‘I hope we’re not intruding,’ said Jenna. ‘This is my daughter Ellie, by the way. I wanted to come by and say thanks for everything you did yesterday, that’s all.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Nathan told her. ‘But come in, anyhow.’
Jenna and Ellie stepped into the hallway and Nathan showed them into the living room. Nathan thought Ellie was strikingly pale, with dark, haunted-looking eyes, but all the same she was very pretty.
‘I brought a cake,’ said Jenna. ‘I hope you like lemon drizzle frosting.’
‘My favorite. Here, Denver, why don’t you take it into the kitchen? How about a cup of coffee to wash it down with, Detective, or maybe a soda? Or maybe a serious drink, even?’
‘Please, call me Jenna,’ said Jenna. ‘Ellie, give Denver a hand cutting the cake, would you?’
‘OK,’ said Ellie, without much enthusiasm.
When Denver and Ellie had taken the cake into the kitchen, Jenna said, ‘Actually, Professor, the reason I’m here is to ask for your help. I have to write a report about what happened yesterday, and I’m darned if I know what I’m going to say. Like I told you before, my captain is the most skeptical man I ever met.’
‘Call me Nathan,’ said Nathan. ‘And I’m sure I can help you. What you need to do is explain all the scientific bits and forget about the mythology. I’ve learned from bitter experience that most people simply don’t believe in mythological creatures. Or can’t believe in them. Or won’t.’
They sat down on the couch and Nathan wrote some notes for her about calcium carbonate and calcium oxide and exothermic reactions. After twenty minutes or so, they heard laughter coming from the kitchen.
Jenna said, ‘Ssh,’ got up from the couch and went quietly across to the kitchen door. When she looked in, she saw Denver and Ellie sitting side by side at the kitchen counter, grinning at each other. Denver had taken the lemon drizzle cake out of the box and cut it into slices. Ellie had her mouth stuffed full of cake and was licking the frosting from her fingers.
Jenna returned to the couch.
‘Everything OK?’ Nathan asked her.
‘Let’s just say that since I met you, Nathan, my life seems to have become so much simpler.’
FORTY-ONE
Wednesday, 7:38 p.m.
Ed Freiburg didn’t bother to switch on the lights when he walked into the CSI workshop on Arch Street. The street lights outside were enough for him to see where he was going, which was only to pick up the forensic toolbox he had left next to the gargoyle they had recovered from Bartram’s Gardens.
He hunkered down and opened up the box to make sure that all of his tools and his luminal spray bottles were in place. Then he closed it and locked it and stood up. He took one last look up at the gargoyle, with its horns and its curved beak and its one broken wing.
The gargoyle’s eyes were closed, as if it were hibernating.
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