Hyathic Homicide - The Mage of Lost Magic

Chapter 4

Selevin found her, instead, as she stepped out onto the street. The young man was holding out a cup of tea from the shop on the corner, knowing her well enough to surmise she hadn't so much as sipped the one given to her in the office.

"Good man." She said as the beverage warmed her insides.

"New development, Chief." He said, leaning casually against the nearby wall. "We've got a potential witness down at the new scene."

"A witness? Now that is good news. What'd they say."

"Don't know yet. The juniors figured you'd want first crack. They're waiting with the witness down by the scene. Lives in an apartment across the street, the runner said."

"Well, let's get to it." Said Ghorza, beginning to walk in that direction. "Uncle says hi, by the way."

"Hah!" Chuckled Selevin through his tea. "Not bloody likely. He won't even talk to me. 'Not even a hint of impropriety.'"

"Solid imitation, but his voice is a little gruffer, I think."

"'Not a hint of impropriety.'" Repeated Selevin, nailing the imitation.

"There it is!" Shouted Ghorza, tapping her nose. "Almost felt like he was here in front of me."

"How awful would that be? He's a good enough Uncle, but oh my stars is he a bad Captain."

"He's not the worst I've had, if I'm being honest. Though yes, to have him tag along on an investigation sounds like a special kind of hell." Ghorza shook her head at the image. "A special kind, indeed."

The two walked and chatted as they made their way back to the Merchant's Quarter. Selevin told Ghorza about some of the latest office drama. As much as she was loathe to admit it, Ghorza was a sucker for gossip, and Selevin knew it. He had just finished telling her about Detective Harlan's fling with Detective Fawn, and how it had ended in spectacular fashion, as anyone who knew the two men could have easily guessed it would.

As they approached the crime scene they noted a uniformed officer across the street, waving for them to come over. They waited for a pair of carriages to pass before crossing and being told that the JD's were upstairs with the witness, and he was to lead them there.

Ghorza asked after the officer's son. She liked to maintain a cordial relationship with the patrol officers. They were an integral piece of the machinery that kept the precinct running. A lot of the grunt work was delegated to them, freeing up the detectives and their juniors for more of the hardline investigative side of things.

The officer led them up to the third floor and knocked on a door marked with the letter J. Junior Detective Dresmond opened the door, inviting them in and sending the patrol officer on his way.

Ghorza and Selevin stepped into a modest one-bedroom apartment. The wallpaper was peeling, and the furniture had the worn-down look of once classy pieces abandoned on the side of the road. There were sheets in the living room, hanging from the ceiling, splitting the apartment into two smaller parts.

Living situations in the Merchant's Quarter were always on the extremes. Massive palatial estates where the shop owners lived, and small, over-crowded apartments where the employees lived together. There was no middle ground. They may have been able to find larger accommodations closer to the edges of the city, but many could not afford it and were forced into these unfortunate places.

Dresmond called out to the witness, who emerged from the kitchen handing over a cup of tea. Her hands were wrinkled and covered in callouses; a telltale sign of working at the dye vats for years.