At dusk, it began to rain in Gotham again. Golden ripples drifted across the Gotham River, rare softness lending the city a touch of vitality. Fine strands of rain fell into the cracks between the bricks along the riverbank, gathering into streams that flowed toward the houses by the shore. The plaque for Kaz's Sorvo 125 reflected the streetlights' hidden glow through the rain.
Schiller stood before the telephone stand on the first floor, holding the receiver in one hand and lightly stroking the cord with the other. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Paderia, but I need to cancel your appointment tonight. Could you come back tomorrow afternoon?"
"I apologize, this came up rather suddenly. A colleague of mine in law enforcement has an urgent case he needs to consult me about. I don't think I can provide you with psychotherapy immediately after consulting on a murder case. That would be irresponsible to both of us."
"Thank you very much for your understanding." Schiller shifted the phone to his other hand. "Your next session will be free of charge. I won't include it on your bill, as thanks for your tolerance and generosity."
There was some movement on the stairs behind him. A girl called Schiller's name. He glanced back, stopped her with a gesture, and then said, "Yes, she is a victim in one of the cases and is currently staying at my psychological clinic as my assistant. Perhaps you'll meet her tomorrow afternoon. God bless you, ma'am."
"Put the package on the coffee table, Nimossini." Schiller turned to the Maiden standing on the stairs. She looked about thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a blue plaid pinafore skirt, with loose orange-red hair and oversized black-framed glasses. Through the lenses, one could see her somewhat indifferent, neurotic gaze.
The Maiden came