“Wait, there’s more than that,” I piped up, instantly wishing I had stayed silently in the corner. “Er, he noticed something else . . .”

The chief inspector interrupted. “No, no, let me guess: the culprit is . . .” He paused for mock dramatic effect. “Not human?”

“As a matter of fact,” answered Jackaby.

“Just like the thieves in the Winston Street Bank case?”

“They most certainly weren’t human,” Jackaby answered. “Welsh pixies, a small clan.”

“And the bar fight at Mickey’s Tavern?”

“Well, not the scrawny fellow, obviously, but I maintain that big bloke was a troll. Half blood at least.”

“And the ‘Grocery Ghost’ who kept rearranging produce after hours?”

“Okay, I have already admitted I was wrong on that one. As we saw, that was Miss Maudie from Hampton Street, but you have to admit, the old girl is very strange.”

Marlowe breathed in deeply and sighed, shaking his head, then turned his attention to me. “And you are?”

I gave the inspector my name and started to explain about my arrival and the job posting. He cut me off again.

“Another one?” He directed the question at Jackaby, then turned back to me. “A little advice, young lady. Get out before he drags you too far into his craziness. This business is not for the female temperament. Now both of you, I want you off this crime scene and out of my way. This isn’t some two-bit bar fight—this is murder. Out!” He turned and called into the hallway, “Detective Cane, between this idiot and Mr. Henderson, I’ve had quite enough lunacy for one afternoon. Please show the man and his young lady off the premises.”

Marlowe stepped aside, and Charlie Cane appeared, looking uncomfortable and fiddling nervously with the polished buttons on his uniform.

“Nice chat as always, Marlowe,” said Jackaby pleasantly as he passed. Marlowe grunted. I followed my new employer into the hallway and the chief inspector slammed the door behind us.

“Well, he’s cheerful today,” Jackaby quipped.

“Oh, Marlowe is an exceptional chief inspector,” Charlie replied.

“I’m sure he is,” I said, “Detective Cane, isn’t it?”

His gaze dropped, and he looked sheepishly aside. “It’s Junior Detective, to be totally accurate, miss,” he said. He met my glance again with a smile before he went on. “It really is an honor to work with Chief Inspector Marlowe. He’s just a bit edgier than usual today. The new commissioner is supervising this case very closely. He makes Marlowe tense.”

“Who’s Henderson?” asked Jackaby.

“Who?” said Charlie.

“Henderson. Marlowe mentioned him. Something about lunatics.”