The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [572]
“What did he say?”
“Something about an overweight lady named Shirley, time being out of joint—and using his revealments as I see fit.”
“What did he mean by that? That his revealment is not going to come true?”
“I don’t know—but he handed me this.”
It was Zvlkx’s Book of Revealments. Joffy flicked through the yellowed pages, which outlined in Old English every supposed prophecy he had made, next to an arithmetic sum of some sort. Joffy closed Zvlkx’s eyes and placed his jacket over the dead saint’s head. A crowd had assembled, including a policeman, who took charge. Joffy hid the book, and we stood to one side as the blare of an ambulance started up in the distance. The owner of the shop had come out and told us that having tramps dying on his doorstep was bad for business but changed his mind when he found out who it was.
“My goodness!” he said with a respectful tone. “Imagine a real live saint honoring us with his death on our doorstep!”
I nudged Joffy and pointed to the shop front. It was a betting shop.
“Typical!” snorted Joffy. “If he didn’t die trying to get to the bookies, it would have been the brothel. The only reason I knew he wouldn’t be at the pub is because it’s not opening time.”
Startled, I looked at my watch. It was 10:50. Cindy. I had been thinking about St. Zvlkx so much I had forgotten all about her. I backed into the doorway and glanced around. No sign of her, of course, but then she was the best. I thought the fact that a crowd had gathered was good, as she would be unlikely to want to kill innocent people, but then changed my mind when I realized that Cindy’s creed of respect for innocent life could be written in very large letters on the back of a matchbox. I had to get away from the crowd in case someone else was hurt. I dashed off up Commercial Road and was approaching the corner with Granville Street when I stopped abruptly. Cindy had walked around the corner. My hand reflexively closed around the butt of my gun, but then I stopped, all of a sudden uncertain. She was not alone. She had Spike with her.
“Well!” said Spike, looking beyond me to the melee on the street behind. “What’s going on here?”
“The death of Zvlkx, Spike.”
I was staring at Cindy, who stared back at me. I could see only one of her hands. The other was hidden in her handbag. She had failed twice—how far would she go to kill me? In broad daylight, with her husband as witness? I was standing awkwardly with my hand on my automatic, but it was still in its holster. I had to trust my father. He had been right about Cindy on the previous attempt. I pulled out my gun and pointed it at her. There was a gasp from several passersby, who scattered.
“Thursday?” yelled Spike. “What the hell is going on? Put that down!”
“No, Spike. Cindy isn’t a librarian, she’s the Windowmaker.” Spike looked at me, then at his petite wife and laughed. “Cindy, an assassin? You’re joking!”
“She’s delusional, and I’m frightened, Spikey,” whimpered Cindy, in her best pathetic-girlie voice. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. I’ve never even held a gun!”
“Very slowly take your hand out of your handbag, Cindy.”
But it was Spike who made the next move. He pulled out his gun and pointed it—at me.
“Put the gun down, Thurs. I’ve always liked you, but I have no problem making this choice.”
I bit my lip but didn’t stop staring at Cindy. “Ever wondered why she was paid cash to do those freelance library jobs? Why her brother works for the CIA? Why her parents were killed by police marksmen? Have you ever heard of librarians being killed by the police?”
“There’s an explanation for it all, Spikey!” whined Cindy. “Kill her! She’s mad!”
I saw her game now. She wasn’t even going to do the job herself. In broad daylight, her husband pulls the trigger, and it’s all legal: a good man defending his wife. She was good. She was the best. She was the Windowmaker. A contract with her and you’re deader than corduroy.
“She has a contract out on me, Spike. Already tried to kill me on two occasions!