The Detective (Johannes Cabal, #2)

by Jonathan L. Howard

“Good show! Knew you were the man for the job after poor old”—he waved vaguely at the dead coroner—“Herr Poor Old here turned up his toes. Anyway, be a sport and fish out the offending organ. Pop it in a jar when you’ve done and a little man will be around shortly to pick it up. Got to go—there’s an absolute epidemic on. Cheerio!”

Cabal disliked him instinctively, having identified him as a man still prey to his hormones while his intellect puttered around in the background like an embarrassed parent.