The Stranger - Max Frei [151]
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Juffin. “This means I can even retire tomorrow if I want to. You’re really a fine fellow, and I mean that with all my heart. Eat up!”
I tucked into my food, already growing cold, with relish.
“We’ll put your plan into action,” Juffin said in a decisive tone. “You seem to have all the bases covered. I have only one comment to make.”
“What is that?” I said, my mouth full of food, and happy that there was just one comment.
“You must remember how you recognized the smell,” he said earnestly.
“Oh, Juffin. I’ve already broken my head—my nose—over that one. It’s no use.”
“I know one thing for sure: it’s not from your world. You can trust me on this one. It’s a very strange scent, but it is indigenous to this World. There’s not the slightest doubt about it. So start walking around town. Visit one by one all the taverns you’ve been in before. And sniff them out. Who knows?”
“Okay, but what’s to say that when I find the place they’ll be serving the same thing?”
“You’re lucky, Max. That’s your only guarantee. The main thing is not to come down with the sniffles—this is absolutely the wrong time. Let’s go to the Ministry. You’ll be in command, and I can enjoy myself.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Why should I want to do that? Your plan deserves the highest praise. So implement it.”
“Juffin, it’s much easier for me to do things myself than to explain to a bunch of people what I think they should be doing.”
“I know. I’m the same way. But life doesn’t always live up to our expectations. You have to get used to that.”
We returned to the House by the Bridge. Then Juffin went home to have a few dreams, since, as he said, his faith in me was absolute. He had finally convinced me of that. I also understood that I had to crack this case before sunset or die. Or at least burn up from shame, and become a silver residue of ash somewhere in a dark corner of the Ministry for Perfect Public Order. And it has plenty of dark corners.
I heaved a sigh, gathered my wits, and got down to work. I sent a call to Melifaro, to Sir Kofa, and to Melamori. I told them to report to work. All three of them were shaken down to the soles of their feet. I wasn’t so fluent in Silent Speech, though, that I could offer my colleagues the opportunity to say everything they thought about me and my idiotic appeal at daybreak on the First Day of the Year. “Over and out!” I barked, and signed off, realizing further cause for why Juffin had been so willing to give me a chance to prove my mettle.
There was no point in bothering Lookfi. The buriwoks from the Main Archive don’t open their beaks before noon. They have their own daily rhythm of existence. It’s only our Kurush who is a saint.
Melamori was the first to arrive. It seemed I had given her a reasonable pretext for escaping the parental embrace a few hours earlier than planned. In any case, she wasn’t angry.
“You look fabulous!” It was impossible for me not to gush. “Have you had enough sleep?” I gallantly filled her cup with kamra.
“Has something happened, or did you just miss me?” Melamori asked with a grin.
“Of course I missed you, but that’s no reason to wake you up at dawn. I’m not such an ogre as they claim I am. Well, I wouldn’t think twice about devouring a few dozen old men and babies. But not allowing a lady to sleep her fill?”
“Well, whatever has happened?”
“A corpse happened. And a strange one it was. You can come to admire it—and to enjoy the aroma at the same time. I’m not kidding: take a deep whiff. Then come back here. There will be another cup of kamra waiting for you, and an assignment.”
Melamori obediently carried out my orders and went down to the morgue.
She came back with a troubled