Read Online Biting Nixie by Mary Hughes - Free Book Online

Dirk I ignored. Hope springs eternal.
    Only to be dashed. Dirklet followed us out, chattering. “So what do you want me to do for the fundraiser, Nixie? I could run a kazoo contest. Or should I book the polka bands? You are having polka bands, aren’t you? Well of course you are. This is Meiers Corners. Is Guns and Polkas playing? Well, of course they are, it’s your band. But will the Elvis impersonator be singing? I like him, though I wish he could play accordion like that nice Lawrence Welk. Do you think Oprah plays accordion, Nixie?”
    Julian took his burning hand from my waist to hold it out like a traffic cop in front of Dirk. Still yammering, Dirk ran forehead first into Julian’s palm and bounced like he’d hit a brick wall. “Detective Ruffles. You have work to do.”
    Dirk’s muddy gaze met Julian’s blue one. “I…I have…”
    â€œWork to do,” Julian repeated patiently.
    To my amazement, Dirk said, “I have work to do.”
    â€œYou need to return now.”
    â€œI need to return now.” Dirk turned slowly around and disappeared back into the detectives’ office.
    â€œOMG!” I stared after Dirk. “That was so Jedi.” I waved my hand in the universal Obi-Wan. “You don’t need to see his identification.”
    Julian frowned at me. “I beg your pardon?”
    I circled my palm at him. “You know. Star Wars . Obi-Wan and the Storm Troopers. Before they go into the cantina and meet Han Solo.”
    His frown deepened. Total incomprehension.
    â€œFor goodness sake. Where have you been the last thirty years, Emerson? A coffin?”
    Julian blinked. “Do you ever speak English?”
    â€œYou’re so daggy. Come on. Let’s get this over with.” I put his hand back on my elbow (better than the waist, and who knew where he’d burn if he couldn’t reach that?). And then, because he wasn’t going to leave me alone, I started off to band auditions.
    Besides, I could grill him on the way about Cutter and his gang.
    Slowly, I wormed my fingers through Julian’s, anchoring him to my elbow. When I was sure he couldn’t get away I launched my offensive. “So what was that back there, with all the fighting and falling bodies and stuff?”
    Julian gave an experimental tug. Found himself well and truly hooked. Grimaced. “Dirk looked fine when we left.”
    â€œNot Dirk, you moron. Cutter. Remember? Scary gang guys, male chest-beating, ancient blah-blah-blah?”
    â€œOh. That.”
    â€œYes, that. What was that all about? Who were those guys? How do you know them? And how’d you make yourself look taller? Oh, and your hands. Did you put something on to make them look like claws? And did you really chop off that Cutter guy’s head, and was that a machete you pulled out of your pocket and—”
    â€œNixie, please. One question at a time.” Julian’s eyes closed like he was developing a headache.
    â€œWell…how’d you do the snarling cat thing? You puffed up about half a foot and I could have sworn you had claws. And you moved like lightning.”
    â€œSnarling cat thing.” His eyes opened, tracked like he was thinking hard. “Yes, cat thing. How apt. You see, I study kung fu. A form based on animal natures. I appear larger by pumping up muscles, much as a body builder does. Cat-style kung fu also uses something called claw hand.” He demonstrated, his fingers becoming rigid curves.
    I squinted at his hand. I remembered his fingers looking sharper, but that could have been the light. “Okay, say I believe that. And the foot-long knife in your coat pocket? Or was it a sword?”
    â€œChef’s knife. I do a bit of cordon bleu cooking in my spare time.”
    â€œUh-huh. And you just happened to carry a foot-long thing in your clothes.”
    Both black eyebrows raised.
    â€œI didn’t mean that the way it