‘Do you have any bears?’

It took her only a moment to absorb my odd request. Then she was a whirlwind about her own shop. She returned to the counter with a pack of bears: one made of sack-like material, two of porcelain, and a small stone carving. As sweet as the sack bear was, the stone was more appropriate.

‘Could you—’ I began, before stopping myself. I could remove one of the bear’s eyes myself. I had already confused the shopkeeper enough for one day. ‘The bear is her favourite,’ I said.

Christophor read my note more than once. His surprise was sharp, but I should not have expected any less. He could not, it was clear, fathom why I had made such a decision, and why now. With a kind of care that can only come from experience, Christophor picked up the eggs and admired them. The woman in the shop had steered me well in that respect, at least. I had half-wondered if she was taking advantage of a man as much at the mercy of his cups as his ignorance.

Christophor gathered himself and made to leave the sanctuary of the inn. Through the front door. Evidently the village’s superstitions and prejudices were not strong enough to deny the Special Inspector himself. Or perhaps he simply had the strength of will to ignore such shackles – shackles made of gossip, whispers, and weak-minded decisions. I envied that strength, doubly so because I saw no way to find it in myself.

Mrs Lehner was pleased to see him up and about, and called a hearty greeting from behind the bar, which she could barely see over. He was wary of her, though it wasn’t obvious why.

What was spurring him into such a frenzy wasn’t obvious either. Was it Tabitha’s fate? He did care for that horse. Was it the ever-increasing sense of guilt that came with each day that passed without the completion of his duties? Was it my note, with my threat of involvement in his affairs?

He ghosted his way through the streets towards the track that led up to the Eder’s house. He made no effort to find a break in the treeline, or any evidence of the site where he and Tabitha had left the track that night. He kept his head down and lengthened his stride.

He was worried he wouldn’t be able to go back to the house. He was worried he would be too scared. That was why he hurried himself.

Unwilling to use the stag brass knocker, he rapped briskly on the door and tried not to fidget as he waited. The house was well-lit with candles in most of the windows, upstairs and down, and lanterns on the porch. Eventually, the door swung inwards to reveal the butler.

‘Special Inspector Morden.’

Our name had never sounded so lifeless.

‘I would like to speak to either Mayor Eder or his wife.’