Although Cornelia wasn’t a fan of accommodating Justin or even taking him back, she seemed more at ease once the paperwork was in order. After all, she was now his boss again, which meant she could exert a little more control and feel entitled to her condescension. Francis was elated and appeared to be on the verge of starting the Justin March Fan Club.
Mae remained the enigma here. She was still doing a good job of keeping her expression neutral, which wasn’t surprising from someone who’d gone through a castal upbringing and pr?torian training. It was her body language that gave her away, especially when Cornelia jumped to the next order of business: revealing what the burning reason behind Justin’s return was. Mae leaned forward to look at the screen, anticipation crackling through her.
She doesn’t know why she’s here, he thought. She doesn’t know why I’m here. It’s possible what happened earlier was a complete coincidence and not part of any larger machination. Maybe.
“So. Now that all that unpleasantness is out of the way, you’re probably wondering why we’ve taken you back,” said Cornelia.
“I figured you thought I’d learned my lesson,” he said cheerfully. Maybe he should’ve been a bit more humble, but his exuberance over this change of fortune was running strong.
“No,” she said with no humor at all. “I don’t believe that for an instant. Which is part of the reasoning for this unorthodox decision.”
Justin’s cockiness faded. All was not forgotten and forgiven.
“Now,” continued Cornelia, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the patrician murders, which have been all over the news.” She paused and then gave a contrived laugh that was supposed to sound embarrassed. “But of course you wouldn’t be. I don’t imagine much Gemman news makes it to Panama, does it?”
“Depends on if the homing pigeons are up and running,” he replied.
Cornelia didn’t blink, but in his periphery, he saw a smile play at the edge of Mae’s lips. She caught it quickly, apparently remembering she was angry, and her business mask slipped back into place.
“Bring up the patrician murder records,” Cornelia ordered the screen.
The screen came to life, displaying a list of five bolded names. Under each one were four bulleted items: age, caste name, location of death, and date of death. Justin forgot all about Cornelia’s attitude and the strange circumstances of his homecoming. Seeing the list, this set of data, snapped him into a mode he hadn’t been in for a very long time. Immediately, his brain wanted to make sense of the information. There was always a pattern to the world, and even with no other background on this list, he immediately began summarizing it.
Each person belonged to a different caste: Erinian, Lakota, Nordic, Welsh, and Nipponese. All of them were twenty-seven or twenty-eight and had been killed within the borders of their respective castal land grants. The murder dates extended over the last six months, with the most recent being a few days ago.
“These have been highly publicized,” said Cornelia. “Despite the wide ethnic spread, the cases share some similarities, leading us to believe they were all committed by the same person. The age similarity, as well as the identical nature of their deaths.”
“Which was…?”
“Stabbed through the heart with a silver dagger. During a full moon. Quite brutal.” Cornelia almost, almost sounded like she actually had some emotion behind the words. “The prevailing theory is that it’s a plebeian with antipatrician sentiments.”
“Obviously,” said Justin. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and never taking his eyes off the screen. A rush of pleasure ran through him at finally having something substantial to use his brainpower on. “A plebeian with remarkable access, since they all happened on land grants.” The castes kept the borders of their lands closed. Federal officials could enter at any time, of course, and other patricians had limited visiting rights. Average plebeians were only allowed entry if they had special permission, such as a friend’s sponsorship or something business related.
Cornelia gave a nondescript grunt that could have been either impressed or disappointed. “What also makes them remarkable is that they all took place within homes or offices that showed no sign of entry, ones that were even locked from the inside.”
“Then they were invited in. Or are just cleverer than you think.” Justin spun through the possibilities. “You’re probably looking for a delivery person, a plebeian who’d have reason to visit all of those castes. Someone strong enough to wield a dagger like that. Probably male.”
“Yes,” said Cornelia. “Police have also come to the same conclusions.”
Justin finally looked back at her. “Then what exactly does this have to do with me? This is a police matter, and apparently they’ve already figured out what I have—probably not as quickly as me, but still.”