Seven Day Fool

By Jason Disley

Being a Private Eye is sometimes a thankless and mundane job. The year is 1965 and Jake Brody Private Eye, is in desperate need of clients.

When, an attractive woman enters his office and hires him, little does he realise that his week ahead is going to be one that has to be lived to be believed. Seven Day Fool takes Jake on a thrilling chase through the shadowy underworld of Manchester nightlife. From its hip café bars, such as The Cona, to the shady nightclubs where the Northern Mods liked to frequent, like the The Twisted Wheel. He is tasked with finding a missing Polish girl, but has just one week to do so, and no longer. The clock is ticking, ever faster, as fresh dangers come into play.

The consequences of not finding her could, in turn, create a scandal for a ruling class still reeling from the Profumo affair. Gangsters, kidnapping, and murder are just a few of the hurdles he has to face. Will he manage to do what he needs to - or, will he end up the fool for just trying to do the right thing?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9780244575434

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Seven Day Fool

SEVEN DAY FOOL

Jason Disley

COPYRIGHT 2017 JASON DISLEY

PUBLISHED BY SUAVE COLLECTIVE 2017

Thanks To:

Firstly, my wonderful wife Shirley, and our gorgeous children, for their continued support and encouragement as I indulge myself with my writing. I would also like to especially thank Jason Brummell for his wisdom, faith and inspiration - that has helped me to grab the moment and do what I always wanted to do. My good friend Mark Head AKA Mr. H for his sterling artwork on the cover, my Aunt Sally who used to frequent the Jungfrau and other places in Manchester back in the 1960s and helped with some first-hand information and experiences of the time.

I am also grateful for the rich history of Manchester's Twisted Wheel Club, which provided the musical soundtrack to so many people.  Especially the music played by one of the most influential DJ's of the time Roger Eagle. I also feel there is a special need to thank Billy Davis who wrote the R&B song Seven Day Fool, and of course Etta James -  who recorded the song for Argo Records, a subsidiary of Chess Records, back in 1961. If it wasn't for this song - the inspiration for the story may never have come about. 

I also wish to acknowledge my inspiration and perhaps structure to my tale as being influenced by great detective and pulp fiction writers of the past -there are too many to name -but I am sure if you like those genres and spy novels for that matter -you will know where my inspiration lies.

Lastly, I wish to thank a handful of friends who have been supportive of my writing. Steve Margrain, Mark Hynds, Rick Blackman, Matteo Sedazzari; Gary Malby, Chris Free, Bobby Tarlton, Toby Kinder; Ash Raddon, Stephen Nixey and Sheila Hughes plus all of those other friends and family members who have encouraged me along the way.

And finally…

To my Dad, Peter Disley - whose own taste in music, film and collection of James Bond -Pan paperbacks had such an influence. It was these things that fuelled my interests from an early age -and for that I will always be eternally grateful.

Cover Design:

www.mrhillustration.com

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Printed by Colour Five:

www.colourfive.net

Dedication:

To the New Beats, the Suave Collective and the go-getters of every generation whose belief is that they can achieve something if they just give it a go.

Chapter One

Monday - introducing The Twisted Wheel

It all started how you would expect. I was sat in my small office nursing a hangover from the night before. The office was on the fourth floor of an old building, that at one time had been a textile factory, here in the great city of the North West, Manchester. It was a building with a history and could probably tell you a tale or two of days gone by. Now let me tell you a tale that happened on this particularly eventful week in the year of 1965.

She knocked, rat-a-tat-tat on the door, at first, I could only see her silhouette, through the smoked glass window in the door. The dame looked to have a figure that turned heads and made grown men swallow before they could speak. I swallowed and said Come in.

The door opened and in walked an attractive brunette with the most amazing green eyes I'd ever seen. They looked like pieces of Jade taken from a treasure of the first Ming dynasty. They shone with what I initially thought was a gleaming radiance, but on closer inspection I realised that the dame had been crying. She spoke with a hesitant faltering voice that had a huskiness that was as attractive as she was,

J- Ja- Jake Brody? she asked.

As the legend on the door says 'Jake Brody - Private Investigator' at your service I said, perhaps too brightly. The presence of an attractive woman can do that to a guy. And boy was she attractive! Her long dark hair fell in free flowing, slightly wavy tresses down one side of her head, the other side was tucked behind her small but perfectly shaped ear. Beneath those stunning green eyes was a slim aquiline nose that had a slight upturn at the end, which gave her a proud air, despite her obvious present misfortunes. Her mouth, coated in a light shade of red lipstick had voluptuous lips that were full without being bloated and pouty. She sort of sidled up to the desk, perching herself on its corner, making her tight knee length skirt rise a bit, exposing long shapely legs and killer heels, the centre seam of her hosiery accentuating the curve of her fine calves.

Meester Brody? She said with a slight accent, making her voice sound Slavic or Balkan.

Miss?

Please just call me Astrid. I am… recently arrived from Poland, I will not bore you with too many details, I… just need your help on a matter of erm how shall I put it great perzonal importance.

Well, miss, er - Astrid - its details I need if I am going to help you. Please at least give me some information that would help me get started on this case if I am at all going to be any help to you

The Polish woman's piercing emerald eyes glinted,

Alas - there is little detail I can give you as… too er much knowledge would be dangerous for not only you - but for me also.

I nodded, Hmmm. Well then, I am not sure I can help you -perhaps you should go to the Police? Like, most people would do.

At my word, she rose from the corner of the desk and walked towards the window, her back towards me. Once more I took in her slim figure and swallowed, she was attractive alright, her dark hair fell to her shoulders, her waist was waspish and legs were long.

Pah! The Police are no good to me. They do not care and would not help.

So er Astrid tell me what has happened? I asked, trying to sound like someone who cared.

She turned to face me again, this time I could really see a sadness in her face, and shadows of fatigue that I had not noticed before, when she had first glided in and I had had to gulp for breath. It seemed her initial confidence was waning. The contrast was quite marked.

It’s my younger sister. She has disappeared. I fear she has been snatched. The Police as yet will not acknowledge she is even missing. I need you to help me find her. I will pay handsomely if you find her Meester Brody. she said, dabbing a tissue at her now damp eyes.

You need to start from the beginning and tell me what you know, Miss. Honestly, if you expect me to help, I need to know what I am getting involved in.

The tale she then told was one that could have been from a movie or a book. Yet she was adamant it was fact and not fiction. I sighed after she left, and lit another cigarette, and then reached for the phone,

Bill we need to talk.

Twenty minutes later I was walking down Deansgate in Manchester’s city centre. Manchester is a formidable city, and still had some very interesting architecture. The ravages of the War had almost gone as many new buildings had been built, but also there were many buildings that had withstood the test of time and had survived almost unchanged. Bill who I was on my way to see, was a Barber by trade, and outside his parlour was the familiar red white and blue striped pole that was the standard for the business. A family business that had existed since before the Second World War.

Bill nodded to me when I walked in, he was just finishing the hair on the young man in the chair. The man's hair was what you'd call short and neat, it tapered in at the nape of the neck and was slightly lifted and backcombed on the crown with an almost central parting and the fringe fell mid-way on his forehead. A style that was favoured amongst the hip young men that were seen around town these days looking sharply dressed in the Mod style. This young man looked pleased with the result and when he stood up from the Barber's chair he handed over a crisp note telling Bill to keep the change. Bill smiled with gratitude and thanked the young man with,

I'll see you in a couple of weeks Lou

With that the young man had pulled on a calf length mac over a checked button-down shirt and, what looked to me, like a pair of denim jeans, possibly Levis, and he was gone.

As soon as the young man had exited Bill put the closed sign on the door and switched off the light on his red, white and blue Barber's pole.

Need a drink Jake?

Sure Bill, I'll have a cuppa. Don't want anything stronger I need to think. I said. Tell me Bill, you cut the hair of quite a few of these young blokes like Lou -do they ever mention a night club called The Twisted Wheel?

Aye they do Jake. Apparently, it’s the best place for these young’ns to go. It’s all about this 'beat' music and something called 'Soul'. It seems its where they hang out. There is a coffee bar and then a club down stairs. Its open all night, I have been led to believe. They have live acts there too that play at some stupid hour like two in the morning. They’re a mad bunch this lot but come in for haircuts regular like and are always on about music and clothes.

Hmm Bill, cheers! Does there seem to be any bother there?

"Not really -I think the Council don’t like it being open all night and the Police are always thinking there is going to be some, but apart from the odd scuffle I think it’s just where the