The Girl from a Thousand Fathoms by David Gullen

Author:David Gullen [Gullen, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Nellug
Published: 2020-03-17T04:00:00+00:00

Off Limits

Tim sat against the parapet wall and watched his chickens. One sat down, fluffed its feathers and began a dust bath. The second stood and watched, black eyes bright. The third continued raking through the litter with one foot, head tilted as it studied the disturbed ground with one eye.

Slowly he became convinced the birds’ behaviour in his presence contained an element of self-consciousness.

Could I do it? he wondered. Could I actually take one out, get a knife and—

The images of blood, flying feathers and frantic struggling were very vivid. There were also the insides to consider.

No matter how soft and feathery chickens were on the outside, they had slippery, and no doubt smelly insides. Tim considered the practical realities of divining with entrails. If he was going to use the chickens for the reason he’d bought them, he would of necessity become familiar with those insides while they were still warm and steaming.

He would have to rummage.

Tim looked into nowhere, lost in an avian Heart of Darkness. Blithely, the birds continued to bathe, peck or simply stare. In the back of his mind he grew aware of light footsteps clanging on metal steps.

A shadow moved across the sun.

‘What are their names?’ Foxy said.

‘Foxy?’ Tim jumped to his feet. ‘Where did you come from?’

‘Up the fire escape.’

Tim regarded her habitual tight knee-length skirt and narrow heels and tried to imagine her climbing the perforated metal steps. ‘But how?’

Foxy beamed. ‘Impressed, huh? I rang the bell and when you didn’t come I counted the front doors, walked round the back and counted the ladders. Simple detective work. Even a man could do it.’

Foxy registered Tim’s hurt look. ‘I meant a man back from where I come from. Not you, obviously, because you are an actual real detective. One of those useless short-armed, oily—’ She unclenched her fists. ‘Anyway, you live here so you don’t need to calculate which is your back door. Also a detective, which you are, would instinctively know… I’m babbling aren’t I? Hi there. Good morning.’

Tim wondered how he would manage on the fire-escape in high-heeled sandals, his knees constrained by a narrow, knee-hugging skirt. The image froze, panned back and rotated through 180 degrees. He forced it from his mind and looked again at Foxy, her carefree smile, freckled nose and startling green eyes. Today her golden hair was again in a long plait, draped over one shoulder of a cream cable-knit sweater that made him think of salt wind, seaweed, outboard engines and choppy water breaking over half-submerged rocks.

Foxy noticed him staring at her sweater. ‘Do you like it? I love this wool stuff, it’s so soft. It comes from sheep, did you know that? They’ve got four legs and eat grass.’

The sweater clung in a distracting way, enhancing the gentle roundness of her tummy. It was actually quite sexy.

‘It’s good to see you, Foxy,’ Tim said.

‘You too.’

Tongue-tied, Tim felt his face freeze into a half-smile. Say something, he thought, but repartee had deserted him in his hour of need.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.