But the detective’s sentence was cut short by a sudden, deafening boom, and the crunch of an iron skillet lodging itself halfway through the wall, its black handle poking out into the hallway at a jaunty angle, the metal visibly vibrating from the impact. The ringing silence that followed was broken by a few tinkles and thumps from within the room, and a half-dozen ripe, red apples rolling into the hallway.

“Too much paprika?” I offered.

“On second thought,” Jackaby continued with nonchalance, “it wouldn’t do to weigh ourselves down before we’d even gotten started, would it?”

Charlie’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he blinked at the pan.

“Yes, just a quick bite should do the trick. Apple?” Jackaby bent and retrieved one, and I accepted the proffered fruit.

“I’ll just fetch my shoes, then?” I asked.

“Do hurry,” Jackaby instructed. “Time is of the essence, Miss Rook. A man is dead.”

Chapter Eighteen

The Emerald Arch was even more heavily guarded than it had been the previous day. The police presence appeared to have doubled, and official-looking rope now stretched around the entire building. A glance down the alleyway as we passed proved that there would not be a repeat of Jackaby’s sneaky business with the balconies, unless he felt like pulling his maneuver in the company of three uniformed officers. From what I had seen of the strange detective in the last twenty-four hours, he might have even pulled it off. In fact, it would probably have come to them giving him a leg up and wishing him all the best.

Charlie marched us past the guards at the front door. I recognized one of them as the thick, hawk-nosed policeman we’d slipped past yesterday. His pinched, suspicious expression hadn’t changed. “Cane,” he said without affection, but this time he didn’t try to stop us as we followed our escort past the cordon.

“O’Doyle,” Charlie answered in a matched tone. That being the apparent limit of their cordiality toward each other, we passed quickly and were soon through the front doors. Charlie had already shared a few details of the scene as we rushed through town, but it had all been a blurry, fragmented mess of information. As we entered the stairwell, Jackaby asked the detective to repeat his story from the beginning, leaving nothing out.