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“Not today, Inspector.”
“Having a break from trouble stirring?” he asked sarcastically. He hadn’t liked her the evening before at the Déjà Vu, and he didn’t like her now.
“No,” she replied, staring back at him coldly, “I’m here to do an independent psychiatric evaluation.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Jack with a laugh. “And what poor cluck are you going to slap your snake-oil, leech-sucking, voodoo magic on today?”
“Someone the doctors think might be suffering some form of delusional psychosis.”
“Such as?”
“Such as… cars that mend themselves.”
There was a pause.
“Bollocks,” said Jack in a quiet voice. “It’s me, isn’t it?”