gave him their full attention. JC smiled faintly. “I was phoning in a preliminary report on what had gone down at Bradleigh Halt, when she broke in. Which is a bit like going to confessional and having God herself butt in. She said some very nice things about how we’d handled the mission, which should have been a warning in itself. The Boss has never been one for honeyed words when a whip and a chair are so much more effective. She said that she wants us on this case precisely because we did such a good job at Bradleigh. Which, of course, suggests to me that there must be a hell of a lot more to this theatre haunting than we are being told.”
“No good deed goes unpunished,” said Happy. He glowered at the food piled up before him and pushed it away, his appetite gone. For the moment.
“I have to wonder,” said JC, “whether Catherine Latimer, her own bad self, is deliberately keeping us busy and occupied with one case after another, so we won’t go off on our own to look for Kim.”
There was a pause then as JC looked meaningfully at Happy and Melody, and they both looked at each other so they wouldn’t have to look at him. None of them had to say anything. They’d already talked themselves hoarse on the subject and knew exactly what the others thought and believed. None of them was ready to give up their various positions.
“The Boss says she’s got all her best people investigating the infiltration of the Carnacki Institute,” Melody said finally.
“She
says
…” Happy said darkly.
“No,” JC said immediately. “We have to trust the Boss in that, at least. Or we’re completely on our own.”
“When you spoke to her,” Melody said carefully, “did you happen to mention seeing Kim at Bradleigh Halt?”
“No,” said JC.
“So we don’t trust her that much…” said Happy.
“When we’ve got anything worth telling her, then I’ll tell her,” said JC. “One sighting doesn’t make a summer.”
“Or one swallow make an orgy,” said Melody.
“Who knows?” said Happy. “If Kim really is your guardian angel now, guardian ghost, whatever…Maybe she’ll turn up again, at the theatre.”
“Stranger things have happened,” said Melody. “Usually to us.”
She carried on reading aloud from the briefing file, andthe others pretended to listen to her. Happy leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, the better to concentrate.
A very modern taxi took the Ghost Finders straight from the railway station to the Haybarn Theatre, situated right in the middle of the city centre. It was a grey, overcast day, with lowering clouds and the threat of thunder. The taxi had Thank You For Not Smoking signs plastered all over the interior, along with half a dozen little pine-tree deodorant things, and the interior still smelled like something large and unpleasant had recently been very ill in it. The driver had a great deal to say about the immigration situation, none of it helpful, and ignored all attempts to shut him up, including
Please shut up or I will have to kill you
from Happy, who then had to be physically restrained by Melody and JC.
When the taxi finally arrived at its destination, Happy volunteered to pay the driver. He fumbled crumpled notes and assorted change from his pockets while Melody hauled her precious scientific equipment out of the taxi’s boot, and JC wandered over to stare thoughtfully at the exterior of the Haybarn Theatre. Happy slapped a bunch of well-worn notes into the driver’s hand and carefully added the right amount of change. The driver looked at his hand, then glared at Happy.
“What? No tip?”
“Okay,” said Happy. “Here’s a tip. Wash your mind out with soap, and try to at least slow down for the red lights. Now piss off sharpish, or I’ll set my girl-friend on you.”
“I heard that!” said Melody, slamming the taxi’s bootshut with unnecessary force. “Don’t make me come over there!”
“See what I mean?” said Happy, smiling calmly
“No good deed goes unpunished,” said Happy. He glowered at the food piled up before him and pushed it away, his appetite gone. For the moment.
“I have to wonder,” said JC, “whether Catherine Latimer, her own bad self, is deliberately keeping us busy and occupied with one case after another, so we won’t go off on our own to look for Kim.”
There was a pause then as JC looked meaningfully at Happy and Melody, and they both looked at each other so they wouldn’t have to look at him. None of them had to say anything. They’d already talked themselves hoarse on the subject and knew exactly what the others thought and believed. None of them was ready to give up their various positions.
“The Boss says she’s got all her best people investigating the infiltration of the Carnacki Institute,” Melody said finally.
“She
says
…” Happy said darkly.
“No,” JC said immediately. “We have to trust the Boss in that, at least. Or we’re completely on our own.”
“When you spoke to her,” Melody said carefully, “did you happen to mention seeing Kim at Bradleigh Halt?”
“No,” said JC.
“So we don’t trust her that much…” said Happy.
“When we’ve got anything worth telling her, then I’ll tell her,” said JC. “One sighting doesn’t make a summer.”
“Or one swallow make an orgy,” said Melody.
“Who knows?” said Happy. “If Kim really is your guardian angel now, guardian ghost, whatever…Maybe she’ll turn up again, at the theatre.”
“Stranger things have happened,” said Melody. “Usually to us.”
She carried on reading aloud from the briefing file, andthe others pretended to listen to her. Happy leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, the better to concentrate.
A very modern taxi took the Ghost Finders straight from the railway station to the Haybarn Theatre, situated right in the middle of the city centre. It was a grey, overcast day, with lowering clouds and the threat of thunder. The taxi had Thank You For Not Smoking signs plastered all over the interior, along with half a dozen little pine-tree deodorant things, and the interior still smelled like something large and unpleasant had recently been very ill in it. The driver had a great deal to say about the immigration situation, none of it helpful, and ignored all attempts to shut him up, including
Please shut up or I will have to kill you
from Happy, who then had to be physically restrained by Melody and JC.
When the taxi finally arrived at its destination, Happy volunteered to pay the driver. He fumbled crumpled notes and assorted change from his pockets while Melody hauled her precious scientific equipment out of the taxi’s boot, and JC wandered over to stare thoughtfully at the exterior of the Haybarn Theatre. Happy slapped a bunch of well-worn notes into the driver’s hand and carefully added the right amount of change. The driver looked at his hand, then glared at Happy.
“What? No tip?”
“Okay,” said Happy. “Here’s a tip. Wash your mind out with soap, and try to at least slow down for the red lights. Now piss off sharpish, or I’ll set my girl-friend on you.”
“I heard that!” said Melody, slamming the taxi’s bootshut with unnecessary force. “Don’t make me come over there!”
“See what I mean?” said Happy, smiling calmly
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