The Stranger - Max Frei [191]
The Hall of Common Labor was swarming with chefs again. I gave Melifaro a sympathetic nod, and continued through to our office. An unrecognizable Sir Kofa Yox (curly haired, ruddy faced, large eyes) was whispering to Juffin. When he saw me he fell silent.
“Secrets?” I inquired. “Dreadful ones? Or not very?”
“Somewhere in between,” Juffin said. “How’s your stomach, hero? Are the city toilets running over after your busy night?”
“Are you trying to compensate for the absence of General Boboota? That’s not your forte, Juffin. Moreover, Boboota’s irreplaceable.”
“Well, just take a little walk to the morgue and back. It’s bound to be an instructive excursion. We’ll just finish up our secret-swapping session while you’re gone—and don’t let your nose get out of joint. In fact, these are secrets of Grand Magician Nuflin. Not very exciting.”
I dutifully set out for the morgue, which was located on the premises of the Echo City Police. Sinning Magicians, I sure hadn’t expect everything be this simple! There lay the fellow we had seen yesterday in the elegant yellow looxi. Only now his belt was gone. Was it murder with the intent to rob? Not the most popular kind of crime in Echo. I twirled my magic dagger in my fingers. The gauge didn’t budge. No Forbidden Magic around here. But if Juffin wanted me to see it, there must have been some foul magic involved. What kind, though? For one thing, there was no blood nor any trace of violence. Had he been poisoned? No. If this were just about “murder with the intent to rob,” Juffin wouldn’t have been summoned in the first place
I looked at the dead man one more time. There was something about him . . . something very obvious that still eluded my grasp.
I went back to the office without having figured it out. Preoccupied with heavy thoughts, I bumped right into Shixola, the former lieutenant of the City Police. After the remarkable rescue of Boboota, Shixola had been promoted to captain, which (unlike most of his colleagues) he richly deserved.
The fellow reeled, but stood his ground.
“Did you come to admire our discovery, sir?” asked the unfortunate victim of my absentmindedness, rubbing his bruised chin.
“Yes. There’s something not quite right about your discovery,” I said and looked at Shixola thoughtfully.
“I agree. There must be. First Sir Kofa came by, then Sir Venerable Head himself graced us with his presence, and now you arrive. This ragamuffin is really running you ragged.”
“Ragamuffin . . . ?”
The expensive yellow looxi and the fancy boots of the dead man seemed very much at odds with that description. Then it dawned on me. Underneath this expensive looxi the man was wearing the old, tattered skaba I had glimpsed yesterday. It looked as though the fellow hadn’t changed it for years. This glaring contrast seemed significant.
“Yes, a ragamuffin, of course!” I shouted enthusiastically, and rushed off, leaving Captain Shixola bewildered and alone.
“Well, what do you say?”
Juffin smiled broadly, as though getting the chance to look at the corpse had been a birthday present, perhaps the best I had ever received.
“Nothing much to say. The fellow’s not dressed too well. I’ll be honest with you, it took a while for me to realize it. It looks like he hadn’t changed his clothes in years. By the way, who took his belt away from him? The killer, or you?”
“Whoever did, it wasn’t us, unfortunately.”
“How did he die? I didn’t see any wounds. Was he poisoned?”
“Possibly. It’s not clear. You have something to add?”
“No, nothing.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Well, my heart lurched unpleasantly. That happened yesterday, already, when Kofa and I saw him in the Irrashi Inn. There was nothing more concrete than that.”
“I’m not interested in anything ‘concrete.’ What really intrigues me are the