Shooting in the Dark

d’you wanna tell me what this is all about?’
    ‘You wanna unload this house, right? Because it’s too big for you?’
    ‘In theory, yes. I’m not in a hurry. I’ve got Angeles staying here at the moment. The place’s got a function. It’s working for me.’
    ‘What about,’ Geordie said. ‘This’s just an example, OK? It’s not a true story. But what about if there was a sailor who fell into a hold on his ship and cracked his head open, smashed his brains around. The guy comes out of the hold and he’s having to hold his brains in with his hands, real mangled up.’
    ‘Don’t get carried away. I’ve got a picture of a sailor with brain damage.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Geordie agreed. ‘Brain damage. There’s this place can cure it, like a charity, but they’re full up with other brain-damaged sailors. Would you give the house to that charity so they could help the guy with the brain...?’
    ‘... Damage. Brain damage.’
    ‘Yeah, so they could help the guy with the brain damage. That’s what I said.’
    ‘You said the guy with the brain.’
    ‘Fuck, Sam, you know what I mean.’
    ‘Yeah, I might give it to some charity. I don’t know, I’d have to think about it. And it’d have to be after we’ve sorted this case. I’d need a place to stay, and Angeles can’t go back to her house until we’ve found the guy who killed her sister.’ He pulled Sheryl Crow’s Globe Sessions album from its sleeve and put the CD into the player, hit the start button.
    Geordie struck a listening pose, head cocked to one side. ‘I don’t know this.’
    ‘Angeles brought it. Morning music; get-me-out-of-here-I’m-being-hassled music.’
    Geordie did the shrugged shoulders trick. ‘I’m only asking a question.’
    ‘A couple of things remain to be sorted out of this bizarre exchange which you call asking a question.’
    ‘What’s that?’ said Geordie. He’d picked up the CD sleeve and was squinting at the small print, no longer giving Sam his full attention.
    ‘What are those,’ said Sam.
    Geordie looked up at him over the CD cover. ‘Eh?’
    ‘What are those,’ said Sam. ‘Not: What’s that. If I say there’s a couple of things to be sorted, you can’t say, “What’s that?” A couple of things is plural.’
    ‘What are those, boss?’
    ‘First thing is, you can’t cure brain damage.’
    ‘How d’you know?’
    ‘I’ve heard you can’t cure it, I’ve read it somewhere. And it stands to reason, if the brain gets physically damaged, you can’t really mend it. Ever hear of a brain transplant?’
    ‘What you’ll probably find,’ said Geordie, ‘some brain damages you can mend, others you can’t. This sailor guy had the kind you could mend, but the charity was too full, busy mending other brains. You ever hear of brain surgery?’
    ‘You said it wasn’t true,’ Sam pointed out. ‘You said he wasn’t a real sailor, that it was just an example.’
    Geordie sighed. ‘Yeah, it is an example, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some truth in it. What’s the other thing?’
    ‘I still don’t know why you’re asking me about the house. We’ve established that I’d give it to a charity, in theory, under certain circumstances. But why d’you want to know that?’
    ‘Because Ralph and me’s thinking of starting a charity for handicaps.’
    Sam went for a trek round the room.
    ‘You’ve still got the limp,’ Geordie said. ‘Look like a pimp. And we’re gonna need some place to do it. Me and Ralph.’
    ‘Ralph,’ said Sam.
    ‘Yeah, me and Ralph.’
    ‘I was putting the sailor connection together.’ Sam couldn’t get a handle on what Geordie meant by handicapped people. Was it OK to call them handicapped? What kind of handicaps did they have? ‘You mean you wanna stop working with me and start a home for “handicapped” people with your brother?’
    ‘No, I still wanna be a detective. It’s Ralph who wants to do the home, but we’d be like partners. And it’d mean Ralph could move out of our house, and me and Janet’d be by ourselves again, with Echo. And then we’d just see him on Sundays when he came to dinner.’
    ‘And he’s had some experience with “handicapped” people, has he?’
    ‘He knew the sailor I was telling you about. But mainly it’s like an ambition. Something he’s been thinking about for ages.’
    ‘I bet he has,’ said Sam.
    ‘And if your house was available, it’d make everything come true.’
    ‘Oh, I can see that, Geordie. I