Mr Landen Has No Brain

‘Never.’

‘And, though I may currently be sans boyfriend, I’ve been known to have sex.’

‘With a face like yours?’

‘With a face like mine.’

‘How can men sink so low?’

‘Clearly some can.’

‘This “fun” thing,’ he said.

‘What about it?’

‘Stop it at once.’

‘I’m not ruining my social life for you. I–’

‘Ruin it for a million pounds.’

‘What’re you on about?’

‘That’s what’s on offer to the safest caravan park in Wyndham.’

‘That’s us buggered,’ she said.

‘I’m not sure I like your attitude.’

‘Uncle Al, half the people who stay at this camp are suicidal. That’s why they come here, to sit alone in their caravans listening to Radiohead.’

‘I prefer to call them characters.’

‘And have you seen the latest two?’

‘They had tea with me last week.’

‘Who did?’

‘A delightful young lady and her pet chimp.’

‘The chimp was Britain’s leading brain scientist,’ she said.

‘Then why did he eat my cushions?’

‘Now do you see my point? They don’t strike me as being the safest people to have around.’

‘Nonetheless I have faith in you.’

She’d noticed. ‘And if I win I get a million pounds?’

‘The Council feels the huge death rate among tourists is damaging Wyndham’s reputation as a fun place to be – not to mention that scandal last year. So, as a publicity stunt, they’re offering the reward. I’m offering you a one percent commission.’

‘Offer me fifty.’

‘Fifty?’ he said.

‘Sixty.’

‘Sixty!?!’ He sounded like he was about to have a seizure. Good!

She leaned forward in her chair. ‘Uncle Al, without my help you get nothing. With my help you get four hundred grand.’

‘I could easily hire someone else to do your job.’

‘And have me spill the beans about “Barbara” and your little scheme? Or maybe I should tell her about it and she can come and get you. Have you seen the size of her meat cleaver?’

He slipped into a deep silence and considered the issue.

She waited, impatient, fiddling with the handset’s coiled lead. She checked on the restaurant again. Still no sign of cooks. She released the blinds. ‘Uncle Al?’

‘Young lady?’

‘Yes?’

‘I suggest you set about stopping your guests from killing themselves, forthwith.’

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‘I’m going out now, Mr Landen, to collect materials for the Project X you were so excited about. Do you want to come along?’

No reply.

‘I’ll buy you an ice cream,’ she said.

Still no reply.

Teena sighed. She stood on the front steps of her mobile home, one hand holding the door open, the other holding a camouflage jacket. Gazing in at the locked closet, she called, ‘When I get back I expect to find you out of that closet, the rabbit wearing the hat and your attitude much improved. Remember, no one’s irreplaceable, not even you.’

No reply.

‘Mr Landen?’ She frowned. ‘Are you all right in there?’

No reply.

Resigned to getting no sense from him, she put on the camouflage jacket, closed the front door and left.

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