Page 70 of Blood and Moonlight

I try not to let my disappointment show. “Oh, well then, you’re welcome,” I say again, like a fool. “Did any of them stand out to you?”

“Actually, yes.” Now he looks at me, but it’s all business. “The one found in the canal three years ago has the most potential, I think. I’m going to Madame Emeline’s to ask her for more information.”

I frown, wishing my memory was half as good as Juliane’s. “Which one was she?” I ask hesitantly. “I thought that one was married, but I must have gotten them mixed up.”

“No, that’s the right one,” he confirms.

The woman had been strangled, unlike Perrete and Ysabel, and her face bashed several times, but nothing had been done to her eyes. Simon anticipates my question. “These… things tend to escalate,” he says. “But I also have a theory.”

Simon presses his palms together as if in prayer. “He may have killed this woman in a rage, both strangling her and beating her with whatever was handy—a clay pitcher or a stone for example, or even a wall. First murders are often messy and confused, but very thrilling, and since then he’s wanted to relive that, only planned out. Since there was nothing nearby that could have done the damage we saw with Perrete and Ysabel, he might have brought along his own weapon for them.”

“What kind of weapon?” says a voice. We turn to see Remi standing at the bottom of the staircase, next to the re-nailed parchment and the naked pegs above it. He saunters closer, his wool cloak hanging over his forearm. “A hammer?”

Oh Clouded Sky. Don’t, Remi.I beg him silently from behind Simon.Please don’t.

“Perhaps,” Simon agrees. “I don’t know much about hammers.”

“I do, though, and I saw what happened to Perrete,” Remi says. “It would probably be bigger and heavier than most, used for larger jobs.” He stops a few feet from us, his green eyes fixed on mine. “Could be a rather distinctive tool. Maybe he works at the Sanctum.”

“Half the city does,” I say tersely. “And your contribution is not needed,Remone.”

Remi snorts. “So much for your claim that the inquiry was over, but at least I’m not the only person who doesn’t get the whole truth from you.” He gives me a mocking bow and makes to open the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Where are you going?” I refuse to move out of his way. “It’s nighttime.”

He pauses with his hand on the latch, eyes narrowed. “You don’t answer to me, Kitten, and I don’t answer to you, remember?”

“I just want to have an answer when the magister asks,” I snap.

Remi shrugs carelessly. “I was planning to go to Madame Emeline’s, but it sounds like it might be crowded tonight.” He directs the last part at Simon with a smirk, then forces me aside by opening the door and leaves without looking back.

I slam the door behind him, feeling sick. “He gossips as much as an old woman,” I tell Simon. “And he doesn’t like you.”

“Then it’s not bad he knows I’m back,” Simon replies, unbothered. “If he talks about me at the tavern, the right ears might hear the news.”

Yes, but will Remi get drunk and start talking about distinctive hammers?

“I’m sorry, though, for making you lie to the architect about this,” says Simon.

My shoulders droop in relief at his assumption of who else I’m not truthful with. “He’ll understand.” I twist my hands. Maybe I should tell Simon about the missing hammer. I could act like I’ve only just made the connection.

Spiteful and condescending as he was, maybe that’s what Remi was trying to give me a chance to do.

“Simon,” I begin. “I’ve been thinking.”

“I should go,” he says abruptly. “It’s getting late, and I need to get to… where I can get my questions answered.”

It’s silly, but I don’t want to imagine him at Emeline’s. He’s only going for information. “I’ll be awake for a while yet,” I tell him. “You’re welcome to stop back here on your way home and discuss what you’ve learned.”

Maybe by then I’ll have figured out how to tell him what I know.

Simon shakes his head. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll probably be out for several hours, if I go home at all.”

“Do you think the killer will strike tonight?” I ask, needing to convince myself that’s the only reason he would stay out so late.

“I think he’s eager to show me how powerless I am to stop him,” answers Simon. “But don’t worry. I won’t just wait around for him to act.”

That’s in reference to our argument before he left. I wonder if he’s thought about what almost happened afterward as often as I have. “Can I come with you?” I blurt out.