A/N: It irks me that Reito apparently has no convenient Westernized last name from Otome that I can hijack for his character.

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The hansom cab deposited us opposite the Rotherhithe warehouse of Vamberry and Son, Wine Merchants. A particularly unpleasant specimen of derelict gave Shizuru a look; I shot him one back and he withered under the impact, slinking back into the shadowy corner he'd emerged from.

Shizuru smiled at me.

"Ara, it was a good thing that I brought Natsuki along."

I decided not to dignify that with a response. Instead I asked, "Is that the place?"

"Yes, Vamberry and Son. Chief Inspector Kanzaki should be waiting for us."

"Should I know anything about him?"

"He and Inspector Armitage are the brightest of the Scotland Yarders. He's ambitious and has, I think, goals beyond his current post. Thus he consults me to make certain that no failures are on his record."

"I hate him already."

Shizuru chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Natsuki is feeling protective today."

I snorted. Really, this woman!

We crossed the street to the warehouse, then around the corner to a side door where a constable was waiting.

"Sorry, ma'am," he touched the brim of his helmet to Shizuru. "Afraid I can't let you inside."

"I'm Shizuru Viola. Chief Inspector Kanzaki is expecting me, I think?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Sorry about that. Go right in." He opened the door and stepped out of the way. She stepped towards the door; I didn't. The constable glanced from me to her and back again.

"Natsuki is with me," she declared. "Don't worry; she isn't as much of a suspicious character as she looks."

Gee, thanks.

The invitation settled one point clearly enough. Whatever her reasons for wanting me along, the excuse she'd given was just an excuse. There was no way that Kanzaki or one of his flunkies couldn't fetch Shizuru a cab and see her safely on her way before she fell foul of the harbor's natural predators. Was it just Shizuru's way of sharing her life's work with me without having to come right out and say so? And did my curiosity about her really extend to watching her investigate a murder?

Since I found my feet moving forward almost of their own accord, I supposed that it did.

The warehouse was cavernous and dim, with too few windows and skylights to illuminate it well. Crates and casks were piled everywhere, making things even more obscure and creating a labyrinth out of what had been a large open space. A few seconds of it was enough for me to all but forget the sunny morning outside and be enmeshed in a gloom better suited to a sensation novel. The hairs at the back of my neck prickled, and my hands slid down almost by reflex to a point where they could draw and fire in an instant.

Thankfully, there was a difference between being ready for violence and plunging into it or else I'd have made a damned fool of myself when we came upon the crime scene. In the back of the building near the dock side, five people were clustered around a scene dominated by the fallen form of a sixth. Two of the five were uniformed constables, while a third was dressed like a workman, in his fifties with a square face and a beard shot through with gray.

The remaining two men stood by the body. One was tall, dark, and handsome as the fortunetellers say and while the cut of his clothes was utilitarian I could recognize the quality. His companion was a couple of inches shorter though still above average, with a long, horselike face, a shock of unruly orangey-blond hair, and clothes that matched the hair in their generally rumpled condition.

"Good morning, Reito," Shizuru said, making me think: Reito? Though remembering how she'd started using my first name within a couple of sentences, that might just have been her way. "Sergeant," she added to the rumpled man. Yes, Kanzaki would be the smooth, polished half of the set. Too bad it wasn't the other way around; it might have given him some character.

"Shizuru. Thank you for coming." His voice fit his appearance: smooth, cultured, without any discernable regional accent. His gaze flicked meaningfully towards me.

"May I introduce my associate, Miss Natsuki Kuga? Natsuki, Chief Inspector Kanzaki and Sergeant Tate."

"A pleasure, Miss Kuga," Kanzaki said with a polite nod of his head.

"Thanks," I remarked, trying for some basic civility. There really wasn't any reason that I could see to have a hissy fit over the corpse. Kanzaki was just one of those people who rubbed me the wrong way.

"I have to warn you, the sight is fairly gruesome," he said, then stepped out of the way with Tate to give us a good look at what was on the floor.

The brain can play weird tricks when faced with a sudden shock. The first thing mine fastened on when I saw the body wasn't the face or the death wound but the impression it made as a garish splash of color in the dim light and drab wood hues of the stored goods: the bottle-green coat and patterned trousers stood out even more because the dead man was sprawled at the base of a row of casks. There was no avoiding it for too long, though. The side of his head had been stove in with savage force, literally crushing the skull. Since the head was turned to the side in death the face was horribly distorted, particularly the right eye since the socket had been partially broken open. I got the impression of fleshy features and a bulbous nose.

My gorge rose, but I controlled it. Violent death wasn't an unfamiliar sight to me. This one was just especially unpleasant and emphasized by the drab scenery. I noticed Shizuru's eyes on me; was she judging my reaction?

"A single, enormously powerful blow, I think," she said.

"I think the police surgeon will verify that at the autopsy. A strong man with something like a leaded cane or iron pry-bar."

"And probably struck from behind and left where he fell, to judge by the blood spatter on those casks." She looked at where a long smear of red crossed two of the casks, then frowned slightly. "I see a gold wedding band on his finger. Would you turn the body?"

Kanzaki nodded, then glanced at Tate. The sergeant crouched down and rolled the corpse over and Shizuru, showing no hesitation, went through the victim's pockets.

"He has a gold pocket watch and chain, a wallet containing...two ten-pound notes, a coin purse with three pounds, two shillings fourpence, and a silver card case."

Apparently, robbery was not the motive. Shizuru opened the card case.

"Wilson Scott Vamberry, Purveyor of Fine Wines and Spirits, with an address in the Tottenham Court Road, though you mentioned that in your letter."

"Mr. MacLeod identified him. He found the body when he arrived for work this morning."

We all turned towards the man who was standing over by the constables.

"The warehouse foreman," Tate supplied. "Always opens up at seven each morning."

Kanzaki beckoned to MacLeod, who came over.

"Shizuru, this is Robert MacLeod."

"And you discovered Mr. Vamberry's body?" she asked him.

His eyes flicked from the inspector to her and back, as if trying to decide what Shizuru's role in the investigation was. Since she obviously had the police's authority backing her, he shrugged, then answered.

"That's so." Unlike our landlady, his accent was fairly broad. "I always come in at seven every morning. I unlocked the side door and called out to the watchman, but Fulke didn't answer. I was afraid as maybe something had happened to him, so I started taking a look around, calling now and again. Then I came across this, so I left at once and got the police." He waved his hand towards the corpse, indicating what he meant by "this."

"And you saw no one else in or around the warehouse?" Kanzaki asked.

"No I did not," MacLeod bit off sharply. I got the idea there was a "Don't you think I would have said so if I had, ye daft fool?" on the end of that in his mind. I liked him.

"Did Mr. Vamberry often visit the warehouse?" Shizuru asked.

"Occasionally he did, though I'd never known him to do so at night. These days he mostly left work here to me," he said with pride, "or he sent his son or Mr. Clark. Again, that would be during the day, not the nighttime, though. What would be the point o' doing business here at night? Ye kin barely see enough as it is." His accent got thicker as he got more agitated.

"I presume that the warehouse is kept locked at night?"

"Aye."

"Who had keys?"

"I did, and Mr. Vamberry, and Mr. Clark."

"What about the watchman?" interjected Kanzaki.

"Fulke? Oh, aye, he had a key to the side door, but not to the padlocks on the cargo doors."

"Mr. Vamberry's keys are missing," Shizuru pointed out.

"As is the watchman."

"Mr. MacLeod, you said that the door was unlocked when you arrived this morning. Was that only the side door, or were the doors to the loading dock open as well?"

"We found them barred and locked," Tate provided helpfully.

"I didna' lock them today, though I do every night before leaving," MacLeod said.

"I see."

Shizuru pressed her palms together in a thoughtful or perhaps prayerful attitude.

"You mentioned a Mr. Clark. Who is he?"

"Mr. Clark is the firm's junior partner."

"I see. Thank you, Mr. MacLeod. You've been a great help. Now, as a last question, what can you tell me about the watchman?"

MacLeod pursed his lips.

"Ye think that Fulke did this?"

"We need to know as much as we can about the people involved. Please answer Miss Viola's question."

"He's been with the firm for over twenty years. He was an ordinary worker, originally, but four years ago a stack of crates fell over on him and near crushed his leg. Ye canna go shifting loads around wi' only a pair o' strong arms, so they found him a place as the watchman."

"What does he look like?"

"He's near on my age, dark hair, clean-shaven. He'd be six feet, 'cept his leg's a'crooked, so he's always hunched up." Ignoring Kanzaki, he turned to Shizuru and added, "He didn't do this, miss. A lot o' firms'd jest turn out a man as had gotten hurt, but Mr. Clark made sure he had work. Fulke'd never even say a harsh word for Vamberry and Son, not even the way a fellow would in passing, if ye know what I mean."

Shizuru nodded.

"I do. Although all too often, people end up causing pain to what they love. Thank you, Mr. MacLeod. You can go now, unless the Inspector has any more questions for you?"

Kanzaki shook his head.

"No, that's all. Make sure you take down his direction, Sergeant, and then see about having the body removed to the morgue. I'm sure the company will want to be able to get back to work tomorrow."

Tate, MacLeod, and the constables headed off to see to the arrangements, leaving us alone with Kanzaki.

"Well, Shizuru, I'm sure you see what I meant in my letter?"

She favored him with that placid smile of hers.

"Oh, yes."

"If the money and valuables were gone, we'd say the watchman robbed him and ran off. If nothing was missing, then we'd say he had some quarrel with Vamberry, or Vamberry caught him pilfering, so again the watchman killed him and ran off. But to take the keys and nothing else? That doesn't make any sense--in such a simple scenario."

So the pretty face could think a little.

"Oh, it's much more complicated than that," Shizuru agreed. "Although maybe not, in another way."

"You enjoy being enigmatic."

"Don't you, Reito? But I'll give you a hint. The evidence of the third cask is conclusive." She pointed to the one she meant, next to the blood-spattered pair.

"The third cask? We didn't find anything strange about it."

"Yes, that's what I thought." She smiled up at him. "Shall we go, Natsuki?"

We left Kanzaki staring thoughtfully at the cask, his brow furrowed. I'd have taken more satisfaction in Shizuru putting one over on the guy if I'd had the slightest idea what she was talking about. I really, really hate being the dumbest one in the room.

"So what was that about?"

"Ara, Natsuki is curious today."

"I--" Damn. "Well, if you're going to talk about this stuff in front of me, it's only natural that I listen."

"As Natsuki enjoys detective stories, perhaps I should wait to explain things until the end?"

I made a note never to leave my magazines sitting out where Shizuru could see them.

"You told Tall, Dark, and Annoying."

"Natsuki has the same hint I gave Reito."

"Yeah, but he can actually look at the casks to see what you meant." I stopped for a second. "Wait...Shizuru, you never went near the casks. How did you get a chance to see whatever it was?"

She shook her head.

"No, as I told him, there was nothing to see. I could tell that from where I was."

"You're not making any sense."

"Natsuki, it didn't take a close-up inspection to see that nothing was there."

I groaned.

"Okay, that's a point."

We left the warehouse, passing the constable on guard.

"I wonder if there's a cab stand around here."

"Before that, we need to talk to Natsuki's friend."

"My what?" I asked, but she was already in motion, crossing the street towards where we'd been left by the cab, gliding along gracefully as if the dirt and filth couldn't touch her. I scampered after Shizuru, feeling slightly ridiculous as I did, and realized that she was heading right for the corner where the beggar had been sitting. He was still there.

"Excuse me," Shizuru said, "but may I have a word with you?"

He looked up at her, confusion plain in his bloodshot eyes. He occasionally approached nicely-dressed ladies, in the hope they'd be feeling charitable towards a poor soul. They didn't approach him. I could almost see the thoughts working through his mind as he tried to figure things out.

"Wot are ya, some kind o' mission shill?" he spat through broken teeth. I couldn't really blame him. The sort of charity that came with a pious certainty that one was fundamentally better than the recipient wouldn't have appealed to me, either. Too damn many "good works" were done for the sake of the doer's pride instead of someone else's benefit.

"I certainly hope not," Shizuru told him. "Were you here last night?"

"Wot's it to ya?"

"It could be a half-crown to you." She showed him the color of her money, taking the coin from her reticule. His eyes lit up like he'd just stumbled on a dragon's hoard. Which he probably had; the half-crown was likely more money than passed through his hands in a week.

"I was here." He reached for the coin, but Shizuru pulled her hand back.

"First, tell me what you saw over at Vamberry and Son."

He sighed.

"Fine. I was sleepin' there in th' alley, when I gets woken up by a cab. Don't get so many o' them at night. So's I takes a look out. A man gets out and goes around to th' side door. I figure, so what, so I goes back ter sleep. But later, a wagon comes along, big clattering thing, and th' next thing ya know, they's goin' up ter the big doors and loadin' it full o' stuff, bold as brass."

"Do you know what time that was?"

"Does I looks like a gent wot wears a watch?" He wheezed with laughter.

"Well, then, could you describe the men or the wagon?"

"No bleedin' way. They weren't showin' lights, if ya knows what I means, so's I kept me head down like a good boy and crept back ter th' alley so as I couldn't be seen."

"I see. Thank you very much." She gave him the coin, and his face lit up happily. He scuttled back, and we headed up the street in search, presumably, of a cab.

"Theft?" I asked. "Or maybe smuggling, contraband goods hidden in with Vamberry's legitimate shipments? But you knew it; you were expecting it. That's why you talked to that man."

"Yes, that's right."

"But how? Is it that cask thing? Did that tell you?"

Shizuru smiled at me.

"Now Natsuki is beginning to understand."

"The only thing I'm beginning to understand is why you're able to make money doing this." She clearly saw things that I was missing, and that talent seemed like something worth paying for.

She tipped her head to the side as if trying to see me from a new angle.

"Truly? It isn't obvious?"

I flushed red, embarrassed. Did she have to make me feel like a complete idiot?

"I see that something was off with the cask, which told you that people had been moving stuff around. That I understand. What I don't see is what was wrong in the first place."

"It was the bloodstain. When the murderer killed Vamberry the blow splashed cast-off blood across the casks. But the third cask had no bloodstains, though by the pattern on the second cask the spatter should have continued. That told me that the third cask hadn't been there at the time of the murder. Either it had been put there later, or more likely one had been removed and this put in its place."

"Why is that more likely?"

"Well, no legitimate work would have been done after the owner's murder, and criminals would have no reason to put a cask in an empty space, but they might well steal a cask and put another there so as to disguise the importance of the missing one. Even if the gap is noticed, it will be where the new cask was supposed to be, confusing the issue as to what has been taken."

"I get it! If it was smuggling, the police would think, for example, that the goods were hidden inside a Dutch cargo for John Doe instead of a French cargo for Richard Roe and waste their time investigating completely innocent people. And they had to take out the cask because they know the murder would provoke a police search which might turn up something important."

"Now Natsuki is starting to understand," Shizuru said, her smile returning.

"And that's why they took Vamberry's keys! They had to unlock the loading dock because the cask wouldn't fit out the side door, and then they locked it up again for the same reason you already said, to disguise the fact that something had been moved," I continued, suddenly carried away by the chain of ideas. Damn it, but this stuff was actually interesting. I'd almost call it entertaining, if it weren't for the guy laying back in that warehouse with his skull cracked open. "Fulke! He was the inside man for the ones in the wagon, so he could open the side door and let the other thieves or smugglers into the warehouse."

"Well...we'll see about that."

"No?" I said, regretting immediately that I wasn't able to keep the disappointment from my voice.

"It might be, but we would be getting ahead of ourselves. Perhaps we'll know better when we meet the rest of the players in our murder drama."

She caught sight of a cab and raised her arm; the four-wheeler stopped almost at once. I'd have stopped too for someone dressed like her in this district. The address she gave would take us back towards home, but not to Baker Street. Instead, we were off to the Tottenham Court Road, and the offices of Vamberry and Son.