Chapter 7 (Reynie's POV)

The days had fled into weeks with little progress made on decoding the cipher. Even after enlisting Sticky for help, we'd come up with little more than a dead end. I had a lingering feeling of failure that was hard to ignore. They were feelings I didn't share with Kate. Failure was not a word she would ever let me claim, and yet… Wasn't it apt at times?

I wondered if now was such a time as I made my way slowly through Stonetown. Everything concerning this case had seemed wrong from the start. As if it were some sickening shade of intuition that I couldn't shake.

The grey sidewalk beneath my feet seemed to fade into a blank canvas for my many worries. The morning had only added to them. Today I was off to interview Ms. Street's brother about the matter of the case. Questioning suspects had never been the favorite part of my work, it always seemed rude to be so accusatory. Even if the words were never directly spoken, we both knew why I was visiting. Some took the subtle insult with more grace than others. As for Ms. Street's brother, I had no idea what sort of man he was, or how agreeable he would be to supposed accusation.

It was a moment when I'd normally relish Kate's easy confidence. Being with her always made the problems seem smaller, simpler, somehow. But today her absence was only a source of further worry. I could only count on one hand how many times I'd seen her ill or even tired. But this morning she had seemed like both. I insisted on staying until she felt better but she'd shooed me out the door with what strength she seemed to have left. Summer colds were less common but they did happen, maybe it was that simple?

The thoughts clogged my mind until I felt too weary to dread the interview to come. Which was good, as his doorstep would come into view within ten more minutes.

Cheery flowers were blooming along the rail leading to his door. The sight of them reassured me somewhat, but the comfort wouldn't last. Before I could even knock the door opened to reveal the suspect in question. His frown was etched deeper than I had ever even seen Constance's.

"Detective Muldoon, I take it?" he hissed between his teeth.

Holding my face in calm resolve I hid any hint of my nervousness. "Yes, sir, may I ask you a few questions?"

He pushed the door open wider, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "If you must, at least make it brief, Mr. Muldoon, I am a busy man."

I nodded and stepped through into his foyer. "Thank you for your time, I-"

"I know full well why you're here, Mr. Muldoon." He took a few pacing steps before turning to face me again. "The matter of my grandfather's stolen book. My sister seems set on the idea that her own flesh and blood is a thief, of all things."

I studied his face for any flinch of truth or deception. What I saw was a man with no little disdain for his sister and what felt like an undercurrent of fear. Fear so muddled with anger and ambition that it was hard to distinguish one from the other. But I was reluctant to let my instincts cloud my objectivity.

"So tell me," I replied calmly. "What happened that day?"

He folded his arms, his eyes almost gleaming in the dim light. "We argued about matters of the inheritance as we always do, Mr. Muldoon. Did you know that my grandfather left me so little when he died that you would think he thought of me as an adopted brat instead of his own blood?"

I felt annoyance flair inside my chest, filling me with sudden courage. "Why is that? Why did he seem to dislike you so?"

Unexpectedly, he seemed more pleased by my brazenness than my politeness. "I'll tell you, Mr. Muldoon. He hated ambition, as most small minds do. So he left me nothing, absolutely nothing."

"And what is it that you wanted, Mr. Street…?" I asked softly.

A smile curled to his lips. "Would you be pleased to hear me say a book?" He laughed. "No, I won't make it so easy for you. You'll have to get to the bottom of my sister's deception all on your own. Now…" He gestured toward the still-open door. "I can assure you I didn't steal the novel, so please go, I have more important things to do than being drawn into her games."

I took a step toward the door before stopping to turn back to him. "Why are you so sure it's only a game?"

He paused thoughtfully before smiling again. "Because my sister has always played them. It ensures she gets what she wants, Mr. Muldoon. Her own brand of make belief…"

Something in his face said he would tell me no more. I accepted it and walked away. In a way, I thought he had told me enough. If I had been younger, I might have thought such an ambitious and rude man was clearly to blame, but now… I heard his last words echo inside my mind.

Games.

Make belief.

Ms. Street was the next suspect I needed to interview. It was backward and perhaps preposterous, but something told me the real answers rested with her. So I wasted no time in going to her home. But my hopes of getting answers were cut short when the housekeeper informed me she was not home. I offered to wait for her but was told she wasn't expected back for several hours. I would have risked the wait, but the time was slowly creeping toward noon and I still had Kate to worry over.

So I left and headed home, some mixture of defeat and victory mixing in my stomach. Was I close to a breakthrough or had Street's brother merely spun me in circles…? The answer could wait. I hurried back home, pushing my way through the familiar door. The house was uncharacteristically quiet, setting my fears alight.

"Kate?" I called down the hallway.

"She's dead obviously," Constance said deadpan as she emerged from the living room to meet me.

My heart froze for just an instant before I saw the slightly amused twitch at her lips. "I'm sorry, you handed me that one."

I sighed. "It's a poor choice of humor, Constance."

She nodded. "I agree, but old habits die hard as they say. "

"Can we not keep talking about dying?" I asked. "Where is everyone?"

"If by everyone you mean Kate, she's at the doctor."

"The doctor…?" I almost gasped. In no way would Kate go unless she really was close to death.

"She protested and blamed my cooking for her queasiness, but Milligan insisted."

I breathed a sigh of relief. If she had still protested it meant she wasn't too ill. Stepping aside into one of the studies I took a seat. Constance followed and sat across from me, her eyes falling on the chessboard between us. When she wordlessly pushed a piece forward I knew she was trying to pull me into a game. I assumed it was her way of taking my mind off of it. I smiled slightly. As always, I was amused by Constance's typical bittersweetness.

The minutes passed slowly but pleasantly as we lost ourselves in the game. Constance rarely took the time to play chess, but she was skilled almost effortlessly when she did. After a bit, my thoughts seemed to calm until they found their way out of my mouth.

"Under what circumstances would a stolen book be a game…?" I mused almost to myself.

"When someone wants it to go missing," Constance answered without hesitation.

I looked up into her blue eyes, taken aback by how simple it all suddenly seemed. "And why would they…" I whispered.

She shrugged. "I don't know, you're the detective. And it's your move, so hurry up."

I twisted the pawn between my fingers, my thoughts gathering like sudden summer snow. Placing the pawn I looked down at it, thinking of all the implications of the piece. Something used to distract… Something that took your attention from the real move at play…

A theory formed inside my mind, but I couldn't be sure just yet. Still, I had to find out… Standing, I headed back toward the door. I had a hunch I needed to follow. I'd go wait for Ms. Street, no matter how long it took.

It was some two hours later before Ms. Street's car appeared in her driveway. I watched the door open; the sound of her heels lightly clattering against the cobblestone. It was then that I appeared from the shadows I'd been waiting in. It was clear from the look on her face that she was not pleased to see me. I thought I knew why…

"Pardon the sudden intrusion, Ms. Street, but I'm afraid I have bad news to share."

"Yes, Mr. Muldoon, go on," she replied, a hint of relief breaking across her face.

"I've interviewed the only two suspects and have turned up little to convict either of them. The physical evidence has also gone dry…" I paused, watching her face for any subtle expression. But she hung there with a mock look of sorrow. A veil that seemed less rehearsed than her performance in my office at the start.

"What if I were to tell you that I am at a loss? That your grandfather's book is beyond recovery?"

"Perhaps I should ask what I've paid you for," she bit softly. But even the venom in her voice felt just short of true acid.

"For an attempt, Miss," I answered gently. "An attempt to find the unfindable."

"Unfindable you say…" she mumbled, the contempt and disappointment plastered thick like makeup. Most anyone else, I imagined, would have believed the display. But I saw through her in the way I often did most people. They were like a puzzle to me, and in this case, the answer seemed simple enough. But I said nothing to reveal that…

"I'm sorry, I'll be on my way."

Leaving her behind I felt my heart sink. I thought I'd feel some vindication, some thrill from finding the solution.

It was clear Ms. Street had stolen her own treasured possession. But her motive was less than clear. She could have easily planted evidence to frame someone else, but she hadn't. The case was truly unsolvable in the traditional sense. My belief was that she wished it to be so. An excuse for the novel to disappear. But the questions still outweighed the answers.

I glanced back at her one last time, the confusion about my findings daring to leap from my lips. But I held back. If this was what she had truly wanted all along, then I would perhaps discover more now that she had it. Unless I was wrong…wrong about it all somehow?

And yet, nothing felt real about her display of grief.

Turning back, I let my feet carry me back home even as my mind was distraught with possibility. Somehow, inside me, I knew the greater mystery was anything but solved…

Thoughtlessly, I found my way back home, the refuge of Mr. Benidict's study a haven of sorts. My thoughts were so preoccupied I didn't believe anything could wrench them back to the present. But of course, I'd been wrong… When I heard the front door open and the sound of those familiar footsteps, all the facts, and questions about my case fell away.

Moving swiftly across the room I met her just as she passed by in the hallway.

"Kate? Are you alright?"

She turned to look at me, her eyes overcast with a seriousness like I'd never known. But it was a fleeting glimpse at her true feelings. They vanished behind the cheerful smile she forced to her face.

"Never better, sweetheart!"

Without another word, she turned her back to me and walked away. The lie tasted bitter in the air between us. My eyes seeing through her as clearly as I had Cathrine Street. I reached out, but she was already gone. The space between us too wide to breach. Secrets were things I'd thought we'd left behind, and yet…

Her thoughts suddenly felt private and distant. As if I shouldn't intrude on a place I wasn't welcome. So I just watched her go. Her steps on the stairs and the flicker of a tear she wiped away quickly.

Suddenly, like so many times, I felt…

Alone…

So inescapably alone.