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It was only three or so minutes later when I heard the locks click back and the door opened slowly. A wizened face with sunken cheeks and a nearly toothless mouth looked out at me, a quizzical expression twisting her features. "Hello, Helen," I said cheerily, stubbing out my cigarette, "You're looking well." I held up a bottle of a rather good brand of whisky and waggled it in a suggestive fashion. "Well, I'm not feeling it," she replied testily, although a wry grin now emerged across her face, "But, since you're here, you'd better come in and tell me what you want. I assume you do want something" - she glanced at the whisky bottle - "but I'll see if you can be accommodated." And with that, she turned and set off across the carpet at a slow and careful shuffle, supported by two sticks. "Don't wait for me," she called over her shoulder, "Shut the door behind you, pour us both some whisky and sit down before you make the place look untidy." I did as I was told. Despite what Helen had said, the whole room was obsessively neat and tidy, and beautifully clean, although really very small. It contained just a bed, and a couple of chairs around a small table, with a tiny bathroom set to one side. Catering and cleaning services would be provided, it seemed, while allowing an elderly resident to retain at least a certain amount of privacy and dignity. By the time I was settled into what was obviously the visitor's chair, with a whisky glass conveniently to hand on the table next to my hat, Helen was already approaching her own chair. For a moment, I thought I should stand to offer my assistance, but abandoned that idea swiftly. She gave every impression of being a person who would continue to do as much as possible for herself, right to the very end. I had first met Helen Ensfield when I was just starting out as a Private Investigator, distinctly wet behind the ears and with a great many educational mistakes still to make. She was already a veteran in the newspaper business, having started as a cub reporter on some local rag decades before and working her way up to Editor-in-Chief of The Times. By the way, the name of the newspaper isn't quite "The Times". I've just used it here to give a human reader an impression of the importance and influential nature of the position. The actual words in the Goblin tongue have no direct translation, but suffice it to say that Helen had held a role of very considerable power and responsibility for a very long time.
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Part 37