The Bride Wore Black Leather

book carefully off the shelf. The books on either side immediately shuffled closer together to take up the intervening space. The shelf was very tightly packed. I took the book over to the nearest reading desk, and the green-shielded light turned itself on. I thought I heard a faint sigh of relief from the other books, that I wasn’t interested in them; but that could have been my imagination.
    The book I’d wanted was a lengthy and exhaustive history of the Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille, in life and in death, so to speak. Written by Julien Advent, in 1977. I paused for a moment as I looked at his name on the title page and let my fingertips drift over the printed letters. I had my own signed copy at home. He gave it to me years ago. Hadn’t looked at it in ages. So much to do . . . But this was the full, unexpurgated version. I leafed quickly through the pages, looking for . . . something. Something to jog my memory. Because something about the Hawk Wind’s sudden disappearance was bugging me. I’d missed something, forgotten something, but I was damned if I could think what. But I knew it was something significant. I flicked quickly through the chapters, letting words and phrases flow past my eyes, but nothing jumped out at me. I already knew all this . . . And then I looked up sharply. Footsteps were heading my way. Two sets, heavy but unhurried, apparently completely unconcerned that I might hear them. I closed the book, tucked it carefully into the large shoplifting pocket inside my trench coat, got up, and turned around, to meet whoever it was who’d been clever and fast enough to find me here. I could probably have got away, given that I knew the layout of this Library better than anyone who didn’t actually work here, but I was curious to know who it might be. And to take care of them here and now, so they wouldn’t follow me any further.
    They came walking through the stacks towards me, and very dangerous books shuddered back on their shelves to get away from them. From Tommy and Larry, the Oblivion brothers. They both caught sight of me waiting for them at the same moment, and they came to a sudden halt, side by side. We stared at each other for a long moment.
    “Of course,” I said. “The existential private eye and the Dead Detective. I should have known. It always takes one PI to find another.”
    “Or in this case two PIs,” Tommy said brightly.
    “Shut up, Tommy,” said Larry. “This is business. Serious business. It’s always trouble when one of us goes bad.”
    Tommy nodded and gave me his best disappointed look. Larry looked at me as though this was what he’d always expected of me.
    “How did you find me so quickly?” I said.
    “We are detectives,” said Larry.
    “Good song,” said Tommy.
    “Shut up, Tommy!”
    “Is Hadleigh with you?” I said.
    “The Detective Inspectre is apparently busy,” said Larry, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice, and not even coming close.
    “Oh good,” I said. “I thought I might be in trouble, for a moment.”
    “Now you’re just being nasty,” said Tommy.
    Larry stared coldly at me. “Put up a fight, Taylor. Go on. Give me an excuse to stamp your arrogant murderous face into the floor.”
    “I always wondered how a good man like Julien Advent could survive in a place like this,” said Tommy. “But I never thought you’d be the one to finish him off, John.”
    “I can explain,” I said, but they were already shaking their heads.
    “Don’t,” said Tommy. “Please, John. Don’t lower yourself.”
    “You’d say anything,” said Larry. “And we don’t care enough to listen. This is for the Great Victorian Adventurer; you bastard.”
    He brought up his hand, and suddenly there was an elven wand pointing right at me. Larry Oblivion stabbed the wand at me, then frowned, when nothing happened. He stabbed the wand at me again, a little less confidently, and slowly lowered the wand as I smiled at him.
    “I took precautions to protect myself against that thing the moment I discovered you had it,” I said. “I always knew you’d find a reason to turn on me, someday. And I always knew a lot more about elves than you ever did.”
    Larry said something quietly obscene and made the wand disappear again. Tommy seized the moment and stepped forward. He smiled engagingly at me.
    “Come, let us reason together . . .”
    “Let’s not,” I said, very firmly. “Because you are the existential private eye, who can