The Stranger - Max Frei [110]
She needed time to put things to rights again.
It’s like the flu, which, thankfully, is unknown to the people of Echo. Whether or not you want to admit it, getting better takes time. And now Melamori was going to the scene of a crime as though to her own funeral, for she already sensed what the outcome would be—failure, and a new blow to her self-confidence. But she was going anyway, because she was not used to backing down, even before insurmountable obstacles.
And however foolish, I would most likely have done the same. I was starting to like the damsel more and more.
I sent Juffin a call.
Melamori can’t work today. She won’t be able to do her stuff. And she knows it. Why did you call her here? To teach her a lesson?
Juffin stared at me intently, then at Melamori, and suddenly smiled his blinding smile:
“Go home, on the double! March, my lady!”
“Why on earth should I?”
“You know why. Your gift belongs not to you alone, but to the Secret Investigative Force of the Unified Kingdom. And if there is something that endangers your gift, you must take measures to protect it. That’s also a talent, like all the rest of it. And no shifting your problems onto the shoulders of a tired old boss, who will inevitably forget about them. Is that clear?”
“Thank you,” Melamori murmured. It was painful even to look at her.
“You’re welcome,” Juffin snorted. “Go home, Melamori. Better yet, drop by to see your Uncle Kima. He’s a great Master. He’ll patch you up in no time. In a few days you’ll be right as rain. The sooner the better.”
“How will you find the murderer?” she asked uncertainly.
“Sir Max, this lady is insulting us,” the chief said with a grin. “She considers our intellectual faculties to be on the wane. She thinks that we’re good-for-nothing nincompoops who can only cling to the skirt-tails of the Master of Pursuit, hot on the trail of the criminal. Shall we get offended, or kill her on the spot?”
“Oh, please, I didn’t mean it that way,” said Melamori, and a timid smile spread across her face. “I’ll get better. I’ll bring you something from Uncle Kima. And please forgive me, won’t you?”
“I will forgive you, of course,” Juffin assented. “But Sir Max, here—they say he’s terrible when he’s angry. General Boboota completely lost his bearings!”
“I’ll make it up to Sir Max somehow,” Melamori assured him.
Understandably, I was beside myself with joy.
The darling of my demise graciously retreated and disappeared around the corner, toward the parking lot for official amobilers.
Her parting smile was the last pleasant moment of the day. The rest of it was too lousy for words.
A woman had been killed a few steps away from our favorite pub, the Glutton Bunba. Young, beautiful, though not quite to my taste. A rich brunette with large eyes, generous lips, and broad hips. In Echo, this kind of female beauty is particularly prized. But this woman had had her throat slit—a second horrific grin that reached from ear to ear.
If Juffin is to be believed, this is not how people are killed in Echo, neither women nor men. No one. As a matter of fact, murder of any description is exceedingly rare (unless, of course, one of the banned Orders of Magic is involved—then anything can happen). But this didn’t smell like magic, whether forbidden or permitted. No magic at all.
“To be honest, the thing that surprises me most about this whole mess is the location of the crime,” I said when Juffin and I returned to the office. “It’s common knowledge that the Glutton Bunba is your favorite haunt, Juffin. Not even a crazy paranoiac would get up to no good within a dozen blocks of the place.”
“Well, whoever it was sure did,” the chief said with a sniff.
“Maybe it’s a newcomer?”
“Most likely. In Echo, even in the Troubled Times, damsels weren’t treated like that. How inconvenient! We need Melamori now more than