It was singular, musical, almost beautiful. Like a wine glass tapped by a nervous thumb. Then, a whisper of falling diamonds.
Then, the new inspector came.
For forty years, the lantern room was his cathedral. The curved panes of tempered glass were his stained windows, offering a panorama of a furious, beautiful sea. He’d polished them until they sang, watched storms hammer them with gravel-like hail, and seen gulls bounce off them in a panic. The glass was strong. It had to be. glass stress crack