“A law office secretary, are you? Well, I don’t expect you’ll get far with that today. All anyone can talk about is the Eden murder.” She caught Celeste’s frown and must have thought it something else, because she said, “Well, surely you’ve heard, although it did happen at an indecent hour, but you read the morning papers, don’t you?”

Celeste thought to answer, but Grace pressed on, Celeste’s participation in the conversation clearly not required.

“A Fallen woman murdered a Virtue. Order of Raphael, he was, so practically a saint! Well, I don’t know the details, but I know the sheriff was called in to break up a disturbance, and Ybarra walks right in and finds the girl covered in blood. Further investigation reveals a body, and then the Virtues are storming in and scooping her up before she can run.” She gestured around the room. “We’re all here to get the scuttlebutt. Oh, here’s the clerk now!”

The noise in the room dulled to a muddled hush as a woman emerged from a side door carrying a large chalkboard. She climbed a stepladder to hang the board overhead from a hook on the wall. Every neck in the building bent back to read it.

The board was divided into neat columns filled with cramped, narrow handwriting. It listed the names of the accused, assigned judges, and courtrooms. A blank space at the end was reserved for the defendant’s lawyer, assuming they had one.

Celeste read the board eagerly but failed to see Mariel’s name.

Grace sighed in disappointment.

“What is it?” Celeste asked.

“This is today’s docket, all the cases the court will hear. The Slaying Chanteuse isn’t up there.”

“Slaying Chanteuse?” Celeste repeated, alarmed.

“On account of her being a singer. Do you like it? I just thought it up. Or what about the Slaying Songbird? Yes, that has a bit more rhythm. Although it lacks the panache of the French.”

“They’re both terrible.”

Grace shrugged, unconcerned. “Everyone’s a critic. I’ll find something to make the headline.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I hear the murder was a bloody one.”

Her stomach turned. “How bloody?”

“You ever castrate a goat?”

She shook her head.

“Well, she castrated this old goat for sure.” Grace laughed at her own joke and then added, belatedly, “Allegedly.”

“How are they able to do it?”

“Castration? Well, with a sharp knife and a strong stomach, I suppose.”

“No, the secret trial.”

Grace laughed. “You must be new here. The Virtues are the real law in Goetia. Politicians, mining barons, clergy. It’s a veritable who’s who behind those masks. And with all that divinity at their fingertips, why, they do what they want, when they want to.” She snapped shut the notebook she had been scribbling in. “Oh, they have certain rules to follow, like having a trial at all, but how honest can it be?”