Kisses for Lula (20 page)

‘Ye-es,’ I said slowly. ‘What did your best boy come up with?’

‘Your dad with a ’andbag, for one. I’m gonna keep that one on file, like,’ said Bludgeon with a girly giggle.

Oh, geez. ‘What about Jack de Souza?’ I asked tightly.

Bludgeon laughed. ‘Nah. Not ’im. Mr K saw ’im round yours last night so I checked him out first. Not much gets by you, eh? That Jack’s been in the IT building all night.’

‘All night?’ I asked. ‘You sure?’

‘Got a guy working campus security what told me.’

Great. So there really was a stalker, and it wasn’t Jack. ‘Anyone else?’ I asked, rubbing at an ache behind my eyes.

‘Coupla leads, but I reckon it’s a random crazy from Fort Norland. One of ’em’s escaped, like. You shouldn’t worry.’

‘No, Bludgeon. The guy in my cellar sounded like he
knew
me. He . . . mentioned my . . . uh . . . hobbies that not many people know about. He was
taking notes
of what I’ve been doing since the eleventh of March.’

‘You sound freaked out.’

‘I
am
freaked out, Bludgeon!’

‘That’s why you called me. I can ’elp, love. Leave it in my in tray. Now, let’s talk payment . . .’

I nipped that in the bud with a quick reference to how we were virtually brother and sister, what with Pen and Fat Angus moving in on each other. It worked.

I was asleep in minutes, with strange dreams of Mr Kadinski sprinting down the road, his clothes on fire, at twice his usual height and yelling obscenities at creeping shadows in the dark.

Chapter Seventeen

Waking up was unexpectedly effortless and by the time the room was filled with a faint pink light I was raring to go. I wiggled my fingers. Hand okay! I tested my ankle. Perfect! I inhaled nervously through my nose. Clear!

Whoohoo!

Pulling on my running gear I felt my quads bulge as I flexed out in the bare minimum of a warm up. I stretched again to tie the annexe key to my shoelace, sighing happily at how limber I felt, then moved quietly out of the door, pulling it closed noiselessly behind me.

The main Bird residence was still, silent, and there wasn’t a sound in the air except for peepings from birds and the scurrying of a blue tit on a housing mission. Taking a deep breath of cold air, I padded round the house to the front gate and jumped it to prevent its telltale squeak.
Superfit action woman!
I thought, and headed up the hill at a slow walk. Lifting my eyes to the dawn sky as I crested the rise, I caught sight of a twitching curtain from a Setting Sun window.
Could only be Mr Kadinski
, I thought with a grin. Did the man never sleep? I twisted my body round to the left and right, arms outstretched, and thought about which
way to go. Past St Alban’s was my favourite route, but with boys there it was a no go. Exhibiting flabby bits at full wobble capacity to potential snoggers was not an option. At this time of day, though . . . I’d just turned in that direction when I heard a door slam hard, cracking through the silence like a pistol shot.

‘Wherrff!’ I squeaked, jumping a mile high before squinting back at home.

Hang on. It must be Mr Ka– I tensed to start running straight away but too late.

‘Tallulah? Please come here,’ he called.

Damn the aged!

Groaning under my breath, I stomped through the retirement home’s front gate and up the garden steps, towards the house.

‘Hi, Mr Kadinski,’ I muttered.

‘Tallulah, I’ve been trying to talk to you all week. Can you give me a hand down?’

‘Sure,’ I muttered again, and shoved my forearm under his.

‘That’s what I love about the youth,’ he said, smiling. ‘Such gracious respect for the elderly.’

I sighed. ‘Sorry, sir,’ I said. ‘Just a bit tired,’ though that was a lie.

‘Yes, I remember the teen years being particularly wearying.’ He smiled again and I saw how bright his
grey eyes were. They twinkled out from beneath his thick white hair, topped with a charcoal fedora, no specs required. We started down the stairs and I said, ‘Hey,’ before I could stop myself.

‘Yes, young lady?’

‘You don’t need my help on the stairs.’

Mr Kadinski laughed. ‘I’m an ex-marine, you know. Special Forces. We have bodies of fine tempered steel.’

‘Wow,’ I said, thinking,
Special Forces, suuuure
.

We’d already got to the bottom of the steps, the grass of the lawn wetting my trainers and darkening the suede of his old-man shoes.

‘My fine physique is not my only asset,’ he said. His face was serious. I looked closely for some sign of humour. There was none. ‘My mind is one of the finest in Britain.’

I bit my cheeks to stop myself from unseemly guffaws.
Finest mind in Britain, wha ha ha!

‘Go on, laugh,’ he said bitterly. ‘Then talk to me when Bludgeon McGraw comes up with a vast array of dead ends.’

‘Wha–?’

‘The old-man shoes are just a cover, you know. Your grandmother trusted me to take care of things for you, Tallulah.’ He tipped his hat at me and began walking slowly in the direction of town. ‘I’m off to the police station now to check on something I left with them on Tuesday.
Come by this afternoon for some answers to your problems.’

He’d gone several metres before my whirling brain could take in what he’d said. How on earth had he known I had problems?

Yes, Bludgeon had said Mr Kadinski’d reported a lurker.

Okay, but how had he known I’d even spoken to Bludgeon?

Probably Bludgeon.

I sighed. I’d never make the Special Forces. I was a little slow. Though maybe I just had post-traumatic stress from last night.

I couldn’t face running past Special Agent Kadinski, so I headed up the hill, the way Boodle and I had gone on the bike. I’d take the same route as then, and sprint past PSG, St Alban’s and home, thinking about Ben Latter the whole way round.

A grin pulled at my mouth as I thought of how close we’d come to kissing on Wednesday night, and before I knew it I was flying up towards the woods.

Something odd happens to your persona when you’re pushing yourself to the max through a sleeping town. A strange sort of ownership creeps over you. King of the Road! A Chariot of Fire! By the time I’d vaulted our creaky squeaky gate again, I was seriously pumped.

I Would Talk To Dad.

I Would Get Results From Bludgeon.

The Coven’s Quarter Paperwork Would Appear.

And tonight there would be the World’s Most Awesome Kiss With Beautiful Ben.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The library was busy that morning. Or maybe it just seemed that way because for once Mum and I got in before nine. Everyone was milling about in the staffroom getting coffee and stuff. We were among the first to punch in for hot chocolate, keen to get to the office to check for webcam files and open desk drawers.

‘Bring it on!’ hissed Mum, skedaddling up the back stairs in front of me in a particularly voluminous deep red caftan.

‘What’s with your Christmas dress, Mum?’ I puffed.

‘Decided it needed more wear. Plus, I’m power dressing today,’ she puffed back.

The fire door banged against the wall as we flung ourselves into the historical-library offices. We were the first in.

‘Yesss!’ I said. Evidence would be undisturbed.

Mum hit the light switches and fluorescent tubing hummed and flickered into life.

We gasped.

The glass in her office door was shattered from top to bottom and a trail of chaos led from her desk to the fire door where we stood now. A high-tech digital alarm
clock matching Mum’s description of a complete video surveillance package was lying smashed on the floor.

Mum moved slowly to the nearest phone.

‘Security?’ she said. ‘We have a situation. Can you come up immediately?’

Even I was dispatched to stay in the staffroom while Mum went through everything with the Security guys. Mike looked disgruntled to be bundled away with all of us. He harrumphed and muttered to himself, refusing to congregate round the coffee machine – lounging on the sofa instead with the
Financial Times
. Mabel approached him at one point, and he said something so sharp and abrupt that she scuttled away faster than a beetle from a steel-toed boot.

I was soooo desperate to know what was going on I thought my head would explode. Then Sophie Wenger walked in and it nearly did.

The girl was limping, and when she finally took off her gloves, after Claudia Hautsenfurg asked her if she should turn the heating up, we could all see a myriad tiny red cuts covering her left hand.

I remembered that Alex hadn’t replied to my text about Sophie and Vincent Harrow, and pulled out my phone. My thumb danced hard and fast over the keypad with renewed demands before I shoved my mobile back into my pocket.

Arns caught my evil eye at Sophie and ambled over.

‘Don’t,’ he said, pouring himself his, like, fiftieth espresso.

‘Arns, you are going to be so wired.’

‘Like you’re not.’

‘I have a lot of natural energy today, I’ll admit.’

‘Today’s a big day for you,’ conceded Arnold with a nod.

‘I’m pretty focused on a number of issues,’ I said, meeting his eye. ‘One,
my
main suspect is about to be fingerprinted and called to account for her whereabouts last night, and made to explain where certain key historical documents have gone to.’

‘I
knew
you’d jumped to that conclusion. The chickens have not hatched.’

‘Arns, they have hatched and are already at full egg-laying capacity. Secondly, my d–’ I stopped myself. What was I thinking? The Dad issue was a personal one, and though Arns and I had shared
a lot
in the past few days, parental politics would be kept strictly confidential. ‘Secondly,’ I began again, ‘what to order at Hambledon’s finest slaughterhouse tonight?’

‘Does Ben know you’re vegetarian?’

‘Don’t think so.’

‘Right. I guess you don’t
look
vegetarian.’

Arns sipped his espresso thoughtfully and headed for a small sagging sofa vacated by Mrs Simmons who was going home in a huff.

‘You can call me when all this silliness is over with,’ she said to Mum’s PA, Sally Penridge, and left in a flurry of scarves, chiffon and far too much Chanel No. 5.

Arns coughed. ‘That fragrance,’ he said hoarsely, falling into the sofa.

‘Alex would confirm it as Chanel,’ I said decisively.

‘It needs discontinuing.’

‘Forget that,’ I said rudely. ‘What do you mean I don’t
look
vegetarian?’ I put my hands on my hips and stared down at him aggressively.

Arnold glanced at me: a quick, nervous flick of his eyes. He coughed again, and took another sip of coffee. I swear his pupils were a pinprick in diameter.

‘Just . . . that,’ he began, then stopped. ‘Vegetarians . . . they’re generally quite . . .’ he winced, ‘spindly.’

I plumped down on the couch so hard Arns’s coffee slopped from its tiny cup into the cushions. He winced again.

‘I knew it! You’re saying I’m not thin? Are you calling me fat? What are you implying, Arnold? You do realise this is a critical time for my self-esteem, right?
Critical!
I’m about to be Sweet Sixteen!
Never Been Kissed!
Not Good!
Not. Good. AT. ALL!
’ I was whispering fiercely and my frantic hand gestures had caught the attention of Sophie Wenger. She ambled over and sat in a straight-backed wooden chair opposite us.

‘Settle down,’ said Arnold to me out of the corner of his mouth.

‘How’re you guys?’ asked Sophie, dropping her bag to the floor and lifting her tea for a quiet drink.

‘Fine, thanks,’ I replied. ‘What happened to your hand?’

Arns’s foot crept across mine and pressed down hard.

‘Uhh, I cut it,’ she replied.

‘Exactly,’ said Arns. ‘Doing any good drama productions at the moment?’

‘Duh,’ said Sophie after a slow blink at Arns. ‘Term starts on Monday?’

‘Right, right,’ said Arns, flushing. ‘Well, I’m just going to –’ but before he could leave me with the criminal goth, one of the Security guys came into the staffroom and said:

‘Can I have everyone’s attention, please?’

The room’s murmuring chat immediately quietened.

‘As most of you know, it seems there was some kind of disturbance in Dr Bird’s office last night and we need to get to the bottom of it. Fingerprints have been lifted and we have three good ones and a partial that are not Dr Bird’s. We will be fingerprinting you all in turn, and asking a few questions, just as a first port of call.’

An angry buzz erupted immediately.

The Security guy grabbed a dirty cup and teaspoon
and whacked at the china with the spoon.

Chink, chink, chink
.

The talk in the room wound down. ‘Could Sophie Wenger step this way first, please?’ he continued.

Sophie stood up so fast her chair fell back. Her face was whiter than usual and her hands shook as she reached for her bag. Arns picked up the chair as she walked across the room in complete silence. You could have heard a teabag drop.

But when the door closed behind her Arns could barely make himself heard in the pandemonium that broke out.