going to take weeks.”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Willoughby,” Craig said. He headed out then and didn’t look back.
He heard Mike speaking with Gleason, thanking him for his concern for the city.
Then Mike headed up after him.
An officer was at the main Gothic-arched doorway, keeping watch over who entered and exited. Craig nodded and headed out to the street, aware that Mike was with him.
“Rat terrier,” Mike said.
“Pardon?”
“It’s not really her fault. I mean, there’s no reason to stop the experts from their cataloging and corpse inspections,” he said drily. “She’s doing her job, that Ms. Adair. She’s just nervous-looking and yappy—like a rat terrier.”
Craig grinned. “Yesterday we dealt with an asshole—according to McBride—and today a rat terrier.”
“Yeah, but at least you don’t have to pretend to be polite to an asshole!” Mike said.
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