“Something that might be used as a weapon?” Ellendale scoffed. “For God’s sake, I could use a stapler as a weapon. I could use my abacus as a weapon. Does that make me a suspect?”
“Ellendale, please,” Dr. Robetresse said.
Somehow, I doubted that Max would be met with the same chagrin by Ellendale if he was giving this speech. I was reminded of all the conferences I’d been to with Max. Every time someone came up to talk to us and directed their questions at Max, assuming I was his assistant, or his date. Offering him a nice, firm handshake while I got a polite nod. Or a wave.
But I gritted my teeth and continued. “The second thing we’re looking for is inconsistency. If the object behaves in a manner that’s at odds with what its owner is saying or how they’re acting, it could indicate there’s something the person is trying to hide. Objects, intentionally or not, tend to betray their owners in one way or another.”
I thought back to the notes coming off Dr. Oswold’s objects: completely frazzled, exhibiting a total unsurety of even what they were—at complete odds with the calm, collected professor.
“And lastly, what happened to Maya was an incredibly violent act. I hesitate to believe the culprit intended it to go as far as it did. In which case, the person’s object may indicate some degree of guilt or inner turmoil, even if the person is less obvious in portraying said guilt. This may manifest in damage to the object, such as cracks, splinters, smoking, or malfunctioning, a model airplane with torn wings, a kettle that refuses to boil, et cetera.”
An image popped into my head of the little statue in Strauss’s office, with its head and legs lopped clear off. He’d been trying to fix it—and hide from us the damage done to it.
“And how would you know all this about an object? It’s not like they bloody well speak,” Ellendale asked.
“Well, in a way, they do. I’ve studied notes in objects for years. You’re welcome to have a look at my paper on the subject.”
Dr. Robetresse nodded. “That’s quite enough evidence for me. I thank you both for the update. I’m sure we all have quite a bit to mull over. As always, if—”
Max tilted his hat back. “One more thing. Why was Dr. Strauss removed from this council?”
Dr. Robetresse arched an eyebrow. “That is a private matter unrelated to this investigation.”
“Pardon my French, ma’am, but the hell it is. We have a right to know.”
Dr. Robetresse gave him a withering stare. “Again, I thank you both for your update on the investigation. As always, if anyone has any new information, I’d like to discuss it here.”
Ellendale nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, discuss it here,” Max murmured after the meeting, once everyone had cleared off, “so they can do damage control beforehand. So they can protect their own.”
“Robetresse is protecting him.”
“Yeah, and she’s not the only one,” Max said.
I nodded, catching his train of thought. “Ellendale.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After the meeting, I told Max I would catch up with him. Then I slumped, going through my mandatory self-assessment after every social encounter. I mentally replayed everything I’d said and cringed, straining to identify how I could have better articulated this or that.
I caught sight of Ellendale’s TA walking out and steeled the last remnants of my social energy. Maybe he had some insight into why Ellendale was so hell-bent on blocking the investigation. Or why he was so irate at our suspicions of Dr. Strauss. Maybe Ellendale had seen something … or knew something and didn’t want to say.
“Hi. Basile, right? Can I talk to you?” I shoved out my hand. “I know you don’t know me, but I’m …”
Basile was terribly good-looking, with dark hair that was smoothed back, a long, elegant nose, and kind eyes. He watched me, a furtive smile starting to build.
“The youngest council member of an arcane school in a century. Responsible for discovering an entirely new branch of Object Theory and Magic study. Countless publications—I know people who’ve been assigned the readings for class and can barely keep up. Set a car on fire when it wasn’t even part of your objects! Not to mention, one of the strongest practitioners of Magic in a decade—and you just leave it all behind”—he snapped his fingers—“like that. Of course, I know who you are.” He shook his head. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.”
I snorted and played with my earrings. “It’s not really me doing all that. I mean, Max …”
He opened the door to the world outside. It was still early, not yet noon, and a cool breeze drifted over my neck and arms. From a nearby building wind chimes sounded.
“Don’t you let anyone here make you think less of yourself. If Ellendale left campus this second, Robetresse wouldn’t spare a minute grieving him, much less beg him to come back. Actually, she might even cry tears of joy.”
I chuckled. A group of girls walking by waved, skirting a cluster of agaves. “Basile!” one of them shouted, and he waved back, flashing a warm smile.
“That’s part of the reason I stopped you, actually. Mind if I walk with you?”
