“I don’t carry any formal identification—” I began.
“I’ll bet you don’t, you Lani whore,” he said, taking another step toward me. “Now, get out of here before you feel the back of my hand and I have you arrested for trespass.”
I did not need telling twice.
*
“I HAVE NO AUTHORITY!” I protested. “I’m not police. I’m not army or government. I’m not even a licensed private investigator. No one will talk to me!”
Driven by frustrated humiliation, I had taken a cab all the way to Willinghouse’s town house, insisting that I be reimbursed for the expense the moment I arrived. This was my one day away from the baby. I had to achieve something with the time I had bought.
“Pretending to be a salesman?” Willinghouse shot back, his scar reddening. “You are supposed to be using your abilities to investigate. No one hired you because of your people skills. I must say that I had hoped you would have made more progress by now. Now, I have to get to Parliament, so if you don’t mind—”
“I do mind!” I exclaimed, surprising us both. I stood in front of him, face hot, fists clenched, but when he gave me a long, thoughtful look, I managed to calm down enough to say what I meant. “I can’t do what you want me to without earning people’s trust. The police can demand that people tell what they know. I can’t.”
“But that is the point!” Willinghouse shot back, returning his gaze from the cuff link he was trying to fasten. “You are supposed to use unofficial channels. I can combine those with the official channels in order to get to the truth.”
“Then I need to partner with the police.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Then how can I do my job?”
“The police will not share information with a private investigator,” said Willinghouse.
“So they can tell you and you can tell me.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me,” I said, snatching his shirtsleeve and deftly fitting the cuff link in place. Morlak wore cuff links; he thought they made him look sophisticated.
Now Willinghouse gave me a fierce look, but when I held his gaze, he sighed and glanced away. When he turned back to me, it was with eyes and voice lowered.
“I am not entirely sure that the police can be trusted,” he said. “That is why I need someone to investigate independently.”
I hesitated, taken aback. “I don’t know that I can,” I said, mentally sidestepping the implications of what he had just told me. “Can you at least protect me if I am arrested?”
“Probably,” he replied.
“Probably?”
“I don’t suppose we’ll know for sure till we have to try,” he said.
“Not good enough,” I said.
“It is the best I can do,” he replied. “Listen, Miss Sutonga, I came to you because I thought you a person of talent, ingenuity, and dedication to the truth. If my faith was misplaced, you should let me know so that I can seek someone more suitable.”
I felt stung, as I had when Florihn said I wasn’t a real Lani. For a moment, I wanted to run away and climb the highest chimney I could find and stay there. But I also felt that this was a defining moment, that if I said the wrong thing, I would not be able to take it back.
I drew myself up. “There is no one more suitable for the job than me,” I said.
“Then I do not know why we are having this conversation,” he replied. “Do your job in the ways that seem best suited to your abilities, and I will get you what information I can from the police investigation. And please, try to act with a little discretion.”
I produced a folded paper on which I had written an address and a few short sentences in pencil. “Could you see that this gets mailed?” I said.
He glanced at it, and his gaze seemed to linger over Vestris’s name. “What is it?” he asked.
“Just … catching up,” I said. “Family stuff.”
He considered me, and I sensed both his desire to read what I had written and the certainty that he would not. “Again,” he said, “I hope you will act with discretion.”
“Of course,” I said. I had shared with Vestris nothing beyond the fact that she should write to me at Willinghouse’s town house.