The moment that young woman had stepped into the office, Ares knew she would be trouble. His first impression of her was of an unkempt woman with unruly brown hair and mismatched clothes. Her outfit consisted of a rather plain gray skirt and a dark blue sweater with toggle buttons. He attempted not to squirm in his chair at the sight of her brown and navy blue pleather cowboy boots. As if that were not enough, instead of wearing a sensible pair of gloves, she wore red, knitted things that ran up to her elbows. The gloves were fingerless, exposing her unfiled nails.

He supposed she had an attractive face, a fine jawline, and a cute nose. She did not wear makeup (not that he wanted gobs of it) and he was not entirely sure he would ever be convinced she owned a hairbrush, let alone knew how to use one. Her seemingly natural, cheery disposition only made him suspicious of something rehearsed. For someone who had just lost her father and was alone in the world, minus one estranged uncle and a possessive aunt, she was a little too happy. No one picks themselves up out of the mud like that within two years and then happily embraces an uncle they only just met. No conditioned human being was that forgiving or trusting. Something was up. Something was simply unnatural about that girl, and Ares was going to find out what it was. A secret, a falsehood—whatever it was, he would find it.

Ares waited for Docherty to sit down. He listened carefully, hearing the clod, clod, clod of her boots down the hallway. He decided it was safe to speak.

“Want me to check up on her? Run a background check?”

“No, no. Come, come, man. Don’t you think I’d know my own niece?”

Ares harrumphed, crossed his arms, and raised his right eyebrow. He waited Docherty out.

“Well, dash it all, Ares, don’t look at me like that! I am telling you she is my niece, and that’s that. If you don’t like it that’s fine. I don’t pay you to make judgments on my personal life. We are here to work! Now the next time she pops by, I expect you to be more civil to her. Act like the gentleman I know you to be. Goodness knows you’ve had years of practice. You’re older than I am!”

“You did not introduce me to her.”

“What? Why certainly I must have—”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, dear. Well, sorry about that ol’ chap.”

“Apology accepted, but it’s not necessary. It was a personal meeting between yourself and your—that young woman. I should have excused myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my partner and friend. I was happy to have you here.”

“Assistant, and thank you, though next time I’d much rather be left out.” Ares paused uncomfortably. “But, my sincerest condolences.”

“Understood. Now, I fear poor Snow is looking rather peckish. Perhaps I should give her a little something to nibble on.”

The Detective moved toward the aquarium.

“I already fed her.”

“No, surely not. I would have noticed.”

Docherty came over and opened the small, wooden cabinet the large aquarium was supported on. He hummed to himself, and his bushy white mustache twitched happily as Snow ate dinner for the second time that evening.

The rest of the night passed without incident, and the Detective and Ares turned in early when it became clear no clients would be calling. Ares could not shake his suspicions about the Detective’s newfound “niece” and decided he was going to run his own personal investigation on her first thing the next evening.

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