The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump

We held hands on St. James' Freeway all the way back to my block of flats. After a black night, morning sun felt very fine indeed. m When I got to work Monday morning, somebody ambushed me in the parking lot. No, it's not what you think; this fellow standing outside the entrance to my building called out, "Are you EPA Inspector David Fisher?" When I said I was, he came trotting over to me, stuck a glass globe in front of my face, and said, Tm Joe Forbes, Angels City Ethernet Station One News. I want to ask you some questions about the tragic Thomas Brothers fire Friday night"

"Go ahead," I said, peering cross-eyed into the globe. The imp inside had enormous ears, mournful little eyes, and a mouth that stretched all the way across its face. I'd never seen an ethemet imp before.

Forbes shifted the globe back toward his own mouth.

"How are you involved with the Thomas Brothers, and why were you called to the scene of the fire shortly after it occurred?" He held the globe out to me again.

"I'd been using some Thomas Brothers records in an ongoing EPA investigation, and the constabulary were trying to find out if there was any connection between that investigation and the fire," I answered, truthful enough but not what you'd call forthcoming.

As I talked, I watched the little imp in the globe. Its ears twitched with every syllable I spoke. Its mouth moved in a rather exaggerated parody of human speech. I've never had any reason to learn to read lips, but I didn't need long to notice it was echoing what I said, about half a beat behind me. It was transmitting my words back to Ethernet Station One, either to one of its own clones that would relay what I said on to the master broadcasting imp so all the master's clones in people's sets could hear, or else to a Listener that would speak them in front of the master imp at a time more convenient for the station crew. , Joe Forbes took back the globe. "Do I understand correctly, Inspector Fisher, that an immaterial witness survived the fire and may yet provide important information about the case?"

I'd talked to Kawaguchi the afternoon before. From what he said, Erasmus was probably going to pull through its ordeal, though the access spirit wouldn't be in any shape to answer questions for a while yet. Actually, Erasmus didn't have any shape at all, but you know what I mean.

I started to tell Forbes as much, but had second thoughts. I didn't know how many people listened to the ethemet news, but could I afford to assume none of the people who'd burned the monastery did? And if those bastards were listening, could I afford to tell them they'd botched the job on Erasmus? They might try again, and they might do it right the next time.

All this went through my mind in about the time it took to finish exhaling, inhale, and begin to talk. If Forbes had caught me on an inhale, I must have just started talking before I stopped to think. As it was, I said, "I really think that's something you ought to take up with the constabulary.

They know more about it than I do."

Forbes looked unhappy; I guess he saw from my answers that he wasn't going to get any exciting revelations from me.

He asked a couple of innocuous questions, then tried once more with something substantive: "What sort of Thomas Brothers records were you using in your own investigation?"

Maybe he'd hoped I'd not notice that one was charmed, and would blab away. But I didn't; I answered, "I'd rather not comment, since the investigation is still underway." The fellow's laziness irked me as much as anything else. If he'd known This Side from the Other, he could have gone down to the Criminal and Magical Courts Building and found the parchments I'd filed to get my search warrant But no - he wanted me to do his work for him.

Well, I had enough work of my own. I said as much: I'm sorry, Mr. Forbes, but I really have to get upstairs now."

"Thank you. Inspector David Fisher of the Environmental Perfection Agency," Forbes boomed, just as if I'd told him something worth knowing. I pitied his poor imp. It didn't look very bright, but I wouldn't have been very bright after listening to and transmitting the mind-numbing stream of chatter Forbes turned out I'd hoped to start getting some serious work done on the sorcerous contamination at the Devonshire dump itself, but I hadn't taken into account its being Monday morning. Monday morning under Beatrice Cartwright is a ritual that, while not as old as the Mass or synagogue Sabbath rite, is every bit as sacred: the staff meeting.