Mystery Man by Colin Bateman

made the universal sign for wanking. 'It was quite funny!'
    She returned the sign again. 'I don't think yer man thought it was funny!'
    'Well, he is a bit of a . . .' And I repeated the hand movement.
    If a third person had been watching us from a vantage point equidistant between the two of us, and happened to be deaf, and was translating for a fourth party, he would have said that the conversation went like this:
    'Wanker!'
    'Wanker!'
    'Wanker!'
    'Wanker!'
    And thought we were demented.
    'Can I buy you a coffee?' Alison asked.
    Result!
    'Yes, please!'
    She pointed along the street. There was a Starbucks about a hundred yards up. She nodded behind her, then gave me a different hand signal. Five minutes. She returned to her jewellery store, and I returned to my bookshop, where all the books are chosen by me and not by a committee of accountants. Jeff arrived as I was brushing my teeth.
    'Look after things, I've been invited out for coffee.'
    'Really? Who by?'
    'Alison.'
    'Alison? Who's Alison?'
    'From the jewellery shop,' I beamed.
    'My God, how did you manage that?'
    I shrugged.
    'Is she your girlfriend ?'
    'I'm just going for coffee.'
    'With your girlfriend .'
    I looked at him. 'While I'm gone, make yourself useful. I want you to Google ballet and Auschwitz together, see what you get.'
    I would have done it myself the day before, but I don't work on Sundays. I promised my father. He's in heaven now, but watching.
    ' Ballet and . . . why?' Jeff asked.
    'Because,' I said.

    Jeff would have had a coronary if he'd known we were in Starbucks. He has marched against globalisation. I'm all for it. I'm all for uniformity of choice and familiarity. If I had my way there would be a No Alibis on every corner. I like the Starbucks menu. I start at the top and work my way through to the end. I never jump around. It takes me three weeks. Then I start over again. When they occasionally change their menu, it really fucks me up. Coffee is coffee to me, I don't mind what country it comes from, who picks it or under what conditions, and I really don't give a damn who serves it or what they're paid as long as they get it right. With Alison I'd gotten as far that month as a caramel frappuccino, served in a tall glass with a pink striped straw. She had a black coffee.
    'I used to collect comics,' I said, 'but my dad didn't approve, so I had to keep them hidden and only read them with a torch under the bedclothes. I suppose it made it quite exciting. I had a complete run of Sub-Mariner, a complete Avengers – though only the British weekly version. My two favourite comics of all time are Amazing Adventures 18 featuring "War of the Worlds" – you know, with Killraven, Gerry Conway wrote it, Neal Adams and Howard Chaykin drew it – and Astonishing Tales 25 featuring the origin of "Deathlok the Demolisher". Doug Moench wrote it, Rich Buckler drew it. And anything by Jim Starlin, he's a god.'
    'Jeez,' said Alison, 'you're a bit of a geek-boy, aren't you? I'm not really into superheroes.'
    'Oh,' I said.
    I stirred my coffee. I'd been working on my opening pitch during those eternal five minutes and was now uncertain how to continue.
    Alison stirred her coffee. 'The binoculars,' she said. 'Is that to do with your investigating? I was told that's what you do in your spare time.'
    'Yes, they are.'
    'You're a crime-fighter.'
    'Yes, I am.'
    'And is that idiot boy who works in your shop . . . ?'
    'Jeff? How do you know he's an idiot?'
    'Because every time I pop in he tries to persuade me to go to an Amnesty International meeting with him. He should take no for an answer and concentrate on selling books.'
    'I didn't realise you'd ever been in the shop.'
    'Oh yeah, stacks a times. You're never there. Lunchtimes is the only chance I get.'
    'Jeff never said.'
    'Why would he?'
    'Why would he indeed.'
    'Anyway, is he your crime-fighting sidekick?'
    'Well, I'm more like a PI, and PIs don't really have sidekicks. We walk these dark streets alone.'
    'Do you