A Cloud Before the Moon

Chapter 13

Before dawn the next day, Letha was out of bed. She dressed in a light gray wool suit, and marveled that Muggle women could go around wearing tights and cour-shoes all the time. She gathered her traveling gear, checked her map one last time and Disapparated. When she Apparated, she was standing in the middle of a small park, next to the statue of a uniformed man on a horse. The first rays of light were just beginning to appear in the east. With nowhere yet to go, Letha sat down on a bench, wishing she had brought something warmer to wear.

By the time the sun had completely risen, she began to see a few people pass by, most of them walking dogs. It seemed strange to her to see dogs on leashes, as if they were dragons or other dangerous beasts. Most of the passers by ignored her, but a few gave her surreptitious glances, probably wondering what a woman in a business suit was doing, sitting alone in the park at dawn. Realizing it would become more crowded as the hour grew later, and getting bored, she pulled out a book from her bag and began to read. Had someone looked closely, they may have thought "Through the Looking Glass" an odd choice of reading material, but no one ventured that near.

After several hours, Letha stood up and began walking towards the business part of town. She carefully watched how the Muggles conducted themselves, and most particularly, how they avoided getting crushed by automobiles. Letha had been to London a number of times, but there, it was easy to follow the crowds, and there were traffic lights at almost every corner. Besides, it was simpler to blend in; one could always pass as a confused tourist.

Having memorized the map, she knew where she was going. She headed east for three blocks then north for another three. There she found a squat red brick building, with a sign announcing it to be a "Police Station". With a bit of trepidation, Letha clutched her bag, climbed the steps, and entered the building. There were a scattering of men and women there, mostly in uniform. A loud, jarring noise startled her. She realized it was the ring of a telephone.

Stepping over to the front desk, she faced a short, plump woman with abnormally poufy, startlingly blond hair. "Excuse me...," she began. The woman held up her hand and answered the telephone. While the woman was speaking on the telephone, it rang again. She told the first person to wait and began talking to the second person.. This process continued for some time while Letha waited, growing impatient. Finally, she picked up her "LV" bag and plunked it down loudly on the desk. 'COULD I PLEASE ASK YOU A QUESTION?"

The woman finally looked at her. "What do you need?" she asked in a tone suggesting that what Letha needed was of absolutely no interest to anyone.

"Do you know where I might find Inspector McCullough?"

"Who?"

"Inspector McCullough. Doesn't he work here?"

The phone rang again, and the woman answered it. Letha decided to try another tack. She looked around and noticed two uniformed men standing in a corner talking. One was a well-built, pleasant-looking, sandy-haired fellow of medium height. The other was tall and lank with longish black hair and the melancholy expression of a basset hound. She steered herself in their direction. Unaccustomed to wearing shoes with heels, she managed to catch their attention by tripping and practically falling against the sandy-haired officer, who caught her arm and steadied her.

"Thank you so much," she said.

"You're very welcome," he replied with an amiable grin. "I hope I might be of further assistance?"

She smiled back at him. "Well, actually, yes, please. Do you know where I can find Inspector McCullough?"

The two officers glanced at each other. "I'm afraid Mick McCullough has retired. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Letha was not sure what to do next. Well, Officer Harris," she said, noting the name on his badge, "I wanted to ask him what he remembers about an incident - a terrible incident - that occurred here a little while back. It involved an escaped convict named Sirius Black."

Officer Harris looked at her gravely. "It's on account of what happened that Mick retired. Weirdest thing - his memory completely gone. Real shame, too. He was a fine detective and a good man."

Letha shook her head. "I'm sorry to hear that. What a shame." She paused. "I don't suppose - do either of you gentlemen have any knowledge about what went on that day?"

The tall police officer, whose badge identified him as Adams, regarded her suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself. Norma Jean Baker; I'm a graduate student in forensic science at Cambridge. I'm working on my thesis." She hoped it sounded plausible, and if she needed it, a confirmatory student ID card was safely tucked away in her bag.

.

Harris smiled. "Norma Jean Baker? Like Marilyn Monroe."

Letha's forehead furrowed. "Who?"

He laughed but his partner did not appear amused. "I suppose you're sick of hearing her name," said Harris. "But you're just as pretty," he added gallantly.

"Well, thank you, sir." She smiled at him coquettishly. "That's very kind of you. The thing is, I'm working on a paper about - cases like this."

"What do you mean, cases like this?" asked Adams sharply.

Mercifully, Harris intervened. "Pay no attention to him, Miss Baker; he's a right sourpuss. But I'm afraid we can't be of much help." Harris explained that neither he nor Adams had been on duty that day. When they heard what had happened, they had both rushed down to the scene of the disaster, but they were not allowed to enter the site. For some reason, it had been dealt with in a very secretive manner. "You know," he said "I'm surprised you even know about Black. The papers reported it as a gas explosion. I guess they didn't want people to be alarmed, especially since he was arrested pretty quickly. We were told to keep quiet about it, too. It always seemed to me kind of queer. And you know what else?" he whispered. "We know there were plenty of witnesses, but nobody will admit that they saw what happened."

"That is odd," she commented, knowing full well why that should be. "Do you know if they took any photographs, or obtained any other evidence?"

"I'm sure they did; Mick wouldn't have investigated a crime scene without doing a thorough job of it," Adams said.

"Do you know where the evidence would be now?"

Harris responded. "Since Black was already convicted and sent back to prison, the case is closed. If there's any evidence, it would be stored in the basement files here, or else it was sent down to London."

"Is there any way I can find out?"

"I'll tell you what," said Harris. "Come have a drink with me over at Mulligan's after my shift tonight. We'll talk about all this, and maybe tomorrow we can find out what you want to know. And my name's Emmet, by the way." This was certainly not what Letha had in mind, but she didn't have many options she could see. She must have looked hesitant, because Harris said, "Don't worry. Davy'll join us too, won't you?"

"Well, I don't know about that," Adams grumbled.

Good, she thought. An excuse to skip out.

"What'd'ya mean, you 'don't know about that'? Of course you will."

Adams sighed. "Ya, I suppose."

"Now that's a good lad." Harris winked at her. "See you later, then?"

"Very well," she said, "I'll see you at - "

"Eight tonight.," he responded.

She took her leave and headed down the street, noting Mulligan's Pub on the next corner. She had hours to kill, so she wandered through the neighborhood, watching Muggles being Muggles, which really wasn't all that different from Wizards being Wizards, except for the funny clothing. She looked for the spot where Black had committed his terrible crime. All she found was a large, roughly patched area in the middle of a street, and a street sign turned into a makeshift memorial, with notes and bunches of faded flowers tied to it. It seemed so very sad to her; she had expected something more, but then, she thought, life goes on.... Next, she went into a cafe for a sandwich and tea, and sat reading a local paper she had found on a bench. There was nothing in the paper about the incident, except a notice about a town meeting to discuss improving safety of underground gas lines. After a while, she went into the ladies toilet to change into a dress.

As 8:00 approached, Letha began heading toward the pub where she was meeting Harris. She peeked into the dark and noisy place, which was crowded with people, a number of them in police uniform. She spotted Emmet Harris and Davy Adams sitting in a corner booth and headed over. Harris slid over so she could sit down next to him. Each of the men had a drink in front of him. "What'll you have?" Harris asked.

"Whatever you're having is fine."

He went up to the bar and brought her back a glass of whiskey, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. Letha tasted it suspiciously. She did not much care for alcohol, but after walking around all day in the heat, was very thirsty. She gulped it down quickly.

Harris grinned. "That was impressive!" he joked. He went to get her a replacement for her empty glass. By now, however, Letha was no longer thirsty and her head was starting to spin. Afterward, she could vaguely recall half-listening to Emmet Harris' anecdotes, while his partner sat silently in the corner of the booth, nursing his drink. Unfortunately, she was in no condition to discuss the matter which had brought her there in the first place.