I watched the girl in the window pick up her phone from where I hid on Blackpool Road. Powell was moving quicker than I thought. That wasn't good.
I ran quickly down Blackpool Road, panting as I heard the acceleration of a car far away. I was running past the therapists when I realised a flaw in my plan. I grabbed my phone and called James, the one who drives the van. He said he was busy, on a date or something with his new girlfriend, but I insisted he came. So that's exactly what he did.
I saw James white van pull to a stop on Miss Polonskous' road and so I ran towards the van, signalling for James to get out. I knew Powell was still watching me from the corner of the street, so I took another sip from the hip flash I started using when the girl in the window had started watching me. James walked over to me, looking unhappy, not that I could be sure.
"Thanks for this James. Are you ready for a magic trick?"
He looked at me grimacing. "Are you serious?"
"Ok." I returned. "You can be my glamorous assistant. When I knock this fake knife against you, I want you to fall to the floor and pretend to be dead. Ok?"
He nodded his head.
I checked over my shoulder, making sure Powell was still watching, scratched my head and thrust my fake knife into James' chest. He fell to the floor, a bit overly dramatically, and I sat down on the wall.
It had got me the reaction I craved.
DS Powell ran towards me screaming, quite unoriginally, "Police! Stop!"
I climbed up from the wall. "Hello," I paused, as if to give the illusion I was looking at the name tag on his belt. I didn't need to though, as I recognised the registration plate on Powells car, "DS Powell."
The whole situation had made me confused as to who the man I'd invited was- not only do I have face blindness, but my memory's awful as well- so I used the first name that came into my head. "You can get up now, George."
The dead body climbed up, obviously finding it funny now that he knew what this was all about. "Its James, Miles."
"Oh, sorry. Wait in the van, I'll talk to Powell here."
James said something I didn't quite hear and then went back to the van. The policeman stopped in front of me. "I knew you weren't face blind!" He cried.
"In correct once again, Detective!" I replied.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your name is on the pass on the belt." I lied.
He shook his head. "What rubbish!"
"The need not to look straight at your face allows me to observe minor details. Such as the fact your notebook is in your left pocket. I know that because the pocket has a slight bump in."
He shook his head. "That's my wallet Fletcher, my notebook is in this top pocket." He tapped the pocket on his breast.
"Can't always be right! Anyway, nice to see you here, DS Powell. How can I help you?" I took another swig.
"I want to know why you're here?"
"Because I wanted to give my condolences to the other Miss Polonskous."
"Well, at the station, we'd rather it if you'd leave Miss Polonskous and any other elements of this case alone. Now, get along on your way."
I gave the signal to James in the van. He drove off. I turned back around. "Not likely."
"Are you refusing?"
I walked forwards a bit and took a swig from my hip flask. "Yes I am!"
"You've five seconds to change your mind."
I took another swig and started walking towards him, tripping slightly. I fell on him, pretending to be drunk. My hands flapped all over his chest, as I'd intended for them to, and I managed to pinch his notebook, as I'd intended to. "Right then," he said. "Let's get you back to the theatre."
He helped me across the road to the car and stuck me in the back, taking my fake knife, coming so close to finding the notebook.
He drove me back to the theatre and, pulling the car to a stop, helped me towards the box office. He got the girl on reception to look after him and he walked out.
I continued my drunk act for slightly longer, until I was sure he was gone. I jumped up, surprising the girl and shouted, sarcastically and in honour of Holmes, "The Game is Afoot!" Swinging DS Powells notebook in the air.
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