Part Twenty Detectives in Suits
The great hall of the Lulough estate shimmered under chandeliers of cut crystal, every surface catching fire from hundreds of candles. Gold leaf traced the walls, and servants in immaculate livery moved like shadows among the nobility, offering silver trays heavy with wine and delicacies.
Two figures slipped through the glittering crowd, their presence noted but not welcomed: Detectives Raleigh and Albert, their dark suits tailored well enough to pass, yet lacking the polish of the ancient families and their jeweled attire. They walked like men accustomed to alleys and interrogation rooms, not marble staircases. Their very posture set them apart.
It didn't take long before Commissioner Webb spotted them. His round frame stiffened, jowls quivering as though the sight alone might ruin his evening. He forced a smile — the politician's kind, stretched thin with surprise.
"Raleigh. Albert," he said, voice tight. "What in the blazes are you doing here?"
"Business," Raleigh replied, his tone clipped, giving nothing away. Albert offered only the ghost of a nod, his eyes scanning the crowded hall for more than conversation.
"Business?" Webb chuckled nervously, tugging at his collar. "Why, I'm here on business as well. Important council matters. Vital work."
The detectives exchanged a look — sharp, skeptical. They knew better. Webb was a man who recoiled from danger, more likely to attend for the wine, food and prestige than for any pressing duty. His discomfort betrayed him.
Before Webb could spin another excuse, a new pair swept into their circle: Lord Vaughan Elton and his wife, Lady Amelia Elton. The Eltons, resplendent in silk and diamonds, were the sort of nobles who filled rooms simply by existing. Vaughan's laugh was booming, his cane striking the marble as punctuation; Amelia's smile was razor-edged, perfected to draw blood behind politeness.
"Commissioner Webb," Vaughan Elton announced, voice cutting through the music, "always finding the softest seats at the hardest times. And here—our diligent detectives."
Amelia tilted her head toward Raleigh and Albert, her voice silk and venom. "Still chasing shadows, are we? Whispers and winds? Meanwhile, the streets grow restless. Perhaps you gentlemen should try drastic measures instead of skulking about. This case has taken way too long! "
The insult was wrapped in refinement, but the sting was deliberate. Webb flushed crimson, sputtering some defense. Raleigh only raised a brow. Albert smirked faintly, as if amused at being scolded like children by nobles who had never dirtied their shoes on cobblestones.
Vaughan Elton pressed on, waving his hand dismissively. "Council grows impatient. What the people need is a firm hand, not endless theories. Chase ghosts if you must, but remember — order is not restored by questions, but by action."
The detectives let the barbs fall without protest, their silence a blade sharper than any retort. Webb, however, floundered, caught between defending himself and placating the Eltons. His usual bluster failed under their mocking gaze.
When the nobles finally drifted away, Webb sagged with relief, muttering curses under his breath. Raleigh clapped him once on the shoulder — not kindly, but with deliberate weight.
"Enjoy your business, Commissioner," Raleigh said, voice flat as stone.
The detectives left him standing there, sour-faced and sweating in his own humiliation. They walked away together, and for the first time that evening, a flicker of amusement danced between them. To watch Webb suffer at the hands of those he sought to please was almost worth the evening's ordeal.
In the corner, music swelled again, drowning their quiet laughter.