Friday, August 9, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 155.05


“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Dee two.”

Jasfoup whistled. “The trouble with you, old chum, is...”

“What?”

Jasfoup remained silent, holding one hand to his ear again.

“What?”

“You're too impatient. Now be quiet for a moment. I'm trying to listen.”

“To what?”

“What part of 'Be quiet, I'm trying to listen' weren't you listening to?”

“I just wanted to know what you were listening to? You're standing like you've got an earpiece but you obviously haven't.” Harold fumed at the lack of response from the demon. He looked along the street. It was a fairly typical suburban residential one, a mix of middle class semi's and owner-occupier terraces like his mums, only without the direct access to Hell in the attic. The pavements were adorned only with streetlights and road traffic signs. No kerb-bursting sycamores here, though there were trees here once, to judge by the the regular patches of mismatched paving slabs. Elms, probably. They'd been popular with street planners until the advent of Dutch Elm disease destroyed them all in the seventies.

“Right. This way.” Jasfoup turned and strode back they way they'd come.

Harold hurried to catch up. “Why? Where are we going? The other lead Dill gave me is that way.” He pointed behind them.

“Doesn't matter. We've got a lead.”

“How?”

Jasfoup tapped his ear. “I was listening to the police band. There's a bloke on Kings Meadow who's reported finding an ear in his back garden.”

“Kings Meadow?” Harold frowned, trying to remember the names of the roads.

“It's part of the new Estate. The one they built over the Meadow allotments.”

“Right. Haven't been there before. Isn't that a couple of miles away?”

“Yes. We'd better run or we'll never get there.” He speeded up.

“That doesn't make any sense. It'll be the same distance no matter how...” Harold frowned as they passed the road name. Kings Meadow. “How...?”

“No time to explain. Here it is.” Jasfoup stopped in front of a newish detached, the sort of detached that was closer to its neighbours than some terraces. He knocked on a UPVC double-glazed door and waited until it was opened by an old man. “Good morning. We're here about the ear.”

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