The Maple Shrike

Charles blinked. Or winked. They looked like the same thing, wielded the same powers. He was a goddess in disguise. That one.“Your memory is terrible, detective,” Charles remarked. “It’s a wonder you got through high school.”“I thought you flied back to London,” he said, a breath of wonder in his voice now. “Put some pants on, please. This is very strange now that it’s come back to me.”