Nirvana Bites by Debi Alper Read Free Book Online Page B

side of the shop.
    â€˜Can I help you, sir?’ she asked in a chirpy voice.
    â€˜Yah,’ Frank replied. I closed my eyes and offered a short prayer. Don’t overdo it, Frank. ‘I was wondering about the fish in this particular tank…’ he warbled.
    Ms Plum rose and crossed the shop towards him. I wandered over to the other side, behind her desk. Frank began asking intelligent-sounding questions fed to him earlier by Stan, while I gave the desk the once-over. There was a tank immediately behind it, so if she looked round, I wouldn’t appear too suspicious.
    The foghorn blasted as the shop door opened again. I swivelled round to gaze in the nearest tank. I stood eyeball to eyeball with a puffer fish who looked as startled as I felt. In the reflection, I watched as two smart blokes in suits walked straight through the shop and disappeared through a door at the back. Ms Plum didn’t waver in her patter extolling the virtues of sharing your space with cold-blooded companions of the piscine variety.
    I turned back to the desk. At the front a rectangular plaque bore her name – Harriet Pugh. On the desk itself there was a computerised till, a phone, a terminal and some odd bits of stationery. On the computer, a screensaver – an inevitable underwater scene – wobbled gently. I nudged the mouse and the fish floated off, to be replaced by two rows of playing-cards. Ms Pugh wasn’t overworked then. There was nothing else to be gleaned there, so it was time to move on to Plan B.
    I caught Frank’s eye and gave him the thumbs-down. He shifted gear seamlessly. Bless him, I couldn’t believe how well he was doing.
    He explained to Harriet that he wanted something special, possibly customised – in terms of size, shape and atmosphere – to fit into a particular room.
    â€˜Money’s no object,’ he trilled.
    Easy, Frank. Don’t blow it now. I darted him a warning glance, but he was on a roll.
    â€˜We do offer a consultancy service,’ Harriet replied, almost as though she had read the script.
    â€˜Super,’ Frank gushed as they walked over to the desk.
    Harriet settled on her perch and I continued to hover, as though fascinated by the fish in the tank behind her.
    â€˜This is most helpful of you, Ms Puff,’ Frank said blithely.
    I saw Harriet’s aquamarine shoulders stiffen. I shook my head at him wildly.
    â€˜Oh, er, sorry,’ Frank stumbled. ‘Of course – it’s Ms Pug.’
    I watched her ears go pink as I cast despairing glances at the ceiling.
    â€˜It’s Pugh , actually,’ Harriet reprimanded in tones that could have chilled the water in the tanks. ‘Now if I can just take some details, Mr…?’
    â€˜Arsehole,’ Frank spat out.
    I could imagine what was going through her head. Was this a genuine customer with an unfortunate name or a designer-clad wind-up merchant? She decided not to take the risk. She closed out of the solitaire programme and clicked the mouse several times. I was barely breathing as she opened up the programme she was looking for. To my utter disappointment, it was a blank template, with columns for name, address, etc.
    â€˜And how are you spelling that, Mr Arsehole?’
    â€˜A-R-S-E-L-L.’
    I exhaled slowly. Maybe Frank could redeem this after all.
    â€˜And your first name?’
    â€˜Titus.’
    Things went downhill from then on.
    By the time we stumbled out of Koi Korner and back on to dry land we were forced to confront the fact that we had achieved nothing. Maybe that’s not entirely true. We had surely set new records for bumbling incompetence and wasted effort. But as far as Koi Korner was concerned, we had learned nothing of value that could either confirm our suspicions or justify eliminating them from our enquiries. At this rate, Stan would be shifting the decimal point a couple of places westward on that £150-a-day fee he had offered. I could