His coat gleamed in the moonlight. Jowd told Sissel it was a symbol and indeed it seemed to do its utmost to live up to the image. Spotless indeed.
Nearly. They shared one stain, Cabanela and himself. One blot remained between them. He wondered if he remembered. How lost was it under the many successes and victories? How bleached had it become under the steps to the top?
He gave a private smile at a sudden thought. Or was it? It seemed Cabanela was as efficient as ever—to tie up two old cases at once. Well done, old friend.