Part 2: The Blurred Report
516 Words
*Elias asks pointed questions about the night of Charles’s death. Helena deflects with half-truths. Elias admits the witness reports were vague, the wreckage suspiciously intact. Someone reported seeing two figures on the boat that night — not one.*
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The room had quieted again, save for the soft scratching of a quill as Elias jotted something in his log. The pocketwatch sat between them on the desk — tick, tick, tick — like a third presence.
Helena glanced at it once, then returned her gaze to the constable.
“You said you had no body,” she said, evenly. “But you ruled the death.”
“I didn’t,” Elias replied without looking up. “The town did. Reverend Graft wrote the death notice. Margaret Ward signed the family testimony. The mayor wanted closure. I signed off so they’d stop coming to my office with casseroles and suspicions.”
Helena smiled faintly. “So democratic of them.”
He finished writing and set the quill down. His hands were large, weathered. Soldier’s hands, not a clerk’s.
“Tell me,” he said, “what time did Charles leave the house that night?”
Her smile faded.
“You think I remember?”
“I think you remember more than you say.”
She shifted in the chair, uncrossing her legs. “It was late. Past dusk. He said he needed air.”
“Alone?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
Elias studied her. “And you didn’t think it odd that a man who couldn’t row worth a damn decided to take a boat out in storm wind?”
Helena’s gaze stayed level. “Charles had many flaws. Spontaneity was not one of them.”
“Exactly,” he said.
He leaned back and opened a drawer. From it, he withdrew a slim file bound with twine — witness statements.
“I’ve gone over these three times,” he said. “Most are nothing. Gossip. Guesswork. But one man — the lighthouse keeper — swears he saw *two* figures on the boat that night. One rowing. One seated.”
Helena’s hands remained folded, but a pulse ticked just once in her throat.
“I suppose he was mistaken.”
“Maybe,” Elias said. “But the man’s half-blind and three-quarters drunk. He’s only useful when someone’s ship is already on the rocks.”
He slid the file shut again.
“But mistakes interest me. Especially when everyone tells the same neat story, and the pieces still don’t fit.”
Helena rose.
“I’m afraid I haven’t brought you any new pieces, Constable.”
Elias looked up at her, unblinking. “You’ve brought me something. I just haven’t found the shape of it yet.”
She turned to leave, her hand brushing the doorframe.
“You’re certain it was Charles’s coat they found?” she asked without facing him.
“Yes,” Elias said. “I remember it.”
“Then I hope the next man who wears it proves more careful.”
And she stepped out into the fog.
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**End of Part 2**
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