Eoin Colfer - Screwed

“Are you kidding? I never had a gig so sweet. Evelyn insists that you remain alive. She even said you had to be healthy so I can’t put you in a wheelchair or nothing.”

This is a major relief and I have to stop myself from saying thank you.

“Good to know. But hey, I can kill you, right?”

Pablo laughs for a full minute, which is a little OTT I think. “I like you, Irish. You have a good imagination but your aura is clouded and the way you walk is affecting your spine. I could help you with that. Total Dimensional Control. That’s my system.” And then holy shit if he doesn’t slide me a business card. “Evelyn said whatever you want, so I could train you and she picks up the tab. Win-win.”

Being alive is win-win enough for me at the moment, but I take the card, and study the details. I don’t want to appear rude.

“Lemme have a look at the Web site and get back to you.”

“Sure, McEvoy. Whatever. No time limit on Evelyn’s money.” He rises smoothly and I see the power in his limbs, restrained but ready.

How did I not see before that this guy is a killer?

“Ciao,” says Pablo, all European, and then he follows Evelyn into the parking lot without a backward glance.

This is about the least threatening sit-down I’ve had for months, and yet when Pablo disappears through the revolving doors, I stride quickly toward the restroom and lock myself in a cubicle until I stop shaking.

I call Zeb from the Caddy because I need to hear a friend’s voice.

“Hey, Paddy McMickster,” he says. “Did you catch up with that Citizen Pain guy?”

“That guy is a gal,” I tell him, then go for an obvious setup. “Ronelle went out there with the Calvary to pick her up.”

Zeb sighs. “Cavalry, man. Cavalry. Calvary is where Jesus was killed.”

“Yeah, well you’d know.”

One–nil.

“Ooh, the Mick is bringing it to the table. You in a party mood, Dan-o?

“You know what? Yeah, I am. It’s been a tense couple of weeks.”

“What about karaoke tonight? We could do our ‘I Can’t Go for That.’”

“You know it. Hall and Oates kills every time.”

I remember something that could get me to two–nil for the first time this year. “Hey, Zeb. Listen. You know that melted-looking pier down by the Intrepid we used to wonder about? Remember that one? I called the mayor’s office and found out what caused the collapse.”

Zeb snorts. “Yeah, don’t tell me: pier pressure, right?”

Dick.

Copyright

This edition first published in hardcover in the United States in 2013 by

The Overlook Press, Peter Mayer Publishers, Inc.

141 Wooster Street

New York, NY 10012

www.overlookpress.com

For bulk and special sales, please contact sales@overlookny.com, or write to the above address

Copyright © 2013 by Eoin Colfer

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

ISBN 978-1-4683-0759-7

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