CHAPTER 5
“He said his name was Parks,” said Thomas, for the second time in as many minutes.
“And this silver fish thing is all you’re sure is missing?”
The cop who had introduced himself as Officer Campbell looked bored, as if he had been sent on a wild-goose chase. Now that the initial outrage had subsided, Thomas couldn’t really blame him.
“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t really get chance to look at the papers before he arrived . . .”
“You think it was valuable?”
“Probably not. I suppose it depends what it was made of. If it was silver it might be worth a couple of hundred bucks.”
“Could you describe the fish, sir?” said the cop, blowing out a sigh and scribbling on a pad with a black pen.
“Three or four inches long, kind of funny shaped, detailed scales . . . I don’t know what else.”
“Funny shaped?” said Campbell.
“Crudely modeled, I guess. Fat tail. Big, clumsy-looking fins.”
“And it was just a model fish, not, you know, a container or something? Did it open up?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think it was, like, symbolic or something? You know, him being a priest and all.”
“Symbolic?” said Thomas. “How do you mean?”
“You know, like those metal fishes folks have on their cars. Jesus fish.”
The policeman sketched an outline on his pad, a single line looping back on itself to form a leaf-shaped body and open tail. Thomas considered it. It reminded him of a Möbius strip or part of a double helix.
“I don’t know,” said Thomas, honestly. “I hadn’t thought of that. This looked different from those. More realistic.”
“We’ll keep an eye on the local pawnshops,” said the cop. “And he had a sword? Like, you know, Robin Hood or one of those guys in Lord of the Rings? Like a sword sword?”
“A short sword, yes,” said Thomas. “Like a Roman legionary’s sword, if that means anything to you.”
“Nope,” said Campbell. “And he hit you with that?”
“No, with this clublike glove thing he was wearing. Metal. Weighed a ton.”
“Weird,” said the cop.
“I thought so,” said Thomas, expecting a bit more.
“Was there anything else?” said Campbell. “He have a horse or anything?”
“No,” said Thomas, smiling in spite of himself.
“You sure?”
“I think I would have noticed, it being upstairs and all.”
“Still,” said the cop. “Look on the bright side. If he’d been serious—I mean, if he’d been a real hood, you know?—he would have shot you. You just got whacked with a glove, see? Bright side.”
“I’m ecstatic about the whole episode,” said Thomas.
“Okay,” said the cop, grinning and putting his pad away. “If you see him again, you call us. Otherwise, I’ll ask around, but . . .”
He shrugged.
“I shouldn’t hold my breath,” said Thomas.
“Not unless you got gills someplace.”
“Thanks,” said Thomas, matching the policeman’s smile. “You’ve been of invaluable assistance.”
“All in a day’s work, sir.”
On the way out they met Jim coming in with a box of files. Thomas turned to introduce him.
“Jim, this is Officer Campbell,” he said.
Jim nodded peremptorily and glanced away, but the policeman’s gaze was steady, and his former wryness had evaporated.
“Hello again, Father,” said Campbell.
“You two know each other?” said Thomas. Jim was still looking anywhere but at the cop.
“Oh, we go way back,” said Campbell. “Ain’t that right, Father?”
Jim didn’t reply and the cop left without another word.