Why was I so restless, that night of all nights? Why did I want so badly for my life to change? Was it because I'd finally got everything I ever wanted, and all I could think was… Is this it?

Perhaps fortunately, my mobile phone rang, playing Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells." I finally got rid of the Twilight Zone theme; you can run some jokes into the ground. I took out my phone, hit the exorcism function to keep out the really determined ad mail, and did my best to speak cheerfully and normally.

"Hi, there! You have reached John Taylor, private investigator, hero for hire, and female impersonator for private functions. This may or may not be a recording. Speak now."

"Oh God, you're in one of your moods again, aren't you?" said my secretary, Cathy. "I don't know why you ever try to sound cheerful; you know you're no good at it. I, on the other hand, am always bright and cheerful and charming because I am young and fresh and still relatively unsullied."

She had a point. Cathy was so unrelentingly cheerful I used to think she dosed herself morning, noon, and night with every drug known to man, but no, it was just her. There ought to be a law.

"What do you want, Cathy?" I said patiently. "You're interrupting my quality time."

"Oh, you're not going to believe this one, boss."

"What have you done this time?"

"Nothing! Or at least nothing you need to worry about. But you won't believe who just phoned the office, looking to hire you… An elf! Really! You could have knocked me down with a French tickler. Not only has an elf lord come to the Nightside, which is weird and scary and disturbing enough in itself, but he wants you to solve a case for him! How cool is that?"

"Which particular elf lord are we talking about here?" I said, since one of us had to be practical and professional in this conversation, and it clearly wasn't going to be Cathy.