Twenty-Five
GLADYS, BEING GLADYS, had “borrowed” a crime scene evidence collection kit from the technician with the department. When I ask her how she got it, she shrugs and says, “I promised him something.” At my expression, she laughs and says, “Oh, Dad! He’s having problems leveling up in Age of Artemis, and I told him I’d show him a few tricks since I am a level 18 Wood Nymph.”
When I look at her like she is speaking Klingon—a language I only know a smattering of myself—she says, “You know. Age of Artemis? The Greek mythology-based online game?”
I shake my head. “Gladys, my knowledge of computer games ended in the late 1990s.”
She also managed to obtain from somewhere fake glasses and a theater-grade beard and mustache.
“A friend of mine is in the Myerton Players,” she explains. “
