Available Dark: A Crime Novel (Cass Neary) by Elizabeth Hand Page B

that is when the dead come back. I don’t know why he likes to study these things, but he does. Old religions, old legends. I’ll shut down now. I’m hungry.”
    She turned, and I noticed a framed photo in one corner of the desk: Ilkka and a beautiful blond woman on the deck of a sailboat, their arms around two young children. A towheaded girl, barely a toddler, and a boy a few years older. He was completely bald, with his father’s thin mouth and narrow eyes. No eyebrows or eyelashes. I thought of the mummified boy in the Windeby bog.
    “That’s Oskari,” said Suri in a soft voice. She picked up the picture and studied it. “Their son. He has a very rare cancer, leukemia that goes to the brain. He was in remission, but a few months ago it came back. The care here is very good, but he is not responding to it anymore. That’s why Ilkka is so upset when he gets sick. They want to take him overseas for an experimental treatment, but it’s very expensive.”
    “I bet.”
    His son’s cancer treatment might explain Ilkka’s decision to sell the Yuleboy photos. Or maybe something else was going on and this was just a good excuse to finally unload them. Either way, I decided I’d give a big thumbs-up to Bredahl, maybe even invent another interested party to jack up the price.
    We walked to the front door. Suri stopped to retrieve a pair of boots, then tugged a brightly knitted cap over her hair. “Have you seen any of the city yet? No? We can walk down to the harbor market. If you don’t mind walking.”
    “Nah, I don’t mind.”
    I grabbed my leather jacket and followed her outside. What I really wanted was a drink, but I didn’t feel like pulling out my private stash of whiskey in front of this girl. We were almost to the sidewalk when there was a noise behind us, a sound like tumbling dice. I looked back to see the raven perched on the lintel, clacking its beak as it stared at me with one baleful yellow eye.
    “Hyvää iltaa,” it croaked, and flew above the barren treetops.

 
    9
    Gray haze clouded the air as we walked to the harbor. It took me a few minutes to realize this wasn’t fog or pollution, but the light, or lack of it. Everything looked dingy and slightly out of focus, like staring at the world through a dirty window screen. Suri walked briskly beside me, head down against the wind. “Why haven’t you visited the harbor?”
    “I just got here. I took a cab from the train station straight to Ilkka’s place.”
    “You could have walked. I hope the taxi driver didn’t charge you much.”
    The streets were surprisingly crowded for such a miserable day, though for all I knew, this qualified as balmy weather in Finland. No one met my eyes. The Finns seemed far more animated when talking on their cell phones than to one another. Suri wore fingerless gloves that enabled her to text faster than I thought humanly possible. It made me feel even more adrift in a sunless dream, surrounded by ghosts that didn’t know they were dead. The only sounds were the slapping of waves against the docks and the shriek of gulls wheeling overhead.
    “Do you eat meat?” Suri stopped texting long enough to glance at me, and I nodded. “Excellent. There’s a good hot dog kiosk here.”
    We walked to a small cart beneath a faded awning. The hot dog was good. I hadn’t realized how famished I was—I hadn’t eaten for almost two days. I wolfed it down along with a Jaffa soda and got another, heaped with onions. I needed some vegetables.
    “It’s good, isn’t it?” Suri held her hot dog delicately, then took a bite.
    “It’s great.” I looked around in vain for a napkin, finally wiped my greasy hands on my jacket. “What would be even greater is if there was someplace we could get a drink.”
    “Yeah, sure.” She gestured to where people milled in front of a brightly lit entryway. “We’ll go there, if you like.”
    “How about someplace not so touristy?”
    “But you are a tourist.” She smiled.