Cassia Grove was being threatened. Why? Who was the person in the photograph? Were they the one threatening her, or was it someone else? Theories flew through Laith’s mind, pushing him this way and that, and now he began to wonder if everything was linked together by blackmail: Grove’s murder, Lockwood’s disappearance, the Slate in the Ruins. And, if so, what exactly the blackmailer wanted from Cassia Grove.

The most common answer would be money, of which Grove and her husband had no shortage, being the successful business owners that they were. A quick check into Cassia’s financial history in Heliopolis showed no particularly strange patterns. She withdrew a great deal of money on a regular basis, but he supposed it was normal for someone who liked living in the lap of luxury to spend quite a lot on a day to day basis. It wasn’t as though there were sudden spikes in how much she withdrew from the bank, and as a result, he wondered if it truly was money the blackmailer was after.

Or perhaps it was Lockwood who paid. A quick look through his financial history was just as illuminating as Cassia’s: no unusually large amounts of money were being withdrawn relative to his regular withdrawal amounts.

The photograph looked to be at least a handful of years old. Cassia Grove looked younger. The energy she exuded in the photograph clashed with what he’d learned about her character so far; she seemed warmer, happier, and friendlier. But perhaps it was simply due to the company.

“What date was this photograph taken?” Laith asked PATET after uploading the image into the system. “Is there any identifying information linked to the photograph?”

It took only a moment for PATET to present its findings to him on the screen of his Slate.

Name: X6630GG6

Image Type: PNG

Date Taken: Unknown, Unknown, 2105

Location: Unknown, Novus Atlantis

Dimensions: 200 x 133

Size: 15.5 KB

Device of Origin: Unknown

Owner: Unknown

While the specific date was unknown, at the very least Laith could see that it was taken six years ago in Novus Atlantis. The man in the photograph was not Aster Lockwood, but he wasn’t anyone else Laith could identify, either. PATET’s system drew up a blank when he tried to run facial recognition, so it seemed likely the man had never stepped foot in the city before. So, it was almost certainly someone from her past. From Novus Atlantis. Someone she used to know. Perhaps someone she used to love?

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It was quite normal for people to have had relationships prior to getting married. If this was an old beau, he couldn’t understand why Cassia Grove would be threatened with his picture. Perhaps there was much more to the story than Laith was seeing. He sent yet another request to the Novus Atlantian authorities, requesting information on the man photographed with Cassia.

Laith spent the rest of the afternoon combing through Cassia’s Slate and surface computer for any relevant information, but he was disappointed to learn little else. There was one piece of information that had piqued his curiosity, and he turned it around in his mind for a while. Cassia Grove’s agenda had included monthly meetings with someone she referred to as Invidia. The name was a pseudonym – there was nobody in Heliopolis with such a name, nor was there any establishment with that title – and Laith was certain that it meant these meetings were meant to be discreet. The only problem was, the meetings stopped a few months prior to Grove’s murder.

Upon questioning, neither Flaur Verdi nor Afan Ayyash knew who this mysterious Invidia was. It made sense, of course, what with the name being an obvious pseudonym. Nevertheless, it was yet another lead to add on to his scant selection. It wasn’t as though Cassia Grove had many friends. This could potentially open up another part of her life to him that would otherwise remain hidden.

“But I remember those dates,” Fleur had added quickly after he’d asked her about Invidia and showed her the dates on Cassia Grove’s agenda. “It was a regular engagement she had, and she never missed it. In fact, if memory serves, she left the club quite early on those specific days. I remember thinking it quite strange, given how serious she was about managing Nymphaeales.” She adjusted her glasses, holding the tablet closer to her chest. “About five months ago, I think, she forgot her Slate here at the club. She seemed to be in a rush. Anyway, she asked me to bring it to her, and I remember feeling a bit annoyed at having to run errands for her when I was supposed to be assisting her with the management of the club.”

She’d sighed, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, in any case, nothing like that happened since, so I’ve put it out of my mind since. That day, I took her Slate and went to meet her at some small restaurant in the Forest. Nice place, but I remember thinking it wasn’t a place that I’d imagine Cassia would choose to eat at. She had a bit of a taste for the more expensive and luxurious places. It was also on the other side of the city, and took quite some time to get to.”

“Do you remember the name of this restaurant?” Laith had asked, pulling out his Slate to jot it down.

“Yes,” Fleur Verdi had replied. “It was called Platano Maduro. I remember the name because it was a bit of an exotic-looking place. The smell coming out of it was heavenly, though. I’ve wanted to try it out ever since, but haven’t had the chance yet.”

“And when you brought her her Slate, was she alone?”

“She was waiting for me outside of the establishment. I’m certain she was meeting with someone there, but it almost seemed to me like she didn’t want me knowing who it was. Felt quite secretive, in fact.” Verdi had shrugged slightly and looked away, through the many layers of glass between them and the outdoors. “I don’t get involved in my employer’s personal life. Whoever it was she was meeting, I didn’t really want to know. I like my job, and I do not want to endanger it. So, I gave her the Slate without any questions, and she said thank you – quite abruptly – and left me out on the street.”

“I can see why you were so annoyed by the whole ordeal,” Laith had offered, his mind whirring with possibilities. “That whole episode seems a bit outside of her usual character, though, doesn’t it?”

Fleur had considered this for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. “I wouldn’t really know. I didn’t know her well enough – personally, I mean – to know if this was the sort of thing she did often. Professionally speaking, yes, it was very much outside of her usual character. She seemed a bit frazzled, as if I’d caught her in a lie or doing something wrong. It made me feel quite awkward at the time, but I brushed it off and moved on. None of my business.”

Leaning back in her ergonomic bamboo chair, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. The time on the wall opposite him – a light pattern made from a small projection the source of which was hidden well enough in the ceiling that Laith could not spot it – told him that it was well past six in the evening. It was time for him to go home for now. He’d already made good headway while searching the victim’s office, and tomorrow he would have a plethora of information to rifle through.

He made one last note to check Platano Maduro’s surveillance records, and called it a night, eager to get home. As he used the A-lanes to quickly find his way back to his apartment building in the Forest, he leaned back, closing his eyes against the rhythmic presence of the white lights in the tunnels, powered by the kinetic energy of vehicles passing over the road. It was an almost hypnotic rhythm, and for a moment he wondered why he’d ever wanted to do more than simply sit at his desk. Like Warda had told him time and again, it had been a good thing when he wasn’t needed. Now, he was beginning to feel the stress and pressure of handling a murder case, and it was taking its toll in its own little ways.

He had no doubt that toll would become larger and larger the more time he spent on this case.