Part Twenty Six – Reviewing the Night (Police Office, Morning After the Wedding)
The rain had stopped just before dawn, leaving the streets outside slick with puddles that caught what little light the gray sky allowed. In the cramped police office, the air smelled faintly of old tobacco and damp paper. Files were stacked unevenly on the desk, notes and scraps from last night's long vigil at the Lulough estate scattered like playing cards after a careless hand.
Raleigh sat back in his chair, broad shoulders relaxed, a cup of bitter coffee cooling in his hand. Across from him, Albert leaned forward, elbows pressed into the desk, eyes scanning the scribbled reports for the fifth time as if some overlooked truth might leap out at him.
They went over what little they had gotten from the night of the murder and disappearance.
Raymond Hanns had spoken briefly with the other council members while his wife Eleanor drifted to her circle of ladies and their children before disappearing into the current of the ballroom.
Jonathan Hanns, polite but quiet, spent most of the evening in Valia Lulough's company, though toward the end Raymond Hanns appeared withdrawn, even uneasy, the family had taken their leave before the final toast.
And that was all. No whispered quarrels. No sudden vanishing. Nothing concrete.
Albert set down his pencil, tapping it idly against the paper. "It's as if the night never happened," he murmured, his voice carrying the weariness of someone who wanted to believe there had to be more. "Not a single family gave us anything. 'Not the time,' 'no memory,' or simply looking straight past us. As though their silence alone could erase what they saw."
Raleigh smiled faintly, not unkindly. "You'll learn, lad. Nobility deals in masks and ceremonies. Their truths hide behind politeness, and their refusals behind excuses and favors. That's the game. Doesn't mean there isn't a truth. Just means it won't be handed to us like bread on a plate."
Albert sighed, leaning back, running a hand over his hair. He was thoughtful, not reckless, but the hollowness of their findings gnawed at him. "The boy,Jonathan knows something, I can feel it. But he won't say."
Raleigh drained the last of his coffee, then stood to gather his coat. "Then patience, Albert. Let the boy carry his silence for now. Sooner or later, silence becomes heavy enough to break."
Albert nodded, pushing himself up, but his eyes lingered on the scattered papers a moment longer.