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Story: The Elf Beside Himself

“I can call him.”

That got me another look. “You can just… call him.”

“Yep.”

“Now?”

“Yep.”

Smith blew out a breath that puffed the fabric of his mask. “Do it.”

I called Ward, who sounded a little confused. I was also a little confused, since I could hear screaming kids in the background. “Where the fuck are you?” I asked him.

“A field trip to the Science Museum for reasons unknown,” came the response. “Why?”

“Can I hand you to Detective Smith for a report on Tara Redsky?”

“Oh, they’re listening now, are they?”

“Well, he is.”

“Ah.” There was a wealth of expression in that ‘Ah.’ “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

I handed Smith the phone, then got to hear his half of the conversation.

“This is Detective Smith. I understand you have a posthumous homicide report to make. Who is the victim?... Are you certain?... What details can you give me about…” A pause as Ward launched into his explanation. Smith’s stylus scrawled notes across his tablet. “And this was when?” More notes. “Did she give any description of her assailants?” More writing. “And can you tell me why it is you didn’t report this before now?” He didn’t take any notes this time, just let out a soft sigh that I wasn’t sure Ward would be able to hear, but I could. “I see.” This tone was dry and weary. I sympathized. “Thank you, Mr. Campion. I appreciate the report.”

Then he handed my phone back. The call was still active, so I held it up to my ear. “Anything else we should know?” I asked my boss, then winced at a particularly loud shriek in the background.

“I don’t think so,” Ward answered. “I’ll text if I think of anything.”

“Don’t kill the children.”

“I won’t.”

“Or Doc for making you do it.”

That got me a laugh. “It would be Elsbeth, because she’s the one who set up the Lost Lineage board meeting.”

“That’s a tough one,” I acknowledged. “Board meeting or field trip. I think you made the right call.”

He laughed again. “Me, too. I should go make sure nobody eats something they shouldn’t. Talk to you later, Hart.”

“Later.” I hung up, refocusing my attention on the morose-looking detective staring down at his notes. “Was that helpful?” I asked him.

“Define helpful,” he grumbled.

“Provided information that is potentially useful in terms of reopening a closed case about a woman whose murder was wrongfully ruled a suicide.”

He snorted. “Possibly.” Then he let out another sigh. “But look around you.”

I took a moment to survey the bullpen. It looked pretty normal to me, if a little outdated and on the small side. “What about it?”

“How many Arcanids do you see?”

“None, obviously. But that’s not unusual,” I told him.

“Yeah, well, in a department of this size, we should have a few. And some Arc-humans, which we also don’t have, at least none who have actually divulged.”