raised an eyebrow. “You’re in one of your moods again, aren’t you? Just sign this release form naming your next of kin while I open the bottle with my special long-handled tongs.”
The drink, when it arrived, turned out to be a pale amber liqueur. It didn’t seethe or try to eat its way through the glass, so I took a good sip. The liqueur rolled languidly across my tongue, and then hit me between the eyes with a half brick and mugged my taste-buds. It was like drinking a whole summer orchard at once. But after my trip to the Dragon’s Mouth this was strictly amateur hour. I took another good sip, and Alex smiled triumphantly out across the crowded bar.
“Look! He’s actually drinking it! Pay your bets!”
“It’s good,” I said. “Vicious, but good. Why not try a glass with me?”
“Because I’ve got more sense.” Alex leaned forward com panionably across the polished bar. “It’s coming to something when the most exciting thing in this bar is betting whether or not a new drink will make your head explode. It’s been really quiet here lately, and you know how dangerous that can be. There’s always something, of course ... minor things, like snakes getting into the Real Ale barrels and improving the flavour ... And there’s no rats in the traps, which mean something’s eating them again ...”
“How are you and Cathy getting on?” I said casually. “You know, my teenage secretary who is barely half your age, of whom I am inordinately protective?”
“Surprisingly well,” said Alex. “I keep waiting for the other thunderbolt to drop. I have a horrid suspicion I might actually be happy when she’s around, and I’m not used to happy.”
“She is a lot younger than you.”
“I know! Half the bands I like had split up before she was even born! And she’s never even heard of half the old television shows I watch on DVD. And she will insist on trying to cheer me up.”
I had to smile. “I could have told her that was a lost cause.”
“I don’t know,” said Alex. “There’s this thing she does in bed ...”
“Change the subject right now,” I said.
“All right. Have you seen the state of Agatha?” Alex gestured bitterly at his pet vulture, currently perched on top of the old-fashioned cash register, giving everyone the evil eye. “Look at the little slut. Twenty months pregnant, which is going it some for a vulture. God alone knows what she had sex with, or what she’ll eventually produce. There’s a pool going, if you want to lay some money down...”
And then he broke off and stared out across the bar, his jaw actually dropping. I turned to look, and winced. There are some people who, when they walk into a room, you know there’s going to be trouble. Alex’s ex-wife came striding through the packed bar with her usual intimidating attitude of complete self-confidence, not in the least bothered that she’d just entered the kind of place where most angels have more sense than to tread. She was tall, lean, and wore her power business outfit like a suit of armour. She had a hard-boned face that expert, understated make-up entirely failed to soften, under close-cropped platinum blonde hair. People got out of her way without even realising why they were doing it because she so clearly expected it of them. She slammed to a halt at the bar beside me, gave me a quick look over, and sniffed loudly.
“Hello, John. Been a while. You’re looking very yourself. But then, you never did have much ambition.”
“Hello, Agatha,” I said. “Not often you choose to grace us with your presence. What brings you to this low dive, all the way from the great counting-houses of the business sector? Did they give you time off for good behaviour?”
“That’ll be the day,” she said. “So, still playing at being a private detective?”
“And very successfully,” I said. “How about you? Still playing at being a human being?”
She gave me a cold, unblinking glare. “You always did
The drink, when it arrived, turned out to be a pale amber liqueur. It didn’t seethe or try to eat its way through the glass, so I took a good sip. The liqueur rolled languidly across my tongue, and then hit me between the eyes with a half brick and mugged my taste-buds. It was like drinking a whole summer orchard at once. But after my trip to the Dragon’s Mouth this was strictly amateur hour. I took another good sip, and Alex smiled triumphantly out across the crowded bar.
“Look! He’s actually drinking it! Pay your bets!”
“It’s good,” I said. “Vicious, but good. Why not try a glass with me?”
“Because I’ve got more sense.” Alex leaned forward com panionably across the polished bar. “It’s coming to something when the most exciting thing in this bar is betting whether or not a new drink will make your head explode. It’s been really quiet here lately, and you know how dangerous that can be. There’s always something, of course ... minor things, like snakes getting into the Real Ale barrels and improving the flavour ... And there’s no rats in the traps, which mean something’s eating them again ...”
“How are you and Cathy getting on?” I said casually. “You know, my teenage secretary who is barely half your age, of whom I am inordinately protective?”
“Surprisingly well,” said Alex. “I keep waiting for the other thunderbolt to drop. I have a horrid suspicion I might actually be happy when she’s around, and I’m not used to happy.”
“She is a lot younger than you.”
“I know! Half the bands I like had split up before she was even born! And she’s never even heard of half the old television shows I watch on DVD. And she will insist on trying to cheer me up.”
I had to smile. “I could have told her that was a lost cause.”
“I don’t know,” said Alex. “There’s this thing she does in bed ...”
“Change the subject right now,” I said.
“All right. Have you seen the state of Agatha?” Alex gestured bitterly at his pet vulture, currently perched on top of the old-fashioned cash register, giving everyone the evil eye. “Look at the little slut. Twenty months pregnant, which is going it some for a vulture. God alone knows what she had sex with, or what she’ll eventually produce. There’s a pool going, if you want to lay some money down...”
And then he broke off and stared out across the bar, his jaw actually dropping. I turned to look, and winced. There are some people who, when they walk into a room, you know there’s going to be trouble. Alex’s ex-wife came striding through the packed bar with her usual intimidating attitude of complete self-confidence, not in the least bothered that she’d just entered the kind of place where most angels have more sense than to tread. She was tall, lean, and wore her power business outfit like a suit of armour. She had a hard-boned face that expert, understated make-up entirely failed to soften, under close-cropped platinum blonde hair. People got out of her way without even realising why they were doing it because she so clearly expected it of them. She slammed to a halt at the bar beside me, gave me a quick look over, and sniffed loudly.
“Hello, John. Been a while. You’re looking very yourself. But then, you never did have much ambition.”
“Hello, Agatha,” I said. “Not often you choose to grace us with your presence. What brings you to this low dive, all the way from the great counting-houses of the business sector? Did they give you time off for good behaviour?”
“That’ll be the day,” she said. “So, still playing at being a private detective?”
“And very successfully,” I said. “How about you? Still playing at being a human being?”
She gave me a cold, unblinking glare. “You always did
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