Free Novel - Half Moon Investigations by Eoin Colfer Page A

out of the good guy?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, that’s what happened to you.”
    Dr. Brendan would have been a dead man if I could have raised my head without squealing like a schoolgirl. Obviously he thought I was four years old.
    “The point is,” continued Dr. Brendan, “that those movie guys aren’t really hitting each other. In actuality.”
    “You don’t say.”
    “No really, I’m serious,” continued Dr. Brendan. “It’s all pretend. Human beings aren’t built to take that kind of punishment.”
    I closed my eyes, hoping he would go away.
    “A knock like you got. Well, you’re lucky to be alive. Okay, you don’t look so good, right now, but most of the damage is just deep bone bruising, except for the nose. Your left hand took most of the force.”
    I opened my eyes. “What was that about my nose?”
    “Snapped like a wishbone. We’re going to be setting it this evening. And your hand was pounded like a raw steak. Nothing broken, but you won’t be playing the violin for a few months.”
    “My head is ringing.”
    Dr. Brendan checked my ears with a penlight. “An aftereffect of the trauma. But again, it’s temporary.”
    In my mind’s darkroom, a picture of Frankenstein’s monster began to develop.
    “You’ll be on painkillers after the operation. Maybe you should get a pair of dark glasses, too.”
    “Why? Will the light hurt my eyes?”
    Brendan giggled guiltily. “No, just to stop you from looking at yourself in the mirror. You’re going to be quite the troll for a while.”
    “Troll?”
    “I’m afraid so. For at least two months, ugly is going to be your middle name. And quite possibly your first and last name, too.”
    I moaned. Several bubbles popped in my nose.
    Dr. Brendan took pity on me. “I’m sorry, Fletcher. I thought a joke might get your spirits up.”
    “Spirits up!” I groaned, each syllable sending a laser burst of pain through my nose. “Are you crazy?”
    Dr. Brendan hooked my chart on the bed’s foot rail.
    “No no,” he said gallantly. “Just doing my job.”
    Dr. Brendan held up a few fingers, then decided that I wasn’t concussed and went to fetch my family from the hall.
    Mom nearly passed out when she saw my bruised face.
    “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I assured her, trying my best to smile. From the look on my mother’s face, I guessed that smiling made things worse.
    “Oh my God, Fletcher,” she cried. “When we found you, we thought you were dead. Hazel heard a noise, and your Dad went outside. What happened? Tell me.”
    I told the absolute truth. “I saw someone in the garden, so I went outside. I was attacked with a hurl or bat and I woke up here.” I tried to put a brave face on it, but most of my face was buried beneath a mask of bruises.
    Mom wanted to cradle my head, but she had to make do with hugging an imaginary head eight inches to the left of the real one.
    “This is terrible. In our own garden. Outside our own door. And you, you fool, going outside in the middle of the night! Some detective you are.”
    The sympathy was drying up fast.
    “Yes,” agreed Hazel. “Don’t you ever watch horror films?”
    She held out a small tape recorder. “By the way, could you describe exactly how you felt at the moment of impact? I’m writing a short story . . .”
    “Put that away, Hazel,” hissed Mom. “The poor boy is in pain.”
    Hazel persisted. “Would that be a white-hot pain? Or more of a dull, throbbing pain?”
    Dad cut across my sister’s research.
    “Is this anything to do with your investigation?” he asked me.
    “Maybe. I don’t know. All I was doing was looking for a missing keepsake.”
    “Well, whatever. This investigation is over, as of now. We put up with this detective bit because it was harmless. I won’t ban it completely, because I know it’s your passion. But from now on, all cases go through me. Understood?”
    I nodded gently. There was no point in arguing while everyone was so emotional. I could