It is starting to get there.

“I’m sure there was some Shamus-related reason for that,” I heard, not thirty seconds after Sister Daria went on to the next set of marks. Of which there were more than a few. Apparently I had managed to show up on a day when they were milking the tourists.

She didn’t sound too angry, so I turned around easily to see — Sister Patli, from the other night. She didn’t look too angry, either. Or at least, not by my standards. You get scowled at a lot, in this business.

“Just the usual,” I told her. “People talk different when they see the hat and tie. They can’t help it. I just wanted to hear what anybody else would.”

She thought about it. “That sounds… rude. I can’t put my finger on why, though.”

I could. I could have told her why, too, but people don’t like it when you remind them that everybody’s guilty of something. “Chalk it up to me not knowing when I’m on vacation. Don’t worry, Sister Daria didn’t say anything dumb.”

“She wouldn’t. Look, Mr. Vargas, do you have few minutes? It’s about the, ah, thing that happened the other night,” she went on when I hesitated. “There’s something concerning about what I found, and I’d rather not involve the police just yet.”

“Now there’s a line that never works out for people,” I murmured.