“Whose wallet is this?” The officer's raised tone was enough to summon his female colleague. “Are these identities stolen?”
“No, of course not.” Harold looked at Sefskapoi in alarm. “Tell him they're not stolen.”
“Of course they're our wallets.” The demon oozed charm through every pore of his ruddy skin. “There are some photo Ids in there. All you have to do is check.”
The officer shuffled through the cards until he got to the driver's licence, which he examined. He held it up to compare the picture to Harold's face. The female officer, looking over his shoulder, nodded. “Looks all right to me.”
“Very well, Mr... Benson,” His wallet was handed unceremoniously back. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, I suppose.” He looked at the front door of the house. “I'm still going to have to insist on seeing inside the house for myself. The doctor was called out by the resident and it's our responsibility to see that her needs are attended to.”
“Of course, officer. I think you'll find this is all a huge mistake.”
“A Tempest in a tin bath,” added Sefskapoi.
“He means a storm in a teacup.” Harold rolled his eyes and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Actors.” He jerked his head at the demon. “Always for the drama.”
“Ah.” The officer nodded.