Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer [30]
I awoke to find myself somehow closer to the fire. Alive then, but only barely, judging by the pulpy feel of my skull. I staggered to my feet, working up to a sprint to the Devereux’s side door. Please God, May herself would answer my knocking.
I reached up to check my nasal splint and realized that there was a blackened stick in my hand.
That doesn’t look too good, I thought.
That was when two of Lock’s finest hurdled the garden wall and buried me deeper than the flower roots.
IN THE PUBLIC EYE – AND NOT IN A NICE WAY
When I woke up in my hospital room, Chief Inspector Francis Quinn was perusing a copy of Woman’s Way from the magazine rack.
‘Knit one, purl one,’ he was mumbling when I sat up.
The chief was as close as it was possible to be to a human bulldog, just not as cuddly. He had black eyes buried in his head like driven nails and red jowls that wobbled when he was talking, as he was now. I knew it should be impossible, but I had always thought that the chief slightly resembled his wife, Principal Quinn.
In spite of my situation, my mind began to drift. I began seeing things. Suddenly Chief Quinn had a trident in his hand. It suited him.
‘You have sinned, Moon,’ he roared. ‘And now you are mine, and I will rotate your soul on Hell’s barbecue for all eternity.’
A great fiery pit opened up below my hospital bed.
‘So you think you re tough?’ continued Quinn. ‘We’ve got boys down here that will roll you up in a ball and play hurling with you. When they’ve finished, I’m going to rub your raw soul in salt and toss it to the hounds.’
And then we fell down, down, down, and all I could hear was the demonic laughter of Chief Inspector Francis ‘Lucifer’ Quinn.
OK, so maybe some of that didn’t happen.
‘Fletcher!’ shouted the chief, bring me back to reality, where I definitely did not want to be. ‘Are you listening to me?’
I struggled on to my elbows.
‘Yes. Oh my God, is May all right?’
Quinn frowned. ‘Of course. I suppose she’ll miss the costume, but her daddy can easily buy her a new one.’
Costume. I sighed in relief. Just a costume.
‘Good. That’s great news. Did you get the arsonist?’
Quinn swivelled a chair, straddling it.
‘Oh, I think we did. We got him all right.’
‘Well, who was it?’
There were two guards flanking the door, and they threw each other incredulous looks. Eventually the chief spoke.
‘I’m looking at him.’
It was a simple enough statement, but somehow it wouldn’t take root in my head.
‘What?’
‘The arsonist, I’m looking at him. We all are, except you.’
So, everybody in the room was looking at the arsonist, except me. Therefore the arsonist was in the room. And the arsonist was…
‘Ah, hold on now a second.’
Quinn rested his chin on his arms.
‘Watch this, lads. The denial of the century, coming up.’
I back-pedalled along the bed. ‘I’m the arsonist? Me?’
‘Oh! A confession. That was easy.’
Quinn lit a fat cigar, sucking like he was trying to siphon petrol.
‘I am innocent.’
‘That may be true,’ admitted Quinn. ‘But I have to play the percentages. A known nosy parker is found at the scene of an arson attack actually holding the smoking torch. Obviously in your twisted mind, May Devereux is responsible for the attack on your person yesterday, so this is your revenge. You are a lucky boy that no one was hurt.’
My life. Where had it gone?
I allowed myself six more words. ‘I want to see my lawyer,’ I said.
I didn’t actually have a lawyer. I’m only twelve, for heaven’s sake. But I thought Quinn might back off a few steps if he knew legal representation was on the way. Of course, he shouldn’t have been talking to me at all without my parents present.
Five minutes later, my parents were present and they did not look happy. What they did look was distraught and furious at the same time. Mam assured me that everything would be all right, fondly tugging my little toe, which was the only part of me not aching after my ‘arrest’. While Dad paced the room threatening everything in it, including