Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer [29]
I would have been hurt, if I hadn’t already been hurt.
‘Of course, sister. I’m so sorry. I get carried away sometimes.’
‘This could be one of those times if you’re not careful. Now, on your way. And keep the noise down, or I may decide to check your temperature and, believe me, you don’t want that.’
The threat was accompanied by a steely grin, and suddenly having my temperature taken seemed like the scariest thing in the world. I scurried to a waiting area and pretended to be engrossed in a Beautiful Homes magazine.
‘What’re ye in for?’ said a man beside me, a ragged line of stitches running across his forehead.
‘Ingrown toenail,’ I replied, thinking he was joking. After all, my injuries were as plain as the nose on my face.
‘Oh,’ he replied. ‘Sore yokes dem.’
‘Yes. Terrible.’
I checked that the nurse had gone and scarpered out the front door, very quickly indeed for someone with an ingrown toenail.
It must have been very late, because there wasn’t a car on the road. I nipped across and leaned against a gatepost on Rhododendron Road. The fresh air was not perking me up like I thought it would. In fact I felt dizzy and nauseous. No throwing up, I warned myself. Especially not on clients. That would be very unprofessional.
The gate to May’s house was open. I crept in, sticking to the grassy verges to avoid crunching the gravel underfoot. Pretty smart thinking for someone suffering the after-effects of anaesthetic.
A fine mist pattered on to my head from the fountain. They must have got it fixed. The water was most refreshing, so I opened my mouth and tried to catch a few drops.
I caught sight of a shadowy figure in an upstairs window. Even in my foggy state it was clear that it was not May or indeed her father, unless one of them had sprouted a beard since we had last met.
I was immediately concerned. Was this my attacker? Had he moved on to his next victim? My heart pumped faster.
Who was this mysterious bearded man and what was he doing in the Devereux house? It was too late to conceal myself in the bushes. I was standing under the moonlight in a pool of white gravel. There was only one approach to take. The direct one.
‘Who are you?’ I shouted, the words vibrating inside my fragile head. ‘What are you doing in there?’
The shadowy figure pressed against the glass, beard hair spreading like a halo.
‘If you’ve done anything to May, I will find you.’
The window creaked open and a tremulous voice drifted down to me.
‘If you’re looking for May Devereux, she lives next door.’
I was, of course, outside the wrong house.
I retreated sheepishly, bowing slightly as if that would help. My little trip was no longer a secret. No doubt the person in the window would be burning up the phone lines between here and the police station as soon as I was out the gate. I had minutes before a couple of boys in blue came to drag me back to hospital.
I hurried next door, trying not to let my head wobble too much. The dizziness was worse now and I wanted nothing more than to lie down in the rose garden and have a little rest. Perhaps if I went to sleep here, I would somehow wake up in my own bed.
Just a few more minutes and I could rest. Record the evidence, then back to bed. Two minutes at the most.
Two minutes would have been plenty if something hadn’t caught my eye. The entire side of May’s house was glowing a flickering orange. There was a fire somewhere nearby. I loped around the corner feeling slightly duller than a jelly knife.
I heard the fire before I saw it. Pistol-crack flames and boiling hiss. Black smoke filled the garden, rolling in thick coils from a bonfire near the Wendy house. I staggered closer, trying to see what was being burned. All I could make out was the elbow crook of a sleeve, glinting with golden thread.
I gasped with sudden horrible recollection. May’s Irish-dancing costume had gold thread.
She could be in the fire, I thought. May could he in there.
‘Fire!’ I screamed, and my head nearly exploded. The pain drove me to my knees in a bed of roses.
‘Fire!’ I howled again, and