"Joy, Dara - High 02 - High Intensity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Joy Dara)

Tyber clutched his stomach and roared.
"Stop that! It's not funny. I've read about similar cases, only not with . .. food. In Tasmania, there's this dreaded spirit called the PoopoobeedooЧ"
"Please, you're killing me here."
Zanita stuck her chin in the air. "It's an ancient legend."
"Uh-huh. Is it related to the dreaded Scooby Doobeedoo?"
"Tyber, if you can't be seriousЧ"
He tried to give her an affronted look. It
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wasn't even close. "What do you mean? The Scooby Doobeedoo is a terrible nemesis."
"Oh, really? What does it do?"
"It hums Sinatra off key till it haunts you." A dimple curved his cheek. He pretended to shiver. "Horrible."
Zanita tried not to smile. "For your information, the Poopoobeedoo conies at night and has sex with you."
That made him grin. Broadly. "Well, baby, if I ever have to haunt someoneЧthat's the job I want!"
Zanita threw a sofa pillow at his head. It bounced off the solid Evans IQ and careened into the wall.
"But all our ghost seems to be concerned with is foodЧ"
"Our ghost?" He rested his chin in his palm as he leaned on the edge of the couch.
"Ahuh. When people are eating, the haunt changes the aroma of the foods to something awful, he curdles the clotted cream, and then makes rapping noises in the hanging copper potsЧespecially when the chef is trying to bake a souffle. They all fall flat!"
Tyber tried to be appropriately serious. "Maybe the chef didn't use enough eggs?"
Zanita snorted. "I don't think soЧTodd Sparkling is classically trained. Before this place on the Vineyard, he worked at some of the finest
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restaurants in Boston. He is a renowned chef. Or he used to be... with all of the culinary problems, I'm afraid his reputation is suffering."
"Tsk-tsk." Blooey walked into the room and plopped down in the oversized club chair. "I couldn't help overhearin' Captain. This dastardly devil has got to be stopped! Ain't no worse crime than destroying the artistic creations of a Man of the Ladle."
"Man of the Ladle." Tyber shook his head in an attempt to clear the fiber optics.
"Aye, Captain. 'Tis a serious thing. Next to the oath of the Brethren, I hold it in the highest esteem."
Hambone looked up from licking his fat paw and gave one huge, bored yawn.
"Me and Hambone will have to go wit ye on this one."
Tyber inwardly groaned. This was just what he needed to complete the Tyber flow chart of rational living: a wife who wasn't sure romance and marriage could combine, a whacked-out mathematician who was convinced he was on a pirate ship, and a CAT.
All going to Martha's Vineyard to hunt down a gluttonous ghost.
This time he truly groaned. Fortunately, the sepulchral howl of "synthetic flesh!" from the TV drowned out the cry for help.
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"When are we leaving, Your Ladyship?" Blooey asked Zanita.
"Tomorrow afternoon. I want to get an early start so we don't miss anything."
Tyber glanced back and forth between the two of them and narrowed his eyes. "Who said all of us are going?"
Five eyes gave him startled looks. That, was if you counted Hambone's one-eyed, mildly interested look as startled. "Slightly intrigued" was a better description. Hambone had a certain threshold of dignity that was never loweredЧ except for the occasional giblet.
"Don't be silly, Tyber, we already agreed. Remember?" Zanita gave him a meaningful look. "Of course, if you don't think you are up to the challenge ..."
He gritted his teeth. Oh, he was up to the challenge all right. His wife had no idea what he was up to. A slow piratical grin spread across his gorgeous face, "We go tomorrow. Blooey, call the Florencia Inn and confirm our arrival."
"Aye, aye, Captain!" Blooey hustled off to do his champion's bidding, his step chipper. By contrast, Hambone sagged onto the rug and let out a huge snore.
"Some investigator you're going to be," Tyber muttered to the chubby feline. "All the ghost has
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to do is offer to share his booty with you and you'll be signing his articles."
The bandit cat opened his one eye to give Tyber a smug look that said, "In the scheme of things, who cares?"
Tyber crossed his arms over his broad chest, raised one eyebrow, and pierced the cat with a knowing stare.
Zanita recognized when the subject was getting away from them. "Tyber, I really think we need toЧ"
A loud pounding noise sounded at the front door.