Garovel laughed, promptly apologized for laughing, and then fixed him. He asked Garovel why he could still feel pain, and the reaper explained that pain was still useful in letting him know which parts worked and which didn’t.
“Are you really sure about this?” he mumbled into the cool night air.
‘What do you mean? Of course I’m sure.’
“But... how am I supposed to stop a serial killer...? You’re not gonna... make me... kill this guy, right?”
‘Oh, no. That could get messy. Serial killers are matters for the authorities, but I’ve been observing this guy, and in this instance, the police could use an assist. Just someone to point them in the right direction, that is.’
‘An anonymous phone call.’
“That will actually work?”
‘We just have to give them an excuse to visit his apartment at a particularly inconvenient time for him. The rest should follow.’
They walked for a long while in the dark, leaving the modesty of Hector’s inner city neighborhood for the downtown towers. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but judging by the fog gathering between the buildings, he guessed it was late enough to be considered early again. The air tram had not stopped running, though, carrying rowdy passengers above the street on its suspended rails, and loud music in the distance bridged the gaps not already filled by sirens.
People on the sidewalks and in the street paid him little mind as they laughed at each other’s jokes or stumbled out of a night club or slept on the bench in front of a Nancy’s.