The bell above the boutique door chimed softly as Marcus Bennett stepped inside. Warm light spilled over shelves lined with delicate crystal and glass, each piece glowing like captured frost. The air smelled faintly of polish and something floral—a quiet elegance that felt almost obscene when he thought of where some of these figurines had ended up.
Behind the counter stood a man as polished as his merchandise: silver hair combed immaculately back, sharp suit pressed to perfection. His accent curled thick and unapologetic around every syllable as he greeted the detective.
“Bonjour, monsieur. How can I assist you today?”
Bennett offered a polite nod and reached into his folder, sliding out a glossy photo of a glass fox sealed in an evidence bag. “Recognize this?”
The man adjusted his th
