Bring Out Your Dead - Part 23

Continued from Part 22

Archibald trailed after Chantelle, as she flitted from room to room collecting items en route, like the ponderous tail of a hyperactive comet.  In all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what he was achieving by being there, other than as the sounding board for Chantelle’s continuous commentary.

“Well, I won’t need that.  Oh, mustn’t forget my phone charger…or my tablet for that matter.  There must be a charger for that, somewhere, now where did I put it?  Passport, of course!  Then there’s clothing.  Is it cold back in England at the moment?”

Archibald, who had been staring out of the window, blankly, suddenly became aware that he had been asked a question.

“Sorry Miss Lace, what did you say?”

“It’s Chantelle, Archie, I thought we’d settled that?  I asked you if it was cold, back at home?”

“Well, it’s not as hot as it is here, of course.  You couldn’t run around in just your…well, just the things you’ve got on now” Archibald blushed, acutely aware of the lack of things that Chantelle had on, at the moment.

“Don’t you think I’m properly attired, Archie?” Chantelle oozed closer and stared deep into his eyes.

“Properly att…erm, I think you look brilliant, but it might get a bit nippy around the…around the…” Archibald’s powers of description failed him as his hands rotated in opposing circles and came, he realised, uncomfortably close to brushing the very parts of Chantelle that he feared might get cold.

“I’ll take your advice, Archie,” She chuckled, “and put something sensibly warm in my suitcase.  Come on, you can help me pack.  I’ve got everything laid out on my bed”  She headed toward the bedroom, and then glanced over her shoulder, “would you like to be laid out on my bed, Archie?”

“Oh, no, thanks a lot, I’m not that tired, at the moment, Miss Lace, but you have a kip if you want one”

******

D.I. Wood crouched on his haunches, desperately trying to remain hidden behind the limited cover of a small bush.  His knees screamed with the effort of remaining in this unusual, and distinctly uncomfortable, position for any length of time.  He had also had to limit his movements considerably, as he had recently nearly gone through a ‘form of marriage’ with an adjacent cactus.  By and large, he rather wished that he had sent D.S. Stone here and he had stayed back at the Police Station.  No amount of watching the delightful Chantelle wiggling from room to room would ever compensate for the loss of feeling in his legs and the cactus spines in his nether regions.

The main problem with his one-man stake-out was that it seemed pretty pointless, now that he was here.  He had rather hoped that Frankie Knight might put in an appearance, but all he could see, so far, were Chantelle and that gormless side-kick of Josiah Oakshott.  Between them, they seemed to have covered just about every room in the villa, which pretty much indicated that no-one else was at home.  Even Lurch would have noticed someone as large as life as Frankie lurking behind the sofa, even if he was trailing after Chantelle like a dog on heat, he reflected.

Now they were both in, what he presumed was, the bedroom, and it seemed to him that they were getting rather close for a couple of people who were hardly supposed to know each other.  That meant that he could now add rampant jealousy to the list of his current grievances.

******

“I’ve been thinking, Archie.  When we’re on the ferry, perhaps you and I could share a cabin?” Chantelle’s lips were about a fag paper away from his and the bountiful beauty of her body was pressed closely against him.

“Erm…gosh…well, that would be great, Miss Lace, but what about Mr. O?”

“What about him?”

“Well, don’t you think it could be a bit crowded, what with the three of us?  Mr. Oakshott is very keen on getting a regular night’s sleep.”

“I wasn’t thinking about Mr. Oakshott, Archie.”

“Well, I think you should” Archibald said, stoutly, “He needs his sleep as much as anyone.  And he’s been under a lot of stress just lately.”

Chantelle shook her head and went back to her packing.  She had never known simple seduction to be such hard work.