Chapter III.IX

- Oh girl, - the inspector said quietly. - Why are you leading me into your obscurity?

These words were addressed to emptiness, for Galbraith did not expect to hear an answer to them. He couldn't get it anyway - Delia Yonce was buried at River View Cemetery, not far from the grave of first Portland's female mayor. Her funeral went unnoticed by the town, because no one cared about some pharmaceutist's daughter. Nobody wrote in The Asian Reporter a note "Under The X-acto Knife", on her grave not even her most distant relative sat and especially not one of her classmates came there and asked with tears in their eyes "Delia, Delia, can you hear your friend?". The only one who truly sympathized with the girl from those gathered at the farewell ceremony was Galbraith himself, who, after standing at the head of her grave for some time, laid a bouquet of dahlias of different colours on her grave and silently walked away, leaving the funeral procession to be tormented by guesses about the connection this gloomy, mustachioed policeman with a deceased.

If Galbraith himself had been asked about this, he would have answered them "Was there such a connection at all?". Indeed, in his entire life, the inspector saw this little girl only once - when he came to the Yonce family home on the matter of her mother's suicide... But even these short minutes of their meeting were enough to understand that it was on him, Galbraith, that the future fate of this child depended. Alas, a call from mister chief inspector Schaeymoure then separated them, and he had to leave Delia in the care of an inadequate man from Federal Bureau of Investigation and doctor Matt MacLaren, a kind-hearted but essentially spineless person...

Galbraith distracted himself from these sad thoughts and noticed that although it was October outside, through the window of the "Clair'n'Tone" establishment, where he had been standing all this time, shiny silver fir-trees were clearly visible. He involuntarily admired them - the decorations were cut out of foil and hung in the same place where the curtains were attached.

- I don't argue, it's beautiful, but somehow it's not the season, - he said thoughtfully to himself.

The inspector opened the door and, entering a small elongated hall, realized that he had not imagined. Not only the facade of the cafe, but also its interior was completely decorated for Christmas - LED garlands and fir-tree cones were hung on the walls and there were toy figures of some animals hanging from the ceiling. The only thing missing was appropriate music, Galbraith thought, and hypothesized that apparently the owners of this establishment were such lazy people that they had forgotten to remove the decorations since last year.

He glanced at the counter, then noticed the tables. The inspector went to the very end of the hall, where the order receiving area was located. Sitting down on a small soft sofa at the table, Galbraith put his hands on the table and noticed with some dissatisfaction that besides him and one waitress there was no one else in this room. Apparently, people living in the area knew what awaited them in this cafe and therefore tried to avoid it. While waiting for the girl to deign to pay attention to him, the inspector looked around - now that he had already gotten used to inappropriate decorations of "Clair'n'Tone", he was able to pay attention to the high ceilings and rustic scarlet walls. Richly, Galbraith thought, and this circumstance changed his attitude towards the establishment for the better than it had been from the very beginning. He even caught himself thinking that there was something in that on a hot October day sitting in a room that involuntarily transports him several months into the future.

Five minutes later, the waitress, who had previously been running between tables with a white rag, finally deigned to pay attention to Galbraith and approached his table.

- Welcome, what's your pleasure? - the blonde girl asked modestly.

Galbraith looked up at her. Beautiful, he thought. Her slender figure was emphasized by a light dress that tightly fit her graceful waist and high chest.

- Could I see the menu? - he just asked.

The waitress handed him a sheet of glossy paper folded in half, and Galbraith thanked him and took the menu in his hands. Having glanced over the contents, he was quite surprised by the small size of the list - only two dishes were indicated in it. He remembered that the taxi driver, recommending this establishment, called it an unfamiliar word “Vanitas-restaurant”. Apparently, an establishment with a claim to something original, Galbraith thought. Then it could be clear why the interior was decorated out of season...

The inspector carefully studied the menu - the first course was a cocktail with the strange name "Sujeira". "Sierra, chain of mountains?" Galbraith asked himself. Under the picture of a glass with a thin stem, the ingredients were indicated - cognac, water, sugar, lemon juice.

- What does it mean? - he asked the waitress standing at the table.

- It's cognac with caramel syrup, - she answered with downcast eyes in a gentle voice.

- Huh... - Galbraith was quite surprised at such a strange combination of ingredients.

- This is a very light drink, because the syrup softens the strength of the alcohol, - the girl explained.

- So what, visitors order this slipslop there? - Galbraith was even more surprised.

- A highly tasty cocktail, - the girl said confidently. - Try it yourself.

- Okay, I'll take your word for it, - the inspector said and continued to study the menu.

In addition to this incomprehensible cocktail, on the inner spread of the glossy paper there was another line "Jantar". Just this name and that's all - no picture, no composition. He didn't even try to understand the meaning of this word.