Chapter 3: In Which a Nice Day Becomes Much Less SoHoyle woke to the sound of Sybil’s morning ablutions. He put the pillow over his head and clamped it to his ear. His skull felt like it was stuffed with dirty laundry, and his eyes stung. Jet lag, or the two beers last night?
Sybil came out of the bathroom fully dressed. “Time to get up.” She pulled the curtains open, and Hoyle groaned like a child.
“You want to come with me to the library today?” she said.
Hoyle sat up painfully. “Frankly, I’m not sure how much help I’d be.”
Sybil nodded, as though this was the answer she wanted. “I’ll be out all day. You can be back before nine, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re Mister Chirpy in the morning, aren’t you?”
“Unh-unh.” Hoyle lay back down and put the pillow over his head again. He heard the d
