The Pearl Crucible - A Dardana Fenek Mystery - MARDONIOS - (part 3)

Chapter 3, part 3

He gestured at the hall couch the aristoi woman vacated, and I sat, one leg over the other and contrived to look nonchalant. He put his thumbs in his sash and studied me. Barsina was motionless, holding her notebook and the graphite stylus.

I wondered what he saw as he looked at me. I’m not very tall, and I’m not skinny, though, as I’ve said, I’m not a large woman. I’ve been told, now and again, that I’ve nice breasts and a good bum. I don’t have elegant hands; they’ve seen work in their time, and Barsina invests some effort on them with her emery. I walk a lot in my trade, and I’ve already put some kilometers on them in my younger days, but with her efforts, I have good feet and shapely ankles. I’ve brown, even skin and a face that, though it isn’t fresh with youth anymore, is pretty. I’ve heard. It’s a regular face—in every sense of the word. Good teeth, nice mouth, dark brown eyes, dark brown hair, and Barsina braids it every day. I like to keep it on the back of my head, draped with kerchiefs and fillets and ribbons down the back of my neck. My own vanity, I’m afraid, because I got a bit of a burn back there once, in chemistry class. It’s my big, blotchy, white and tan flaw, but there are worse ones, I guess.

I don’t look unusual. I don’t stand out. I don’t dress flash. I avoid most ornaments. I’ll wear a veil if I want or show some skin if I need. I save the city makeup fashions for visits to clubs or parties—strictly on business. It depends.

The Fortunato woman, now—she was beautiful.

“Tell me how you got on this case?” Mardonios asked, his arms crossed.

“He approached me. I have a reputation for success.”

“Topĉu said you did. He also said you stuck to small cases.”

“Other private inspectors get most of the big ones.”

“Why’s that, you think?”

“I don’t know if you caught on, Ensign-Captain,” I said, “but I’m a woman.”

“Oh, I’m clear on that,” he smiled.

I got meshed in that smile but looked away. “So I get cases too small or too hopeless, and I work for cheap.”

“How much were you working for?”

“Fifty drachms.”

He whistled. “Beats my monthly salary, Miss Fenek.”

“I charge aristoi more.”

“So this was not a small case.”

“I suppose not.”

“How many aristoi cases do you get?”

I cocked my head at him. “I live in the storage closet behind my fourth-floor office at the back of the Mercanter Narrows. How many do you think I get?”

“Not so many?”

“Some fortnights I don’t work, even for cheap. Some days, we don’t eat.”

“We?” He looked at Barsina again. “So, how’d you get in the house?”

“The door latch into the garden was jammed open—a broken knife tip, maybe.”

“How did you get on the grounds?”

“The drive door to the mews was also jammed open.”

“Alagon!”

“Sir?”

“The latch to the door onto the garden is jammed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Checked the gate to the mews yet?”

“On my way, sir.”

“And after that, find Mist’ Fortunato’s bedgirls and detain them for questioning.”

“Here, sir?”

“No! At the commissariat. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

The corner of my mouth bent. Those girls were going to have a difficult morning. I hoped their stories were simple and stupid. I didn’t think a casual break-and-enter was involved, but it beat a plot inside the house. That would end ugly.

“Miss Fenek, I’d say that your obligation to your client is over … since he won’t benefit from your work.”

“He’s dead,” I said, “but I like to keep things organized. I’d like to see a solution.”

Mardonios nodded. “You’re free to go—but don’t leave Aulis.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” I said truthfully.

“If you like,” he said, “you can come by the commissariat for the questioning.”

Just then, I couldn’t think of anything I’d like to see less, but I nodded. “When?”

“Ten o’clock?”

“I’ll be there, Ensign-Captain.”

I knew I’d been dismissed, and I curtseyed (and Barsina curtseyed very low), and under the angry eye of the shaken majordomo, we left—by the front door and the porter’s gate this time. He hobbled along with his cane and his patched woolen wrap, muttering. “Next time,” he said disagreeably as he unbolted the gate, “by the front door. Miss.”

“Thank you, Majordomo.—Did you see anything unusual this evening?”

“Other than the Sir lying dead in his library?” he said angrily.

“I am sorry, sir.”

He grunted. “There was nothing unusual. The citizens went out, the indentureds were locked in. Silent as the—” He stopped. The grave, my mind finished, but he shrugged and said, “Silent.”

“Sir, may I ask?”

He looked at Barsina. “Well, girl?”

“This is a fine garden, sir, but I see it’s been recently cleaned up and weeded at the end by the wall.”

I looked over. There was a pile of withered stalks and shriveled leaves in a barrow.

“Gardener’s been working, yes. The Miss complained it was all wild by the porter’s lodge.”

“Last few days, Sir?”

“Yes, yes, sometime last week,” he said, still holding the door open for us.

“Was there hemlock growing in it?”

“Hemlock? What do I know about plants?” he growled.

She curtsied. “May I look, Sir?”

He rolled his eyes and flapped his hand. “Make it quick.”

I offered Barsina my electric torch, and she examined the rubbish in the barrow, moving stalks and sifting through them while the majordomo grew more impatient.

“Girl!”

“Coming, Sir.”

He expelled us both from the grounds without further word, even to my thanks, and I looked at Barsina. “Well?”

She pulled a single stem of frondy, broken leaves and clusters of small, withered five-petaled white flowers from her girdle, holding it up in the light of the moons, both near the full.

“Hemlock, Miss.”

( … This way to Chapter 3, part 2 … ) ( … This way to Chapter 3, part 1 … )