I extended a polite smile to the man guarding me. He returned a blank stare—not simply the expressionless look you might adopt while waiting in line at the bank, but a deeply, aggressively blank stare. He held the sort of posture attainable only by those who have had their sense of humor surgically removed. His uniform looked crisp and free of droppings, but a familiar sulfuric stench still rolled off him.

“Hello,” I ventured.

The officer did not respond.

“So, you had a look around Jackaby’s place? Pretty crazy, isn’t it?”

Still no response.

“Be honest now. You stared at the frog, didn’t you?”

The officer remained silent, but his nostrils twitched involuntarily. He continued to direct his maliciously blank stare toward me.

“I thought so.” I smiled and leaned back on the slab of a bench behind me.

Chapter Twenty

I spent the next hour staring at a small patch of gray sky through the cell window and quietly drumming on the bench with my fingers. I had just perfected my timing so that the regular thup of the desk officer’s stamp fit neatly into the rhythm, when the door finally burst open and Jackaby’s voice preceded him through the hallway.

“Well, of course you would think that, if you’re just going to measure a man’s stability on whether or not he can taste banana when there are no bananas physically present. Narrow-minded and dismissive, as always, Inspector.”

The guard with the dirty shoulders pulled open Jackaby’s cell door, delivering the detective back inside with a shove. He slammed it closed, and then crossed over to unlock mine. “You’re next.” He jabbed a meaty finger in my direction, then stood rigidly at the door, waiting for me.

I whispered across the bars to Jackaby as I rose, “Shall I tell them the truth?”

“Have you killed anyone?” he asked, quietly.

“No, of course not!”

“Then I can’t imagine why you shouldn’t.”