“It feels like only yesterday I was evicting you as a squatter.” Commissioner Hunt glanced up at the grand space, taking in the tall ceilings. He brushed a hand over his bushy mustache, clearing it of any clay dust it might have collected just from sitting there. “Look at you now, pauper.”
“State your business, I have been paying my rent regularly enough to avoid you.”
“I know you have.” He stood from the stool, hands clasped behind his back as he inspected the statue before him. “I keep tabs on those who’ve caused me the most issues.”
“That’s quite a declaration considering the state of the city under your watch, no?”
The commissioner’s neck snapped in my direction; his mustache could have stood up like a peeved cat with the way he scowled. He was a loathsome bug hiding under a nicely tailored uniform. The most upstanding of them all would always be worse than someone like me, and he knew it. Two magpies replying to the same call.
It pained me to suppress a faint grin, but an expression so full of rage will never cease to amuse me.
“I will have to ask you to leave if this visit is for leisure rather than official.” I removed my jacket, and it kicked up a cloud of dust as it flopped onto the used chair.
“There’s been a disappearance.”
My throat tightened, knotting into a distasteful sourness that rendered me silent.
“I find it quite funny that it’s always you at the center of the mischief.” The commissioner stalked forward one step at a time, his boots leaving prints on the concrete flooring. “How coincidentalthat the minute you show up around the De Villiers, something terrible happens.”
“You said there was a disappearance.” I didn’t bother to look at him, instead beginning to pick at a tin bucket of carving tools. “No one said anything about something terrible happening.”
“I am willing to bet my week’s payroll that you have something to do with it”—he stopped behind me—“or that you know something.”
“And what if you’re wrong?” I turned to him.
The chuckled rolled like gravel in the commissioner’s throat. “I rarely am.”
“What if you are?”
He stared for a moment before an eerily calm smile made his cheeks puff. “Then I will make sure tomake it right.”
“Who is this missing person you are willing to lie for?” I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to look more frustrated than I already was. “Though I am sure there are plenty with pockets deep enough to make you do more than lie—”
The thick hand grabbed me by my collar, choking me as the fabric balled in his stout fist.
“Vincent Carlisle was last seen heading to your newly acquired home.” His voice was surprisingly calm despite his grip. “Know anything about a thing like that?”
“I don’t know a Vincent.”
“Your wife knows him.Quitewell.” His lip curled.
“Sorry, I am not my wife. You will have to ask her.”
“Have you seen her with anyone?”
“I haven’t been home, I wouldn’t know.”
“He said he was going to see your wife, last I saw him.” He raised a brow. “Don’t tell me you don’t watch what company your wife keeps.”
“Ah, I do remember someone visiting, now that you mention it.” I gripped the cuffs of his uniform, yanking his hand off my shirt. “He left in a hurry. I suppose he was embarrassed that her choice was clear.”
“Any other times?”
I shook my head, brushing the newly formed wrinkles out of my shirt. “I understand he may have thought ill of me, as he left quite angrily upon hearing about Mrs. Kameneva’s unavailability. Have you checked the local taverns? A brothel? The ballet, perhaps?”
The commissioner’s lip twitched into a sneer before turning from me to inspect the other sculptures. The forms of the inanimate people stood tall over us, watching our every move.
“Well, I guess if she is driving men to run off in their depression, I should keep her locked away. Don’t want the hounds to get her!” I joked lightly, though the words felt wrong.
