"Cor blimey, Prof, you look like a bleedin' zombie."
"What an extremely original idea," Fendi sneered, not looking up from his computer screen. "What was it that tipped you off? The skulking? The dim atmosphere? The nocturnal habits? The blood fetish? Don't leave me in suspense, detective."
Lucy rolled her eyes. The pottymouthed Fendi was always like this, and she wasn't any more impressed with it than when he raved about murder and shite.
"Nocturnal my arse, you leave on the stroke of five bong and not a second later."
"Because I can't imagine why I didn't want to stick around..." Fendi groused. Lucy ignored him.
"I mean, you look Hank Marvin and I've never seen you eat but what Kat forces down your gob."
"Because I'm a zombie."
"Because you're a beanpole is what! I could knock you down with a breath!"
The clicking at the computer stopped. He turned toward Lucy, and she saw it was the placid Al. It was all in the face and the way he carried himself. And the way he talked of course. Fendi must be fed up if he left this conversation to his 'better half'.
"Lucy, you really don't have to trouble yourself."
"That's a crock of shite and we both know it, Prof."
"I take vitamins. I'm doing fine."
"You got nauseous when I had that sarnie on the train."
"That was..." Al's eyes grazed the room, before snapping back onto her, a habit. "I get motion sick. That's all."
"Uh huh. And when your skin and blister came over with a surprise takeaway pizza and you just happened to head over to the john?"
Al sighed. Drummed his fingers. Gaze darting about the room. Lucy had more evidence in wait but she wanted to see if she could wait him out first.
"Fine, I don't like the sound people make when chewing. Happy?"
"Yes! God, what a production." Chalk up another mystery solved by Lucy Baker!
"Mm. Quite." Oh, Al was grumpy now.
"You know you can just tell me things instead of giving me the vague smile treatment, right?" She fiddled with her cuff, breaking eye contact to give Al a break. "We're good enough pals, right?"
His face softened, as much as it ever did anyway. "Of course," Al looked like he was about to change the subject, but then Fendi took over instead. "So if I tell you to knock off that infernal racket before I silence you permanently..?"
Lucy laughed. "Bloody hell, Prof, I can take my lunch elsewhere! Don't get your knickers in a twist."
"Good, it's disgusting. Completely puts me off my appetite. Makes me want to bash your head against the table."
Ahh, there was the Prof she knew! "As if your little twig arms could do it."
"I could use a weapon. Lots of murderers were physically weaker than their victims."
"Why not poison me instead? It'd be loads easier."
"And lose out on the splatter? I wouldn't miss it for the world."
The Prof was a piece of work sometimes, but Lucy was glad he was about. And he'd stay that way if she had anything to say about it!
Stick To Your Ribs [Layton Brothers: Mystery Room; Al/Fendi & Lucy]
"What an extremely original idea," Fendi sneered, not looking up from his computer screen. "What was it that tipped you off? The skulking? The dim atmosphere? The nocturnal habits? The blood fetish? Don't leave me in suspense, detective."
Lucy rolled her eyes. The pottymouthed Fendi was always like this, and she wasn't any more impressed with it than when he raved about murder and shite.
"Nocturnal my arse, you leave on the stroke of five bong and not a second later."
"Because I can't imagine why I didn't want to stick around..." Fendi groused. Lucy ignored him.
"I mean, you look Hank Marvin and I've never seen you eat but what Kat forces down your gob."
"Because I'm a zombie."
"Because you're a beanpole is what! I could knock you down with a breath!"
The clicking at the computer stopped. He turned toward Lucy, and she saw it was the placid Al. It was all in the face and the way he carried himself. And the way he talked of course. Fendi must be fed up if he left this conversation to his 'better half'.
"Lucy, you really don't have to trouble yourself."
"That's a crock of shite and we both know it, Prof."
"I take vitamins. I'm doing fine."
"You got nauseous when I had that sarnie on the train."
"That was..." Al's eyes grazed the room, before snapping back onto her, a habit. "I get motion sick. That's all."
"Uh huh. And when your skin and blister came over with a surprise takeaway pizza and you just happened to head over to the john?"
Al sighed. Drummed his fingers. Gaze darting about the room. Lucy had more evidence in wait but she wanted to see if she could wait him out first.
"Fine, I don't like the sound people make when chewing. Happy?"
"Yes! God, what a production." Chalk up another mystery solved by Lucy Baker!
"Mm. Quite." Oh, Al was grumpy now.
"You know you can just tell me things instead of giving me the vague smile treatment, right?" She fiddled with her cuff, breaking eye contact to give Al a break. "We're good enough pals, right?"
His face softened, as much as it ever did anyway. "Of course," Al looked like he was about to change the subject, but then Fendi took over instead. "So if I tell you to knock off that infernal racket before I silence you permanently..?"
Lucy laughed. "Bloody hell, Prof, I can take my lunch elsewhere! Don't get your knickers in a twist."
"Good, it's disgusting. Completely puts me off my appetite. Makes me want to bash your head against the table."
Ahh, there was the Prof she knew! "As if your little twig arms could do it."
"I could use a weapon. Lots of murderers were physically weaker than their victims."
"Why not poison me instead? It'd be loads easier."
"And lose out on the splatter? I wouldn't miss it for the world."
The Prof was a piece of work sometimes, but Lucy was glad he was about. And he'd stay that way if she had anything to say about it!