Page 17

Harry had a mime in his office. A mime.

He had to question this person — but he was already at his wits’ end just getting the mime into the office in the first place. How on earth was he supposed to interrogate someone who wouldn’t speak?

“This is what we’re going to do,” Harry said, motioning for the mime to sit — and making him do so. “I’m not interested in games. I’m going to ask you simple yes-or-no questions, alright? All you need to do is nod or shake your head. Right?”

The mime looked at Harry — almost frightened — and nodded quickly.

Excellent. Harry nodded as well.
“Are you part of the MG Gang that’s been vandalising Mrs. Cackleberry’s advertisements?”

The mime looked horrified, confused, then shook his head in a vigorous no.

Harry stopped short. He was confused — and it probably showed.
“Are you not part of the MG Gang?”

The mime seemed unsure how to answer. He nodded. Shook his head. Nodded again. Shrugged.

Harry closed his eyes, sighed, and reframed the question.
“Are you a part of the MG Gang?”

That one landed. The mime smiled brightly and nodded. Yes — he was part of the gang. But apparently, he wasn’t vandalising the advertisements.

“Alright,” Harry muttered aloud. “Is anyone in the MG Gang—”

He was interrupted by a sudden bwoomp — the sound of power cutting out — and the entire office went black. Pitch black. The lone window, of course, was covered with a curtain to block out whatever grey daylight Wilmington had to offer.

And then, just as quickly, the lights flickered back on.

Harry opened his mouth to continue, then stopped short. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Put it back.”

The mime looked at him innocently and shrugged, as if to say, What?

Harry scowled. “The paperweight. From my desk. Put it back.”

The mime looked around, playing innocent.

Harry pointed. The mime, being a mime, wore skin-tight clothes — and the paperweight was clearly bulging from his pocket.
“Put. It. Back.”

The mime’s mouth opened into a wide oh. Slowly, guiltily, he pulled the paperweight from his pocket and set it back on the desk.

Harry hated mimes.