THREE
The Vice-Chief gestures to her, “Detective Beatrix Isherwood, Inspector Joaquin Theodore. I hope you both thoroughly enjoy your partnership.” He nods to the remaining officer, “Write all that down now, in the case file opened this morning.” He tips his hat to Beatrix and Inspector Theodore, “If you both would like to finish your investigation here, do be sure to be on time for tonight.”
As both men leave the room, the Inspector and the Detective look to each other, their expressions wholly opposite.
The event that is spoken of for November the 29th’s coming evening, is an important one in the community of the England Crescent Fleet, as important as who sat upon the throne of the country. It was a gala for the instatement of Ambros Maximilian as new Chief of the Fleet.
The previous one has been hastily deposed after being charged with fraud.
Theodore and Beatrix part ways to prepare for the gala. It is 9:00 PM when their cabs pulled up to the mansion home where dozens of suit-clad men escort women in glistening gowns up the marble stairs.
Theodore is dismayed to find that he arrived just when Detective Isherwood begins her stroll up the stairs. He nearly leaps back into his cab before she is able to notice him. He takes a moment to get a good look at her which he did not dare back at Wilder’s flat.
She is tall with a slender build like a willow bough. She has long, curly black hair which is now tied loosely up in a golden strand that matches her silk dress and elbow-length gloves. Her skin is a dark amber-brown and her eyes clear and alert to the goings-on around her. As was bound to happen, those eyes catch sight of Inspector Theodore staring at her from inside his cab. She grins and offers him her arm. He grits his teeth as other guests glance in the direction Detective Isherwood faces. He straightens his tuxedo jacket and steps down from the cab. Several pairs of eyes track him as he climbs the stairs with his gaze fixed above all who stood about and on the open double doors. He passes Beatrix without so much as a civil declination. Her smile disappears as she lifts her skirt and follows him. The ballroom has the spaciousness and acoustics of an art museum. White marble pillars line the walls and a slight stage which could be seen directly from the door.
The chandeliers that hang from the high ceiling reflect the warm light and glint in Inspector Theodore’s eyes as he scans the room with his usual scepticism. The impeachment of the old Chief of the England Crescent Fleet never settled as all around correct in Theodore’s mind. The Chief was a good old man, never would he do such a thing as he was accused of. And, on the near non-existent occasion that Inspector Theodore thinks better of a man than others, many would be the wiser to give an ear to his hunch.
Beatrix places herself at his side, offering him a tall glass of sparkling champagne. “You look like a cat searching for his mouse. Perhaps try and smile? Someone might actually want to talk with you and share friendly remarks.”
He takes the champagne from her gloved hand and raises a black eyebrow as he looked to her, “Miss Isherwood, do you know why I prefer the winter to the other seasons?” He gives her not a second to answer and waves his glass in front of the round tip of her nose, “Because, everyone shuts themselves in their homes and all is peaceful and quiet. No social requirements, no chatty people at the office.”
Detective Isherwood sighs deeply, “You’re going to be a bloody joy to work with, aren't you.”
A small silver bell is rung and the guests quiet their conversations and turn their attention to the stage. The chandelier lights dim and a spotlight shines on the stage.
“Thank you all for attending the instatement of our new Chief of Inspection for the Crescent Fleet of England.” Said an older gentleman in a white satin tie and suit. “Please join me in welcoming Ambrose Maximillion to the Fleet!”
Every guest claps and cheers, save Inspector Theodore. Isherwood sees this and stills her own hands. She seems to remember something with a click of her tongue and reaches in her small blue purse. She discreetly brings out the ring found on Wilder’s body and begins turning it over in her fingers, interested to see what she could uncover in the dim light.
A man in his mid-thirties strides on stage and waves to the formal gathering that greets him warmly. He has a charming smile, wavy blond hair and a golden skin-tone that immediately feeds Joaquin’s dislike for him like an infection.
“Hello, hello, everyone. I will keep this short for I know full well that you all have more important matters to attend to, but I would like to start off by saying how marvellously fine you all look tonight. I am privileged to work alongside the likes of each one of you.”
Inspector Theodore glances dramatically to Beatrix and mimes gagging himself at the obvious flattery.
Ambrose goes on as the crowd’s hearts gradually lean farther and farther in his favour.
“I also know that you all may be sceptical of a new and previously unheard of leader for your most respectable fleet since the sudden betrayal of the man prior to me. This is perfectly understandable, but I can assure you that I will meet and exceed your expectations. I don’t plan to change much of the fleet, only to make it better, is my goal, so here I have a short list--”
Joaquin listens intently until Beatrix roughly takes hold of his sleeve. “I’ve got it, Theodore!” She says with excitement.
“Shut up! I’m trying to listen!” He hisses in reply, shoving her away.
“No!” She insists, beginning to pull him towards the entrance of the hall, “I know what to do! Come quickly!”
Before he knows it, he is being dragged helplessly by her surprisingly strong arms through the crowd that parts with whispers of curiosity.
They were shut into a cab with the order from Isherwood for the driver to take them to the heart of London which, Joaquin realized with aggravation, is at least two hours away, meaning they will arrive near midnight at the speed which the horse trots.
“Alright, now what on earth made you do that, pray tell?!”
“Theodore, look here!” She holds the ring up between his eyes enthusiastically, “Just inside the band there, you see the tiny ‘F’? That is the mark of my Uncle Frost! He used to have a jewellery shop where we are headed. If he can tell us who purchased the ring, we may be able to track them down and find out why they gave it to Thomas Wilder.”
She sat expectantly, waiting for Theodore to acknowledge her thought, but he glared vacantly at her, “Do you understand how many people saw me being dragged about by a girl in a slip?”
“It is not a slip, you absolute dolt, it is a rather expensive evening gown and you’d do well not to criticise it.” She states with an offended cock of her head. “Anyways, stop diverting from the point!”
“What is the point exactly?”
“That we have a lead! Now take a nap while you have a moment; we have a long night ahead.”
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