right in front of you,” I said. “You’re not the first client who didn’t want to believe the truth, trust me. Even after producing photographic evidence of affairs, I’ve had spouses who had hired me refuse to believe me.”
Louisa nodded, drummed her fingers on the desk. “Yes, well, here we are. Eleven months later with nothing to show for it.”
I hid a wince, re-plastered my smile on. “I know three weeks feels like a long time, but I’m working around the clock. That’s why my close rate is at 100%.”
I had never—ever—not closed a case in the last five years. I wasn’t going to start now.
“Codex is a phenomenal firm,” Louisa said, avoiding my statement. “They recovered one of our stolen manuscripts two months ago. They’re an investigative force to be reckoned with. Trust me, Henry’s not your guy. He’s on our side.”
I swallowed past the spike of jealousy. “And you didn’t want to hire Codex for this?”
Louisa’s cheeks pinked, and she seemed slightly embarrassed. Her fingers tugged at her sweater sleeves. “Well… no. I did not. Plus, it’s vital to employ fresh eyes and new ideas. You are my fresh eyes, Sloane. I thought you might see details the rest of us have missed.”
“Message received,” I said. Noting the time—every second counts—I stood, shook Louisa’s hand, promised to call her tomorrow. “It’ll get done. You don’t need to worry. I’m happy to bring you those new ideas.”
“I am worried,” she replied. “Truly worried. The reputation of this library is at risk, as is the reputation of the antiquities community. We don’t appear to be a community of integrity at the moment.”
Another tough swallow. Another fake smile. Louisa would hire another firm if I didn’t come through. She could even hire this other agency. And Henry might not be a lead, but the fact that this Codex firm hired a librarian to work for them was too fucking intriguing to drop it.
“You hired the best, make no mistake,” I said. “You won’t regret it.”
By the time I made it out to her hallway, I had to clench my hands in my skirt to stop them from shaking. Leaning back against the wall, I let out a ragged exhale and a whispered, “Fuck me.”
When I’d taken on this contract, there’d been no tremble in my fingers, no anxiety racing in my chest. I’d survived too much, worked too hard, needed this opportunity too badly to feign nervousness. Leaving Louisa’s office twenty days ago, I’d felt calm excitement and an eager ambition.
Now, I was struggling to admit the hundreds of threads to Bernard Allerton’s life were so complex—and so shrouded in secrecy—I had no concept of where to go or what to do. The Sherlock Society loved him and believed that he was on a long, off-the-grid sabbatical and would return at a later date. In my many, many afternoons spent having tea, Bernard was swooned, fawned, obsessed over. I couldn’t tell if these people were hiding him in their attics or honestly thought he was a librarian.
As I walked back outside and down the wide steps, I hoped beyond hope the lecture with Eudora tonight would shed light on the direction I should be racing toward.
And after that? I’d need to do more research on Codex.
4
Abe
In the ballroom at The Langham Hotel, long rows of chairs were rapidly filling with chattering Holmes aficionados. In the center, on a stage with a podium, was an older white woman with wire-rimmed glasses and long, gray hair. She wore a deerstalker hat—the same as the notorious detective being discussed this evening.
As I sat in the very last row, I noticed most of the audience wore the same hat. Or were fully dressed as Sherlock Holmes.
“How interesting,” I muttered. Crossing one foot across my knee, I settled back in the chair and fought an unusual urge to take a picture of these elaborate costumes and send it to everyone back at Codex. Strange that I almost… missed… the endless clamoring of Freya, Delilah, Henry, and Sam. Barely twenty-four hours had passed, and I couldn’t stop thinking of things they would like, jokes they’d find amusing, food they’d enjoy.
I was also irritated that they’d all disobeyed my express orders thus far. I’d received not a single call or email regarding work or our cases.
The sensation of missing someone wasn’t one I entertained often. Disappointment readily followed in its wake. It was much easier to wall off your heart than risk the painful consequences of letting people