Colm & the Ghost's Revenge by Kieran Mark Crowley Page B

telling him to eat one too. His assistant, Kate Finkle, was constantly nagging him to eat, eat, eat. Not because she didn’t want him to be slim – secretly, she found him rather attractive that way – but because when he was dieting he was the crabbiest, most contrary man on the planet.
    They had always bickered and both had enjoyed it, but when he lost the weight Cedric had become downright obnoxious. If someone said black, Cedric wouldn’t just say white, he’d say, ‘Shut your mouth or I’ll wipe that stupid look off your pig-ugly face. Moron.’ He was ruder than he’d ever been and he wasn’t someone who’d ever been known for his good manners and sociable ways.
    There was a low point which convinced Cedric that dieting wasn’t for him. Someone had cut in front of him in a supermarket queue and he’d lost it. He’d been overcome by a complete Berserker fury. He’d roared and shouted at the woman who’d skipped ahead before finally emptying an entire carton of buttermilk over her head. Buttermilk didn’t flow easily and it took a good thirty seconds for the carton to empty over the nun. She didn’t like having to wipe it from her eyes or the front of her jumper and Cedric had to make a large donation to a convent school to avoid getting in further trouble for that one.
    That was when he’d decided to start eating properly again. And now he couldn’t stop. It’s not my fault, he told himself. Business had been bad for the last year. Actually, bad was a bit on the optimistic side. Atrocious was more accurate. At first he’d thought it was due to the recession – people weren’t that concerned about what their wives or husbands or employees were up to when they were worried about their jobs and homes. But the recession should have only caused a small loss of business. This was different. It was a catastrophic collapse. One minute he’d been bobbing along nicely, fewer clients, but still enough to pay the bills, next minute, boom. Nothing. Not one client. Not a single person had walked through the door in the last six months. The bills had piled up, the bank savings had dried up and Cedric knew that this week he was going to have to tell Kate Finkle she didn’t have a job any more. She would no longer be his assistant. Poor Kate. That job was her life. He wondered how she’d take the news. Probably by breaking my nose, he thought.
    Of course, being a detective, he’d tried to discover the cause of this loss of business. He’d found it too. A new detective agency had opened up. A rival. Just around the corner. And they only charged one-tenth of the price. Now, even those who don’t know much about business could see that that just didn’t add up. No detective firm could charge so little and hope to stay in business. And there wasn’t enough room in Dublin for very many detective agencies as it was, never mind two in the same area. No, he was sure that the only reason they were doing it was because they hoped to drive him out of business and as soon as he closed down they’d up their prices. It was an old business trick and, as far as Cedric was concerned, an extremely sneaky one.
    He thought it would be best for the owner of the new business and him to have a nice little chat, man to man. Then, when the chat was over, he’d threaten his rival. His plan was that they’d be so scared they’d immediately close down and then everything would go back to normal.
    It hadn’t gone exactly as he’d hoped. Not even close. He’d called to their office, ready to speak to whomever was in charge. He’d even had a speech prepared. He’d opened the door to The Ark Security Agency and announced to the receptionist, ‘I’m Cedric Murphy.’ Four seconds later a muscle-bound ape in a tight black t-shirt had picked him up, carried him out of the office and thrown him down the