Merryll Manning Is Dead Lucky Read Online Free PDF Page B

your bountiful advice?” he snapped in his fruity, lardy-dah voice. “Just go steaming ahead, Mr. Expert. Don’t mind us! Just tell us what to do. We’re all listening. With baited breath!”
        “Well, first of all, did you get a card?”
        “Of course I got a card!”
        “You just told us you hadn’t checked your mail yet?”
        “Who would leave me out? I’m the director!”    
       I tried to be nice. “Well, I guess no-one would leave a director out, as I’m sure you’d all agree. But I wouldn’t take these little cards too seriously. Just someone’s idea of a joke. Or a distraction maybe, from one of today’s contestants.” I had a particular contestant in mind, but I decided against spilling his name. No use warning everyone against Dune-Harrigan. His antics would be directed against the other contestants as well as me. If allowed to run free, his intimidations could well narrow the contest down to a simple fight between the two of us!
        “A joke ? A simple distraction? I would take it far more seriously than that!” steamed good old Ace Jellis.
        “ Me too!” agreed Mr. Varnie.
        Oh, boy! Two of them – but they were just what I wanted! “You could be right at that!” I agreed.
        “What did I tell you!” snapped Mr. Varnie. “What have I been saying all along?”
        “But I know how to keep an eye on things,” I assured them. “The old police training wasn’t wasted on me. I’ll be keeping a watchful eye – a very watchful eye! – just as soon as I’m on stage.”
        I let that sink in. I didn’t have long to wait. I could already see a quick exchange of glances between Producer Varnie and Director Jellis. 
        “Well, aren’t you the lucky one!” Varnie was actually smiling at me. “You’ve drawn number one!”
        “But Mr. Varnie, my list has some professor!” began Miss Spookie Williams.
        “ Your list is out of date, dear! Mr. Manning is coming on first.”
        “Glad to hear it,” I said.
        Actually the first contestant out of the wings has only a marginal advantage over his competitors, but I was after every break I could get.
     
    3
     
    The show was due to be taped in an hour, but I didn’t have a moment to fret. Being number one, I was rushed straight off to make-up to have my face powdered, a black tooth whitened, plus my hair firmly curled across my head and taped to the top of my bald patch. Before I could say Monty Fairmont , my feet were marching across the stage, and my teeth began chattering through that ridiculous shots routine with Sedge.
        The laughter was amazing. So loud, so unexpected, so close! I couldn’t believe the audience was actually enjoying such feeble puns. Must be something else? A clown doing trick pratfalls on the sidelines. Fatally, I couldn’t resist looking past the teleprompter to the other side of the stage. I missed my cue.
        “Gave it your best shot, eh?” repeated Sedge with an angry tremor in his voice. I hoped the cozy viewers at home wouldn’t notice, but maybe they would trim this sally before the evening telecast.
        “Too many shots, Sedge,” I read overcautiously. I sounded like a robot in a B-grade movie. (The autocue was disguised as a camera so the audience wouldn’t notice).
        I waited for the laugh. Sure enough, it came. Another gale, though not quite as strong as the first.
        “And you’re glad to be shot of that line of work?”
        Not just your ordinary Jovian laughter, but an Olympiad of applause, cheers and stamping feet. I don’t think anyone heard my “Yes, I am.”
        “Catch any bank robbers? Any big shots?”
        This sally produced such an eruption of truly gigantic pandemonium, I thought the walls of the whole tatty set would come crashing down. Now I wasn’t so glad I was on first. I needed to block my ears, snap my brain back into shape. 
        Nobody heard my