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The Smile (Based upon a traditional story and originally published in the Canley Arms) It was a cold wet windy Halloween night. Alex Cullen and Mickey Webb sat in the driest room of an old factory that even the squatters had abandoned; sat and waited for the call to action which never came. After an hour or so of boredom Mickey fished a packet of cards out of his jacket pocket and asked hopefully, "Poker?" Cullen nodded. "Might as well. They played in the dim and uneven light that came, through the broken skylights, from the streetlights outside. Occasionally a streak of lightning brought the fuzz edged cards into sharper relief. Sometimes a stronger gust of wind set the loose sheets of iron on the roof rattling. Always the pouring and splashing of the rain provided a monotonous soundtrack. Mickey watched the DI over his hand,mind a little on the chickenstakes they were playing for but more on wondering what sort of person his new boss really was. Cullen didn't give much away - about his cards or about himself. Bored and curious Mickey tried different conversational topics with litle success. Cullen gave them his careful consideration and answered courteously - but with no suggestion of enthusiasm or interest. He smiled a little, though, when Mickey jumped as a carelessly-flung jacket slid off a nameless chunk of machinery. "Hear a ghost, Mickey?" he asked, very drily. "Nah," Mickey grinned. "I don't believe in ghosts, guv." Cullen raised an eyebrow. "Don't you?" he asked - and his smile broadened as he slowly disappeared. Finis |
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