Page 13 of Box of Frogs
‘Fancy dress?’
She smiled. ‘No.’
I cleared my throat. ‘I thought it was a superhero-themed party but I…’
‘She was wrong.’
I nodded. ‘I was wrong. And embarrassed. Horribly embarrassed. Admittedly not as embarrassed as Mark will be in the morning, but still.’
Neither policeman was interested in what I had to say. Clearly they only wanted to hear from Julie. ‘Who’s driving?’
‘I am.’ She smiled brilliantly. ‘It’s my car. I’ve not had anything to drink, I promise you.’
She was an actor – she lied for a living. I was sure that both policemen would remain suspicious despite her glib words. Instead, however, they grinned at her. ‘You’re not like Stacey onSt Thomas Closethen.’
Julie laughed. ‘No. She is something else.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘Anyway, we should get this poor man home. Unless there’s anything else?’
I was expecting them to ask her for an autograph but unfortunately they suddenly seemed to remember who they were and what job they were supposed to be doing. One of the coppers craned his neck down the small street. ‘Is there anyone else down there?’
I held my breath, praying that the balaclava-wearing attacker didn’t take this moment to moan or stand up. When I glanced towards him, though, there was no sign of the man; the lump where his body had lain had vanished. I couldn’t decide whether that was good or not.
If Julie was as surprised at his disappearance as I was, she didn’t let it show. ‘Not a soul, luckily enough. Not even a dodgy paparazzo.’
‘Fair enough. We’ll let you off this time. But you shouldn’t leave your car with the engine running like that – someone might steal it.’
‘Or worse,’ added the other policeman with a grim edge.
Or worse indeed, I thought.
Julie smiled. ‘Thank you. We’ll take more care in the future.’ She glanced at me. ‘Coming?’
I couldn’t say no. I plastered on a smile of my own and walked round to the front passenger seat. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Thank you again,’ Julie trilled. Then she hopped in, closed the door and we quickly drove off.
Chapter Six
The next morning, I lay spread-eagled on the hotel bed and contemplated my next move. Perhaps dressing up in a superhero costume hadn’t been the greatest idea in the world and, given that Julie had dropped me off last night, I’d not retrieved my overcoat from where I’d stashed it under the old car. Instead, I’d dripped through the hotel lobby with both mask and cape still on. The costume had served neither to hide me from the police nor conceal my identity, so caring about it by that point had seemed entirely pointless.
I was frustrated that I couldn’t remember anything useful about myself and I was desperate to investigate more. And now it wasn’t just the small wound on my finger I had to worry about; my entire hand was starting to throb, pain radiating across all my tendons. The smart move would be to find some of this nux stuff and sort my health out once and for all.
DD had mentioned a fellow named Rubus who could help me out. I decided I’d start my search for him. If I could find him, not only might I find the antidote I needed but I might also learn who I really was and exactly what I was capable of. That Taser last night hadn’t affected me so, while I knew I wasn’t invincible, there was definitely more to my abilities and strengths than I appreciated.
I’d only just rolled off the bed, shrugged on a bathrobe and turned on the small kettle when there was a knock at the door. My body tensed. Theoretically, apart from Julie, no one knew I was here but that didn’t mean she hadn’t bandied my details about or that I hadn’t been tracked.
I darted over to the window and opened it so I could squeeze through in a rush if I needed to, then unplugged the half-boiled kettle. In a pinch, I could throw hot water at an assailant. There was another loud knock and, kettle in hand, I edged over to the door and answered it, leaving on the chain.
‘Yes?’
It wasn’t housekeeping as I’d hoped. Instead the stern, unlined features of a suited man whose face I didn’t recognise looked back at me. He had dark thinning hair and an abnormally large forehead; his skin was completely blemish free. Either he had an excellent dermatologist or he was wearing make up.
‘Miss Smith?’ he enquired. ‘Joan Smith?’
I struggled for a moment to remember if that was the name I’d given when I checked in. ‘Uh, that’s me. Joan. Joany Baby. Joan Smith. Hello. I’m Joan.’ Clearly Joan was also a blathering idiot.
He didn’t smile. ‘I’m Mike Timmons, the hotel manager. Am I correct in thinking you checked in two nights ago?’
I wasn’t the only one who was an idiot. This was a hotel chain with well-established computer systems. Mike Timmons didn’t think I checked in two nights ago, he knew. Now even more concerned that this was some sort of set up, despite both his demeanour and clothing screaming hotel manager, I hefted the kettle and tried to smile. ‘That’s correct, yes.’
