“Isn’t he a cake?” asked Danvers.
“I thought so,” muttered Copperfield.
“And me,” added Briggs.
“Cookie or cake, he attempts to kill Ed and Ursula and tries to make it appear that hunters did it. If Mary and I hadn’t got here as fast as we did, no one would be any the wiser.”
Danvers broke the silence that followed. “This is a very serious accusation,” she murmured, “and even if you’re wrong, the investigation will destroy Sherman’s career. He has much good work still to do.”
“No one is above the law,” said Jack pointedly. “No one.”
“I’m forced to agree,” replied Danvers. “This is now a police matter, and I leave it, with reluctance, in your capable hands. If you will permit me, I would like to be present at Bartholomew’s questioning. Good day to you, gentlemen.”
Danvers climbed into her car, and it bumped out of the clearing.
“Well,” said Briggs, “you’d better pull Bartholomew in—but be warned. There’s going to be a shitstorm over this.”
“Not from NS-4, sir,” said Jack, taking his cell phone out of his pocket. “Looks as if they just dropped him like a hot potato. And besides, when it comes to shitstorms, I think I’m something of an expert.”
He dialed a number and stepped away from the small group to make one of the hardest phone calls of his life. If he was wrong, there really
“Done,” he said. “Uniform are on their way to Bartholomew’s house right now.”
The light of the dying sun was filtering low through the trees as the last squad car drove away. The forensic examination had finished, and quiet had once more descended into the forest. Jack and Mary stood at the door and watched as the pool of dried blood went from dark red to black in the failing light.
“Not fair, is it?” said Mary.
“No,” replied Jack, deep in thought. “Just ordinary bears trying to lead a life of peaceful solitude. Ed should have spoken out when he could. Any news?”
“Ursula’s stable and out of danger, but Ed’s still critical. The surgeon told me that if he can survive the next forty-eight hours, he’s got a chance. Baby bear is staying with relatives in the Bob Southey.”
It was nearly two hours after Jack had given the order for Bartholomew’s arrest, but he wasn’t yet in custody. When the uniformed officers arrived to pick him up, Sherman Oscar Bartholomew, member of Parliament for Reading and prime suspect in a murder investigation, was gone.
The news had filtered back to everyone waiting at the cottage. Briggs blamed NS-4, something that Jack encouraged. Briggs had returned to Reading after telling Jack that the search for Bartholomew was far too important for the NCD, and the multiforce hunt could be better managed by an officer with more experience—such as himself. Clearly there were headlines to be had, and in Reading, positive headlines were in short supply.
“It’s not good,” said Mary, shaking her head sadly.
“Yes. Who’d be a bear?”
“No, I mean it’s not good that the last squad car has gone—how are we going to get back into town?”
“In the Allegro.”
“It’s a wreck.”
“Trust me.”
They walked down the grassy road to the logging track, where Jack’s car, as predicted, was as pristine as the day it had been built.
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” said Mary as Jack showed her the fine oil painting in the trunk, a picture of the car that now resembled a barely recognizable heap of scrap. She looked at the Allegro suspiciously.
“Seems a bit… well,
“Nah,” replied Jack reassuringly, “
“I’ll write a report out for Kreeper explaining that the Allegro
“Do you think she’d believe you?”
“No,” conceded Mary.
Mary got into the car a little anxiously and glanced around at the interior as though she thought it might bite her, then took a surreptitious look at the odometer, which now read only thirty-eight miles. The car started on the first turn, and Jack drove slowly out of the forest, the approaching night changing the face of the wood from arboreal beauty to insufferable gloom. The forest was once more exclusively the domain of its children.
27. What Mary Did That Night
First extraterrestrial marriage: Although there have been a few instances of alien-human dating, no actual marriage or civil union has so far taken place. Although it has been preemptively condemned by all the world’s leading religions as “abhorrent to nature” and “an affront to all social values,” pro-alien sympathizers were quick to point out that visitors from distant worlds are
Ashley was waiting for them at the NCD offices when they walked in. His uniform had been freshly pressed and his transparent skin buffed up to a high shine. He looked expectantly at Mary, who smiled uneasily in return. It was the evening of their date, and Mary had yet to think up a believable excuse.
“What’s that smell?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“It’s Windex,” explained Ashley cheerily. “It shines up my outer skin quite nicely.”
“What did you do?” asked Jack. “Bathe in it?”
“If only,” replied Ashley wistfully, adding, “Bartholomew’s still not been found, and Briggs wants you to meet the press first thing tomorrow to discuss Bartholomew and the Goldilocks case.”
Jack picked up the phone and asked to be put through to the Super. “Hello, sir, it’s Jack…. No, I’m not doing the press. I’m taking sick leave as requested…. Yes, I know I’m already on sick leave, but now I’m
He looked up at Mary and raised an eyebrow. Mary shook her head.
“No, she’s not here…. Yes, I agree the situation is not at all favorable…. Good night, sir, and if you’re thinking about getting me a gold watch, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Jack put the phone down and looked up at Ashley and Mary, who were staring at him incredulously.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not retiring—that was for Briggs’s benefit. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“About what?”
“About finding Goldilocks’s killer.”
“I thought you said Bartholomew murdered her?”
“If you believed all that crap I was spouting up at Andersen’s Wood,” said Jack unhappily, “you’ll believe
“Then why did you say it?”
“I had to say
Mary thought for a while, trying to figure out what she’d missed—Jack’s explanation of Goldilocks’s death and Bartholomew’s porridge pushing
