Eye of the Crow by Shane Peacock

Author:Shane Peacock [Peacock, Shane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 978-1-77049-078-9
Publisher: Tundra
Published: 2007-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

“What did you find?” she asks the instant he arrives.

They are at the top of the big stone steps near the pillars and high wooden doors at the magnificent entrance. There are many street people nearby, some in bare feet, pleading for food and money. Gentlemen wearing tall hats and ladies in long, silk crinoline dresses are pausing as they climb the stairs, handing coppers to children. Sherlock motions to Irene to move into the shadows under the columns. It feels cold here, even in the warmth of the day.

“This,” says Sherlock, glancing around, then drawing the long glittering bracelet from his pocket.

Irene gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth. “It’s beautiful.”

“There’s an eye on it.”

Irene takes it into her hand for a moment. Her face seems to glow in its reflection.

“What do you think it tells us?” she asks.

“It might mean she was rich, or it might not. She might have simply owned this single, expensive thing…. Or maybe it belonged to the person who killed her….”

Irene’s face turns pale. “A woman?”

“It connects the two of them,” says Sherlock.

Irene wonders exactly how. But she doesn’t ask him to explain. She knows this isn’t the right time. She also knows she shouldn’t try to comprehend this remarkable boy, that that is the way to be his friend. One understands him by not understanding, by trusting his mind. When they’re home, he’ll tell her more.

Sherlock is actually feeling pleased. Not just because he is beginning to see things about this murder – see a possible path through the labyrinth he has to get through to find a solution – but because he knows he has a friend standing beside him, a true friend for the first time in his life.

Then another light comes on in his brain like the beam on a locomotive. It frightens him to his boots.

“They saw it,” he mumbles.

His whole face has changed: a look of horror has come over it.

“What?” she asks, unsettled by his expression.

“They saw it,” he says again.

“Who?”

“The crows.”

“Saw what?” She knows the answer but wants him to go on.

“I’ve been guessing that the crows were there when it happened.” He pauses, staring down the elegant white steps. “Now … I know they were. They saw the whole thing.”

Sherlock’s eyes turn to hers. His black pupils are huge.

“They watched this person … murder her.”

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