Kisses for Lula (27 page)

The ground was cold and wet.

I hit it hard.

I could not breathe.

Boodle gave me a conciliatory slobber and headed
back inside our front garden with a carefree wave of her feathery tail.

The driver’s window of the Datsun rolled down with a
clunk-eeee-clunk-eeee
, and Bludgeon yelled out, ‘Geez! You okay, T?’

The air heaved back into my lungs with a nyheeeee of breath. I gasped and glared at Bludgeon’s bulgy eyes. ‘No,’ I growled. ‘No, I am
not
okay, you frikking frik frik.’

‘Whazzat? ’Ang on. Can’t get out this side. Gimme a mo.’

I heard the passenger door squeak open, some hurried footsteps and Bludgeon’s face appeared an inch from my own. Twitching my fingers, I said, ‘Space, space!’ and Bludgeon backed away.

‘Good thing I’m not, like, into this vehicle, T. Your dog’s scratched the bonnet to shit.’

‘Good thing you’re nearly a relative,’ I hissed back. ‘Otherwise I’d get Pen on to the Legal Aid people to
sue
you to shit!’

‘Geez! Whar I do?’

‘You nearly killed my sister’s dog, and my sister’s dog nearly killed me.’

Bludgeon did not reply, just gave me a hand and pulled me up.

‘You don’t seem surprised by the fire,’ I commented, brushing myself down and wincing at my sodden clothing and a tear on my coat from a Boodle claw.

‘Saw it earlier,’ said Bludgeon. ‘Came round with the final identikit for Mr K to check, but all this was going on.’

‘Identikit?’

Bludgeon’s face lit up with a triumphant grin. ‘Babe, I’m
soo
connected.’

‘Yes,’ I said, my face deadpan.

‘I got ole whazzername down at the station to sit with Mr K while ’e described that lurker. ’E knows a thing or two, that old man.’

‘Yes,’ I said again, still unimpressed.

‘An’ thingummy just gets drawin’ an’ nex’ thing y’know, Bob’s yer uncle. She’s drawn ’im,
an
’ she recognises ’im too! I made a coupla calls, did a background check and mystery solved, babe. Mystery solved.’

‘You know who’s been hanging around me and my house?’ I was surprised.

‘Babe.’ Bludgeon swaggered on the spot, his chest puffed out. ‘I’m the man.’

I sighed. ‘Who is it?’

‘I’ve taken care of it.’

My eyes widened. ‘Oh, God. What have you done?’

‘Don’t worry, don’t worry. All fine. Caught up wif ’im jus’ now. ’E was just a student. You wouldn’t know ’im. ’E won’t bovver you no more.’

‘Bludgeon!’ I could feel the tendons in my neck start to pop out. ‘This is Hambledon. I know all the students! I
am
a student! Or do you mean like a university student?
What have you done?
’

‘Geez. You are so wired, babe. If you just chilled out you’d be, like, really attractive.’ I took a step towards him, my bag held at shoulder height, ready for a right hook. Bludgeon spoke fast. ‘Alls I did is pulled ’im aside, like. Jus’ tole ’im to leave y’alone. ’E said no probs, was jus’ innerested in your dad more, y’know? Was jus’ innerested in ’is problems, yeah?’

That stopped me in my tracks. ‘What a frikking weirdo! Dad doesn’t
have
problems!’

Bludgeon raised his eyebrows and was about to say something when the front gate slammed open so hard it caught me in the right hamstring.

‘Ow!’

‘Sorry, Lula!’ It was Mum, red-faced and puffing. ‘You have a good night? Could you go into the annexe and get out the blankets from the trunk in the eaves? The house is freezing and the Setting Suns are desperate for something to keep them warm.’

‘A good curry, like,’ suggested Bludgeon helpfully.

Mum regarded him for a second longer than was strictly polite.

‘Jalfrezi,’ he added.

Mum’s head turned slowly towards me. ‘This is not Len . . . er . . . Ken?’ she said softly.

‘It is not,’ I said crisply.

Her face brightened. ‘Hello,’ she said to Bludgeon. ‘Perhaps you could give Lu a hand with the blankets?’ and she turned and scurried back to the main house, pulling the door closed behind her.

‘C’mon,’ I said to Bludgeon. ‘Help me with the blankets and tell all about the stalker. What’s his name?’

I led the way down the steps while he rattled off several versions of a name he’d forgotten.

‘You’re supposed to be a brilliant supersleuth, Bludgeon,’ I said, rounding the corner of the house and rummaging in my bag for keys. ‘How can you forget his name? What does he look like?’

‘Identikit’s in my car. I’ll get it when we’re done with the blankets.’

I sighed. ‘Cool. Sounds like a loser anyway. I’m glad you dealt with it, actually.’

‘Yeah, thought you would be. ’E paid me a lot of money to keep ’is identity secret, like.’

‘Ah. So you
don’t
have memory loss.’

‘No, well, I do, but not really.’

I rolled my eyes, opened the door and stepped inside. Bludgeon came in with me and I fumbled with switches till I finally flicked on the lights.

‘Eeeeeeeeeg!’ I shrieked.

‘Waargh!’ shouted Bludgeon, and we cracked heads together, each jumping for the exit.

‘Yoow!’ I yelled.

‘Sheeeeeyit!’ yelled Bludgeon. ‘Get a grip, woman! It’s only Mr K!’ He slammed the door behind us and headed for the kitchen area.

I rounded on Mr Kadinski sitting like a cadaver in the armchair, snacking on a bag of Maltesers. ‘
Mr K, what are you doing here?
The whole
world
is looking for you! There are people who think you are dead!’ My voice cracked then, and my breath got shaky, rasping in and out like I’d been sprinting a ten-mile race.

‘Good,’ said Mr K, popping another chocolate ball into his mouth. His thick grey hair was still tidy, but it looked like he’d been running his fingers through it. There was a red welt on his forehead and I saw that his clothes were decidedly . . . sooty.

‘Mate,’ said Bludgeon, pouring himself a glass of water. ‘You were never in that fire.’

‘I certainly was,’ said Mr Kadinski. ‘Nearly didn’t make it out.’ One of his sleeves slipped down and I saw his wrist, raw and bloodied. ‘I’m losing my touch.’ He looked me in the eye and added, ‘Perhaps I
am
getting old.’

I joined Bludgeon at the kitchen sink. ‘Water?’ I asked Mr K hoarsely.

He shook his head, and I poured myself the biggest mug I could find.

‘I tried to call you, Tallulah,’ said Mr Kadinski, through
honeycomb, ‘but they got in through my window.’

‘They? Who’s they? What did they want? This is unbelievable. Unfrikkingbelievable. Where’d you get the chocolate? I thought I’d finished it all.’

Mr K pointed at his rear.

‘No!’ moaned Bludgeon. ‘You got chocolate out your arse?’

I turned to stare him down. ‘That’s disgusting. You shouldn’t be allowed out in public.’

He winked back at me. ‘That’s why you hired me, babe.’

I rolled my eyes. (They were starting to hurt.)

‘I’d never seen
they
before,’ mused Mr Kadinski, ‘but both of them had construction worker’s boots on, so I’m guessing they were from Harrow’s crowd.’

‘No!’ I gaped at Mr K. ‘What did they want?’

‘My phone.’

‘Phone? Why?’ asked Bludgeon.

‘I got a little video clip of a secret meeting on Monday.’

Bludgeon looked confused, but uninterested. He opened my little fridge and groaned. ‘The cupboard is bare,’ he muttered.

‘Can you get the blankets out of the eaves cupboard in my room?’ I asked him.

‘Sure,’ he said, and ambled out of the kitchen, jumping lightly up the steps to the bedroom. ‘Nice,’ came his voice from a long way away.

‘They got the phone,’ sighed Mr Kadinski.

‘The police have the files,’ I said.

‘But the IT expert won’t be in until Tuesday to analyse them.’

‘Monday’s the planning application deadline.’

‘Exactly.’ Mr Kadinski looked defeated.

‘Come with me to the main house, Mr K,’ I said. ‘The whole Sun’s in there, hunkering down for a night of comfort on the Birds’ full quota of camping equipment.’

‘You’ve got a lot of camp beds,’ he replied, impressed.

‘Probably supplemented by the best the fire brigade has to offer. Come on.’ I put down my mug and walked towards him.

‘I think I should keep a low profile,’ he replied. ‘I’m the reason for that bonfire over there, and I’m withdrawing my application to be chief Guy. Any chance I could stay in here?’

‘Sure.’ It took me a minute to process what he was saying. ‘You take the bed and I’ll make up a mattress here on the floor. Are you saying those construction guys set fire to your room
with you in it
?’

Mr Kadinski raised his eyebrows and grinned. Then Bludgeon appeared with armloads of blankets and I grabbed four of them for myself before packing him off to the main house. ‘Can you give those to Mum and ask for the first-aid kit? Oh, and can you bring the identikit drawing back too?’

‘’Kay,’ he said, and shouldered his way out of the door into the orange glow outside.

BONG!

My head jerked to look at my computer, open on my MSN page.

‘
You did not,
’ I shrieked, ‘
log on to my computer?
’

‘Apologies,’ said Mr Kadinski mildly. ‘I wanted to check through picture files on the Hambledon University site. See if any matched the men I saw in the woods. Really I should have got the identikit woman to draw them up, but I know I’ve seen one of them before somewhere else . . . maybe on campus.’

‘I hardly know you,’ I muttered, and pushed off the pile of blankets to go over to my machine. ‘And you’ve seen my desktop.’

I ignored the snort behind me.

Yep – I had a message.

Chapter Twenty-three

C
ARRIE
:
TALLULAH? ARE YOU THERE?

T
ATTY
B
IRD
:
Yep. What’s with the caps lock? No need for any excitement. Newsflash: No damn kiss. There – I’ve admitted defeat. Tomorrow I am sweet sixteen and never been kissed.

C
ARRIE
:
Thank God!

T
ATTY
B
IRD
:
Are you out of your mind? The whole school is going to be laughing at me Monday morning! You guys should never have made your teasing so bliddy public. I’m ruined.

C
ARRIE
:
Rubbish – now just stay online so I can tell you some stuff, please. Ben Latter is not a science student!

T
ATTY
B
IRD
:
He so is. With a load of brainy friends. I’ve got to do some questionnaire for some research –

‘You type really fast,’ said Mr K, from behind me.

I turned to look at him. His head was back against the top of the chair, his eyes closed, his body relaxed.

‘I do,’ I replied. ‘It’s a special-agent skill.’

He smiled, eyes still closed. ‘Don’t be upset,’ he said softly, ‘when Bludgeon comes back with that drawing.’

My forehead wrinkled in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

But Mr K was silent. He looked like he’d fallen asleep.
I had a moment of angst: what was the risk of chocolate drool on the heirloom’s antique satin?

With a sigh, I turned back to my screen and continued typing:

–
that a friend of his needs for the Science Fair opener on Monday.

C
ARRIE
:
Have you looked at it yet? Go and get it. Tell me what it says.

I pushed away from my desk and stretched over to the kitchen counter for my bag as Bludgeon burst back in the door. I jumped; Mr K didn’t move a muscle.

‘What is wrong with you?’ I hissed. ‘He’s old. Banging in like that could kill the man!’

Mr K laughed.

‘Oh, so you’re awake, are you?’ I called over. ‘Don’t laugh at me, Mr Kadinski. You have the open wound – I have the neat Dettol. It would hurt. A lot.’ I snatched the first-aid kit from Bludgeon and he closed the door, tossing a piece of paper on the counter. Closing in on Mr K with evil intent, I got out the antiseptic. ‘Let’s have those wrists,’ I said with a nurse-ish smile.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ he said firmly, and sat up to take all the paraphernalia from me. He pulled back his sleeves and I winced at the mess his skin was in.

‘Mate,’ squealed Bludgeon. ‘That’s nasty!’

‘It’ll scar,’ agreed Mr K, coolly applying neat Dettol to cotton wool and swabbing carefully. I pulled the bin closer and he threw in the bloodied ball. Bludgeon made a small high-pitched noise and moved quickly to the bathroom.

‘What did they tie you up with?’ I asked.

‘Those plastic rip-tie things that ratchet and hold automatically.’

‘And you got out of those how?’

‘Cut them off with the edge of the radiator.’

‘Geez! Some radiator!’

‘It’s old and broken. Doesn’t work. Been complaining about it for months.’

A familiar sound of retching came from the bathroom, followed by
BONG!
from the computer.

‘He’s not good with blood,’ observed Mr K.

BONG!

Sighing, I walked to the counter and got the questionnaire out of my bag.