Fiction: Evening Service

Continuing on from Bubble Trouble feed back as ever is appreciated

Brian Donlevy-1942-Nightmare

Arthur stood at the window looking at the rain cascade over the hotel complex and smiled to himself, even the bad weather was impressive in the Caribbean, he pondered if this would cause a delay on his contact, probably not he decided as it was a thunderstorm not a hurricane. He stubbed out his cigarette into the ashtray and picked up his well thumbed paperback just as he heard the click of the bathroom door opening and Sevenpenny emerged wrapped in a towel the size of a small African country.

“How many times have your read that book?” she asked.

“About a dozen times,” answered Arthur as he quickly drew the curtains for Sevenpenny’s modesty.

“Don’t you get bored of it?”

“No, I always manage to find something new every time I read it,”

“So what is the plan for tomorrow?” Sevenpenny inquired browsing through the wardrobe.

“Well I suggest you make the most of the weather if it is sunny, I think I am going to draw out any opposition by going on visits to official looking places,” said Arthur trying not to look as Sevenpenny finished drying herself.

“So they are paying me to top up my tan,” she laughed.

“I’ll need to visit the local Police in my official in regards to Baxter’s murder,” Arthur stated grimly. “From a security point of view we are going to treat the murder as a local incident in a hope that the murder who ever he, or she, is will think we are dismissing it.”

“To give the impression we aren’t letting the events get away from our free holiday I take it,”

“Top of the class,” smiled Arthur.

“Mind if I join you at the table?” she asked.

“Not at all,” said Arthur not looking from his book.

“So should I get room service to bring us more wine?” she asked as she sat opposite.

“I don’t why-” he cut off as he looked up and stammered a bit. Sevenpenny was sitting in front of him wearing a partially opened, “what are? How? what?”

“Oh relax Arthur I’m sure you have seen a bit of cleavage before,” she giggled. “From the crack in the curtains a passer by will think we really aren’t focussing on our mission.”

“I see,” said Arthur a little uncomfortable. “You’ve got it all worked out, Dr. Webster would have just suggested we spend the night in the bar,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“As you can see, there are two indications I am not Dr. Webster,” she smiled, in the distance the thunder rattled again.

louisa-lockhart-01 (2)

 

 

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One thought on “Fiction: Evening Service

  1. Pingback: View from the Villa | Sandmanjazz

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