Harold laughed. “That’ll confuse them. They’ll thing we don’t have fingerprints or that we were latex gloves for everything.”
“It’ll drive them potty. Even the cup he saw you holding will have no fingerprints on it.”
“As long as it doesn’t make them even more suspicious. I mean, a whole house without fingerprints? How likely is that? If he thinks we’re covering something up he won’t stop until he finds out what it is.”
“Think he’ll find the portal in the basement?”
“He’s bound to, really, though I’ve no idea what he’ll make of it. It’s just a blank wall without the right invocation.”
“And the mausoleum. He’ll love that. Watch him disinter the bodies to make sure none a re recent.”
“Oh great. That’ll put Lady Waters on the warpath.”
“And Gillian? Will he find her?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not unless they’ve got a way of looking through walls. Her lair is so well disguised that I wouldn’t be able to find it if I didn’t know exactly where it was. Not that I go there much. Seeing her in her coffin gives me the willies. You know how I am about corpses.”
“Yes. You really need to get over that. What son of a demon doesn’t like corpses?”
“Me.” Harold closed the back of the wan and climbed into the driver’s seat. Lucy was chewing on the air freshener and he duly removed it. She began to cry.
Jasfoup’s face appeared in the little window behind the cab. “You’ve got to give her something to chew on. She’s teething.”
Harold looked around the cab for something potentially less poisonous, settling on a battered paperback of Dante’s Inferno he’d been reading for background on his father’s home. Lucy began to chew on a corner.
“You can’t get them learning culture too early can you?”
Harold grimaced as he started the engine. “Culture? Hardly. It’s a mass-market paperback.”