 EPILOGUE copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee Fiz meowed and watched curiously as Adrian spread salve over Simone’s ankle and wrapped a bandage over it. “Next time, be more careful.” “Ha,” she replied crossing her arms. But her face did not show a resentful expression. “Thanks, though.” “Don’t mention it. That’s what partners are for, right?” he grinned. “It wasn’t a joke, Adrian.” “I know.” He finished tying up the bandage and sat beside her, nudging the black kitten away. Miffed, Fiz turned his tale and trotted to the opposite side of the couch. “I should have been more careful; I should have stayed with you when you were having your windows fixed.” “It’s not your fault.” She sighed. “And at this rate, I’ll never have my windows fixed. I mean, who would come if they knew they were going to be ambushed?” “I’ll fix it for you.” “Right.” “Hey, I’m not as handyman impaired as you might think.” “I just know you’ll make a hash of it. I’ll hire some guy from out of town if I have to.” Simone was silent for a moment. “But it’s gone. They’re all gone.” “Yeah. The commissioner will have to call off Johnson’s murder investigation once they find out that the murderer or murderers are also gone.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, ignoring the small twinge of pain that came from his previous wound. He let out a relieved breath when she laid her head against his chest instead of moving away. “The case is definitely closed.” “Hmm. I wonder what that thing was.” “The creature that was after us?” “Yes.” “Perhaps the pictures that you took might help us.” “I didn’t take any pictures while we were down there. I didn’t even have a camera.” “That wasn’t what I was talking about.” With his free hand, he grasped the package that the photographs that she had taken of the books in Professor Fitzgerald’s office. He handed them to her and she flipped through them, stopping at one of the illustrations. The picture was crude, but it was of a giant snake with one main head. Smaller heads and tentacles sprouted out from the main body. “Il Sorto il Serpente,” she read, squinting. “That’s Italian, isn’t it?” “Yes. The Rose Snake. And evidently it’s gone. Destroyed by water.” “That seems like a little fact that we should keep in mind.” She sighed. “Think of all the paper work we have to do on this.” “What paper work? Everyone who really needs to know this are dead.” He felt her faintly shiver and he hugged her reassuringly. “You’re right,” she finally said. “But just think of what Martinez would say when we tell him about it.” She suddenly turned on him. “You wouldn’t dare. He’ll tell us that we were crazy. That we went ghost-busting again. Just...just forget the whole thing happened.” “Well,” he slowly drawled enjoying her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I may just do that. If you let me fix your window.” |