Baker Thief

by Claudie Arseneault

  Élise huffed and shook her head. “Whatever,” she said. “I’m not taking that risk. Kill her.”

  She turned her heels and started down the aisle at a brisk pace, her order evidently final. Clémence’s pistol hadn’t moved, and the sickening feeling of Claire’s missing powers remained lodged in her stomach.

  “Very well, but if the Pont des Lumières’ network short-circuits and explodes on the opening night because you refused to let me test this new technique as thoroughly as possible, I won’t be the one explaining to the gouverneure why her pet project failed.”

  Élise stopped in her tracks. “Can’t you use any of the dozens of witches in tanks here?”

  “No. They’re being transformed already. The natural characteristics of their magic and bodies have been altered and that makes them poor test subjects. This is why I went to the warehouse, but now…”

  Claire didn’t dare to move or breathe. It sounded perfectly logical, but after perceiving the lies about twins… It didn’t make sense for Clémence to save her—not after ol’d tried strangling her in the warehouse. Perhaps ol really thought twinship changed a thing, or ol’d needed any living witch for ols horrible tests. Every second in which Élise considered her options extended into infinity, until finally:

  “If you must, then, but remember what is at stake. Should you fail this, I will ensure his death stretches on painfully.”

  “Understood,” Clémence answered in a clipped and seething tone.

  Ol crouched down as Élise pushed the double doors. Relief shot through Claire—she might live long enough to escape. She would try, for sure. Her gaze snapped back to the blondx giant towering over her and she gathered her magic and punched out, desperate to overcome the nullifying aura. For a moment she thought she was moving faster, but Clémence caught her fist with ease. The slimy feeling of absence hadn’t left, either. Claire had time to meet Clémence’s steady gaze before ol grabbed her head and slammed it to the ground. White pain burst through her forehead, and, on the second strike, Claire lost consciousness.

  -20-

  L’ESPOISSON SPATULE

  The strange haze in the interrogation room convinced Adèle she was still running a fever. Or, if she was honest, it confirmed the sluggishness she’d been experiencing since dragging herself out of bed and it explained the occasional shivers. Docteure Adaho had advised against going to work today, but disregarding medical counsel was a speciality of sorts for Adèle, and she’d returned home to put a uniform on then headed out. She’d passed by the Croissant-toi, only to discover she’d have neither croissant nor coffee to help her through the day. The bakery was closed—and that, more than anything else so far, had made her doubt her decision to leave her bed. What wouldn’t she have given for Claude’s familiar smile and laugh this morning? She’d hoped the darkness beyond the large windows didn’t spell bad news for him. Worry still needling at her, Adèle had sought a vélotaxi to bring her to the Quartier des Chênes. She didn’t dare bike herself.

  When Adèle had stepped in, only Yuri was at his desk, bent over a thick document, one finger trailing columns of numbers as he worked. He paused to compare something to a second sheet every now and then, but quickly stopped as she approached.

  “We prefer it when newbies don’t get shot,” he said, lips pinched into an expression Adèle had come to identify as a kind smirk. “Glad to see you’re back on your feet.”

  “If we can call it that,” she replied. The ground seemed wobbly, so she set a hand on her desk. “Where is… everyone?” Especially Élise or Koyani, but it felt strange for the office to be so empty. Over the last week, most of the team had been tying up cases and filling out paperwork, and their presence had sparked endless conversation and livened up the space.

  “Collecting your favourite journalist, along with any documentation they might have related to Montrant Industries. Not that Mx. Kouna knows about the latter.” Yuri’s clear blue eyes examined her, then he nodded towards her chair. “Sit down. You don’t look well, and you have some time before they return.”

  “Yes.” She grabbed the chair and slid down, sighing in relief as the world stopped spinning. Yuri studied her a moment longer before standing. His steps echoed weirdly across the airy space, fleeting and deep all at once. Her fever, probably. He brought her a glass of water with condensation glistening along its sides. Adèle reached for it, her throat parched. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said, before returning to his work. Yuri never chatted extensively, but it hadn’t escaped Adèle how he was often the first with subtle and kind attentions. He listened, and, behind the clipped conversations and long silences, he clearly cared.

  Adèle settled back and closed her eyes, trying to rest before Élise returned with Nsia Kouna. She was hot and sweaty, but a gulp of cold water sent intense shivers down her spine. The cool glass grounded her when her head swam too hard, and she kept her focus on it, reviewing her greatly changed case. She suspected they wouldn’t waste time setting up traps for Claire anymore. If they ignored Montrant Industries after last night, then they were as corrupt as her previous colleagues, and she’d want no part in it.

  For a while, only the occasional scratches of Yuri’s pen filled the room. Then the first footsteps echoed down the halls. Adèle’s head snapped up, she downed the glass of water, and she straightened as the door swung open. Capitaine Koyani led the way, back in her regular uniform, and Nsia Kouna followed, trailed by Élise. Surprise flicked through Koyani’s face, but she masked it quickly.

  “Officier Duclos, we’re pleased to have you back. Will you be joining the interrogation?”

  Adèle nodded, and the thrill of returning to the case at hand and discovering not only who had shot her, but on whose orders, washed part of her feverish daze away. As she moved to fall into pace behind Élise, however, she caught the strangest expression on her colleague’s face. Élise wasn’t glad to have her back; she seemed furious. She flung her black curls back, glared at Adèle, then continued without a word, her hand tight around Kouna’s wrist. The quick interaction left Adèle confused, her heart pounding.

  Koyani pushed the interrogation’s door opened and motioned for them to go on. “I’ll let you two handle it. There is still a lot of paperwork to fill and a few of Mx. Kouna’s fellows to placate. Keep me updated. And, Lieutenant Jefferson, don’t forget our discussion.”

  Nsia Kouna strode to their seat with a casual pace belied by the tension in their shoulders. They leaned against the chair after they sat, one arm cast over its back, as if waiting peacefully for the first questions, yet their eyes darted between Élise and Adèle, soaking in as much information as possible. Adèle tugged on her uniform, smoothing it to the best of her ability, and prayed she wasn’t too pale. She stayed by the door, resting against the wall, wondering what discussion Koyani had referred to. Was that why Élise was so angry? Élise left them to retrieve a file, and in the brief moment she was gone, Nsia Kouna tapped on the table with their index finger, leaned forward, and whispered, “I won’t talk to people I can’t trust.”

  They straightened back with a smirk as Élise returned, their nonchalance perfectly practised. Élise sat in the chair before them, and her clipped tone as she spoke didn’t need to be faked.

  “Welcome back, Mx. Kouna. I hope you’re looking forward to a longer stay.”

  “Of course! It’s always a pleasure to be battered with questions to which I have no answers.” Kouna smiled, and the perfect lines of their eyebrows raised in a mocking expression. “It will be a privilege to dance around your thinly veiled accusations, Miss Jefferson.”

  Élise returned their smile, but the ice in it would have doused even Adèle’s fever. Then the interrogation started, a constant back and forth between Élise and Kouna, like a winter tug-of-war contest in which every question from Élise was a sharp pull, but none managed to drag Kouna forward.

  “How often have you met with Claire?”

  “I never talked with
her.”

  “Do you own firearms?”

  “What would I do with a gun?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “No, I don’t own any.”

  “How long have you been digging around Montrant Industries?”

  “Is that a concern now? I’m free to write what I want.”

  “Should we worry about the legality of your methods?”

  “There’s nothing illegal about my methods, that’s absurd.”

  “Your partner doesn’t worry about stealing.”

  “She’s not my partner. I said this. Try again.”

  The exchange continued on, and Adèle had an increasingly hard time maintaining her focus. What was the point of this? Nsia Kouna had dug their heels in too deep, and no ice hid under the snow to make them slip. They had only shown hints of impatience and had obviously been through this routine before. So had Élise, however, and she didn’t seem of a mind to stop.

  “So you’ve never talked with Claire?”

  “Never.”

  “How did you know she was stealing exocores?”

  “I used my brain.”

  “She didn’t tell you.”

  “No. We never communicated. No talking, no written messages. Nothing.”

  “How did you notice, then?”

  “By paying attention to exocores.”

  “So you were already investigating Montrant Industries.”

  “How else could I have written that article?”

  “What do you truly know about Montrant Industries?”

  At this, Nsia Kouna’s expression shifted away from boredom or slight amusement for the first time since the questioning had started. They leaned forward, and although their smirk hadn’t weakened, a new light shone in their eyes. Adèle perked up too. Kouna had promised not to talk unless they trusted their interlocutor, and she doubted they did Élise.

  “They are not the small and local company they project.” The journalist put dramatic weight behind every word, as if they were revealing a great secret—as if that hadn’t been written in their article anyway.

  “We read the paper,” Adèle interjected. “Can’t you be more precise?”

  Kouna ran a hand over their bald head, then threw a smile at her and leaned back. “I could.”

  “Mx. Kouna, you may want to prove yourself more cooperative,” Élise said.

  “Am I a suspect?” They cast their long and thin arms out with wide eyes. “What am I accused of?”

  “Nothing for now. We’re investigating. Just answer the questions, Mx. Kouna. You don’t want to hinder us.”

  “Is this a threat, Miss Jefferson? Should I find a lawyer?”

  Adèle couldn’t see Élise’s expression, but she read her amused smile in the way her shoulders squared and she leaned back. “Not unless you’ve done something reprehensible. We’re all allies here—or we should be.”

  Kouna’s eyebrows shot up, and they allowed doubts to shine clearly through. Journalists were often difficult, but Adèle couldn’t shake the feeling this went beyond the usual reluctance. Nsia Kouna and Élise stared at each other, and in the silent communication that passed, Adèle had the distinct impression they both wanted the other to know they thought of them as an enemy. She gritted her teeth. Both Nsia Kouna and Claire had figured out Montrant Industries hid horrible activities long before she and Élise had, and she wished to understand how, not alienate them.

  Yet as Élise started again, she continued keeping back all their information and avoiding the questions Adèle really wanted to ask. Did Kouna know the exocores were made of witches? Had they traced Montrant’s network? Did they have any idea who could have sent the note? They weren’t making any progress, and she didn’t have the patience to draw information out of Kouna through convoluted badgering. At this rate they would still be trading pointless questions with them by nightfall.

  Sharp knocks on the door startled Adèle, and Koyani entered before the verbal tug-of-war could fall entirely silent. With the door opened, they could hear someone’s insistent request to see Adèle, and Yuri’s amused “I suspect you want to talk with her, too.” Koyani gestured for both of her officers to join her outside, then turned to Nsia Kouna.

  “We apologize for this interruption,” she said. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”

  They laughed. “Take your time. I know the routine and will make myself comfortable.”

  Koyani frowned and her gaze swept the table. Élise’s file had remained closed and unused, but when the capitaine looked her way, she raised her eyebrows, shrugged, and stood to follow out. Adèle wondered if she’d imagined the silent reproach there. Koyani wouldn’t critique Élise in front of an outsider, but it had felt like she’d expected progress or exchanges. It would, at least, explain why she treated Kouna as a guest, not as a suspect.

  A small, barrel-shaped black woman was waiting in front of their desk area, arms on her hips, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet in impatience. Adèle had seen her before, she was certain of it, but her slow brain wouldn’t place it. Relief spread over the woman’s face as she stepped forward.

  “Oh, Officier Duclos,” she said, and her intensity surprised Adèle. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Adèle’s eyes widened as she identified the voice—Zita, Claire’s friend who had been in the warehouse that night, and with the witches at Em’s house later. Why had she come here? Did she seem… afraid? Icy fear curled at the bottom of Adèle’s stomach as she remembered Claire’s promise to investigate Montrant’s actual industry. Had something happened? If it had, and Zita gave away Claire’s location… they were still supposed to arrest her. Adèle shot a quick smile at Zita then interrupted before she could say too much.

  “Capitaine, this is one of my… informants. From the warehouse.” She hoped Koyani would take that to mean one of the imprisoned witches. “They discussed a new lead on Montrant Industries.”

  “An informant, yes.” Zita stared at Adèle, obviously a little confused. To Adèle’s relief, she decided to play along, straightened, and added with a grin. “Codename is Spying Paddlefish. Can we talk alone? This is highly confidential information.”

  Adèle exercised extreme self-control as not to laugh. Spying Paddlefish? Nevermind that informants rarely walked directly into a police station to spill their beans. That would put them at risk. Zita just didn’t seem to realize that. Or she had more pressing concerns…

  “Absolutely not,” Koyani said. “This investigation into Montrant Industries is now under my control, and I want to hear it. We’re a team. Nothing you’d tell Adèle wouldn’t reach us either way.”

  Well, that was untrue, and Adèle couldn’t stave off her sharp guilt at betraying Koyani’s trust. Beyond that, however, her capitaine’s words brought new but not unwelcome surprises. She followed Koyani as she led them to the conference room, trying to understand when the investigation had shifted from Claire to Montrant, and changed from Élise’s hands to Koyani’s. Was that their earlier discussion? It might explain why Élise had glared at her this morning. Adèle’s decision to respond to the anonymous warehouse tip had flipped this entire case on its head, and Élise had never been eager to look into Montrant. She entered the conference room last, slamming the door behind them.

  “All right. Tell us all about this new lead.”

  The obvious sneer in her voice startled Adèle. Élise had always been helpful and understanding. What was up with her? Adèle glanced at her as Koyani and Zita spread around the table. No one took a seat—they could all sense this wouldn’t drag on like Kouna’s interrogation had. Adèle nevertheless gripped the back of a chair, trying to ignore the knots in her stomach and the thumping in her head. Zita continued to move from one foot to the next, wringing her hands. When the silence stretched on, Koyani broke it.

  “Please don’t turn into Stalling Paddlefish and share your information.”

  A nervous laughter escaped Zita. “All right. Okay. It’s just… My frien
d went to investigate new clues about Montrant Industries last night, and she never returned. And I know what happened to Adèle and I’m just-I’m terrified.”

  Her voice broke towards the end. Adèle clenched her chair until her whole hands hurt. She’d expected this—what else, really? Yet to hear it out loud had struck a bigger blow than she’d anticipated, leaving her reeling. Her throat tightened, her breathing turning shallow as it sped up. The conclusion was obvious: Claire was dead. Why wouldn’t they shoot her down? She should never have gone in there alone. Adèle should have stopped her at least long enough to be there.

  “So this is more than a lead,” Koyani deduced, and Adèle was thankful to her for taking charge while she fought her increasingly panicked breathing and growing tunnel vision. “Someone could be in danger.”

  “Yes!” Zita’s head shot up, hope gleaming in her eyes. “I know where she went—it’s under the research labs—but I can’t go there on my own without winding up dead myself. So I came here, because I know she…” She trailed off long enough to meet Adèle’s gaze. “She trusted you. You have to go.”

  Adèle’s breath caught, and the room seemed to close down on her as everyone turned to stare. She hoped they would attribute any paleness and shakiness to fever, even though adrenaline was starting to wash that away. Zita was asking her, after all the energy she had spent trying to put Claire under arrest. Now she needed saving, and Adèle was more than ready to go. She released the chair and squared her shoulders.

  “Right. No time to waste.”

  “In your state?” Koyani asked.

  “I can handle it.” Probably. Adèle struggled to keep her breathing steady and wished she hadn’t forgotten her vivifiants at Em’s. She really hadn’t been in any state to leave this morning. And now, if she collapsed before she reached Claire, she would be of no help. Koyani examined her, perhaps weighing the truth of these words against the possibility Adèle would run ahead anyway, then grunted her approval.