“Yes, I know.” I said, smarting. I really did know. I didn’t know much about the man, I’ll admit. I had read a bit of the Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque collection, but I didn’t really care for him. “You and your stories. Last week you were reading that other book. The Washington one, with the horse without a head.”
“The horse had a head. The headless horseman did not. And it was Washington Irving,” he said to me. “For the record, I am just as interested in those files as you, but I thought I would finish my book first.”
I realised that I was acting like a spoilt little girl. I didn’t really care, though. I wanted to look at those files. Eli said to me that if I was so interested in them that I could not wait, then I should take a look…show more content… I sat down on the side of his chair, and I acquired a brief cuddle, of sorts. He explained that he didn’t really see the rush in reading the files. The victims were dead and no going anywhere. He wanted to take his mind of The Ferryman, and Hector Lajunas. He talked of how much he had neglected me of late. Truly, I hadn’t noticed. I looked hurt on purpose. He relented.
“You still want to look at those files, don’t you?” he asked.
I nodded, with a smile. Well, it was more of a big grin, with my teeth clenched between my lips. I placed my thumb and finger together, holding them firmly pressed.
“Just a little bit, just a peek,” I said to…show more content… After picking them up, he handed them to me anyway. The more words I looked at, the more uncomfortable I became. It didn’t make for easy reading; I can assure you. There was me, thinking that things had settled down. I held aloft a crude drawing of a naked man. He appeared to be starring in a post-mortem report and sketch of some kind. They did like their drawings of cadavers in London.
It wouldn’t be the first time that a peculiar drawing had perplexed us, and led us on a mysterious trail. This had happened to us once before, but that’s a story for another day. I asked Eli where we might begin.
“Find a summary file,” he said, flicking through several pieces of paper. “Hugh does tend to like everything spick-and-span. There should be one somewhere the pile.” Flipping aside a couple of newspaper clippings, I found the report Eli was looking for. It was two pieces of paper. Not as crumpled as the others, as though it had been placed into the pile last. The paper did not have a heading, but it did go on to list the names of the first two victims, as well as their particulars. I had a brief scan of its content, and handed it to
