Read Online Death & the City Book Two by Lisa Scullard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lisa Scullard
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with a somewhat traitorous feeling of disappointment that he's already leaving for work.
"If Warren asks you to hold anything out of his toolkit for him, say no," he warns me.
"Still picturing a Taser," I nod.
Connor kisses me, with more intimacy than earlier - maybe because the risk of being in bed already is no longer an issue. But it does feel nice. When he stops I really am sorry that he's going. He rubs my back and lets go.
"Think we might get away with our fake date stakeout later," he admits, picking up his jacket and keys. "Just about."
He heads out through the utility room, grinning over his shoulder.
"You can have a play in the office if you want," he says. "Might find something you like on the computer."
The door to the garage slams behind him. I hear a click at hip height, and realise I'm leaning on the dishwasher as it starts, having heated up the water already. I hear Connor's car start just after, and move away from the worktop back into the living-room, where I can see him disappearing down the long drive, through the glass doors on the far side.
I switch on the TV. Joel Schumacher's Batman & Robin is on, and a 50" plasma screen close-up of Chris O'Donnell gives me a mild start.
"How are we supposed to work together if you don't trust me?" O'Donnell's 'Dick Grayson' rants, before storming off.
That's who Connor reminds me of. Only ginger. Taller, and sort of better-looking - to me, anyway. It's kind of eerie. My psychosis imagines Connor, still in the room, watching me through the TV. That would be quite a neat trick.
It's like having a simultaneous interpreter parallel to reality, instantly translating the world into something that makes sense somewhere else, in some other psychotic Universe populated by justifiably paranoid schizophrenics. But it's not currently powerful enough over me to make me switch off the TV. I leave Batman & Robin , and wander into the study. Connor's desktop PC is idling, with a rotating text screensaver that says KARMACHANIC in chrome 3-D lettering.
I touch the pad, and it disappears, replaced with an aerial photograph of the Blue Mountain region that he's mentioned once before. Looks quite pretty. I click on his hard drive icon, and skim through recent files. There's nothing much there. He doesn't seem to use it. There's very little history on his internet either, just online encyclopaedias, medical websites, science, and National Geographic . When I trace recent pages I find a few on supernatural sightings, headlines on group hysteria, suicide cults, and research pages into OCD, psychosis and eating disorders.
I don't know what I expected of Connor. Definitely not porn. Wildlife and Pest Control statistics. NLP, hypnosis, psychodynamics counselling techniques, with (hopefully not, in my opinion) their application in getting women into bed. I wasn't expecting urban social psychology and medical case studies. It seems to indicate he's preoccupied with things entirely different to either his work, or anything else I had suspected - or worried myself about. Instead of devious and manipulative, what's on here looks like the working mind of someone somewhat more logical, straightforward and down-to-Earth.
I sit down in the leather-backed chair, and swivel thoughtfully. Presently the screensaver reappears, and KARMACHANIC tumbles slowly around the screen.
I wonder what that means.
There's a big spherical amber paperweight on his desktop next to the monitor, with a half-opened chrysalis inside it. Must be worth quite a bit. I pick it up to take a closer look, and see that the chrysalis and what's partially emerged from it isn't alone. It has some sort of parasitic infection or mould growth. Meaning that whatever was meant to be developing originally is mutated, and probably wouldn't have survived anyway, acting as a host or surrogate to something else. Like a living hermit-crab-shell donor.
Like the computer and its content, I'm not sure if it belongs to this Connor, or
"If Warren asks you to hold anything out of his toolkit for him, say no," he warns me.
"Still picturing a Taser," I nod.
Connor kisses me, with more intimacy than earlier - maybe because the risk of being in bed already is no longer an issue. But it does feel nice. When he stops I really am sorry that he's going. He rubs my back and lets go.
"Think we might get away with our fake date stakeout later," he admits, picking up his jacket and keys. "Just about."
He heads out through the utility room, grinning over his shoulder.
"You can have a play in the office if you want," he says. "Might find something you like on the computer."
The door to the garage slams behind him. I hear a click at hip height, and realise I'm leaning on the dishwasher as it starts, having heated up the water already. I hear Connor's car start just after, and move away from the worktop back into the living-room, where I can see him disappearing down the long drive, through the glass doors on the far side.
I switch on the TV. Joel Schumacher's Batman & Robin is on, and a 50" plasma screen close-up of Chris O'Donnell gives me a mild start.
"How are we supposed to work together if you don't trust me?" O'Donnell's 'Dick Grayson' rants, before storming off.
That's who Connor reminds me of. Only ginger. Taller, and sort of better-looking - to me, anyway. It's kind of eerie. My psychosis imagines Connor, still in the room, watching me through the TV. That would be quite a neat trick.
It's like having a simultaneous interpreter parallel to reality, instantly translating the world into something that makes sense somewhere else, in some other psychotic Universe populated by justifiably paranoid schizophrenics. But it's not currently powerful enough over me to make me switch off the TV. I leave Batman & Robin , and wander into the study. Connor's desktop PC is idling, with a rotating text screensaver that says KARMACHANIC in chrome 3-D lettering.
I touch the pad, and it disappears, replaced with an aerial photograph of the Blue Mountain region that he's mentioned once before. Looks quite pretty. I click on his hard drive icon, and skim through recent files. There's nothing much there. He doesn't seem to use it. There's very little history on his internet either, just online encyclopaedias, medical websites, science, and National Geographic . When I trace recent pages I find a few on supernatural sightings, headlines on group hysteria, suicide cults, and research pages into OCD, psychosis and eating disorders.
I don't know what I expected of Connor. Definitely not porn. Wildlife and Pest Control statistics. NLP, hypnosis, psychodynamics counselling techniques, with (hopefully not, in my opinion) their application in getting women into bed. I wasn't expecting urban social psychology and medical case studies. It seems to indicate he's preoccupied with things entirely different to either his work, or anything else I had suspected - or worried myself about. Instead of devious and manipulative, what's on here looks like the working mind of someone somewhat more logical, straightforward and down-to-Earth.
I sit down in the leather-backed chair, and swivel thoughtfully. Presently the screensaver reappears, and KARMACHANIC tumbles slowly around the screen.
I wonder what that means.
There's a big spherical amber paperweight on his desktop next to the monitor, with a half-opened chrysalis inside it. Must be worth quite a bit. I pick it up to take a closer look, and see that the chrysalis and what's partially emerged from it isn't alone. It has some sort of parasitic infection or mould growth. Meaning that whatever was meant to be developing originally is mutated, and probably wouldn't have survived anyway, acting as a host or surrogate to something else. Like a living hermit-crab-shell donor.
Like the computer and its content, I'm not sure if it belongs to this Connor, or
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