“That’s correct, Mr. Ipcar,” I said. I had only spent three seconds in this man’s company and already I wished Flora could have dumped him a thousand times. Out of an air lock, for preference. He was handsome enough, as men went, but the mulish set of that chiseled jaw and the cold gleam in those limpid eyes proclaimed him a nasty, selfish piece of work.
“I want my child, Miss Gentleman,” he said. “And I’ve come to claim him.”
I smiled. I’d been looking for a suspect for the kidnapping—someone either desperate or foolish enough to have attempted to take Peregrine by force. Jason Ipcar had all but served himself up to me on a platter.
Oh, this was going to be fun. I’d had to watch my words all day around sensitive, subtle, and anxious people. But now Fate had handed me a prime fish to fillet with the sharpest side of my tongue—and I couldn’t wait.
I beckoned him inside. “Why don’t we step into my office?”
He made for the chair behind my desk—the nerve!—and only a pointed cough from me diverted him onto the sofa instead.
I didn’t sit. I merely leaned a hip against the desk and folded my arms at him. “Have you had children before, Mr. Ipcar?”
He snorted. “Not any I’m aware of.”
It took a particular brand of effrontery to make that joke so many centuries after it had become irrelevant. My helpful smile didn’t waver. “May I ask what makes you interested in gaining custody of this baby at this time?”
“I believe in protecting what’s mine,” he replied.
“And you believe the baby is yours?”
“Flora and I have been together almost a year now. I’m aware there were others during that time—for me as well as for her, mind—”
“I’m sure,” I muttered.
“—but the odds point to me being the father. And I won’t sit back while others take advantage of my child. He’s my responsibility, mine.”
Here we approached a motive for a kidnapping, if he’d done it. “What kind of advantage concerns you?”
He shifted in his seat. “You’ve seen how many wild rumors there are about this baby—how it happened, what it means, whose it is. We haven’t had this kind of sensation in decades on theFairweather. And I know more than one writer—playwrights, journalists, scenesters like myself—who are already cobbling together a treatment of the story. Someone is going to make a lot of money off this baby.” He clapped one hand on his knee and leaned forward, elbow akimbo. “Someone needs to see that the baby gets his rightful share. As the source of the story.”
And the rights holder. Which, of course, Peregrine’s guardian would be until Peregrine himself came of age. It wasn’t a system we had much experience with on board ship—our passengers had all been of legal age for centuries—but it featured in enough of the flickers and stage shows that everyone thought they knew how it worked. Like the basket with the significant fabric, or the maid who’s secretly the heir.
Jason Ipcar, in short, was here because he thought there would be fame. Money was easy to come by on theFairweather—but reputation, popularity, and attention were in comparatively short supply. Reason enough to attempt a kidnapping, particularly if he thought the child was his by rights. It was extremely stupid, of course, because as soon as he produced the baby and made his claim, any ship’s detective would be able to sayOh look, here is our kidnapper.He was lucky Leloup wasn’t on the case: My colleague liked things tidy, and this was as tidy as it came.
“I’m so glad to hear you have the baby’s best interests at heart,” I lied through my smiling teeth, keeping my voice soft and my eyes softer. “We’ve already seen one attempt on the child’s safety, last night. A shame you were not there to protect him.”
“Well, I didn’t know about him, did I? I had… other obligations last night.”
“I’m sure a man like you must have,” I murmured. “Anywhere in particular?”
“The Sofia was premiering one of my latest scripts. A few of us adjourned to the Rococo afterward to celebrate.”
Ah, the Rococo, one of the ship’s longest-established cocktail palaces. Infamous for their debauchery and shameless rumormongering: If Ipcar had been there, a dozen bartenders and waitstaff would happily confirm.
Odds were, then, that he was not our kidnapper.
But I could still justify tormenting him a little, to relieve my own feelings and frighten him out of meddling furtherin a case he had no business in. “Considering the interest in the child,” I began, “I’m sure you’ll understand that both the Board and the Bureau are eager to stay informed and involved.” I let my smile widen a little. “Very involved. Particularly since this would be your first child. We are fiercely interested in providing an immense amount of support to this baby’s parent.”
“What kind of support?” he inquired suspiciously.
“Well.” I let the syllable unroll like a carpet, and then I launched in. “Of course there is the full background inquiry, home examination, and thorough interviews with references you may offer as to your character and behavior—not a problem for a man of your caliber, I am sure.”
Poor Jason was looking a trifle green around the gills. “All that?”
“That’s the preliminaries,” I chirped. “As well as, it hardly needs mentioning, the educational component.”
“He’s hardly old enough for schooling yet, surely?” He tugged anxiously at the knot on his tie.
