Page 14

Finn stood in the cramped conference room at Constabulary HQ, waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. The corner “kitchen” setup—complete with a battered kettle, mismatched mugs, and a tiny counter—was as unglamorous as it got, but it would have to do. Though Finn tried to avoid even looking at the sticky-looking microwave. The overhead light clicked for a moment, reflecting off the scuffed floor where older stains hinted at countless spills over the years.

Seated at the worn table, Eleanor Matthews flipped through files regarding the bizarre, art-themed murders. She looked perfectly groomed in her neatly pressed blouse and jacket, though her posture seemed rigid. He couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t as calm as she tried to appear.

Finally, the kettle clicked off with a dull snap. Finn poured himself some instant coffee and waved a mug in Eleanor’s direction. “Coffee?”

She looked up, the tension in her eyes momentarily softened by a small grin. “Thank you, but I’m more of a tea girl,” she replied, a touch subdued.

Finn smirked. “Right, British tastes, sorry—should have guessed. Next time, I’ll dig up some Earl Grey.”

Eleanor’s smile wavered, not quite reaching her eyes. “Yes… next time.” She returned her attention to a stack of witness statements, leafing through them quickly.

Sipping his coffee, Finn joined her at the table. Just then, Rob stepped in through the open door, a grin tugging at his lips. “Morning, you two. Thought I’d see how it’s going before I get sucked into a briefing. Need me to keep the paparazzi off your backs or something?”

Finn grinned, setting his mug down. “We’ll let you know. I think the only cameras we’re dealing with right now are security cams at the Blackthorn Gallery—and they’re not exactly paparazzi.”

“Don’t joke,” Rob teased back. “I bet the press would love to run a story on these staged art murders if they found out the details.”

Eleanor stiffened, gaze flicking to Rob. “We need to avoid leaks at all cost. The killer… might escalate if they see media attention.” She tapped the corner of a file, clearly uneasy.

“Agreed,” Rob said. “So, what’s on today’s agenda?”

Finn exchanged a glance with Eleanor. “We’ve got a new angle,” he explained. “We’re suspecting forgeries might tie into these killings. Harrison Blackthorn’s gallery might have more going on than meets the eye. So we plan to look deeper into how these forgeries got there.”

Eleanor nodded. “And who might’ve produced them. If the paintings themselves were forged, someone was paid or coerced to do it.” She paused, then shrugged. “It’s a possibility we can’t ignore.”

Rob leaned against the table, arms folded. “So you’re diving into the seedier side of the London art world, then? Sounds like fun.” He shot Finn a wry look.

Finn laughed briefly. “I wouldn’t call it fun, exactly. More like stepping into a nest of potential liars, con artists, and black-market dealers.”

Rob grinned. “So your natural habitat.” He playfully jabbed at Finn’s shoulder, then sobered. “Just don’t get lost in the labyrinth. This killer’s cunning, so keep your wits about you.”

“That’s the plan,” Finn assured him. He turned to Eleanor. “You said you know a name that might help?”

She pressed her lips together. “Yes. Leopold Dawson. He’s… well, he’s intimately connected to both legitimate and illegitimate aspects of art dealing. He has a reputation for facilitating shady transactions for the right price.”

Rob whistled softly. “I’ve heard the name in passing. Not a small fish, then?”

“Not at all,” Eleanor confirmed. “He’s often tapped for ‘off the books’ deals, which suggests he knows forgers or at least can point us to them. If some of those forged works ended up in Blackthorn’s orbit, Leopold might have arranged it.”

Finn caught the hesitancy in her voice. “Eleanor’s not exactly thrilled about approaching him,” he pointed out, a note of concern creeping into his tone.

Rob’s gaze flicked between them. “Is that because he’s dangerous?”

Eleanor half shrugged. “You could say so. He’s a strange mix of art expert and gangster. He’ll try to keep things uncomplicated, but if we corner him, he’ll find ways to retaliate. That could be in terms of your reputation, but he is surrounded by people much worse than he is, and they can get violent if they need to. His influence runs deep in the art community and beyond.”

Finn arched an eyebrow. “I gather you’ve had past dealings with him, then?”

She cast her gaze downward. “A few. On behalf of museums who needed to trace dubious works, or to confirm provenance. He’s slippery, persuasive, and has a wide network of questionable contacts. If we push too hard, we risk him shutting down completely, or turning on us.” She paused, looking up at both men. “We need to handle this carefully. Leopold Dawson isn’t some petty crook. He can be very dangerous if we don’t do this right.”

Finn exhaled. “We’ll be careful, I promise. But we still have to try. He might know exactly who forged those paintings, and by extension, who’s fueling these murders.”

Eleanor nodded. “Yes, he might.”

Rob observed Eleanor’s clear discomfort, pressing his lips together. “All right, well, do what you have to. Just keep me posted. I can’t spare too many officers for backup, but if you need a plainclothes tail, let me know.”

“Thanks, Rob,” Finn said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He winked. “But you know me—I handle myself well in the underbelly.”

Rob barked a short laugh. “Yeah, can’t argue. Anyway, I have to run.” He glanced at Eleanor, noting the tension in her shoulders. “Eleanor, everything good? You look uneasy?”

She forced a small smile, shaking her head. “I’m fine, Rob. Really.”

Rob’s gaze snapped to Finn, eyebrows raised as if to ask, Are you sure? Finn responded with a casual shrug. “All dandy here,” he insisted. “We were just finalizing our approach.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rob said, lingering a second longer. “I wouldn’t want Dr. Matthews to feel unwelcome. She’s an asset. I’d hate to see her put off.”

Eleanor gave a tight nod. “I appreciate your concern, Rob. But I’m perfectly capable of—”

"Of course," Rob cut in gently. "If you need anything, let me know." With that, he tapped the door frame, stepping out. "Be safe."

Finn noticed the way Eleanor’s face flickered with a complex mix of relief and something else—perhaps guilt or uncertainty—as Rob departed. He kept quiet until the door clicked shut. Then he cleared his throat, turning to her.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You seemed, I don’t know… anxious when discussing Leopold. Or when Rob mentioned you looked upset.”

She inhaled, gathering the files from the table. “I’m just nervous about dealing with Dawson. That’s all. He can be vindictive if crossed.”

Finn didn’t push further. “Understood. Let’s proceed carefully, then. But we can’t ignore that he might be our best lead on the forgeries—and maybe on the killer.”

“Agreed,” she said, hugging the files to her chest. “Let’s get going.”

Finn looped his jacket over his arm, stepping aside for Eleanor to exit. She glanced around once more, as if unsure. Then she moved to the door. As her hand touched the handle, it opened abruptly—Rob reappearing with a sheepish grin. Finn had the distinct feeling he had been listening in.

“You don't need to spy on us,” Finn said with a laugh.

“Forgot a file,” he muttered, rifling through a stack on the side table.

Eleanor quickly stepped back, letting Rob pass. “We’re going right now.”

Rob gave her a concerned look. “You’re sure everything’s okay? You look—”

She cut him off with a polite smile. “I’m fine, truly. We just want to get this over with.”

Rob eyed Finn, who spread his hands in a who me? gesture. “If you're worried, don't worry, the Doc is in good hands.”

Rob nodded, though doubt flickered in his gaze. “All right, just making sure. I don’t want any tension scaring away our star consultant.” He offered Eleanor a half-smile.

She returned the smile, though it appeared forced. “Thank you, Rob. We’ll be back soon.”

Rob ducked out again, leaving them in the corridor. It was very strange to Finn that he seemed intent on double-checking everything was okay with Eleanor. Once he was gone, Finn couldn’t help but notice the subtle slump of relief in Eleanor’s posture. Something between her and Rob clearly danced beneath the surface, but Finn pushed it aside for now.

“Let’s go,” Eleanor said briskly. “The quicker we talk to Dawson, the sooner we might make progress.”

Finn nodded, hooking the files under his arm. “Yep. Dawson it is.”

They walked side by side through the police station halls, the morning sun spilling through glass-paned doors at the far end. Uniformed officers bustled about, a chorus of phones ringing and distant conversations forming the station’s daily background noise. As they stepped outside into the crisp air, Finn inhaled deeply, glancing up at a sky streaked with pale clouds.

“We should take my car,” he suggested, leading the way across the lot. “Unless you prefer driving?”

She waved dismissively. “No, you drive. I’d rather not focus on anything except what I’ll say if Dawson tries to manipulate us.”

Finn shot her a curious glance while unlocking his vehicle. “He’s that good, huh?”

Eleanor paused by the passenger door, frown deepening. “Yes. He can be charming, cunning. And if he realizes we suspect him or his associates of forging valuable works… he might spin a web of half-truths to send us on wild goose chases.”

Finn considered that as he slid behind the wheel. “So we stay sharp, ask direct questions, don’t let him steer the conversation. Understood.”

She nodded, fastening her seat belt. “Exactly. And if he does start playing games, let me handle it. I know his tactics.”

Finn started the engine, glancing sideways. “As long as you know what you’re doing, I’ll follow your lead. But you did say he’s dangerous.”

Eleanor exhaled a slow breath. “He is. We have to be ready for him to threaten or bluff. Just—if I give you a sign, I might need you to push back. Because he’ll be less likely to cooperate if he thinks I’m the only one strong-arming him.”

Finn cracked a wry grin and put his sunglasses on.

Putting the car into gear, he eased out of the parking space. The station's modest building receded behind them as they headed onto the main road and towards an encounter with the nefarious Leopold Dawson.