himself. He immediately changed subject. «We tried to question the neighbors but there is no one home at this time of the day. The person who informed us of the body did not leave any name.»
«Detective,» the officer who was still looking into the bag of the victim cut in, «I think you might be interested in this.»
He handed him a small sheaf of papers. They were creased, and it was obvious from the folds they sported that they had been folded in three, maybe to put them into an envelope that wasn't there.
The elf took it and carefully read the first page. An expression of live interest appeared on his face.
«Good. Very good. I'm going back to the precinct. You finish the examination of the scene and have the body brought away as soon as possible.»
As soon as Celen walked away, the remaining policemen sighed in relief.
The patrol officer waited for a while before speaking, unsure whether it was the case to. Finally he couldn't restrain himself any longer and asked: «Is he always like that?»
The other officers exchanged a look. «Even worse, at times», the one holding the bag said.
«No, no, sometimes he is not worse. All the rest of the time he is», the one who had been called an idiot for his remark about the column, and who was now examining that very place, specified.
«Anyway, there is no blood on this thing», he remarked.
«It doesn't matter», the patrol officer replied without having been asked.
«What does it mean it doesn't matter?» asked the first, surprised.
«Your chief said a fairy does not die simply for banging her head. Whatever he meant, I guess she didn't die just because she fell and hit that.»
«He also said that iron...» started the first, beginning to think that, maybe, the elf hadn't been too wrong treating his colleague like he had.
«Yes, I heard what he said. But that's not iron, that's bronze.»
krystorrent1160768672726
CHAPTER 4
Celen entered the questioning room with his usual cocky countenance. From the way he walked he gave the impression that he felt to be above any other living being, which by the way, with a few exceptions, was true.
Grace was sitting stiffly at the table, with a gaze in her eyes which forebode a thug struggle between the two of them to conquer the first place in the ranks of self-confidence.
She wore a tight dark-blue skirt, a matching racket and a plain white shirt, mostly unbuttoned. She had untied her hair, which she usually tied in a flowing ponytail, and looked like someone who is about to explode. Actually she almost always looked like that, even without a sound reason. In this case, however, the reason was obvious; she had been taken from her clinic by two agents in uniform who had forced her to go to the police headquarters. Granted, they had made it clear that she was only to be questioned, still this was no proper justification for such a behavior, from her point of view. It wasn't the first time that the police had to ask her something – as if just being a necromancer meant she had to be suspected of any crime which was even marginally related to her arts – but usually they had the good taste of visiting her in her office instead of dragging her there and waste her precious time. The fact that, at the moment, her time was everything but precious – since she had nothing better to do than sitting in her room whirling her thumbs and hoping for a patient to show up – didn't change the situation. Furthermore, the police couldn't know this.
«I am detective Delmenar», the elf introduced himself. «I am sorry for having you brought here, I have some questions for you». The tone he used to state that he was sorry mostly conveyed the fact that he couldn't have cared less. If Grace had made him notice, that would have been much less annoying for him than what she actually said.
«I was expecting the dwarf.»
«Which dwarf?» he asked, as if he really could have any doubt about the subject of the conversation.
«Your
«Detective,» the officer who was still looking into the bag of the victim cut in, «I think you might be interested in this.»
He handed him a small sheaf of papers. They were creased, and it was obvious from the folds they sported that they had been folded in three, maybe to put them into an envelope that wasn't there.
The elf took it and carefully read the first page. An expression of live interest appeared on his face.
«Good. Very good. I'm going back to the precinct. You finish the examination of the scene and have the body brought away as soon as possible.»
As soon as Celen walked away, the remaining policemen sighed in relief.
The patrol officer waited for a while before speaking, unsure whether it was the case to. Finally he couldn't restrain himself any longer and asked: «Is he always like that?»
The other officers exchanged a look. «Even worse, at times», the one holding the bag said.
«No, no, sometimes he is not worse. All the rest of the time he is», the one who had been called an idiot for his remark about the column, and who was now examining that very place, specified.
«Anyway, there is no blood on this thing», he remarked.
«It doesn't matter», the patrol officer replied without having been asked.
«What does it mean it doesn't matter?» asked the first, surprised.
«Your chief said a fairy does not die simply for banging her head. Whatever he meant, I guess she didn't die just because she fell and hit that.»
«He also said that iron...» started the first, beginning to think that, maybe, the elf hadn't been too wrong treating his colleague like he had.
«Yes, I heard what he said. But that's not iron, that's bronze.»
krystorrent1160768672726
CHAPTER 4
Celen entered the questioning room with his usual cocky countenance. From the way he walked he gave the impression that he felt to be above any other living being, which by the way, with a few exceptions, was true.
Grace was sitting stiffly at the table, with a gaze in her eyes which forebode a thug struggle between the two of them to conquer the first place in the ranks of self-confidence.
She wore a tight dark-blue skirt, a matching racket and a plain white shirt, mostly unbuttoned. She had untied her hair, which she usually tied in a flowing ponytail, and looked like someone who is about to explode. Actually she almost always looked like that, even without a sound reason. In this case, however, the reason was obvious; she had been taken from her clinic by two agents in uniform who had forced her to go to the police headquarters. Granted, they had made it clear that she was only to be questioned, still this was no proper justification for such a behavior, from her point of view. It wasn't the first time that the police had to ask her something – as if just being a necromancer meant she had to be suspected of any crime which was even marginally related to her arts – but usually they had the good taste of visiting her in her office instead of dragging her there and waste her precious time. The fact that, at the moment, her time was everything but precious – since she had nothing better to do than sitting in her room whirling her thumbs and hoping for a patient to show up – didn't change the situation. Furthermore, the police couldn't know this.
«I am detective Delmenar», the elf introduced himself. «I am sorry for having you brought here, I have some questions for you». The tone he used to state that he was sorry mostly conveyed the fact that he couldn't have cared less. If Grace had made him notice, that would have been much less annoying for him than what she actually said.
«I was expecting the dwarf.»
«Which dwarf?» he asked, as if he really could have any doubt about the subject of the conversation.
«Your
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