Daniel Chalmers

danielchalmers @ 2008-02-20T21:50:00

2008-02-20T22:49:47Z

Harry called me yesterday, which is unusual. I knew something was troubling him. He didn't say it, of course, never does, but eventually, near the end of a long, rambling conversation, he said, "Daniel, remind me again why love's such a bad thing?"

"Dulls the mind." I said, "Makes it harder to move on when the time comes. Fills your head with empty promises."

"All undeniably true." he said, "So I won't be risking that."

"You weren't tempted to, were you?" I said.

"You know me, Daniel." he said.

"Come home, Harry." I said, "Spend a few weeks with your old friends."

"Not just now, Daniel." he said, "I have a lot to do."

"Don't go falling for your lady detective!" I said.

He laughed. Daniel, she's the last woman I'd ever fall in love with."

I fear he may be right. I should give some thought to how I can extricate Harry from this unfortunate situation.

Simply Lying

2008-02-13T07:29:35Z

Bad liars have a habit of saying too much, justifying, explaining, adding evidence. The key is to keep things simple. Why would anyone offer evidence unless they expected their story to be doubted? Be brief, keep the details sketchy. Be surprised and confused when someone thinks to question it.

Harry's always been good at lying. It comes as naturally as breathing and he lies with a simplicity that makes doubt seem somehow ill-mannered. It's a rare gift.

Of course, once you can lie, everything else is easy. A good liar can have anything he wants at minimal cost to himself.

I'm Good!

2008-01-26T16:45:19Z

Looking back, I don't think I did a bad job with Harry. Under my expert guidance, he went from being a scruffy little street kid with no future to being a sophisticated charmer who can have anything he wants. Sometimes, I even impress myself.

It helps to have good material to work with, and that boy was the best. Right from the start he was sharp as a knife. I still think I put a fine polish on the blade.

I wonder, at times, whether he'll forget about me. So far he hasn't, but there's a woman in the equation now and I don't imagine she'll want his past hanging around. Ah well, I'll find out. At least I know the boy had a good start in the craft.

Estelle

2008-01-18T11:28:20Z

I went to see Estelle today, possibly my oldest friend. When Harry was a boy, we'd sometimes stay in her boarding house and she'd feed him all the terrible food boys love. He had an unnatural affection for baked beans, as I recall. I love to remind him of it sometimes.

Estelle asked if I was serious about retiring. I assured her I was. "I'll believe it when I see it." she said, "But I hope you do it. It's time you lived more honestly."

"The Pirates of Penzance!" I said.

"You've lost me, love." she replied.

"Oh, better far to live and die under the brave black flag I fly than play a sanctimonious part with a pirate head and a pirate heart."

"Oh, you have a pirate heart alright, you smooth-talking buccaneer!" she said, "But it's time to find a safe port and settle down with your rum."

"I concur." I said.

"You'll miss it, of course."

"Yes, but if even Harry can settle to a legitimate life, so can I. Maybe I'll ask him how he does it."

"You and Harry are two of a kind." she said.

"On a good day, we're a full house." I said.

A Louse Named Hoskins.

2008-01-13T10:48:50Z

I hate people who cheat people who don't deserve to be cheated. Me? I always go for the greedy, the arrogant, the cruel. What I don't do is send someone round to an elderly widow to demand gambling debts that don't exist two days after she has seen her husband buried.

A man called Hoskins did, and that's just his latest little exploit. He's rotten all the way through and his little gambling empire ruins people. The Major and I think he might be just the chap to fund our retirements.

It's the kind of thing we've done a hundred times. Every casino has its weak points. We're making tentative enquiries. Once we have a serious plan, we'll act on it.

Harry in the Kitchen

2007-12-07T08:15:06Z

One thing about Harry that was always useful was his ability to cook. No matter how bad things got, if I could manage to filch us a couple of lamb chops and some garlic, he'd make an incredible meal from them.

He always loved to be in the kitchen. I think it's because he was so good at cooking. Harry always did enjoy doing things that would impress people. It doesn't hurt that women are so readily impressed by a man who can cook. Any man who thinks cooking is effeminate should ask Harry how long it takes him to get a woman from canard au vin rouge to the bedroom. Women love men who can cook!

I miss his cooking now. I can cook up something edible, but not with his flair and panache.

I wonder if he has allowed Miss Holt a taste of his duck yet. Few women can resist it.

Apparent Honesty

2007-12-03T04:27:54Z

The Major and I make an excellent team. Always have, actually. He has such a reputation for honesty that he can behave like a complete bounder whenever he feels like it. Nobody ever suspects him. An honest face and a good name are vital to those of us who live by the craft of the conman.

Harry always looked honest. Even as a kid, he could tell a bare-faced lie, looking you right in the eyes, with the face of an angel. He would look so confused when doubted, as if the idea that he could be lying was completely outside his understanding.

As he grew older, he became ever more adept at appearing honest. The touching sincerity of his speech captured women's hearts and gained him men's respect. Sometimes, even I would find myself believing him, even when I had written his script.

I often wonder now whether the great Remington Steele still looks into the eyes of his marks and quells their doubts with a self-deprecating smile and a "to be honest".

The boy has a rare gift. I hope he isn't letting it go to waste.

Letting them Con Themselves

2007-11-17T22:46:57Z

The key to any con is to know the ulterior motives of all involved. It's an old saying that you can't cheat an honest man. The greedy, dishonest and selfish always make the best marks. Find out what your mark wants to cheat you out of and let him think he can do it.

Harry is a master at letting people con themselves. He asks seemingly rhetorical questions to which their greed, ambition or fear supplies an answer that seems indisputable. Anyone can, with a little effort, lie fairly convincingly at times. Harry can make people want to believe any lie he tells them and that is a rare gift.

Plans

2007-10-21T19:51:42Z

I really need to leave this life behind me and settle down to a quiet retirement. I'll find a nice villa and dedicate myself to teaching attractive women to appreciate champagne.

It'll have to be a big place, so Harry can come and hold court, dazzling the locals with his largesse. Just because I'm leaving the life of crime ... creativity it doesn't mean I won't keep my old friend and partner nearby. After all, if my cash runs out, I may need him to support me. He would, too.

In the end, money is a poor way of keeping score. What matters is whether, in the autumn of your life, there is somebody out there on whom you can rely without doubt. I have Harry and he has me, so we have both achieved a lot from a poor start. Of course, he would also say he has this Miss Holt of his, but nine times out of ten, a woman's affection is extremely conditional. He knows I'll never try to reform him! After all, I corrupted him in the first place, or at least polished his knavery to a burnished gleam.

Differences and Quarrels

2007-10-12T16:25:30Z

Harry always loved movies, I always loved shows and plays. We'd alternate between the two. I don't recall ever arguing with him about it. I could enjoy a movie and he quickly got to be rather fond of culture.

Harry and I have never argued much. When we do, it's soon resolved and never resented. I'm too fond of the lad to let any quarrel between us get out of hand.

I think one danger point was when we realised the Contessa had fooled us both. We had always kept our romantic intrigues separate. He would never glance at a woman if he saw I was interested and vice versa. Finding out that we both knew about a particular birthmark sparked a moment of foolish jealousy and anger. I looked at this younger, better looking ingrate who had usurped my prior claim and wanted to knock him down and he saw an older man, armed with charms and sophistication he hadn't quite mastered, moving in on his woman. We squared up to each other, virtually pawing the ground and then he smiled, tilted his head on one side and said, "For a woman, Daniel? Us?"

"Not for any woman." I said, "Pour the brandy."

We laughed then at how gullible we'd both been. Of course, we didn't know the half of it then. Still, at least Harry managed to fly the helicopter.

Letters

2007-09-30T08:06:37Z

Sometimes, people contact Harry through me. A dozen of his names appear on envelopes that turn up at my club "care of Reginald Frobish" and either get passed on or kept until he gets in touch. I probably find out more about his dealings in that way than from him.

The variety is staggering. Wealthy families invite him to spend weekends on their yachts, perfumed letters arrive from beautiful women, anxious to find out why Paul/Douglas/Mick/Rick/Jim/John or any of the others hasn't been in touch. Sometimes an offer of work comes, inviting him to listen to a proposition. Sometimes I wish he'd take one. He's getting too settled in LA and far too fond of this woman he works with.

When I send letters on, I usually add a note of my own, just to let him know that all is well and that I haven't forgotten him. I remember, when he was a kid, he needed a lot of reassurance about that. I always remind him he can come home whenever he likes. I know he will if things go wrong. He'll come back to security and friendship, just until he's back on his feet. Then he'll be off again, but still knowing he can always come back.

The Future

2007-09-13T04:55:27Z

Maybe I'm getting old, or maybe it's just not the same without Harry. Sometimes the game doesn't seem quite so much fun and the rewards don't seem quite so worth the effort. I'm giving serious thought to retiring. Maybe I'll go and stay with Harry in LA for a few years. On the other hand, the south of France has always been a good place for me.

I'm not sure I can do it. Perhaps the urge to play the game again will be too strong and I'll end my days conning other old people out of the life savings they fleeced someone else to get.

Whatever the future holds, I intend to be in control of it. No-one else is making any choices for me, not the authorities, not organised crime, not even a PI in LA who may think she has a claim on Harry. Harry and I are free spirits. We do what we want to do.

Missing Harry.

2007-09-09T13:19:31Z

I miss having Harry around. I miss having a brain that sharp to challenge me, at chess, poker or ideas. I miss the excellent meals he used to cook and the long, rambling conversations we'd have over dinner.

Sometimes I'm tempted to ask him to come home for a while, but I'd hate to hold him back when things are going well. It's better to wait until he comes back of his own accord. It's a great pleasure to see him when we do get to meet, but I wouldn't want to call him away from anything that matters to him.

Thoughts

2007-09-05T05:19:29Z

I used to find Harry's thoughts unpredictable, a disturbing thing for someone who relies on his ability to predict how people will think. Harry, though, was always complicated. So much went on in his head that was never allowed outside it.

Sometimes, he'd be sitting in the corner, doodling across the Times, and we'd all be talking about something and we'd have sworn he hadn't been listening at all. Then he'd ask some question that showed he had actually grasped more than we had and had been thinking about it on more than one level.

Other times, you'd swear he'd been hanging on your every word and knew the plan back to front. Then you'd say, "Ready, Harry?" and he'd give you a blank look and say, "What?"

I think Estelle summed it up when she said, "That boy never lets you know where he is, even when he's standing right in front of you."

Eventually, I came to understand him better, to notice the little signs he gave of the nature of his thoughts. I also discovered ways to make him tell me. It didn't always work, and sometimes we'd sit in my study, smiling in a scene of quiet camaraderie and both pretending that he wasn't concealing painful thoughts from someone who would have liked to help.

danielchalmers @ 2007-08-30T05:49:00

2007-08-30T05:19:52Z

Harry told me all kinds of tales about his parents. They were killed by bears, by Russian spies, by lightning. He told me they weren't dead, but in hiding and would come back for him when it was safe. He told me everything, before he told me the truth.

After he told me, he left the house, which was fortunate for both of us. I'll never forget the way he looked as he said, "I don't know who or what they were, but they didn't want me and I don't know who I am. I'm nobody, really, nothing."

He said that often, that he was nothing. It was heartbreaking every time, to hear this clever, courageous, kind-hearted boy speak of himself like that.

He had an idea that his mother was dead, no doubt obtained from things he overheard. The people who had kept him for a time had never bothered even to tell him about her.

When he came back later that day I could see he'd been crying. I knew Harry well enough not to say anything about that. We played chess instead and pretended nothing was wrong.

A - Z continued.

2007-08-28T06:28:29Z

U is for Uniforms. I've worn many, though none of them were ever issued to me. It's important to impress people and shiny buttons on a uniform are a very good start.

Harry looks good in uniform. I've seen women practically throw themselves at his feet when he has a bit of gold braid on his shoulder.

V is for Venezuela. There I sold the same plantation three times without ever owning any part of it. The money paid a lot of my expenses for a long time after.

W is for Work. It's dull, it's depressing, and it gets you nothing but an ulcer. Lie, cheat and steal and you'll live longer and have much more fun.

X is for Xenium (a gift made to an ambassador). I can't emphasise enough the pleasures of diplomatic life. I have posed as a few ambassadors and aides in my time, always to great effect and I have received many a gift, many an offer and not a few chances at marriage, often with titled dowagers.

Y is for Yacht. I've used several and owned or "borrowed" one or two. My favourite was the Lady Luck, in which Harry and I spent many happy days and a lot of other people's money in the Bahamas. Harry is very useful on a boat.

Z is for Zymotechnics (the art of fermentation). To whichever genius invented it, thanks. I'm fond of an occasional drop of something expensive. I educated Harry in what he should drink and instilled in him an appreciation for the finer drinks.

A-Z Continued

2007-08-24T21:41:56Z

P is for Principalities. Monaco is an excellent one. All principalities seem to have something to recommend them. Harry and I have visited some of the best.

Q is for Questions. People always ask questions, but I discovered early on that if you ask them questions, they tend to assume you have the authority to and they don't question you. I have entered many a high-security area saying, "What's the situation?"

R is for Russia, where I played a missing heir to the Romanov family and acquired quite a few influential supporters.

S is for the Shell Game. It's brilliantly simple and simply brilliant. All it requires is that your mark has the idea he is cleverer than you are. This is not an idea to which most people are resistant.

T is for Trust. Although most of my friends are as crooked as they come, I trust them all. Above all, I trust Harry. I'd bet my life on his word.

A-Z continued.

2007-08-23T06:35:24Z

J is for Jewels, more Harry's bag than mine, but we've occasionally worked together when Harry needed someone to cover his tracks. Once, he stole an exquisite and unique ruby. It was instantly recognisable, so impossible to sell. We kept it three days before Harry would accept that it had to be returned.

K is for a name too precious to be spoken, a memory too painful to be shared.

L is for Luck, which Harry and I have had in abundance, partly because we make our own. Could also be for the Louvre in Paris, where I broke into a cold sweat as Harry looked at the Mona Lisa and muttered, "Not impossible."

M is for Movie Theaters, Harry's favourite places and the scene for some of the more fulfilling indiscretions of my younger days.

N is for Norway, whose ambassador I once impersonated, successfully, I might add.

O is for Organisation, which you need to be a conman. Always stay three steps ahead. Always know everything that could happen and be ready.

To be continued.

An A-Z

2007-08-22T19:45:54Z

Harry did this, so I will too. An A-Z of completely honest facts about me.

A is for Argentina, where I sold the Falkland Islands for a massive sum, only to discover that the dishonest rogue had paid me in counterfeit money.

B is for Bentley. I used to drive one, a nice vintage Bentley in forest green. I taught Harry to drive in it.

C is for Contessa. She was beautiful, she was enchanting, and Harry and I didn't realise she was using both of us to get what she wanted. Interesting birthmark, she had, which was how I convinced Harry that I too had made her acquaintance.

D is for Daniel Chalmers. I use that name more than any other and it's the name by which Harry knows me. For a time, we posed as father and son, Daniel and Harry Chalmers. I'm very fond of the name. I took it on after leaving prison, to wipe out the past.

E is for Eloquence, of which I have a great deal. It's very useful and even people who know you have it are susceptible to it.

F is for Fatal Errors. I made a mistake once that led to the death of someone important to me. Such a thing is always at the back of your mind.

G is for Ghana, where I posed as an archaeologist and sold some very convincing artefacts.

H is for Harry. I found him when he was fourteen, taught him a useful trade and then unleashed him on the world. He makes me more proud of him all the time. I love that boy like a son.

I is for Identities. I've probably had about forty, maybe more. I always carry enough passports to make swift changes possible. Never keep a name a moment longer than is safe.

To be continued

Burglary.

2007-08-21T16:51:12Z

I wasn't sure I wanted Harry to be a thief, especially a burglar. They get caught much more often than conmen. One thing I was determined about was that Harry would never end up in prison. I owed a favour to a burglar, though, and he needed someone agile to help with a difficult roof-top entry. When Harry heard, he asked me to let him do it. I agreed, on condition that they promised to protect him.

That night, I waited around the corner, hoping I could do something to help if he got caught. After twenty minutes, he came running round the corner, grinning. "That was amazing!" he said, "I was just like Raffles!"

"Isn't that a hotel?" I asked.

"A gentleman thief." he corrected, one of his movie references. He slapped me on the back and said, "Come to the pub!"

"Shouldn't we leave the area?" I said.

He laughed. "Probably. I told them I'll help them next time too, for a share."

"It's a dangerous profession." I said.

"And ours isn't?"

That reassured me. At least he didn't think of himself as a professional burglar.

Dreamer

2007-08-19T20:13:25Z

Harry is a dreamer. He always has been. You'd think reality would have knocked all the dreams out of his head, but I think clinging to them helped him to survive.

On many an evening, I'd come in to find him gazing into the fire and smiling. It was a happy sight, always, to see our lad smile. He'd talk about going to America, about seeing Hollywood, about being rich.

I taught him to choose a dream to follow, to pick one that was attainable, but I never tried to talk him out of the wilder ones. They made him happy. In the end, I think he achieved a lot of them, even the wild ones, so I'm glad I didn't try to make him give up on them.

I'm a dreamer too. Dreams are important.

Lonely Lame Ducks

2007-08-17T03:40:55Z

Sometimes, thinking of Harry, I wonder who rescued whom. When I first took him in, he didn't have much in the way of prospects and the poor kid had been living on so little so long that he was scrawny and sick-looking. On the face of it, he was the one in trouble.

But then, I was desperately lonely. I had friends and good ones, but along the highways and byways of an interesting life, I had lost all connection with family. My friends were dear to me, but often we had little in common. I often felt I had no-one to talk to.

Harry, though, I could talk to. Even at the start when every word that passed his lips was a lie or a threat, when he wouldn't tell me the truth about anything, in case I sent him away or used what he told me against him, Harry and I could sit and chat. He was Rick Blaine then, but he shifted sometimes into using other names, just so I never felt I could fix him to one identity.

He knew how it felt to be alone. One evening, when I told him that sometimes I felt that there was no little corner of the world where I truly belonged, he said, "Except here, Daniel." and he smiled.

"Here?" I said.

"Here." he repeated, "Here, you've got a house, your books and a friend."

"You're my friend, are you, Rick?" I said.

"We're the only friends we've got." he said.

"Why do you like me?" I asked, a question he had often asked me.

"You don't pretend to be honest." he said.

"Do you like it here, Rick?" I asked.

"Better than under the bridge." he said.

"More antiques for a start."

"Yes," he said, "But you don't act old." We laughed and I was glad that under all that bluff and bluster, under the scared kid and the angry youth and that sad reluctance to believe in anything, because anything can let you down, the boy had kept a sense of humour and could still laugh.

danielchalmers @ 2007-08-16T06:22:00

2007-08-16T05:47:42Z

Most of the time, Harry didn't talk about his parents. His mother was always some veiled and precious dream. He wanted her to be perfect, so his speculations about how he came to be alone always surrounded his father. He must have left her, because she would never have abandoned Harry otherwise.

He talked when he was tired or upset, or when he had spent a day watching families together. He hated going to family homes with me. When we got back to wherever we were staying, he would stare into the distance and then say, "Where do you think my father is, Daniel?"

That was my cue to pour him a drink. Estelle always said I was teaching him bad habits, but I knew that neither of us could face his anger unless the edges were taken off with a bit of brandy.

"Why did he go? Why did he do that to her? Was it me? Did I cry? Was I bad?"

I couldn't reassure him or do anything to stop him thinking like that, so I'd just say, "Maybe he was young and stupid. Maybe it was a mistake."

"Maybe he was selfish and cruel!" he'd say.

"You're very hard on him." I'd say.

"Maybe I'm like him, no heart, cruel and hard and ..." Then he'd cry and hate himself for crying and I'd hate myself for not being able to prevent it.

We were just feet apart and I'd long for the courage to say the things I should have said, but that undirected rage, fired off in hopes of hitting a father he didn't know, frightened me. I could never bear the thought of the fury in his eyes being aimed at me, to be hated by a boy I had come to love as a son.

So I would be silent, and search for anything to distract him and make the pain die down for both of us and when he finally went to bed, slightly drunk but not drunk enough not to feel, I'd curse my cowardice and hope that next time, I would say what he needed to hear.

Every mistake, every selfish action in my life was amply punished by the look in his eyes when he asked the questions I couldn't answer and spoke of himself as if he were to blame for his own situation. We're not punished for our sins, but by them.

Harry and Guns.

2007-08-15T07:47:08Z

When Harry and I first met, he had a worrying interest in firearms. It came from the movies, I knew, but it troubled me. I could see him meeting one of the London gangsters and being drawn into something unsuited to his nature. I tried to tell him about guns, but he never listened.

Then fate took a hand. I managed to annoy one of the said London gangsters and one night, as the Major and I left a bar with quite a good amount of what had formerly been his money, one of his men put three bullets in my back.

Harry was waiting for us over the road. I saw the look on his face as he watched me fall. I saw him running towards me, after all I'd told him about running FROM gunfire. I tried to tell him to go, but wasn't able to speak. The Major ran to call an ambulance. Harry just knelt beside me, only fourteen years old and terrified. "Don't die!" he said, "Don't dare die!"

It was a terrible thought to me, too. Harry was just a kid. Without me, he'd have no guidance and no protection. Estelle and the Major would send him to some distant school to be made respectable and he'd die of boredom before he was eighteen.

The ambulance came and I was taken away. Harry didn't come with me. The Major did, and I begged him with what breath I could gather that he had to find Harry, because Harry might think I was dying and might leave.

I went into surgery to have the bullets removed. When I woke, a nurse said, "Your son's here to see you, Mr Chalmers."

"My son?" I said.

"He's very anxious to see you."

I knew it must be Harry. "Please, let him in." I said.

"Are you alright, Dad?" said Harry, not knowing how good it felt to hear him call me that.

"I'll soon be on the mend." I said.

"I'll kill whoever did this!"

"Harry, we don't kill. We have better ways to take revenge. When I've recovered, we'll deal with Vaughan. Now, until I get back, you stay out of trouble. You see, one bullet hit my lung, and if I get upset, it could be serious. Do you understand?"

"Yes." he said.

"Good. Stay at the boarding house. Do what Estelle says."

He nodded. Then he came closer. "Daniel, you're not going to die, are you?"

"Harry, I have no plans to die."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely. After all, I suddenly have a son to consider."

He gave me a sheepish grin and said, "Only way they'd let me in."

"Well done, Harry." I said.

I thought he'd go, but he sat beside my bed and watched me. "I'll stay for a bit." he said.

"Wouldn't you rather see a movie?"

"I'm fine here, thanks." he said. He smiled at me and I smiled back and I knew that however unwilling he might be to admit it, he was my most devoted friend already.

After that, he hated guns, so I suppose some good came out of it. Hurt at the time, though.

Where the Sun Always Shines

2007-08-14T10:57:50Z

Harry and I are migratory. We go where we'll find what we're looking for. Often, that leads to Southern Europe and the Med. We've been there together and separately, shared retsina with smugglers, enjoyed the Venice Regatta from high vantage points, danced with beautiful women on silver sand and generally had a lot more fun than you can find in London in the rain.

We fit in wherever we go, because we know how. We've worked at it. I have seen Harry talk with princes and gangsters and he had both eating out of the palm of his hand. It's fun to watch. It's odd, though, to remember the lad he was when I found him, wasting his skills on merely staying alive. Lucky I found him.

When he gets tired of Los Angeles, he'll probably be happy to try a new joint venture. Monaco has always been kind to me, not quite as kind to Harry, but it would do him good to get back there and replace bad memories with good. He tells me Brazil has a lot going for it, but I'm happy following old money around Europe for now.