Monday, April 8, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 142.7

“Right!” White allowed himself to be dragged off but not before he spotted a flash of expression on the French woman's face. Was that annoyance? He wasn't sure, not having the cultural reference to back up his observation. Foreign folk were a funny lot. He liked then well enough, though the nearest Beryl had ever got him to the continent was a day trip to Calais on the Dover ferry. Even then he was seasick and sickened by the amount of booze and cigarettes the other passengers were packing in their cars. He'd promised to take her to Paris one day on the Eurotrain but hadn't got around to it yet. “With me, I think, Sergeant.”

“Right, sir.” Peters nodded to the ladies and followed. White returned his attention to the little girl as she pulled open the door to the back stairs. “We should check the cellars.”

“There won't be anyone down there.” Lucy dragged him upward. “You said your footieman would get in through a door or a window and there aren't any doors or windows down there.”

“Footietive?” White exchanged a glance with Peters.

“Fugitive, sir.” He grinned. “I've a niece about Lucy's age.”

“A niece?” Lucy smiled. “Is that a little girl? I see other little girls in the playground sometimes, nut Daddy won't let me play with them.”

“Oh?” White raised his eyebrows. “Why's that?”

“Daddy say they have Germans.”

Peters stifled a laugh. “Germs,sir.”

“Thank you, sergeant. I think I got that one.”

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