a door of his own, moved across the street, rang B.J.'s bel. She hadn't had time to lock the door yet; he sensed movement, heard the ratle of a chain; the door swung open.
And seeing him: 'Now how in al that's ...?' she said, and frowned her puzzlement. 'You weren't here just a moment ago. I thought you weren't coming.'
He shrugged. 'I saw your girls leaving and waited. Didn't want anyone to get the, er, wrong idea.'
'Oh, realy?' she raised an eyebrow. 'Wel, maybe ye'd beter come in then, before someone sees you!' And as he made to step across the threshold, 'But Harry, you can believe me that they wouldn't get the wrong idea. So let's have it understood: this is strictly business. It's not that I want you here, but that you want to be here, right?'
His turn to frown, where he paused with one foot over the threshold. 'You invited me.'
'No,' she denied it. 'You insisted!'
'Wel, I'm here anyway,' he said.
'And do you stil want to talk to me?' (She half blocked his way).
'If you'l let me in, yes!'
Smiling, she let him pass. And walking along the corridor while she finished locking the door, he wondered, now what was that al about?
The lights were low in the bar room; Harry stood waiting, until B.J. came in from the corridor and turned them off altogether. Then he stood in total darkness, until a vertical crack of light expanded into an oblong as B.J. opened a recessed door behind the bar and passed through into the back room. And looking back at him, she said: 'Well, are ye no' coming?' She was in and out of that accent of hers like a hungry budgie in its cage, hopping to and fro from swing to swing!
Harry let himself through the bar hatch and followed her into the back room, or one of them. It was a storage room with a door to one side and stairs ascending to B.J.'s private rooms overhead. Here the Necroscope hesitated . . . until from the foot of the stairs B.J. said: 'I see more than enough of that bar of an evening. So if we must talk, let's at least be comfortable.'
Following her up the lighted stairs, he admired her figure and the natural swing of her backside in her sheath skirt, which was slit up one side oriental style. B.J. was slim and shapely . . . and classy, yes. Or was it just Kyle's body chemistry? Whichever, the Necroscope felt it; also their closeness: the fact that they were quite alone here. But (he was quick to reassure himself) it was all part of the search for Brenda.
This is where I live,' she told him, stepping aside on a landing that opened directly into her living room. 'Go on in.' And as he stepped by her into the room: 'Do have a seat, Harry Keogh,' she said.
Before doing so he looked the room over, and was pleased with what he saw. For where the bar below was a mixture of different styles, this room was all B.J. - it perfectly reflected her image, or the image that he still had of her. It was tasteful, yet exciting, too.
It pleased the eye, and simultaneously satisfied the mind. Lacking pretension or ostentation, still it looked rich, looked real. . . like the woman herself?
The carpet was pile, patterned, and obviously wool. Harry could almost feel its warmth coming right through the soles of his shoes. The carpet's pattern was ... what, Turkish? Greek? But Mediterranean, anyway. As were the varnished pine ceiling beams that formed spokes from the centre of the ceiling, completing the wheel where they were joined up by curving members around the room's perimeter. Thus the room had a circular or at least octagonal look, while in fact it was simply a square room. But actually there was nothing 'simple' about it.
The main lighting feature, a small round chandelier on an extending golden chain, depended from the hub of the pine ceiling-wheel; its crystal pendants served to contain the electric light from three egg-shaped bulbs, so that the whole piece was set glowing like a small soft sun. Its light was adequate, but could be supplemented by use of shaded wall lights, and by the reading lamp on its tall white stand near the circular central table.
The three inner walls were decorated with what looked like good quality old prints in modern frames, while in the comers narrow tapestry screens