“You don’t say?” Irritation shot up my spine. What was it about me that made Derrick so prickly? I’d never met anyone who ran as hot and cold as he did. One minute, he was laying on the charm, and the next, he was accusing me of being a charlatan.
Abrams grew serious and furrowed his brow. “About last night… I shouldn’t have revealed as much as I did. It’s not a good trait for an aspiring detective. I’d appreciate if you didn’t let Detective Chambers know. He’ll have my head.”
A flush colored the tips of his ears, a mixture of embarrassment and the cold. I realized we were both a little intimidated by the man. Lucky for him, I needed every ally I could get, and if keeping secrets from Derrick was our common ground, I’d take it.
“Your secret is safe with me. We wouldn’t want to darken his mood any more than it already is.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” Abrams chuckled and pushed open the gate, making the iron bars whine in protest. He gestured for me to go first.
I swallowed my nerves and climbed the stone staircase. Inside, a narrow hallway opened into a waiting area. The room teemed with people. Shouts competing for control echoed into the rafters as a pair of angry merchants fought over stolen merchandise. Their fingers jabbed the air, inches from a street urchin’s smirking face. The kid polished an apple on his threadbare jacket, then crunched his jagged teeth through the fruit. It was a defiant gesture, one that sent the merchants lunging for the pilfered apple.
Abrams nudged me past the commotion toward a wide desk that served as the entry point to the back offices. A silver-haired woman glanced up from a ledger. Her stern features broke into a grin when she spotted Abrams, and her eyes crinkled around the edges.
“Morning, Estelle.” Abrams leaned an elbow on her desk and returned a flirtatious smile. “And how is my favorite gatekeeper today? Keeping the riffraff in line?”
Estelle preened and smoothed a lock of hair that had slipped from her bun. “I do what I can.”
I glanced at the alluded riffraff, none of whom were in line.
Abrams feigned ignorance, unconcerned by the chaos. “Is Detective Chambers in his office?”
“He’s finishing up a meeting. You can go back and wait.”
He flashed her another smile, then ushered me down the hallway. We passed doors on both sides with muffled sounds leaking from beneath the frames. I walked slowly, each step twisting the knot in my stomach. My plan sifted in my mind, becoming less appealing by the second. What if he did have me committed? I ground to a halt, but it was too late. Abrams had stopped and was holding open an office door.
I peered inside, unsurprised by the clean, utilitarian atmosphere. A massive desk sat along one wall, its surface void of personal effects. Instead, papers were stacked and ordered in strict lines, and a tin plate disclosing Derrick’s prestigious title had been polished to a glistening sheen. I inspected his bookcase, running my index finger along the shelf as he had done to mine. It came away clean. Not a speck of dust.
“Detective Chambers certainly likes order,” I mused, frowning when I noticed the titles had been shelved alphabetically. I’d never sorted anything alphabetically in my life. The stark difference in our personalities was on full display. Maybe it wasn’t a good strategy to tell a man who was such a pragmatist that I could see his murder victim’s ghost. I might as well put the straitjacket on myself.
Abrams scratched the morning stubble covering his jaw. “He likes things a certain way. Function and discipline are key.” He paused, but whatever memory clouded his features vanished at the sound of a scuffle from the hallway. Someone grunted, followed by the dense thud of a fist meeting flesh.
“Wait here.” He indicated a chair in front of Derrick’s desk.
I obeyed as Abrams slipped from the office, closing the door behind him. The disturbance escalated, and slurred voices echoed in the hall before going quiet.
A minute passed, then two. My gaze darted over the desk, and my hands folded neatly in my lap. The urge to snoop intensified. If we were keeping score, Derrick had snooped through my things first. He might have had the tedious fact of probable cause on his side, but I had a reason too. Curiosity.
I checked the door, making certain it was firmly closed, then scooted closer to the desk. Numerous cases formed the stacked piles—robberies, assaults, and a handful of missing people—but nothing on Ella’s investigation. I thumbed through the papers just to be sure.
A door slammed in the hall. The jarring sound made me knock a stack of folders onto the floor. Cursing, I slid to my knees and scooped up the scattered documents. They were out of order, but figuring out Derrick’s filing system looked impossible. I arranged them as best I could, then noticed one I’d missed. Pushing his chair aside, I crawled under the desk, stretching my fingers to snag the corner of the file.
“Agh!”
My forehead smacked a blunt object protruding from the desk. I hissed in a breath and reached for the evil contraption, running my fingers along its dull edges. No buttons. No holes. Whatever was inside was self-contained.
I was about to pull away when I felt a small groove where the wood met the desktop. Wrapping my fingers around the narrow chamber, I slid it forward. Something cold and metal dropped into my palm.
A key.
Looked like I wasn’t the only one with secrets. I wriggled out and held up the small bronze key. It had to fit something in his office. My gaze wandered the room.
If I were a smug detective, where would I hide something important?
His desk drawers weren’t locked, and I didn’t see any trunks or strongboxes lying around. Finally settling on what looked like a closet on the other side of the room, I climbed to my feet and held my breath to listen for movement in the hallway. Enough time had passed, and Derrick or Abrams could return at any moment. Still, I had time to put the key back and pretend I’d never discovered it. It was the right thing to do.
I laughed. Who was I kidding? Derrick hadn’t wasted a second storming my basement and using what he’d found to leverage fines against me. It was only fair I returned the favor.
With a final glance over my shoulder, I slid the key into the lock and turned it until the tumblers disengaged. The door opened, and I swung it wide on silent hinges, revealing a dark, windowless room. It was impossible to see inside, so I searched Derrick’s desk for a candle, finding one near the inkwell.
