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I took the statue to the bathroom and wrapped it in one of Brian’s smelly old towels. I didn’t want to split Jed’s head open. Copious quantities of blood were to be avoided.
For the time being, anyway.
When I returned to the living room, Jed was still examining scraps of paper. I reckoned he’d be feeling frustrated, as all he would find on them were half-finished remnants of the half-baked tales Brian referred to, rather ambitiously to my mind, as “short stories”.
He was standing with his back to me, head down, with a number of papers in his hands. He must have found them puzzling, covered, as they were, in handwritten lines of non-rhyming nonsense. At any rate, he didn’t seem to be making progress with his investigation. It occurred to me that he might be forgiven for concluding th
