Page 21 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
They must have already been to Jim Morrison’s grave and discovered their escape.
The search party halted, and the security guard flashed his torch around some more, it’s beam sweeping past them several times. ‘Allo?’ he called. ‘Allo?’ After a little while he announced, ‘Personne.’
‘Person?’ said one. ‘Where?’
‘Non. Personne.Nobody. Zere is nobody ’ere.’
‘Perhaps they’re hiding.’ Chloe recognised the voice – it belonged to the guy who’d grabbed her phone. Rohan.
‘Why would they do that?’ said another. ‘Who’d want to spend the night in a graveyard, when they could be–’
‘Zey are not ’ere,’ interrupted the guard. ‘On y va.’
‘What?’
‘We go. Your time, it is oop.’
‘Well, I dunno,’ said one of them. ‘I can’t think how he got out of that cling film and the cemetery. Like fuckin’ Houdini. That girl–’
‘Shh!’ interrupted another.
Ah, so they hadn’t let on to Monsieur le Security Guard about the hostage-taking part of the prank.
Chloe met Joel’s eye, and he grinned as the lads’ voices began to fade away. She peered round the corner of Oscar’s tomb … and let out a gasp. ‘Oh!’
The security guard had dropped a little way behind the others. He’d turned round, walking backwards, and was looking straight at her. He lifted a finger to his lips, then, in the light of the moon, she saw him smile, and point. After raising a hand infarewell, he caught up with the lads, who’d remained oblivious to it all.
‘He saw us!’ she hissed. ‘How did he know we didn’t want to be found?’
‘Maybe because we were hiding,Sherlock.’
‘Good point. How amazing of him to let us stay here. But why would he?’
They waited another minute until the cemetery was silent again, then emerged from the shadows of the tomb.
‘He pointed to something,’ said Chloe. ‘Over there. Maybe there’s an exit.’
‘No, look,’ said Joel, pointing to the side of the path, where something had been roughly scratched in a patch of dust. Going over, they saw a picture and a word.
‘What is it?’ asked Chloe.
‘A key,’ said Joel. ‘And what’s this word?’
‘That’s an N,’ said Chloe. She bent down, pulling Joel with her.
‘N, O, I, R,’ he spelled. ‘Noir. Black.’
‘A black key?’ said Chloe. ‘A key somewhere black? I dunno; we appear to be in a Harry Potter story. Harry Potter and the … um …’
‘Philosopher’s Tombstone?’ he said, glancing over at Oscar’s grave. ‘What was his game? Why did he let the boys back in, come all this way with them, pretend he didn’t see us and then leave us a message?’
‘Probably because after half an hour with them, he knew exactly why you didn’t want to be found,’ said Chloe.
‘Good point. C’mon then, clever clogs. What does our special clue mean?’
‘Clever clogs?’
‘You’re like, wise.’ He sighed. ‘You know your own mind, and you don’t put up with shit. And you’re … understanding.’
