The ConstableI went inside my apartments, thinking of Jonathan and Sheinwold, and where they might be.
I’d never met the former Detective Constable Albert Sheinwold, and apart from a portrait done by the police department, had no image of him in my mind.
But Morton had paid me to find him and by the gods, I would. After dinner, I asked Morton to sit with me in the parlor.
Morton seemed surprised, almost wary. “What can I do for you?”
He didn’t often sit in the parlor, other than to read over by the bookcase, so to see him on my sofa seemed odd. “I feel as though we’ve been conducting our own separate investigations on Mr. Sheinwold. Is there anything you’ve found that you perhaps haven’t told me? It might be best if we go over the entirety of the matter.”
I wanted this man found, this
