Sheridan Bell & the Vanishing Beast: Chapter Three

“I suppose that’s them now,” Henry said, rising to answer the door while behind him, Saoirse ushered Alice into Henry’s kitchen, out of sight. Henry waited until Saoirse returned, then opened the door to find the upstart inspector of the Tamarley police force standing on the doorstep with his hand poised to knock.

“Inspector Zhou,” Henry greeted, leaning against the door frame and sweeping his long hair over his shoulder. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The inspector’s eyes tracked the movement before snapping back to Henry’s face, his characteristic frown deepening further. “You know very well what brings me here, Henry. Is she here?”

Inspector Zhou Yichen was a tall, broad man in his early thirties, handsome in a brooding sort of way. He and Henry had brushed against each other on several cases now, enough to settle on their dislike of each other, but even still, Henry was relieved to see him. Zhou Yichen was bright, diligent, and — more than the others — someone who could be reasoned with.

“She?” Henry asked innocently, just as Saoirse exclaimed from the living room: “Henry! I didn’t know your first name was Henry! How cute. What’s Sheridan, then?”

With a defeated sigh, Henry stepped aside to let the inspector in, along with the three constables that trailed behind him. “My middle name,” he told Saoirse. “A professional moniker, if you will. I believe we’ve discussed this, Inspector.”

“Sorry,” Inspector Zhou said, not sounding particularly apologetic.

Saoirse rose demurely from the couch to greet the officers, apparently unbothered by the approaching procession. She held a hand out to the inspector, but instead of shaking it, Inspector Zhou secured a handcuff around her delicate wrist.

“Saoirse Evans,” he said, “You’re under arrest for the murder of Arthur Hathaway.”

Saoirse only sighed, long and dramatic, and held out her other wrist. “Yes, yes, I figured as much. I suppose telling you I’m innocent wouldn’t help?”

“I would only tell you to save it for the Magistrate,” the inspector countered. Handcuffs secured, he passed Saoirse off to the care of his officers. Saoirse dodged their attempts to usher her out the door, though, turning to Henry instead.

“Henry, dear, please keep an eye on Alice for me. And tell her not to worry about the shop while I’m gone; we can figure out what to do about the lost profits later,” she said, then paused and bit her lip. “Just be quick about solving this, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Henry assured her.

While Saoirse was led out, Inspector Zhou lingered, watching Henry out of the corner of his eye. Like a wary kitten, he waited to approach until they were alone, until Saoirse and the constables were halfway down the stairs and silence had fallen over the cozy flat.

“Sorry if she gave you any trouble,” he said. “You’d best forget whatever she told you and let us handle things from here.”

“You know I can’t.”

Zhou Yichen sighed, clearly having expected this. “She’s guilty, Henry. All the evidence points to her.”

Since the inspector apparently had no inclination to leave, Henry shut the door. “All the evidence? The crime was committed less than ten hours ago. How could you have all the evidence you need already?”

“She placed powerful spells on the nursery and Hathaway died there the very same day. Do I really need anything more?

“She placed wardings on the nursery because Helena Hathaway hired her to, because her husband was afraid of something happening.”

Inspector Zhou hesitated. “If you had seen the crime scene—”

“Will you let me?” Henry interrupted. “If you’re so certain I’ll agree with you, then show it to me.”

While Henry stared at him, unrelenting, Inspector Zhou rocked back on his heels, sucked on his teeth. He cast his gaze over the empty flat, as if to avoid the detective’s pleading look, but finally let out a harsh breath and said, “Fine. Fine, I’ll humor you this time, but only because I’m in a good mood and have a suspect in custody. Let’s go.”

Henry hadn’t actually expected Inspector Zhou to agree so easily. He glanced back at his kitchen. “Thank you, Inspector. I’ll meet you downstairs in just a moment.”

When the inspector only shrugged and started down the stairs without him, Henry shut his door and slipped into the kitchen. He found Alice knelt behind the small island, hastily wiping her eyes at his approach. Henry hesitated before joining her. He loved his job, loved helping people, but his help was best provided in the form of practical resolutions and frank advice, not comfort. He sometimes felt that everyone in the world had been handed a script on how to handle situations like these, but his had been lost prior to delivery.

“I have to go with the Inspector. I may be gone some time,” he told Alice, then venturing to add, “Will you be alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Alice snapped. She tried to scowl at Henry, but the severity of it was lessened by her childish pout and red-rimmed eyes. “So will Saoirse.”

“Of course she will. I’ll do everything I can to clear her name quickly, but to that effect, I could use your help. I need to know about your wards: what all do they protect against? Who or what could have broken through them?”

Alice bit her lip. “My wards are pretty simple, but still powerful against anything non-magical, like humans. Only a sídhe with magic stronger than mine could have hurt anyone inside that house.”

“That’s very helpful. Thank you, Alice,” Henry said, brow creased in thought. That narrowed things down, at least. Focusing on immediate next steps, he asked, “Do you have anywhere to go? It’s best if you stay away from your home and the shop until we get this figured out.”

Alice hesitated.

“Anyone you can stay with?” Henry asked.

Still, Alice stayed silent.

“I see.”

“Can’t I go with you? I want to help,” Alice said, finally.

“I doubt your sister wants you getting more caught up in this than you already are,” Henry said as he pushed to his feet. “I think I have somewhere you can stay. Come with me.”

Alice followed Henry sullenly down the stairs, freezing when she saw Inspector Zhou’s waiting silhouette through the front door’s frosted window. She eyed Henry, suspicious, and refused to move until Henry rolled his eyes, rounded the corner, and knocked on the door to the first floor flat. It was Ines who answered, her confused smile changing to wide-eyed surprise when she noticed the sídhe girl half-hiding behind Henry. Before she could ask any questions, Henry held a finger up to his lips and pointed at the front door. Glancing at Inspector Zhou’s shadow, which was shifting impatiently and checking its watch, Ines nodded and stepped aside to let them in. Only once the door was shut again did she ask, “Who’s your friend, Henry?”

“This is Ms. Alice Evans, the younger sister of my newest client. Alice, this is my good friend, Ines Amaike. I’m sorry for the trouble, Ines, but I’m going to be away seeing to the older Ms. Evans’ case and Ms. Evans herself is currently unavailable. I was hoping you and Joseph might be willing to entertain Alice until I return. Of course, if you’re otherwise occupied, we can—”

“Not at all. We’re happy to have you, Alice,” Ines interrupted. She didn’t ask any questions about Saoirse,  which made Alice’s sag with relief like a puppet with cut strings. “Have you eaten yet this morning? We still have breakfast out, if you’d like some.”

While Alice inched toward the dining table, Ines turned back to Henry and asked in a whisper, “Is everything okay?”

Henry shook his head, answering even more quietly. “Her sister was just arrested for murder. She seems like a tough girl, but be gentle with her.”

“Poor thing. I’ll see if we can’t keep her distracted.”

Henry smiled, wry. “Thanks. I have to go — Inspector Zhou is waiting.”

“Go, go. And good luck, Henry,” Ines said, practically shooing him out of the apartment before shutting the door behind him. Henry stifled a laugh and joined the Inspector, who eyed him warily as he stepped outside.

“What were you up to in there?” he asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Inspector, but I’m expecting a package and asked my neighbors to watch for it,” Henry lied smoothly, passing Inspector Zhou and following the short steps down to the sidewalk.

Inspector Zhou eyed him doubtfully, but followed.

Above their heads was the sort of calm, dreary day that could unleash a storm at any moment, the sun bright but obscured by the heavy clouds that hung over the city, suspended so low they almost touched the tops of the tallest buildings. Privately, Henry enjoyed when the weather matched his day’s tasks, ominous meeting ominous. At least, he preferred it to investigating murder under clear skies.

The street Henry lived on was a quiet one for downtown Tamarley, but still busy enough that traffic flowed by in a steady stream, busy enough that cabs and carriages and horses and their riders passed by from morning until evening. A cab already waited for them at the curb, its driver watching the street and one of its horses pawing impatiently at the ground.

“I hailed us a cab in all the time it took you, though I have half a mind to make you walk to Camberley Hall,” the inspector complained, following Henry to the curb. Despite the grumbling, he stepped ahead of Henry to open the carriage door for him.

Henry paused, surprised. “Thank you, Inspector.”

Zhou Yichen muttered something under his breath, looking away while Henry climbed into the cab. It was only once he’d climbed in behind Henry and shut the door that they both realized how small the cabin was, how long of a ride they had ahead of them, stuck in this cramped space together. Wordlessly, they agreed not to make eye contact as the carriage rolled away from the curb, Henry looking out one window and Zhou Yichen the other while.

Henry watched the crowds and the old buildings pass by, appreciating the simplicity of this Tamarley in a way he sometimes forgot to. It was a holiday weekend, very technically — instead of any real celebrations, that only manifested in store sales, an extra church service for some, and bustling, busy streets that made it so that their carriage made slow progress.

The carriage’s passengers could only stay silent for so long. After a while, Henry felt Inspector Zhou’s gaze on him and turned to meet it, arching an eyebrow questioningly. The inspector cleared his throat and looked away. “Did Ms. Evans tell you anything interesting?” he asked.

“By interesting, Inspector, do you mean useful?” Henry asked.

Zhou Yichen shrugged.

“No,” Henry said. “Nothing useful.”

“There must have been something, since you’re so convinced she’s innocent.”

“I never said I think she’s innocent,” Henry pointed out. “I only questioned why you’re so sure she’s not. Why would she come to me for help if she was guilty? Why leave a note telling you where she’d be? If she had so much advance notice, why not simply run, head to the other Tamarley?”

“Because that would mean abandoning her business. She probably hoped she could talk her way out of this and continue life as usual — hiring you could be a ploy to make her look innocent,” Inspector Zhou said, though he didn’t sound convinced of it himself. He looked Henry up and down, frowning at whatever he saw. “I heard about your work with the jewel thief, Henry. You really do have promise, but you won’t make it far as a detective if you believe everyone who proclaims their innocence to you.”

Henry frowned, temper flaring. “And you won’t make it far with people if you don’t help anyone who asks for it.”

Zhou Yichen’s face twisted with anger. “You—”

“Let’s not argue,” Henry offered before the inspector could decide to kick him out of the cab after all. The carriage rounded a corner, sunlight suddenly piercing through the overhead gloom and falling upon Henry in warm, bright beams. He had to squint against it to see Inspector Zhou, who stared at him with wide eyes. They widened further when Henry held a hand out for him to shake. “Imagine the good you and I could do if we just worked together.”

Slowly, mechanically, Inspector Zhou took the proffered hand and shook it. Satisfied, Henry looked back out the window and relished the warmth of the unexpected sunlight. He shut his eyes against it, feeling it warm his cheeks, feeling Inspector Zhou’s gaze remain on him, steady and unblinking. “You’ve been doing this for longer than I have, I know, but I’ve seen terrible things, too. I’ve worked with liars and murderers. Even after it all, I like to start by assuming the best of people, not the worst. They may prove me wrong, but at least I can move through the world feeling good about myself and my choices.”

Inspector Zhou stayed silent.

“And people can always surprise you. If you watch for them, you’ll see their many facets,” Henry continued. “Murderers aren’t always what they seem, and some con artists just love their sisters.”

At this, Inspector Zhou’s brow creased with confusion. “Con artists? What are you talking about?”

Henry only smiled and waved him off. “Nothing, nothing.”

Before the inspector could question him further, Henry changed the subject, asked about a case of his that he’d seen in the papers. Inspector Zhou narrowed his eyes like he knew what Henry was doing but indulged him all the same, soon getting caught in the flow of telling the story, as Henry hoped he would. He preened like a bird when Henry offered up bits of praise and barely noticed when Henry goaded him into another story, then another, and before too long, the clatter of cobblestone beneath them turned to the crunch of gravel and the carriage rolled to a stop.

Inspector Zhou peered out the window, surprised, while Henry clapped his hands together excitedly. “Are we there already?” he asked.

“It would seem so.”