Cold wind blew through the door. For a moment, Bobby thought it would be Samira. He was wrong.

A man, impeccably dressed, but stooped as if being tall was not what he had wanted to be when he grew up, walked in. Everything was tailored to fit perfectly, but somehow it didn’t. He took off his dark gray hat, made of shining beaver felt, a piece of clothing fit for a noble.

The stranger’s eyes judged the cheap, mismatched furniture in the room and rested on Bobby, who stared back at him —wholly unimpressed.

“I want you to look into something for me.” The words barely passed his thin lips before a file slapped onto Bobby’s cluttered desk.

Proving once again that gentlemen were just bastards with questionable etiquette and fancy suits.

Bobby stared at the file, it was a large, light brown envelope. Then he looked up at the man who was eyeing the broken grandfather clock in the corner. Possibly wondering if it was later than he thought and if he had to hurry to his other duties of the day.

“Top of the morning to you too,” Bobby huffed.

Mr. Thinlips didn’t respond.

If the man wasn’t so impeccably dressed, Bobby would have told him to shove it, but the thought of paying his daughter’s tutors and nannies forced him to open the file.

A pressing silence descended on them, only disturbed by the sound of paper rustling and people chatting outside as they passed.

Bobby raised his eyebrows. It was page after page on the movements of a veteran called Pulchra Florentio. Notes about what he had done and where at what time, and if he was with this man’s lady friend. It was extensive, but sloppy. Perhaps it was Mr. Thinlip’s notes, or he had hired a detective beforehand.

Either way, the pages told him this was a bad idea. If the man didn’t get what he wanted from the other detective, there was probably nothing to find. Or, it could simply not be what the man wanted, which could stir trouble for Bobby. He leafed through the file, weighing the risk. But also, a case from a fat cat came with its own reward.

“This is not really my niche,” Bobby said slowly. “My cases involve missing things or people. Not… this. It looks like you got eyes on the man. Unless you think this man is going to?”

The man narrowed his eyes in misunderstanding.

“Make her go missing.”

The man inhaled, ran his hands through his auburn hair. Exhaled like he had to explain something to an idiot. “I heard you are, in fact, the best,” Mr. Thinlips said in a tone that wafted with doubt.

“What did he do? Sleep with your wife? Scammed you out of money? Married your daughter?”

The man shifted his eyes over the furniture. “He owes me money.”

Bobby suppressed a smile, a believable lie, but a lie. Mr. Thinlips wouldn’t have been stalking this man for weeks if it were something as simple as money. He would get a lawyer, maybe two, and sue the man for all he was worth.

Bobby grunted, leafed through the papers again. There were quite a few letters between Mr. Florentio and a lady who signed her letters with a beautifully drawn E. His eyes skimmed the words; they had definitely been fond. The kind of letters a woman would not want anybody else to read.

Private.

The file also held the portrait of the man. One Bobby had seen many times before. The quack who sold the ‘Oh so fair, with better hair’ potion had his portrait and advertisement in almost every paper.

Mr. Pulchra Florentio.

Next to it was a small drawing that Bobby assumed was Mrs. Thinlips. Large eyes and not much of a chin, small curls lining her face. The curls reminded him of his youngest daughter.

“You have this thing under control as far as I can see. Why come to me now?”

Mr. Thinlips worked his mouth. “He hasn’t done anything untoward as far as the police can tell.”

“And you know this to be… false? Listen, I can shadow this man until he topples over of old age, but what would I be following him for?”

Mr. Thinlips’s eyes shot around the room as if something in it could tell if Bobby was to be trusted. He murmured his big secret into the room.“I know he had something to do with my wife’s death.”