Agent Sam Glowingly waved a hand at the tangled web of notes on the whiteboard.
‘So,’ he said, ‘we still have no idea who the killer is.’
‘No,’ said McSleet. ‘Unless we can find someone in the monastery who’s able to leap thirty feet off the ground, pass through a stained glass window without breaking it and kill his victim through the power of sheer terror.’
‘Not your average monk,’ observed Glowingly. ‘In fact, it sounds more like one of the legendary fighting monks that reputedly inhabited this very monastery hundreds of years ago, but whose secrets have been lost for generations.’
‘Aye,’ agreed McSleet. ‘But we need to find a real solution, not sit here chit-chatting about ancient history that has nothing to do with the case.’
‘You’re right,’ said Glowingly, getting up from his chair and adjusting his pistol holster. ‘We’ve got no time for idle talk about legends that neither of us has any reason to believe are even true, let alone relevant to our current investigation.’ He consulted his notebook. ‘Where next?’ he asked.
‘We need to interview more potential witnesses,’ said McSleet, fishing a battered pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. ‘How about Brother Laurence, who’s been studying the ancient manuscripts which sat undisturbed in the monastery vault for centuries and who has also, incidentally, been working out quite a lot recently?’
‘Okay,’ said Glowingly with a shrug. ‘But I think we’re wasting our time.’