Marlowe stepped toward the bedroom door and waited. Jackaby did not follow immediately, but went first to the sofa and knelt beside Mona. He spoke so quietly I could not hear a word, and he pulled from his pocket something that clinked gently in his palm. Some lucidity eased into her eyes for a moment, and she met his gaze and nodded, almost imperceptibly. He stood and crossed to the bedroom door. Marlowe opened it to admit the detective.

I did not follow. From the doorway, I could just see the woman’s silvery hair, and I watched as Jackaby placed two coins gently over her eyes. I was grateful Marlowe had once again positioned himself to block the scene as much as he could. The smell of blood was cloying, even from a distance, and I did not wish to see the state of the poor old woman’s body.

Jackaby murmured something that sounded like Latin, and then stepped out of the room. The chief inspector closed the door behind him. As both men made for the exit, Mona reached out and brushed Jackaby’s arm. He turned, and she fixed him with a solemn stare.

“Kill him,” was all she said.

My employer swallowed hard and met Mona’s eyes, but he gave no reply.

We descended the stairs and reached the lobby in silence. Marlowe was the first to speak. “They’re getting worse,” he said. “The bastard’s rushing, getting sloppy.”

“He wouldn’t have bothered to soak up Mrs. Morrigan’s blood, anyway,” said Jackaby, quietly. “Not the sort he needs, but you’re right. He knows we’re closing in.”

“I must admit, Jackaby, I was hoping for a little more.”

“Inspector?”

“That was a kindness, back there. I think you did right by the old lady, don’t get me wrong. But the first time I actually invite you into a case, you barely glance at the scene at all.”

“Marlowe, do you mean to say you are you finally enlisting my services?”

The chief inspector shuddered involuntarily at the question, clenched his fists, and cracked his neck. “Something happened this afternoon that I can’t explain. People are dying. I don’t believe in you, or your ridiculous claims about magic and monsters, but you have a way of making things turn up, things like that map. I can’t ignore that just because you’re a lunatic and I don’t like you.”

“Oh, Marlowe, you’re being too kind.”

“Stuff it,” Marlowe growled. “And let me make this unmistakably clear. If you’re on this case, you report back to me. You do not withhold information. You do not conceal evidence. I know where you are and what you know at all times. You will respect the chain of command, and you will not question it. I am in charge. Is that understood?”