irresistible joke.
    â€˜Not vanished, Miss Trigg. It’s far too soon to say he’s vanished. Let’s say a “strange silence” has fallen over him.’
    â€˜Silence?’ Felix was puzzled. ‘From all I’ve heard Gavin’s been far from silent.’
    â€˜He has favoured us’ – Mr Kettering looked solemn – ‘with a quite unusual silence. When he’s “on the road” Gavin usually “calls in” two or three times a day to “touch base”. Isn’t that so, Miss Trigg?’
    â€˜Oh, more often than that, Mr Kettering.’ Miss Trigg sighed patiently. ‘Considerably more often than that.’
    â€˜But for the last three days “not a squeak”. Am I right, Miss Trigg?’
    â€˜Entirely right, Mr Kettering.’
    â€˜And we have telephoned his home number?’
    â€˜Repeatedly. All I’ve listened to for the last three days is Gavin on his answering machine.’ Miss Trigg indulged in a little light laughter as though Gavin’s repeated message was in every way more enjoyable than Gavin direct.
    â€˜Could you possibly give me his address?’
    â€˜Could we give Mr Morsom Gavin’s address, Miss Trigg? Can you see “any objections”? I don’t believe there could be any “serious objection” if you were to “scribble it down”.’
    Miss Trigg scribbled it down on a small square of yellow paper and gave it to Felix as though she were glad of being shot of something distasteful. Mr Kettering said, ‘Is there any message we should pass on, Mr Morsom, when Gavin “puts in an appearance”?’
    â€˜Just tell him to shut up! That’s all. Just tell him I came to shut him up.’ Something about the stuffy basement office and Mr Kettering’s oleaginous presence had restored to Felix the delightful feeling of being about to lose his temper. He slipped the yellow paper into his jacket pocket and said goodbye to Epsilon Books.
    The next day, when he was