669 was taken to an interview office near Detective Morse’s desk. At least it wasn’t a holding cell or interrogation room, which surprised him. The three officers faced opposite him in the room, where there was a waist-high table acting as a partition between them: one side of the law with the door to their back, the other side of the supposed guilty party with their back to the wall.

Detective Morse and Emelia were standing behind their captain who was seated in the only other chair at the table. They stood with sober expressions, but their odd twitch to their hands and eyes betrayed their discomfort at seeing 669 being questioned on the other end.

“Do you know about this?” Captain Lucas placed a piece of paper before 669.

669 looked at it and deduced it was a letter. “It’s a letter?”

“A letter implicating you. It was handed to Detective Morse by a tailor, who said you had asked her to hand it in.”

“I did what?” Now 669 looked genuinely confused. “Can I read it?”

“Go ahead.” Captain Lucas leaned back in his chair to observe 669 as he read the letter intensely.

“It said that I discovered Fairy Blossom had been extorting Marcus Poirot because he had slept with Ashton Sommerville.” 669 looked surprised but not that surprised. It wasn’t a secret that Ashton was so much of a sex deviant that he’d try on a man who seemed unobtainable.

“Keep reading.”

669 finished reading about how Fairy Blossom was going to make Marcus pay for rejecting her over a man and reacted vocally, doing his best to contain his laughter on the matter. It was beyond ridiculous. “That’s absurd. One, I knew nothing about all of this crap. Two, do you really think I’d be so hard up for cash I would extort Fairy Blossom for credits?”

“My reports tell me that you visited the Solace Tailor shop earlier the other day. Shortly afterward, the women when missing.”

Captain Lucas continued to explain that there were further reports of a scuffle in the backroom that involved 669. One of the women went missing, the other submitted evidence for Ashton Sommerville’s murder that implicated 669.

“And where is she now?”

“Not of your concern.”

Captain Lucas rose to take his leave, keeping a steady poker face. “You know, I don’t really like you Operation Henchmen. Just because you can be mask-free and given privileges, you think you can go around doing our job. You’re playing a fine line with fate. I wouldn’t be surprised if our glorious High Magistrate makes a move to correct you lot.”

669 held his silence. It would be unwise for him to say anymore.

“Put him in a cell. If he’s guilty he stays there until our justice system sentences him.”

The captain left the room.

“You know how absurd it all is.”

“I know, but there is a case against you. You have association with all parties, and are a regular guest to the soap house where they died. The county guard is fishing for a suspect.” Detective Morse sighed.

“And I’m their convenient scapegoat. Bah! Why isn’t anyone questing the Poirot brats?! Or Simon Sommerville. They have far more to gain than me who has none.”

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669 eyed the officers with contempt. “And why didn’t you tell my bosses about this?”

“We didn’t have time. My captain came upon the letter before I did.” Detective Morse explained.

The letter was handed into the administration office, intended for Detective Morse’s desk. But Captain Lucas had wanted to see it before it was delivered, when he had learned it was related to the Poirot Case.

“He did?” 669 leaned back in his chair, pondering on the fact and feeling his contempt being replaced with a piece of puzzle before him.

“How much did you know about the case?”

Emelia glanced around the corners of the room and walls. She pulled out a couple of small hematite stones and activated them with her virya then cast them to the room’s corners.

“This will place a silence barrier around us. Best others don’t hear what we have to say.” She stood close to the door.

Detective Morse sat in the chair the captain had previous occupied to have a genuine conversation with him.

“Listen. I’m against having you locked up, just as much as Emelia. But there is a case against you. So while you’re going through the motions, it’s best to lie low for a bit.”

“So they can declare I’m guilty and use me as an example of a ‘supposed’ rogue henchman?”

“No. I don’t buy that letter’s authenticity for one bit. It’s clear to me, you’re being set up.”

“And possibly to keep you out of their way due to your involvement with Maud.” Emelia added.

669 whipped out his hand fan and fanned his face as he thought deeply about the facts to date.

“So Marcus Poirot dies looking like he fell out of the family’s mansion window, which is almost impossible to do by accident. Same thing happens to Ashton Sommerville and then Tristan Miller. What are the connections?”

Morse nodded. “They all visited the Peony Soap House around the same time. And that lead you had with Emelia checks out. ”

Emelia nodded. “Harper Tank visited the Poirot Mansion at that time of the order. I’ve yet to learn what might have transpired during his visit there.”

“Right.” 669 nodded.

“So, sit tight. I’ll make sure you’re well looked after. If we prove our suspicions, you’ll be out in a day or so. But to be sure, I’ve sent word to the Shiyan House Secretary. No doubt, you may find some assistance from there.”

“Should I worry about bending over for the soap?” 669 wryly said.

“Ha! I think that would be a perk for you, don’t you think.” Emelia nervously laughed.

“You’ll be in a private cell with some comforts. At this stage, you’re suspected not convicted.”

“True.” 669 sighed and snapped his fan closed. “Fine, let me have a good night sleep in a dingy cell.”

He followed the officers out of the room and working area, and down a dank stone corridor, which descended a slop and ended at a solid iron door and an officer standing guard before it.

“Escorting suspected felon 669, slated for Cell 1.5.3.” Detective Morse formally told the guard who nodded and opened the door to allow them entry.

Detective Morse led the way past the door, down a winding flight of stone stairs, which eventually entered into a small foyer where two guards were posted before an iron grill wall and gate. The opened the gate, to continue the escort into the first cell of the iron wall corridor. The door was a slab of iron that needed a magic formation to be activated to unlock and lock the door.

“I’ll do my best to clear all this up.”

“Right.” 669 said, not holding his break.

He found himself sealed in a windowless room of metal with not a crack or seam visible. A single cot was pushed to one wall and toilet facilities on another.

“I guess all I can do is meditate.” He sat on the cot in a meditative pose and began to cultivate his magic and virya.

Outside the dungeon area, Emelia looked concerned as she followed her senior back to the main working area. “This feels wrong, Sir.”

“Let’s head out to check your lead. Then we can talk more.”