yourself," Remy said with a laugh.
"Didn't she say that to Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond ?"
They were both laughing now. It was times like these when it all made sense to Remy; why he stayed upon the planet wearing a guise of humanity. He'd never had a friend like Mulvehill in Heaven, and Katharine Hepburn jokes were completely out of the question.
"So this case you're working on," Mulvehill began as their laughter died down.
"Yeah?" Remy asked. The ice in his glass had melted to nothing, and he drained some of the liquid and tiny pieces of cold into his mouth.
"I'm guessing it's another one of those cases," he said, putting air quotations around the word those .
"I wasn't completely sure at first," Remy said, "but the more I poke around, the stranger it becomes."
"I think it's you," Mulvehill said. "If somebody else were investigating this case . . ."
"Katharine Hepburn?"
"Especially Katharine Hepburn. If she were investigating this case, it would be so normal, it'd be boring."
"Maybe, but then again, maybe not," Remy said. "We live in interesting times now, my friend."
"What're you, Confucius now? Face it, you attract weird like a magnet." The homicide detective stood and stretched. "I gotta get outta here," he said, glancing at his watch and then snatching up his pack of cigarettes from the table. "Duty calls in less than four hours."
"It's not my fault, you know," Remy told him. "I've told you how the world has changed since that business with the Apocalypse and—"
"And I don't want to hear it," Mulvehill interrupted, throwing up a hand. "The less I know, the more surprised I can continue to be when this shit gets weirder."
"Suit yourself," Remy told him.
They were heading toward the stairs that would take them back into Remy's building, when Marlowe made an appearance in the doorway, a stuffed monkey clutched in his mouth.
His tail was wagging furiously.
"Well, look who it is," Mulvehill said as Marlowe trotted to him for an ear scratch. "A little late for the party, aren't you?"
The dog tried to answer, but the stuffed animal in his mouth was making it impossible to understand him.
"If you're going to talk, you're gonna have to drop the monkey," Remy told him.
Marlowe dropped the monkey to the floor of the deck. " New toy ," he said excitedly, swatting at it with his paw.
"That isn't new," Remy said. "It's just been lost behind the couch."
" New ," the dog said, not convinced.
"He thinks the toy is new because he hasn't seen it in a while," Remy explained to Mulvehill.
"So he thinks it's new." Mulvehill shrugged. He bent down and picked up the monkey, giving it a shake in Marlowe's face. "Where's the harm in that? Why do you have to spoil everything for us?"
Marlowe pulled the toy from Mulvehill's hand and shook it vigorously.
"Spoil everything?" Remy asked, surprised. "What have I spoiled?"
"In my reality, the world is a perfectly normal place that plays by all the tried and true rules, and in Marlowe's, that's a brand-new monkey toy."
Remy tried not to say anything, but as they headed down the stairs, he couldn't hold back any longer. "Whatever makes you happy," he said. "Even if it isn't true."
Halfway down the steps, Mulvehill turned and without missing a beat said, "In the immortal words of Katharine Hepburn, go screw."
After Mulvehill left, Remy spent some time playing with Marlowe and his "new" monkey toy, until the Labrador got bored and retired to the love seat, leaving the detective to settle into his office and review his latest case.
Deryn had called three more times; once at the office, once on his cell, and the final time on his home phone in the kitchen. He could understand her anxiousness for answers; at this point, he was feeling a bit like that himself. He would call her in the morning, but he would leave out the stuff about missing souls and murder; no need to get her worked up until it was absolutely necessary.
He reclined in his office chair, swiveling it from side
"Didn't she say that to Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond ?"
They were both laughing now. It was times like these when it all made sense to Remy; why he stayed upon the planet wearing a guise of humanity. He'd never had a friend like Mulvehill in Heaven, and Katharine Hepburn jokes were completely out of the question.
"So this case you're working on," Mulvehill began as their laughter died down.
"Yeah?" Remy asked. The ice in his glass had melted to nothing, and he drained some of the liquid and tiny pieces of cold into his mouth.
"I'm guessing it's another one of those cases," he said, putting air quotations around the word those .
"I wasn't completely sure at first," Remy said, "but the more I poke around, the stranger it becomes."
"I think it's you," Mulvehill said. "If somebody else were investigating this case . . ."
"Katharine Hepburn?"
"Especially Katharine Hepburn. If she were investigating this case, it would be so normal, it'd be boring."
"Maybe, but then again, maybe not," Remy said. "We live in interesting times now, my friend."
"What're you, Confucius now? Face it, you attract weird like a magnet." The homicide detective stood and stretched. "I gotta get outta here," he said, glancing at his watch and then snatching up his pack of cigarettes from the table. "Duty calls in less than four hours."
"It's not my fault, you know," Remy told him. "I've told you how the world has changed since that business with the Apocalypse and—"
"And I don't want to hear it," Mulvehill interrupted, throwing up a hand. "The less I know, the more surprised I can continue to be when this shit gets weirder."
"Suit yourself," Remy told him.
They were heading toward the stairs that would take them back into Remy's building, when Marlowe made an appearance in the doorway, a stuffed monkey clutched in his mouth.
His tail was wagging furiously.
"Well, look who it is," Mulvehill said as Marlowe trotted to him for an ear scratch. "A little late for the party, aren't you?"
The dog tried to answer, but the stuffed animal in his mouth was making it impossible to understand him.
"If you're going to talk, you're gonna have to drop the monkey," Remy told him.
Marlowe dropped the monkey to the floor of the deck. " New toy ," he said excitedly, swatting at it with his paw.
"That isn't new," Remy said. "It's just been lost behind the couch."
" New ," the dog said, not convinced.
"He thinks the toy is new because he hasn't seen it in a while," Remy explained to Mulvehill.
"So he thinks it's new." Mulvehill shrugged. He bent down and picked up the monkey, giving it a shake in Marlowe's face. "Where's the harm in that? Why do you have to spoil everything for us?"
Marlowe pulled the toy from Mulvehill's hand and shook it vigorously.
"Spoil everything?" Remy asked, surprised. "What have I spoiled?"
"In my reality, the world is a perfectly normal place that plays by all the tried and true rules, and in Marlowe's, that's a brand-new monkey toy."
Remy tried not to say anything, but as they headed down the stairs, he couldn't hold back any longer. "Whatever makes you happy," he said. "Even if it isn't true."
Halfway down the steps, Mulvehill turned and without missing a beat said, "In the immortal words of Katharine Hepburn, go screw."
After Mulvehill left, Remy spent some time playing with Marlowe and his "new" monkey toy, until the Labrador got bored and retired to the love seat, leaving the detective to settle into his office and review his latest case.
Deryn had called three more times; once at the office, once on his cell, and the final time on his home phone in the kitchen. He could understand her anxiousness for answers; at this point, he was feeling a bit like that himself. He would call her in the morning, but he would leave out the stuff about missing souls and murder; no need to get her worked up until it was absolutely necessary.
He reclined in his office chair, swiveling it from side
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