Jackaby glanced at Charlie again for a moment, and addressed his next question to him. “And all three of you lost the scent?”

“Detective Cane was not present during the pursuit,” Marlowe cut in. “But yes, the blood droplets petered out by Winston Street. I was able to track his footprints a few blocks farther, to Market, but there the trail became impossibly lost.” The inspector continued to stare at Jackaby, his gaze locked as tight as a pair of manacles.

Jackaby, whether by mere affectation or true obliviousness, paid no mind to the inspector’s focused attention. “Interesting. And why wasn’t he present during the pursuit?”

Marlowe blinked. “What?”

“Detective Cane. He discovered the body, after all. Is there any reason he was not involved in the search?”

Marlowe flashed a stern glance at Charlie, who slunk back slightly like a scolded puppy. “Junior Detective Cane was otherwise occupied.”

“Ah, I believe I understand.” Jackaby nodded. “Just how long did you keep your detective incarcerated?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Yes, but it is what you meant. You did not trust your detective, just as you do not trust me. I’m sure you questioned him first, which was wise. Probably did so before you bothered to follow the legitimate lead, though, which was not. Is it any wonder the trail went cold? Having been cooped up in a cell certainly accounts for his increased agitation as well. Was he released exclusively to fetch me, I wonder?” Jackaby seemed almost amused at the thought.

Inspector Marlowe’s brow furrowed, and his eyes developed the menacing sort of shadows usually reserved for dark alleys in bad neighborhoods. Jackaby continued.

“You did have him followed as he called on me, of course. Yes, I thought I recognized Lieutenant Dupin keeping an inconspicuous distance as we passed Fourth Street. It becomes evident that you did not summon me for a professional consultation, Inspector. I thought, perhaps, you might have realized you were out of your depth and actually sought my input, but we both know that is not the case. So, you’ve had time to observe me at the crime scene, and your men have had plenty of time to ransack my establishment. Would you like to actually ask me any questions before tossing me in lockup?”

“I think that can wait until we’ve reached the station,” Marlowe said with a grunt.

The watchmen from either end of the hallway suddenly appeared at the door. Jackaby stepped out as calmly as one might exit a coach, presenting his wrists to be handcuffed.

“What?” My mind reeled at the sudden, extreme turn the day was taking. This was madness! “Mr. Jackaby—can they do this? You haven’t done anything! Inspector, please. He hasn’t done anything!”