Page 14 - double revenge 3.

THE BRICKLAYERS PUBLIC HOUSE
OFF EDGWARE ROAD

LONDON

TH
SATURDAY APRIL 11 1998
The Bricklayers at Saturday lunchtime was a different pub altogether. Gone was the hubbub of
American accent and excited chatter to be replaced with a ticking clock and someone in the corner
holding the newspaper close trying to read in the half-light. Takings at weekends could scarcely pay

for the electricity, which was probably why the lighting concentrated solely on the optics. The
lovely Sylvie had been replaced with a fresh faced and bored looking young man earning a few quid
to supplement his student loan.

At the window table sat Mex and the most stunning South American girl I have ever seen. South
American she had to be with those enormous black eyes and hair in matching colour but with her
gorgeous long neck, she looked to be more comfortable with Ballet than Tango. She wore a grey
two-piece suit with a pencil skirt that emphasised her long legs and I stood admiring her far longer

than politeness permitted.

‘Hey Bryant, over here. I have a glass of beer for you,’ as I approached Mex continued, ‘this is
Gabriela Del Rosario Morales. Gabriela this is my friend Bryant I told you about who works in the
immigration office.’

For the first time the girl looked at me and I wondered if she could see the surprise on my face at
being introduced as an immigration officer.

‘Hello. I understand you are looking for Arnold, I look for him too. We are engaged to be married
but why you are looking for him?’ Her smoky voice and accent sent shivers down my spine. I
thought I had better play the part Mex had casted.

‘We believe there may have been some irregularities with importation of money. It is nothing too
serious. So what can you tell me Senorita Morales?’

I sat down and she looked at me directly.

‘Arnold and I met at Foxboro Stadium, I am a football fan, and it was love at first sight. Within

weeks I had agreed to marry him and we came to London to look for an apartment to buy so we
could divide our time between London and Boston’

‘What do you do for a living?’ I knew the answer already.

‘I am a model.’

‘And what about Arnold?’