He smiled as they walked towards the elevators.
“I appreciate it. You can drop me at home and take the Allegro. Pick me up at eight-thirty tomorrow morning, and we’ll go and meet Giorgio Porgia.”
“The Allegro? For the whole evening?” asked Mary in a tone of mock delight.
“Yes. Look after it—and no drag racing.”
31. Home, Sweet Home
POSTMAN MUZZLED IN AMUSING JURY-RIG MIX-UP
There were laughs all around at the Reading Central Criminal Court this morning, where a comical jury-bribing mix-up brought a moment of levity to otherwise somber proceedings. Sources close to the judge tell us that through an administrative error, sharpened-chisel-wielding mobster Giorgio Porgia had been paying off the wrong jury in his celebrated trial for demanding home improvements with menaces. “What a mix-up!” grinned Mr. Justice Trousers after adjournment. “It’s hilarious moments like this that make the courts such a fun place to work!” The “bought” jury in a nearby court, who were trying a dangerous dog, found the pooch in question not guilty and decided, in an unprecedented move, that the postman had bitten the dog. The postman was muzzled for a month and ordered to pay £10,000 in damages.
—Extract from The Gadfly, April 20, 1984
As Chymes had predicted, Jack’s suitability to carry on the Humpty investigation was the top story on the radio as Mary drove him home. Friedland had done his work well. Questions of Jack’s “competence” and “reliability” were foremost in the report, and they even had a short interview with Chymes himself, who graciously said that he had “every confidence in DI Spratt” but would be more than happy to “offer my own assistance if requested.” There was a reporter on his doorstep wanting Jack to confirm for The Toad that he was a “stubborn fool with a poor hold on reality.” Jack ignored him and went inside.
Madeleine rushed up to give him a hug and said, “I heard all that crap on the radio, sweets. Chymes, was it?”
“In one,” he replied. “The bastard is using every trick in the book to poach the investigation. I didn’t think even he would stoop as low as this. I just wonder what he’s going to try next.”
“You mean he can do more?”
“He’s Guild, darling. Those guys are capable of almost anything.”
“What about Humpty? Figured out who did him in?”
“Not even close. I’m not so sure anymore that Grundy had him killed—and Spongg had more to lose than gain by Humpty’s death.”
“So who does that leave?”
Jack sighed. “An ex-girlfriend named Bessie Brooks.”
“Well,” she said, “if it helps putting it all into some perspective, Stevie’s got a new tooth.”
“Top or bottom?”
“Top.”
“Thanks,” he said, and held her tight.
“Are we interrupting anything?” said Pandora, who had just walked in the front door with Prometheus.
“No,” said Jack as Madeleine returned to the kitchen. “Where… where have you been?”
“To the flicks,” replied Pandora. “They’ve got a Lola Vavoom retrospective at the Coliseum. We saw a Lola triple bilclass="underline" My Sister Used to Keep Geese, The Streets of Wooton Bassett and The Eyre Affair. Prometheus and I are big fans of Lola’s.”
Prometheus nodded agreement, and they walked into the living room.
Jack watched them go and then ran into the kitchen.
“Madeleine!” he breathed. “Pandora and Prometheus have just been to the cinema—together!”
She didn’t look up from the photo magazine she was reading. “So? She’s twenty—she can go to the pictures with whoever she wants.”
“She’s almost twenty, yes—but he’s older than her!”
“You’re eight years older than me. What’s the big deal? Maybe she prefers older men.”
“Four thousand years older?”
“If you could hear yourself! He barely looks over thirty, and he’s really nice—and think how it will improve her Greek.”
“That’s not the point!” he muttered, glancing out through the open kitchen door to make sure they weren’t listening. “He’s the lodger. I can’t have my daughter… you know, with him… sort of Titan, immortal… thing.”
Madeleine laughed, and he stared at her.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re funny. Daughters grow up. They don’t stay all hair band, My Little Pony and ‘Wheels on the bus go round and round’ forever, you know.”
“I know,” he said as he calmed down a bit. “I’m a father. I worry about my daughter. That’s what fathers do.”
“Well, don’t make a fool of yourself.”
“I won’t. I’ll be very open-minded. But they’re not sitting together at dinner so they can hold hands under the table or anything.”
“Put them opposite each other, then.”
“So they can play footsy-footsy? I think not, thank you very much.”
Ben walked in reading a copy of Conspiracy Theorist.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, Ben,” Jack replied, still looking out the kitchen door, where he could see Pandora laughing at something Prometheus had said. “How’s it going?”
“Welsh cattle mutilations are at an all-time high,” he muttered without looking up, “but ball-lightning incidents have dropped. Alien abductions hold pretty steady—although the aliens deny they have anything to do with them.”
“I can’t imagine Constable Ashley kidnapping anyone,” said Jack thoughtfully.
“You have an alien working for you?” asked Ben incredulously, then added with annoyance, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jack shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“Tsk!” said Ben. “Grown-ups.”
“Can I help?” asked Prometheus, who had just walked in.
“Ah. Yes… you could lay the table. I thought I’d put you at that end and Pandora at this end—”
“Phone,” said Prometheus, a moment before it rang.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“That thing when you say something and it happens almost immediately?”
“Do I?” asked the Titan, his brow furrowing in bewilderment. “I don’t think I do. It’s your mother, by the way.”
Jack picked up the phone. It was his mother.
“You’ve done it again!”
“I did?”
“Oh, never mind. Hi, Mum, how are things?”
Jack listened while his mother prattled on at some length about the beanstalk. It was now forty feet high, and she still had no plans to get rid of it. It seemed the British Horticultural Society was sending an expert to view it on the following day. Quite a few people had made special trips to see it, and she had entertained a score or two of them, offering tea and a scone with a guided tour at five pounds a head. She had made a tidy sum and wondered whether Prometheus could come around and help out the following day.