know.”
“There has to be more to her than that.”
“Should I phone Scotland Yard, ask them to investigate?” Neil quipped.
“They’d probably lock her away in an asylum guarded by dementors.”
“Or lock me away. I’m not out from under suspicion yet.”
At that disquieting thought, Neil took the red tin Fergus kept filled with chocolate covered espresso beans and shook a handful into his palm. “With all this caffeine I’ll be awake until dawn.”
“As though you’ll sleep anyway. Insomniac.”
Neil grunted in reply. He’d have to find something decent for Mora to eat and wondered if they drank coffee in the time period she thought she hailed from. Nix that, the doctor had ordered rest.
“Hey Fergus, you got any real food in this house?”
He looked askance. “I put hazelnut creamer in your coffee and gave you the rest of my fries and nuggets.”
“Ever the gracious host. I was thinking of Mora.”
“Maybe a Happy Meal would cheer her up.” Fergus collected all the toys from whatever movie was currently being promoted.
“I doubt an action figure would thrill her. Besides, I expect she’s accustomed to different fare.”
“Whip her up some haggis,” Fergus said.
Neil smiled faintly. “Fresh out of sheep’s stomach. Even if I could cook it.”
“Better make a run to the Scottish Quick Mart. Pick up some neeps and tatties to go with it. Oh, and a dram of whiskey,” Fergus added, “the only way to have haggis.”
“How do you remember all this stuff?”
Fergus tapped his forehead. “Backed up on my hard drive. Besides, I’m Scots too.”
“Right. The illustrious clan Fergus.”
“Short for Fergusson.”
“Lowlanders,” Neil sneered in mock derision.
“I’ll have you know the ‘Sons of Fergus’ are famous the world over. Show a little respect, particularly as you scarfed my fries,” Fergus said, then did what he always did and opened his laptop.
“You really believe the answer to all of this lies in Google ?”
“Everything’s somewhere in here, if you know how to find it.” Fergus had the unwavering faith of a zealot. He waved an impatient hand at Neil. “I think better under the stars. Get the lights, will you?”
Neil stood and flipped off the overheads, leaving only the mood lamp with the iridescent jellies and the ambient orb. And the soft glow from the laptop, of course. Fergus was never without that.
Fergus reached over to the end table beside his recliner and snapped on the laser star projector, conveniently aimed at the ceiling. At his touch, a host of green and ultraviolet blue stars shone overhead among clouds all constantly moving in the virtual heavens.
“That’s better.” He peered back down at the computer screen.
Fergus didn’t actually step outdoors if he could avoid it. A regular workout at the gym wouldn’t kill him, even buff him up, but Fergus wasn’t into physical fitness. Not geek, and he was a trendsetter when it came to kewl, or thought he was.
Neil wasn’t entirely certain which of them was stranger, Fergus or Mora. To give Fergus his due, he knew which country and century he was in. Settling on Mora as the more peculiar of the two, he returned to the couch and sat in the surreal light.
Coffee, he needed more coffee, and espresso beans. Sip, crunch, sounded against the commotion emanating from the bathroom.
“You want me to shave where ?” A flood of water drowned out Mora’s latest outcry.
Neil and Fergus exchanged looks. “Whatever you’re paying Wrenie for this maid gig, it’s not enough,” Fergus said.
“Fifty bucks. Besides, she owes me.”
Fergus rolled his eyes behind the thick black frames. “Those cards you designed for her business aren’t worth wrestling an infuriated Scotswoman.”
“I thought Mora was too giddy to manage on her own for a while.”
“She sounds pretty lively to me.”
Neil blew out his breath. “Well, it’s not my fault Wrenie can’t sell her beadwork. It’s this