Page 114 of Sky Song
She grabbed her head, pressure threatening to erupt in a piercing headache. “There’s nothing in there, Lyle! I refuse to believe it. Dr. Ragberg said that they keep sensitive equipment there. That’s it, that’s the story.”
“My hearts, he’s lying to you.”
She looked at him, then moved only her eyes to Ren and Paloma sitting together at her breakfast table. “Are you asking me to go along with you, the self-professed violent criminals, against the doctor who looked over me for six years and saved my life?”
Lyle said nothing.
Paloma raised her hand. “I beg to differ, I’m not aviolentcriminal.”
Cricket was torn. Lyle had never lied to her. In her gut, she knew that Dr. Ragberg had.
A loud banging on the door startled Cricket and put an end to their argument. “Yo, Emma! Open the door!”
She shared a puzzled look with Paloma. “That sounds like… Mr. Sulys.”
The banging resumed with force. “I know you’re at home!”
The men were giving the door intent looks.
“I better talk to him or he’ll rouse the entire neighborhood.”
“It may not be the best idea,” Ren began, but Paloma pulled him out of the chair and started pushing him toward the back where Cricket’s bedroom was located.
“Cricket and I will talk to him. Go, stay out of sight, we’ve got enough problems.”
Cricket motioned at Lyle. “Please, you too. Don’t let him see you.”
Lyle scrunched up his forehead. “You want me to go to your bedroom and stay there with the Tana-Tana?”
Ren bristled. “What do you think is gonna happen?”
“Nothing. Or you’re dead.”
Cricket grabbed Lyle’s forearm, smooth and strong.A pirate… “It’s the only other room I have. So go.”
“Hello, neighbor! Are you there?” The door handle rattled.
Cricket scooped up the wildly blinking Hipper from behind the couch to shove him in the bedroom behind Lyle, and closed the door.
Smoothing her hair, she went to admit Mr. Sulys while Paloma picked up the cup with Ren’s now-cold coffee and assumed a relaxed pose on the couch. Nothing to see here, just two friendly neighbors having a chat.
The first thing that came into view was the wildly standing on end, rarified hair that Mr. Sulys typically took painstaking efforts to glue to his scalp. He practically fell into the room when the door he was using for support swung inward. Cricket caught him - she had no choice - and pulled him upright.
“Mr. Sulys, what’s the matter?”
“They told me I was mad. I went to them, and they laughed. And I’m not mad!” Dense fumes of sweet liquoraccompanied his words. He braced himself against the wall and looked over at Paloma. “What is she doing here?”
Paloma put her cup down. “He’s drunk.”
It was Cricket who was quickly becoming mad. Mr. Sulys always grated on her nerves, and tonight she had absolutely no patience to deal with him. “Mr. Sulys,” she said curtly. “Go home. Whatever you want to say to me can wait until you sober up.”
“Not home.” He waved a finger at her in a drunken fashion. “Not go. I mean, I’m not goinganywhere.”
“I can’t help you.” Cricket maneuvered him back toward the door that stood open and ready for him to depart.
Sulys bulked and wiggled his body in the most silly and embarrassing fashion. “Mmm, I think I’m catching on. What are you drinking?” His waving finger moved in Paloma’s direction, and his eyes squinted, the right more than the left. “She. Didn’t I warn you about her? The alien sympathizer.”
Paloma stood up. “Scram, pest.”
