The Professionals Circuit Archive - Discovered at a Wedding	   
Discovered at a Wedding

 

by Madelein Lee

  
 Doyle shifted uncomfortably in the hard pew, and despite himself, his
eyes once again returned to Bodie only a few feet away. The man was made
to wear a white tuxedo.

Smoothly then, Bodie and the groom turned to watch the bride glide down
the aisle, and Ray's breath caught at the sheer perfection of the man's
profile. Artistic instincts wished for a brush and canvas in that moment.
Forcing his attention away, disturbed by his feelings, he watched the
bride join her husband- to-be at the altar. 

Idly he wondered if the poor girl knew how Bodie outclassed her. Every
female eye in the church was on him; maybe even some of the men's.
Fortunately, she seemed so wrapped up in the ceremony, she was immune to
her surroundings. Doyle had not been impressed by the wedding couple when
they'd all met yesterday when he and Bodie had arrived in Liverpool. On
the condition Doyle could come along, Bodie had agreed to stand up for an
ex- merc mate who went even further back as a school friend. Somehow this
friend, O'Hanlon, had managed to snag the daughter of one of the few
wealthy men left in the depressed city. 

Doyle sighed as he was again presented with a rear view of his mate as the
party faced front. The smooth black cap of hair commanding his attention
gleamed softly in the muted lighting of the ancient building. Only this
morning as he'd helped Bodie knot his tie, he'd had his first twinge of
lust. Since then, the most unsaintly ideas had been running through his
mind no matter how he'd resisted their intrusion. 

Impressed from their first meeting with Bodie's looks, he had been put off
by the man's attitude. The intervening years had changed his opinion and,
he supposed, inured him to the man's face. Only occasionally had he
noticed anymore, usually when some bird made much of him. But today, Bodie
had knocked him cold, and he didn't quite know what to do about it. It was
a damn good thing his partner didn't wear a white tux to work everyday
though, as Doyle knew he'd never be able to keep his hands to himself. 

With a start, he realized the wedding ceremony was over and Bodie was
looked relieved. The bloody sod was, he knew, thinking about the wedding
breakfast and free champagne as he flashed by with the bride's sister on
his arm. 

He'd bet the little cow had never seen anybody like Bodie outside of the
cinema. Probably had visions of being ravished tonight. Might get her
wish, too, if she kept clinging like that. The spurt of jealousy shocked
him. He couldn't believe he really wanted Bodie in that way. Dismissing
the idea, he threaded his way through various aunts and uncles, until he
caught sight of the dark head bending over the bride, kissing her.
O'Hanlon had better watch out--wouldn't take much of the Bodie charm and
the little woman would be pining for greener pastures. The groom obviously
agreed as he broke up the clench. 

"'Nuff of that, mate; you're kissing my wife and I want the chance." 

"Just showing her what she's missing, Gordy," Bodie replied breezily,
releasing her. 

The dazed girl turned to O'Hanlon with briefly unseeing eyes before she
snapped out of her trance. 

"Oh, Gordon, we have to hurry with the snaps so we can get back to the
house," she breathed huskily. 

"Pictures?" Bodie grunted in dismay. "Gordy, when do we eat?" 

Doyle walked up to Bodie, neatly cutting off the maid of honor. "Always
thinking of your stomach, aren't you? Need pictures, don't they, to
remember the day and all? Besides, better capture one of your finer
moments on film." 

Bodie looked surprised. "Who, me? In this bloody penguin suit?" He preened
for a moment, knowing he looked good. "Well, you be a good lad, Raymond,
and maybe I'll get you a copy." 

Doyle suddenly had every intention of owning one. "What'd I do with it?
Guess I could scare the pigeons from the rafters, couldn't I?" 

Bodie looked affronted. The arrogant brows raised as his lower lip slid
out slightly. "More likely to attract birds, mate." 

Captivated, Doyle silently agreed...and silently he condemned himself for
the surge in his groin. Holy Christ, he did want Bodie and his body wasn't
playing games; it was serious. "Not into crows, mate." 

O'Hanlon laughed and pulled his best man back into the church. "C'mon,
Bodie, look at it like a training exercise. Sooner started, sooner over." 

Doyle lurked outside the church, waiting for the wedding party, hoping
there'd be room for him in Bodie's car. He had no intention of abandoning
his partner to that girl. What was her name? Rhymed with her sister's
name--Jenny, that was it, and the bride was Penny. Twins they were. 

Discounting her importance, he decided Jenny was going to have to do
without Bodie in her bed because he'd insist on going back to London
tonight instead of staying over as they'd originally planned. He didn't
let himself think about what Bodie might want, or why he was so
determined. 

Church doors swung wide at last and the others emerged, but as he leaned
on the motor and waited, Doyle's attention was riveted on the one figure. 

"Stranded, sunshine?" Bodie joked as he and Jenny approached. 

"Can I ride with you?" 

"You can drive," Bodie announced, delivering the girl into the backseat. 

"Play chauffeur?" 

"Yeh, why not?" Bodie said, settling into the back. "C'mon, sunshine, I'm
starving." 

Shrugging at the helpless appeal, Doyle slipped the motor into gear and
followed the other vehicles, while listening to the familiar patter Bodie
was trowelling out in the back. The girl was way out of her league and
Bodie wasn't even trying very hard to impress her. He'd heard it all
before, so bored, his mind slipped into a fantasy of Bodie and him in bed.
Rather shocked at some of the things he'd like to do to his partner, he
almost passed the car ahead when it pulled over to the kerb. Once parked,
Bodie climbed out, presenting well-formed buttocks for innocent
inspection, handed the girl out, and ushered her inside. 

Doyle took a minute for himself to be quietly impressed with the house he
was about to enter. Large and well-kept, it sat back on an immense,
exquisitely manicured yard. Its neighbors looked well-cared for, too.
Obviously everyone in Liverpool wasn't on the dole. Jenny's father lived
the good life, and perhaps that's what had attracted hard-man O'Hanlon.
Certainly the girl's fortune was more impressive than her face. 

Inside, he avoided the other guests and leaned against an available wall
space in the large main room. He wanted to continue Bodie-watching while
the man was unaware of his scrutiny. 

Bodie was enjoying a great deal of feminine attention from Jenny, Penny,
and aged aunts right down to the youngest nieces. Jenny pouted jealously
as she vied for her share of the handsome best man. She obviously felt as
maid of honor she deserved his full attention. Doyle found he could
understand, if not commiserate with her chagrin as Bodie generously shared
himself with his audience. Except for the short time the buffet table took
his attention, of course. 

Even Doyle had to admit it was an excellent repast as he availed himself
of it a little later. Popping a last egg into his mouth, he took his
coffee to the terrace to further observe his partner. 

Jenny had finally separated him from his admirers and was feeding him
strawberries dipped in sugar, and the ruddy sod was lapping it up. As he
watched, the curly-headed operative had the strangest reaction as the
pouty mouth parted to allow another strawberry to be slowly fed in. 

Jenny dabbled at Bodie's lips with a napkin, and he felt both a stab of
lust and pique as he observed her fingers brush lightly across his
friend's chin and mouth. 

Astounded at himself, he decided he'd had enough voyeurism for one day and
went back inside to determinedly chat up Olivia, O'Hanlon's nubile younger
sister. Neglected by Bodie, it didn't take her long to be swayed by the
now-in-force Doyle magnetism. Feeling rather smug, he was about to suggest
a walk in the garden when a new arrival caught his eye. 

The man was not dressed for the festivities, but then he was so obviously
from O'Hanlon's past that Doyle wasn't too suspicious of his presence.
Especially when he approached the groom and began a conversation. 

"Who is that, luv?" he asked Olivia. "One of your brother's old chums, is
it?" 

Olivia rolled her eyes as she turned to look at the dark complexioned man
Doyle was referring to. "I'm sure I don't know Mr. Doyle...Ray, I mean.
Except for old school chums, I've not met any of Gordon's more recent
friends, thank goodness." 

Doyle almost smiled at her attempted gentility but managed to restrain it
as she continued. "Too rough a lot for me, I'm sure." 

He was about to reply when O'Hanlon and the man left the room together.
Eyes narrowed as nerves prickled up his spine and, momentarily, he thought
about seeking out Bodie. Reluctantly then, he shelved the idea as he
recalled he was a guest here and whoever the other man was, O'Hanlon knew
him and could certainly handle him if there was trouble. After all,
O'Hanlon was a powerful ex-merc who wouldn't appreciate any interference
in his business. 

Turning back to Olivia, he started to ask her something when the
unmistakable sound of a gunshot shocked the assembly into silence. The
sound of a window breaking echoed in the ensuing hush and Doyle rushed in
the direction of the noise, flinging open doors as he ran down an empty
hallway. At the last one, in a small den, he found O'Hanlon lying in a
gathering pool of blood, the draperies fluttering wildly at the shattered
window. 

Peering out first, he saw a white-tuxedoed figure in hot pursuit of a
fleeing figure. Cursing mightily, he flung himself out the window to
follow, drawing his weapon as he ran. Up ahead, the dark-coated man turned
to fire at Bodie who was almost on his heels. He missed but it was with
renewed fear Doyle ran faster. Bodie was not armed. As he'd informed Doyle
only that morning, guns were de rigueur under tuxedo coats this year. 

If style killed Bodie, he'd never forgive him. 

Especially not when he'd just discovered he loved him. 

The thought was so shocking, it almost stopped him, but his feet ignored
his brain and kept functioning. The two men ahead dodged among and through
shrubberies, vegetable gardens and along paths, with Bodie gaining enough
ground so that when he spotted a short cut through an open-ended shed, he
went through to head off the villain. Doyle's heart lurched. Bodie was too
visible in the white tux, almost like the giant rabbit in *Alice in
Wonderland*. 

Desperately, Doyle closed in on the two larger men, and just as he felt he
was close enough to get in a telling shot, the other man, confronted with
a charging Bodie, fired his gun. There was no way he could miss at that
range and Doyle, blood frozen, screamed out Bodie's name too late. 

Too late. 

One shot and then another rang out, and the bright figure crumpled to the
ground. 

Sick horror commingled with a gut-wrenching fear which he blindly ignored
as he continued to chase the man ahead, until he could shoot without
missing. Accurate as always, when he did fire, he watched his target drop
like a stone. 

Barely checking to make sure the man was out of action and cuffed, he
turned back. Swallowing sour bile, he made his way back to the unconscious
sprawl that was his partner. A red spot stained the shoulder of the white
jacket. This wound, however, did not explain the unmoving form; long
fingers probed shakily as Doyle quickly examined the other man. With a
small sigh of relief he found a tiny crease parting the skin just above
Bodie's ear. 

Almost dazed with relief, he eased the jacket back from the wounded
shoulder and saw that the injured flesh had very nearly stopped bleeding.
"You lucky crud," he breathed in near awe. "Only two creases, and that
bastard shooting almost on top of you. He musta' been blind." Gazing down
at the pale features, he watched long eyelashes flutter and then open. 

"Ray, did we get 'im?" Bodie croaked. 

At the earnest question, his emotions surged, overwhelming him by the very
cessation of nerve-killing dread. As a result, he sagged forward, hugging
Bodie to him, while the laughter and tears poured out. Finally he grew
aware that Bodie was pushing ineffectually at him, and he sobered up,
realizing that he was close to losing it. 

"Hey, mate," Bodie complained. "Me head is killing me, and I can't breathe
with my face smothered in your manly chest. What's so bloody funny
anyway?" 

"Nothing, sunshine, just finding life good all of a sudden." His
ear-splitting grin was uncontrollable as were his shaking hands. It seemed
he couldn't get enough of touching a living, breathing Bodie. Fuzzy blue
blinked, seeking the reason for Doyle's obvious insanity. 

"You're alive, aren't you?" he answered the unspoken question. "Think I'd
be laughing over a corpse?" 

The accusing eyes softened and for a few seconds, Doyle felt like Bodie
had let him inside an enchanted world. Understanding and love shone out at
him in equal parts. Suddenly then, it was gone as quickly as it'd come,
and he was left out in the cold as Bodie scowled at him. 

"C'n tell who's bleedin' around here. You gonna' help me up or just laugh
yourself sick?" 

"Come on then," he said, managing a small smile. "Let's get you to a
doctor. And I suppose we'd better get 'im to hospital. My aim was a little
better." 

Bodie spared a glance at the now moaning gunman. "Who'd he shoot? Was on
the terrace when he came flying out the window." 

"Oh." Doyle realized Bodie might be more than a little perturbed to learn
an old mate had been shot...was maybe even dead. "It was O'Hanlon. Don't
know how badly he was hurt either, so don't ask." 

Supporting Bodie was an arm, he steered him back to the reception site.
All was chaos at the house, and an ambulance was already there along with
the police. 

It took Doyle several hours and a call to Cowley to sort out the confusion
so he could finally join Bodie at hospital. Once there, he was mightily
comforted by the sight of the unhappy man with bandaged head and arm in
sling. 

"Where you bin?" Bodie demanded. "Thought I'd been deserted." Without even
stopping for an answer, he continued wrathfully. "Will you just look at my
suit. It's going to cost a bloody fortune to get it cleaned and mended.
And then I'm not sure all this mucky lot will come out." 

Doyle stood the complaints, merely directing a questioning look at the
accompanying nursing sister. 

"He's got mild concussion, but you can take him home," she said tartly. 

Regarding the young woman with close sympathy, he observed correctly,
"Fractious, was he?" 

"Appalling disposition," she muttered, walking away. 

"Come on then, you. Let's leave the doctors and nurses to help the
patients with sense enough to appreciate their help." 

Wearily, Doyle let him ramble as he got into the car, but once they were
settled, he interrupted the grumbling. "I've got all our things and unless
you want to go back to the house and change, we can leave now." 

Bodie looked up, his harangue halted. "Leave? You mean head back home?" 

"Yeh." 

"Let's go." Bodie settled back, sparing him a cursory glance. "How'd you
spring us from the clutches of the local constabulary?" 

"Wasn't me, was Cowley. Guess he thought we might have too much fun
hanging around here in Liverpool." 

Bodie grunted noncommittally. "How's Gordy? All the docs would tell me was
that he's stable." 

"Even Cowley knew more about his condition than we do," Doyle replied
disgustedly. "He took a bullet low in the shoulder--almost nicked his
heart. Good thing Callahan, that was the hitman's name by the way, was
such a lousy shot. The bride is cosily ensconced in bed at home with about
a dozen females running attendance. I didn't think women had the vapors
anymore," he added with a trace of amusement. 

Bodie just rolled his eyes expressively. "Poor Gordy. Always attracted
trouble, he did." 

"Yeh, well he did it again. Seems Callahan was hired by some feller who
said your mate owed him a L50,000 gambling debt. It was either pay up or
feet-first time. Evidently Gordy hadn't had time to get the money from his
new da yet." He shook his head. "You sure do have some questionable
mates." 

"I know," Bodie shot back. "Look at you." With that he laid his head back
and promptly fell asleep. 

All the way back to the city, Doyle thought about the weekend, what had
happened, his new feelings for Bodie, and what he was going to do about
it. Even Bodie couldn't count on that kind of luck very many times in his
life, and neither could he. Somehow it had become very imperative to
decide just what it was he wanted with Bodie, not to mention, just how he
was to go about accomplishing it. There was a good chance his partner
would have him committed, or even decide he wanted a new backup; one who
didn't fancy his arse anyway. He scowled ferociously. He wouldn't let that
happen. He could learn to live with these new feelings, but he didn't want
to live without the irritating sod. 

Bodie's pain medication had worn off by the time they finally reached
Doyle's apartment so he stuffed some tablets down him and then poured his
recalcitrant partner into bed. It didn't take long of unpacking and
sorting through dirty laundry before he decided it was time to quit
himself. Wrinkling his nose at the lumpy settee, he crawled inside Bodie
and fell asleep immediately. 

Sometime before dawn, before his alarm shrilled, he awoke to find himself
wrapped up in a pair of strong arms, an early morning erection pushing
against his buttocks. Confusion and lust strove for dominance; panic won. 

Easing away from his somnolent bedmate, he hastened to the privacy of the
bog to try and unscramble his still groggy brain in the shower and cool
down his ardour. When he reentered the bedroom for clean clothes, Bodie
was awake, looking like death. 

"Morning." 

A groan was the only response. 

"Not feeling well, then?" 

Baleful blue tracked him across the room. "Head feels like someone started
World War III inside it." 

Looking at Bodie, Doyle was amazed to realize how far gone he was.
Bloodshot eyes, stubbled chin, and foul disposition aside, he found the
man irresistible. "How about some breakfast?" he asked in a moment of
weakness. 

As the hooded eyes widened, he felt pity. "Got eggs in, think maybe a bit
of bacon as well." 

The figure on the bed relaxed visibly. "Heaven," Bodie murmured. 

Later as they sat over their coffee in contented silence, Doyle stared
down into his cup. He could learn to like this, he decided. Bodie was
always good company, even suffering his present discomfort. 

"What's up?" 

The soft inquiry took him by surprise and his head flew up. "What?" 

"You're not going all broody on me, are you?" Bodie queried. "What's
wrong...not like you to be this quiet?" 

Doyle was gratified by the concern. Also it meant the analgesics must have
helped if Bodie was again noticing his surroundings. "Head better?" 

"Yeh." A half-smile lit Bodie's features. "Good grub. Thanks." 

Doyle's heart flip-flopped at the warm grin. Pushing his chair back, he
stood. "Gotta go. Can't all be lying around on sick leave." He paused.
"I'll fix something for supper." 

"I feel better; no need to bother. P'raps I'll go home." 

"Rather you didn't," he persisted. "Concussion and all," he explained. 

Bodie capitulated easily. "You sure?" 

He nodded. "Gotta go. Cowley'll be wanting a report on the goings-on." 

"Tonight then, you'll tell me, right?" 

Doyle looked blank. "What are you rattling on about now?" 

"You'll tell me what's on your mind, right? Not like you to avoid talking
about what's bothering you, whatever it is. Means you're trying to hide
something. Makes a man suspicious, that does." 

Doyle grimaced. "You're mad, completely mad," he said and walked out. 

Coming home that night, Doyle wondered what he'd say if Bodie persisted
with the same line of questioning. All day, every minute he had to give to
personal problems, he'd considered his next move. He still didn't know
whether to tell Bodie the truth about his new feelings or dissemble
further. Now, practically on his own doorstep, he had no idea how to
handle the situation. 

Inside he was surprised to see Bodie, sling off, working awkwardly over a
salad bowl. 

"Hi," he offered. "Smells good. Spaghetti bolognese?" 

"Mmmm," Bodie agreed, chopping onions finely and dumping them in the bowl.
"Thought it might appeal after a day of fighting crime." 

"Hah, fine chance it'd be," Doyle snorted. 

"Slow day?" 

"Yeh." Not wanting to remember the day catching up on reports, he changed
the subject back to food. "I'd have cooked." 

"Know that, don't I? Feel much better or I'd have let you, too." He looked
up smiling. "Nice to be waited on, isn't it?" 

Unable to deal with such bonhomie, Doyle grabbed the opened wine bottle
from the counter and reached for a glass. "This has breathed long enough,"
he announced, pouring a tumbler full, hoping for some needed
fortification. 

Bodie looked at him in amazement. "Hoi, that's not a wine glass. You'll go
all tipsy on me drinking that on an empty stomach." 

Doyle tipped the wine down. "Want some?" 

"Yeh, and mind you use the proper glassware for mine. Like my refinements,
I do." 

Doyle grinned, the wine already warming his stomach, empty since
breakfast. "Know that. Piss elegant at times, you are. Looked positively
splendid in that white tux. Time's when I've wondered if one of your
ancestors was born on the wrong side of the royal sheets." Immediately
embarrassed by his lax tongue, he was grateful that a pole-axed Bodie was
too astonished to reply and let the comment slide by. Burying his nose in
a newly-filled tumbler, he drank some more; shortly he felt much more
relaxed, and by the time Bodie sat salad and pasta in front of him, he'd
conveniently forgotten his indiscretion. 

"Here, sunshine, wrap yourself around that." 

Suddenly ravenous, he cleaned his plate, successfully battling Bodie for
the last piece of garlic bread. He won, and as he chewed, Bodie as loser,
began the clearing up. 

"Oh," Bodie announced, visage brightening. "Got dessert, too." 

Doyle blinked. "You made a dessert?" 

"Nah," Bodie replied scornfully. "Walked down to the news agent to get a
paper and picked up some strawberry sorbet." 

"Strawberry?" He had a sudden vision of that succulent mouth being fed red
berries one by one. Rather lost in that memory, he jumped when Bodie
plonked a dish in front of him and then started in on his. Mesmerized,
Doyle watched the creamy pink treat disappearing between parted lips.
Spoon by spoon Bodie demolished the icy mixture, and it was with no
regret, Doyle pushed his over. "Have mine." 

Bodie's spoon didn't miss a beat, and Doyle watched absorbed. 

When Bodie finished, he looked up into his eyes. "I shall want to start in
on you next, if you don't quit looking at me like that," he admonished
softly. 

Doyle gulped audibly as he tried for nonchalance. "How? I mean how am I
looking?" 

"Like you want me." 

Trust Bodie to say it right out. 

"Do you?" Bodie persisted. 

He could no more deny that than he could give up breathing. Nodding slowly
in the affirmative, he could only await Bodie's reaction, good or bad. 

It was not slow in coming. 

Bodie rose and came around to him, holding out his hand. Beyond thought,
he took it. Pulled to his feet, he found himself locked within strong
arms. 

As Bodie lowered his head, he murmured softly, "If I'm wrong, feel free to
knock my head off." And then a strawberry flavored tongue sought him out
and his passivity ended. A delightful love-lust seared his heart with a
passion that sang through his blood. Then he was eating Bodie alive with
little darting kisses and nibble-licks and finding him delicious. 

Finally Bodie pulled back, looking rather bemused and sounding breathless.
"Blimey, mate, I wasn't far wrong, was I?" 

"What about?" Doyle muttered abstractly, annoyed that he'd lost that
luscious mouth to conversation. 

"You. Me. Way you've bin looking at me the past few days. Figured there's
no sense pratting about if that's what you want." 

"Don't you?" Doyle asked, filled with sudden aching doubt. Bodie was
always giving in to him, but not this time. Unless Bodie wanted him, too,
he wouldn't let it happen. 

"I'd be a real idiot standing here kissing you if I didn't, wouldn't I?" 

The panic and fear subsided as quickly as it'd come. "You're not though,"
Doyle reminded his partner. 

It was Bodie's turn to look confused. "Not what?" 

"Kissing me," he explained succinctly. 

Happily, Bodie ended the boycott on loving and somehow they ended up on
Doyle's big bed. 

"D'you know how to go about this?" he whispered once. 

"Nope," Bodie replied indistinctly, nose buried in soft chest hair, hands
roving over his rump. 

"Then get on with it," Doyle encouraged, voice husky with need. 

Anticipation grew as Bodie worked his way down him, and he gave an
incoherent groan of delight as he felt his rigid cock disappear into the
hot mouth. He'd dreamt of this since he'd watched Bodie eating
strawberries. Arching, unable to help his response, he reached for the
dark head. Guttural moans and whimpers issued forth from his mouth, and he
was unable to control those either. The exquisite sensations sent waves of
pleasure spiraling throughout his body, until cresting, he felt the
delicious tension gather behind his balls. Wanting to warn Bodie he was
going to come, he was speechless at the moment the unbearably wonderful
pressure spilled over into a mind-shattering climax. 

Eons passed and he struggled slowly from the darkness to find the still
body of his partner draped over him. Languorously, he reached down to pull
him up to lie over his heart. 

"Lover?" He liked the sound of that. "Lover," he repeated, sliding fingers
under Bodie's chin, lifting him to a deep kiss. It was a totally
hedonistic desire to know his own taste on those lips that drove him to
claim Bodie's mouth. 

"Let me take care..." he started to say, reaching down the relaxed body,
before breaking off as he found a limp cock nestled in clinging curls. 

Choked, he dropped his face in the black silk resting on his shoulder.
"You came when I did." 

"Yeh," Bodie murmured contentedly. "Such a sexy bastard, you are." A sigh
punctuated his words. 

"Gonna make it good for you next time," Doyle promised. "Earth will move
for you like it did for me." 

Bodie levered himself up, eyes alight with curiosity. "That good, am I?" 

"And then some," Doyle laughed. 

Bodie lowered his head to nuzzle a peaked nipple. "It'll be a few minutes
before I'm ready," he admitted between licks. 

"S'all right," Doyle assured him. "We've got the rest of our lives." 

"Counting on that," Bodie purred with deep satisfaction. 

Doyle lay quietly, not really sleepy, just savouring their closeness when
his eye was caught by something white hanging on his closet door. Quickly
he identified it as the tuxedo. Chuckling, he mentally extended the
clothing a silent thanks for opening his eyes. 

"What?" Bodie asked. 

"That suit of clothes up there, shame it has to go back. I rather fancied
you in it." 

"You're in luck, then," Bodie said gloomily. "Rental agency called round
to pick it up today. When the man saw it, he refused it. Ruddy thing cost
a fortune, too." 

Doyle sighed lustily. "Good. We'll have it fixed and you can get all
togged up every so often." 

Bodie snorted. "Look a treat, I will, walking along with a scruffy urchin
like yourself." 

"Like that," Doyle said dreamily, not bothering to tell his partner he'd
never make it out the door dressed in that particular suit of clothes. 

-- THE END --

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