Page 34 of Bear and Order

I wait. Several steps pass. Nothing else follows. I sigh. "That wasn't the complete answer."

"It was."

I resist the urge to shove him, mostly because he would probably remain standing. "We're meeting someone," he finally offers.

"Someone connected to the investigation?"

"Maybe."

"You know conversations work best when both people participate." I say, narrowing my gaze.

"I am participating."

"Brock."

"We're almost there."

I mutter something beneath my breath. His mouth twitches, the reaction lasting barely a second. I still catch it. Victory.

We stop outside a narrow office squeezed between a bookstore and a tailor shop. The sign above the door reads THEO FINCH CONSULTING, which tells me absolutely nothing. "What does he consult?"

Brock pushes the door open. "Everything."

The answer raises more questions than it resolves. The office inside looks exactly the way chaos would decorate if given access to furniture — books stacked on chairs, folders covering every surface, maps hanging from walls, newspapers occupying corners, a half-eaten pastry sitting beside a mountain of paperwork. A man looks up from behind the desk. Bright eyes, sharp smile, entirely too much energy for this hour.

He notices us immediately. "Well, there they are."

Theo Finch rises from his chair quickly, almost too quickly, the movement reminding me of a fox spotting something interesting. "Inspector Winn," he says cheerfully. "And Juniper Bell — the bakery owner, the victim, the center of town gossip, the woman currently driving half of Maple Hollow's conversations."

I stare as he grins. "What? You look surprised…"

"You know who I am.

"Everybody knows who you are." His smile widens, which somehow makes me more nervous. Brock remains completely unfazed. Of course he does.

"Theo," Brock says. "We need your help."

Theo immediately points at him. "There you go again."

"What?"

"Asking." The smile stays, but something sharp appears beneath it — something observant and unhurried. "I don't need convincing."

He leans against his desk. "I already know something is wrong." His gaze drifts toward the paperwork surrounding him, then back to us. "Businesses don't suddenly implode for no reason."

He points toward Brock. "Complaints." Then toward me. "Lost contracts. Come on, it's too convenient."

Brock and I exchange a look. Theo notices immediately — naturally. The man seems to notice everything. A grin appears. "I am interested in hot topics." He spreads his hands with theatrical ease. "After all, I am a fox at heart."

The declaration sounds ridiculous. Theo somehow makes it sound perfectly reasonable. He walks back behind his desk and claps his hands together once, sharply. "Now. Show me everything."

Soon, every available surface in Theo's office is covered — complaint reports, financial statements, tax returns, delivery records, corporate filings, business registrations. The amount of paperwork should be overwhelming. Theo appears delighted.

He moves through documents with alarming speed. One moment he's reading a tax return, the next he's comparing signatures, then cross-referencing ownership structures, then firing questions faster than I can follow.

"Who supplied this order?"

I open my mouth. Theo immediately points at Brock. "Not you." Then at me. "You."