Nobody’s Baby
THE NEWS WENT out all over the public channels, and I spent the rest of the day in the Bureau answering official queries and putting out statements and even, flatteringly, giving a brief interview to a journalist whose questions were almost embarrassingly complimentary.
And then the triumph ebbed and there was only me, alone. Quiet and drained and a little restless, as I always found myself at the end of a case.
Naturally, I ended up at Violet St. Owen’s yarn shop.
I’d deliberately left it late, so this time it was I who approached her with the golden solar sunset all around me in the ten minutes before she was scheduled to close. “I’ve brought a pattern for you,” I said. “To thank you for your help.”
And I set the skimmer plans down on the glass counter.
Not without a qualm or two, mind. It wasn’t every day I broke the law, and my constitution was threatening to rebel. I had to wipe my damp palms against my trouser legs as Violet unrolled the schematics and raised an interested eyebrow. “Are these the ones Norris Godfrey altered?” she asked.
“They are,” I said.
Her eyes met mine, shrewd and surprised in equal measure. “Are you supposed to be giving these to ordinary passengers?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “But today I had to go and argue nineteen grown adults into not letting an infant die out of sheer apathy—so my sympathy with the lawmakers is at its very lowest ebb.”
She leaned forward over the counter, on her elbows. Her hands were very near mine—almost but not quite touching. My skin buzzed with the proximity. “You’re not afraid of what I’ll do with these?”
“No more than I’m afraid of my fellow detectives,” I said, and thought of Leloup. “Less than some, in fact.”
Violet smiled. The plans were whisked into a drawer of the counter and locked away with a key she kept on a necklace around her neck.
“I’ll put them somewhere safer tomorrow,” she said.
“For tonight…” She cocked her head, golden hair tumbling over one shoulder and gleaming almost as bright as her smile.
“I wonder if I might buy a ship’s detective a drink. ”
“At the Antikythera Club?” I suggested. “I’ve just gotten word my membership application’s been approved.” High-profile hearings could be good for the social status, it seemed.
Violet shook her head. “Congratulations—but perhaps another time,” she said. “I’ve got somewhere far more intimate in mind.”
“Suits me,” I said. She dimmed the lights and locked the door—and for the first time, I let go of the law, and took her hand.