Page 23 of Florescentia

The question gave me pause, a simmering start soon onto a rolling boil.

The doorbell rang its chorus, a harmony of hollow-tone bars clanging together.

My Peculiars scattered, and I pressed against the bedroom window.

Below were two policemen, standing stiff at my door. One reached forward again, ringing the bell a second time.

Had they followed me? Had someone reported me? How in all that chaos could anyone have noticed where I’d gone?

“Mrs. Fairfax!” They opted for the large brass knocker this time.

I swept past my room, reaching in to snatch a long robe from the decorative chair before making my way down the hall.

I could leave through the back, climb over the garden wall, pretend I wasn’t home.

No, I would look guilty. My fortune was tied up in my accounts. I couldn’t do that to Dorian.

With an unsteady heart, I went down the stairs. The drooping sleeves of the robe billowed as I descended, so I finished the tie with a knot to remain decent. They were the ones knocking at my door, after all.

I took an extra minute to sweep some loose hair over my head wound from the accident, then checked in the reflection of the grandfather clock glass before bracing myself to answer.

The chain lock snapped taut as I opened the door, just a crack.

“May I help you, gentlemen?” I swallowed before smiling.

Don’t look nervous. Don’t look guilty.

You’re fine, you don’t know if they saw you.

“It’s a bit late for casual query.” I cleared my throat.

“Mrs. Fairfax, we need you to accompany us down to the station.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you state your business,” I said. “What are your names? What unit number are you? When my husband—”

“Ma’am,” he interrupted.

I stopped. He let me catch my breath, but my lungs wouldn’t cooperate. It was like they were collapsing.

“Why are you here?” I said firmly. “I will not ask again.”

They looked at each other.

“There was a pile-up on North Boulevard,” the other said, less concerned about a gentle explanation.

“What does that have to do with me?” I scoffed. “I’ve been here all night. It is indecent to show up at this hour to interrogate—”

They removed their caps, holding them respectfully over their chests.

What?

“We need your assistance identifying a body,” the second officer said.

Stunned silence.

More stunned with myself that I had no more words, like I had forgotten them all and I had to learn again. Whatever I was going to say, to argue on the defensive, it was all gone. The men didn’t interrupt, as if my expressions alone were a conversation, and they seemed to understand.

The crickets chattered in the alley among the garbage, distant clops of hooves, and a trill of street music in a far-off venue. The light from afar, bleeding into the sky like an eternal sunrise, and this was officially the quietest, loneliest corner of the city.