Well, except for maybe the local police. They’d had no trouble at all hunting me down.
“Who is it?” I called more out of habit than anything else.
“Pizza man!”
His silhouette behind the warped front door said he was indeed the pizza man, judging by his signature hat and the big square box.
My stomach grumbled as I flung the door open, turning to look for my purse so I could give him a big tip for coming all the way to the front door of Mayhem Manor without chickening out.
“C’mon in,” I said over my shoulder as I located my purse on the banister of the steps. “Lemme just grab you some money. Listen, thanks for coming all the way up here. I know it’s a hike in all that mud, especially in the dark. But there’s a big tip in this for—”
“Fish and chips, Stevie!” Win bellowed. “Bloody hell, fish and chips!”
I was just about to tell Spy Guy to shut it about the fish-and-chips guy until the pizza-delivery kid was gone, but I didn’t have the chance before the sharp sting of something with a blunt edge whacked me on the back of my head.
As my brain found its way back to the surface, and words in my ear strung together, I fought to open my eyes, the throb in my head a staccato rhythm.
“Stevie! Wake up, damn it. You must wake up! Where’s your phone?” And then he hissed, “Damn! He smashed it.”
My groan was long and pained. “What the heck happened?” I managed to push the words from my lips as I realized I was tied up.
The sticky residue of duct tape pulled at the skin around my wrists and the chafing of rope around my ankles itched.
Now my eyes popped right open to discover I was in the basement of Mayhem Manor. Smack in the middle of the room, which spanned the entire house. Nothing but me and a bazillion cobwebs and every creepy-crawly ever.
Previously, I’d only been down here for half a second to reaffirm my distaste for dark, damp hovels when Win mentioned he was having a wine cellar put in here and he needed me to see the space.
I’d poked my head down here and told him he could house aliens in it if he wanted, however he wanted. Now I wished I’d paid closer attention to the landscape of things. I didn’t even know if there was a window I could get to if I could manage to break the duct tape imprisoning my wrists.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember how I got here. Maybe this was Win’s idea of some kind of surprise spy training?
“Is this Spy Camp 101? Because not funny to entice me to the door for some pizza and wail me in the back of the head. Hey…hold on. How did you wail me in the back of the head? Have you been lying to me about moving big things? Like more than the usual newbie spirit stunts allows? Can you move things, Win?”
I heaved a sigh and let my eyes slide closed again. It was exhausting just to talk. Dang. I was so sleepy.
“Stevie, keep your eyes open. Do not fall back to sleep!” Win barked the order, making my head pop back upward from its decline to my shoulder.
But I felt absolutely no urgency to do as Win suggested at this point. I’m not sure if it was because my head hurt so much, but I was feeling pretty loopy.
There was rustling from upstairs, the door still open, revealing a shaft of light from the kitchen. When I recalled Win’s words about my phone, I noted it was indeed smashed on the concrete floor, and then I heard footsteps.
Okay, scratch that. Urgency came in a tidal wave of awareness, hitting me square in the gut.
“Who’s up there, Win? What the fudge is going on?” I whispered, fighting panic. As awareness solidified, I began to see my predicament clearly.
Stevie tied up in a damp basement equals bad ju-ju, was my summation in a nutshell.
“Oh, jolly good! You’re awake!” A far-too-cheerful voice sang as heavy feet descended on the creaky steps. A man. For sure, it was a man with big feet.
Then I snorted to myself. I was the lamest sleuth ever. Okay, so he was a man and he had big feet. That could be a good quarter of the population.
I squinted when he made an appearance, the light blaring down in front of his form making it hard for me to totally see who was holding me hostage.
“Who are you?”
“The man who’s going to kill you, of course,” he answered, his accent very clearly British.
In that moment, that stark moment of clarity, everything came together in a big blob of understanding. I knew exactly who he was, because Win’s last words before I was tied up came back to me in a flash.
Fish-and-chips man.
But Sally hadn’t mentioned he was British… Wouldn’t he stick out like a sore thumb in Ebenezer Falls with an accent like that?
He bent down on his haunches beneath the harsh glow of the glaring light bulb in the ceiling, allowing me my first glimpse at my captor.
I hate to admit it. I should be all kinds of freaked out, but he was, as Sally had described, pretty good-looking. Dark hair, thick and falling to just above his chin, blue-blue eyes the color of Caribbean water, with thick eyelashes that made his eyes look like he’d rimmed them in black liner.