Tuesday, February 19, 2008

A Minor Case of Shoplifting

DC Terry Squarren tapped the details into his blueberry. “And finally, sir,” he said, “what was the value of the book that was stolen?”

Harold frowned and tried to see what the constable was typing in. Squarren lifted the pocket PC to an angle out of his line of sight and waited, his pointer poised over the screen. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“How should I know?” Harold said. “Forty or fifty, perhaps. More to the right buyer.”

“Forty to fifty pounds.” Squarren typed. He looked up. “What do you mean ‘the right buyer?”

“Someone who wants to raise the dead, obviously.” Harold stared hard at the constable and with two fingers, dragged the blueberry down so that the DC was forced to look at him. “It’s a necromancy workbook.” He narrowed his eyes. “And that would be forty or fifty thousand pounds.”

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