A couple emerges from the street and makes a beeline for us. The gentleman offers an outstretched hand to the constable while his grief-stricken beloved hangs for dear life onto his opposite arm. She shoots me a filthy look.
I divert my gaze and stuff my hands into my trouser pockets, already uncomfortable. What did they lose? An entire fortune?
“I can’t bear to look,” the woman chokes at the door before us, then smears her face in her Charles’s lapel.
“Sergeant Lewis,” Charles says curtly. Sergeant, then. A trained, warm tone, despite everything. The slack in his posture and lack of a morning coat tells me he’s not quite a Parliament man. A magistrate, maybe? No, no case tucked under his arm, either.
Sergeant Lewis returns Charles’s handshake with a tight squeeze. “Charles, Blanche. Good day. This is—” Lewis frowns and tilts his head back at me, now offering mehishand.
I’d rather wade through a charnel house than shake hands with a constable—or sergeant, or whatever.
Pretending not to notice, I already know what he’s going to ask; yes, hedidget my name back at the office. No, I don’t care that he doesn’t remember it, because I hadn’t cared enough to ask for his.
“Jacques, sir.” I give Charles and Blanche a smile I hope passes as warmth. Despite the rays of sun peeking through a lapse in the clouds, a chill passes through me.
Charles doesn’t respond, looking most displeased as he fixes the end of his mustache. “Sergeant. A moment, if you will?”
Lewis nods and cocks his head at me, and I gladly excuse myself to the stoop. They don’t bother speaking softly—I can hear every word.
“I apologize for stepping out of line, but this is preposterous. First, your commissioner refuses to help. And then, when he finally agrees to accommodate us, you bring me an amateur.”
My vision clouds crimson.
My father was Étienne Valmont—my grandfather, Gaspard, Comte de Valmont, you insipid swine, I want to snap. The urge claws up my throat, unbidden. But I swallow it. No one knows our surname here; the one that once opened hospital doors and carried enough weight to fund entire wards in France now means less than the stone beneath my shoes.
A noble family of sturdy name and medical patronage. A family crest, even, in the shape of a serpent-twined blade—a clever play off of the Rod of Asclepius, by some ancestor with an apparent sense of humor. My father renounced it all before I was born. Then, Gaspard died of a winter illness, and what little weight our surname held faded into obscurity.
And here I stand, heir to a disgraced title, having wasted my brief tenure at the Faculté de Droit on absinthe and cards and women, to my grandmother’s silentdisappointment. Picked up my father’s trade on a whim rather than a calling, and ended up shipped overseas like some sniffing dog, all to be spat upon by London’s authorities and elites alike.
I lift my gaze to the shop window, feigning interest in the cut of a coat or the shimmer of silk. Anything to avoid the itch in my palms. I trace the grooves in the brick with my eyes, counting them to breathe through the urge to splatter Charles’s innards across them.
“Charles,” Lewis whispers pleadingly. “As we discussed yesterday, our hands are tied with other matters at the moment. Larger robberies. Two jewelers in Hatton Garden late last week. Handfuls of diamonds, gone.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that. There was another heist up the street last night. And the alleyway murders, which you might’ve read about.”
“You think I care about diamonds? My father owns half of Portsman Square!”
Ah, oui. Car rien n’exprime l’urgence morale comme l’héritage d’une propriété à Marylebone.
“What about the outsourcing you mentioned?” Charles throws his hands out to his sides, gesturing towards any option but me. “You must help us find our daughter.”
There it is.The one thing more prized than a fortune.
“That’s the thing,” Lewis replies, raising his voice for me to hear. “Wehaveoutsourced. Jacques has traveled here all the way from Paris.” He turns to look at me. “Isn’t that right?”
Indeed, I’ve spent the past thirty-six hours on trains, a ferry, and more trains. After three hours of sleep, rushed to Scotland Yard on a hackney. “I have,” I confirm, as if my accent hasn’t given it away. “Rest assured, we will find your daughter.”
Blanche pales even further. Charles glares at Lewis, furious tears forming at the corners of his own eyes.
“Unfortunately,” Lewis is quick to add, “I haven’t yet had achance to inform Monsieur Valmont of the finer details. He arrived at the office early this morning and was so eager to start.”
“Perfect. A foreigner who doesn’t even knowwhathe’s investigating.”
“If I may,” I interject. Lewis isnotabout to pin this on me. “I apologize if there’s been a misunderstanding. You see, I’m the private investigator in charge of your case from this point on. Any details may be shared with me in confidence.”
At this, Charles’s mustache stops quivering, and he’s a little less red. “Aprivateinvestigator?”
“Yes. Now, keep in mind, I don’t make any arrests or prosecutions.” I stride slowly to them, so as not to spook his glaring wife. “Instead, I am tasked with acquiring crucial information as quickly as possible, by any means necessary. With my findings and your cooperation, a decision is made on how to proceed. Sergeant Lewis here was only showing me the way, since I am new to your town.” Lewis has only complicated these matters, as far as I’m concerned. I give the couple a consoling smile and eye the busy streets, which start to clear with the workday resuming. “He was about to be on his way. Isn’t that right?”
The three of them eye me in suspicion, as if Lewis didn’t expect someone who knew how to do their job when his commissioner contacted my office.
