“This it?” He jabbed a blunt finger toward the car.
“That’s it. Fell out of the sky this morning over by the 50th street access. Jean was there, so was Myra. They both saw it land.”
He grunted then walked into the garage, the light was lower here even though the overhead lights up in the metal rafters were blazing.
I parked myself on a 55-gallon barrel of rusted parts and watched.
Odin was quiet, except for his big boots clomping across the concrete. He circled the car once then stopped by the driver’s side, bent, and looked into the interior.
“Any problems with me opening it?”
“Go ahead.”
I knew Hatter and Shoe had already been by to dust for prints and look for forensic evidence. They’d found bupkis.
He opened the door and crouched. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he looked across the seats.
“You find anything in here?”
“No. Well, if a crab counts, yes.”
He leaned back and sort of twisted to see me. “A crab?”
“Yeah, one of those little ones. It came out from under the seat and then made a run for it.”
“And nothing else was in here?”
“Nothing but a little crab claw it had been chewing on.”
He stood, shut the door and walked over to me. “Let’s see it.”
“The crab claw?”
“It’s what you found in the car. The only thing you found. I want to see it.”
“It isn’t here. It’s at the station in evidence.”
“Crab claw.”
“With a bite out of it.”
Odin frowned, his one eye narrowing as if the crab claw was important. I let him think it through. He was a god known for his wisdom. Maybe he would come up with something, some way that a crab and an old chewed up crab claw would explain the car. And if not the car, the weapons.
But all he said was, “Huh.”
“So much for wisdom,” I muttered.
“I heard that,” Odin said, straightening. “I’m on vacation. I don’t have to be wise. And I don’t have to solve crimes. That’s what you’re here for.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I heard how long it took Ryder to talk you into a vacation. You love your job. Maybe too much. More than getting married, anyway.”
“I guarantee I am not loving it right now.”
“Then do something about it,” he challenged.
I didn’t know if he meant my job or getting married. Maybe both. And what was I supposed to do with that?
