The Bizarre Detective Agency

Chapter 567: Maybe Tonight or Tomorrow at Dawn

A weary Jonathan returned home.

"Papa!" his son cried out joyfully, throwing himself into his father's arms. The puppy they had taken in a few months ago trotted over as well, its tail wagging furiously.

Besides the usual scent of tobacco from the factory, a sweet fragrance clung to Jonathan's clothes.

A smile softened the exhaustion on his face. Jonathan pulled a paper-wrapped pastry from his pocket.

"Hooray!"

The boy snatched the treat and, with the puppy at his heels, ran back to the table to unwrap it.

"Did the factory decide to stay open?" Jonathan's wife asked, noticing the joy in his eyes as she helped him out of his coat.

"They brought in a few more carts of raw materials, so I'll have work for another few weeks," Jonathan replied, taking off his hat and placing it on the coat his wife was holding.

"People can barely afford food, and someone is buying tobacco?" his wife asked, puzzled.

"It's not for us," Jonathan said, gesturing to the long-empty pipe on the table. "The rich and the nobles want to stock up. Among the common folk, only the most devoted smokers are buying any."Despite the hard times, sales of the expensive tobacco, which offered a momentary escape from their troubles, had hardly fallen.

"Still, you shouldn't waste money like that. This could have bought us several kilograms of bread made from sawdust," his wife chided softly, carrying the coat and hat into the bedroom.

As she always did, she began to beat the dust from his clothes. But as her hand passed over the hat, a sharp pain shot through her palm, and she cried out.

"What's wrong?"

Jonathan, rolling up his sleeves to eat his meal, glanced toward the bedroom.

His wife turned so the light from the living room fell on her hand. Opening her palm, she saw what looked like a tiny splinter embedded in her skin in the dim light. She rubbed the spot, but the pain was already gone.

"Just pricked myself on something, it's nothing," she said, hanging the hat on a peg and turning to the coat, though she handled it more carefully this time. "Mrs. Baller stopped by. She said her husband is back from the next county and might visit us."

"When?" Jonathan called from the living room.

"Maybe tonight or tomorrow morning."

"I have the evening shift," Jonathan answered with a sigh of regret. "You'll have to greet them yourself."

With that, Jonathan placed his day's earnings on the table—fifteen shillings.

Getting no reply from the bedroom, he went back to his meal.

The boy, kneeling on a chair, was untying the string on the pastry bundle he'd set on the windowsill.

The paper unfolded, revealing a burnt piece of dough that looked more like a biscuit than a cake.

The boy carefully broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth. The cheap saccharin dissolved on his tongue—it was the most delicious treat a child from a poor family could afford in these times.

"Woof..." came a pathetic whimper from beside him. The puppy, licking its lips, rubbed against the boy, its tail wagging eagerly.

The boy glanced at his father, and seeing that he wasn't looking, broke off another tiny piece and held it out for Andi. But the puppy suddenly leaped from the chair and ran to the bedroom door.

"Andi?" the boy whispered, but the dog didn't respond, its eyes fixed on the dark doorway. Its wagging tail slowly tucked between its legs...

A strange, barely audible sound came from the bedroom, like water seeping into soft earth, or a sprout pushing its way through the soil... In the gloom, a still figure on the floor began to be covered in something resembling a fine down...

"Woof..." With its tail tucked, Andi jumped back from the door and scrambled into his owner's arms, trembling with fear.

The wind, like a living thing, sensed everything.

The faint stir of air from the puppy's dash became a current, flowing toward the figure on the floor. The "down" on it rippled like grass on a plain, then, like dandelion fluff, rose into the air and drifted into the living room like woodchips on water.

"Woof! Woof!" Animal instinct warned the dog of danger before a human could sense it, and it let out a piteous whine.

The boy stared in confusion. Jonathan frowned. "Are you bothering Andi?"

He didn't notice the white motes of fluff drifting behind him, settling on his clothes, in his hair... and on his exposed skin.

"Ouch!" Jonathan instinctively slapped his neck where a sudden sting had pricked him, and rubbed the spot.

"Where did mosquitoes come from?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan saw a cloud of translucent particles float past him toward the boy and the puppy by the window.

Dandelion fluff? Why is there so much fluff in the house? he wondered, surprised.

...

"Ten city leaders, went out to dine, One choked on his food, and then there were nine.

Nine city leaders, staying up so late, One fell fast asleep, and then there were eight.

Eight city leaders, walked through misty heaven, One of them got lost, and then there were seven..."

The sinister nursery rhyme echoed down the street, mingling with the carefree shouts of children.

Lu Li, who had been reading a book in silence, lifted his gaze to the window.

The children ran past the inn, chanting their song.

"Seven city leaders, playing with some bricks, One was crushed beneath them, and then there were six.

Six city leaders, played with a ghost alive, It swallowed one whole, and then there were five."

Passersby whispered among themselves, giving a wide berth to the children singing the dreadful rhyme.

"Should you maybe check it out?" Anna asked, wheeling Lu Li closer to the window.

Lu Li shook his head. Someone else was already handling it.

"Five city leaders, standing 'fore the law, One of them was hanged, and then there were four.

Four city leaders, went sailing out to sea, A herring swallowed one, and then there were three..."

The children repeated the unsettling song again and again. At the end of the street, as they ran from one side to the other, they were stopped by a man in a frock coat carrying a cane.

"Who taught you this... song?"

The man's serious expression frightened the children. Unlike the strange but catchy song, the stern man inspired real fear.

"Who are you?" one of the boys asked, mustering his courage.

"An exorcist," the man replied, deciding not to deceive the children. He showed them his Investigator badge, which made their eyes go wide with astonishment.

The emboldened boy said timidly, "We heard it coming from a little house."

The children all started talking at once, telling the exorcist where the house was, and then ran off, leaving the man lost in thought.

...

Four fields of dandelions had bloomed in the small house.

The snow-white tufts drifted down gently, like snowflakes.

A few of them flew too close to the oil lamp on the table and, like snowflakes, instantly melted away.

Outside the window, people bustled along the street, and children played tag.

The dandelions waited calmly in their fields, awaiting a gust of wind.

Maybe tonight or tomorrow at dawn.