My eyes seared in pain. I took a deep breath, gulped, and consented only when I couldn’t handle it any longer. Blink. I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming.
“Miss Mingles?” said the
blue-clad policeman. He sat at my
kitchen table with an empty mug in front of him and a notepad in one hand. The teakettle started screaming and I almost
snapped my eyes shut in surprise.
“One moment, officer,” I
said. I took both mugs from the table
and filled them up with my pungent blend of black teas. The steam refreshed my eyes as I set the mugs
back down on the table. “Yes?”
“Can you tell me a
little more about what this man looked like?” the officer asked.
“I could tell you how
many hairs he had on his head if I wanted to.
But I’d kill myself before I did.”
The officer flinched. “Height, weight, eye color, any information
you have will be more than helpful.
I frowned and turned my eyes
downward into the depths of my tea.
Blink. This time I let a little
whimper slip. “Not a hair taller than
five-eight, a hundred and sixty pounds, dark blue eyes, brown hair. Oh, and he had a white scar on his left
temple. I think it was an inverted
cross. Yeah.” Even with my eyes open I shuddered.
The officer tore the
page from his notepad, folded it, and stuffed it in his pocket. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll sift through all the files I can get my
hands on back at the station.”
“One more thing,
officer,” I said as he moved toward the door.
“Can you give him a message if you find him?”
“It’s not exactly
“What do you want me to
“Tell him not even Satan
would take his soul.”