The pair of sergeants nodded and headed off.
Byron looked at Gotthilf. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“Lieutenant.”
Just like the last time they heard that low-pitched voice, Byron smoothly shifted direction to the mouth of the alley as if that had been his destination all along. Gotthilf motioned to the patrolmen behind them to stop, then hurried to catch up to his partner.
Once in the alley, Demetrious faced them from under a stairway.
“It’s been a while, Demetrious,” Byron said. “What do you have for us?”
“The one-eyed man you asked about, he was not easy to find,” Demetrious replied, folding his arms and pressing his fingertips together. “But find him I did, and followed him, too. The man, he is chasing someone, I think.”
“Chasing?” Gotthilf asked. “What do you mean, chasing?”
“He follows someone at least part of every day.”
“Who?” Gotthilf and Byron spoke in unison.
“Merchant fellow, name of Schardius.”
“Schardius!” Byron said with the intonation of a curse.
“Are you sure?” Gotthilf demanded.
“Aye, I am sure.”
The two detectives looked at each other. Neither one knew what to make of that.
“Thanks, Demetrious. We will owe you one for this.”
Demetrious touched his forehead, and moved back down the alley without another word.
* * *
Simon looked down the alley when he passed it after the two detectives came out. He didn’t see anything or anyone. He shrugged his shoulders, and hurried to keep the Polizei men in sight.
* * *
Marla set the make-up brush down, and looked at herself in the mirror, turning her face from side to side and tilting it up and down. She gave a firm nod, and turned away from her table.
“How do I look, Sophie?”
Her dresser pushed through the gathering actresses and stared at her with furrowed brow.
“It still looks too heavy to me,” she said, “but it looks as good as what you did yesterday for the dress rehearsal.”
“Like I said last time,” Marla responded, “it has to be heavy and exaggerated somewhat to be visible past the fifth row.” She stood and put her hands on the small of her back, bending backwards to stretch stiffened muscles.
* * *
Schardius licked his lips, eyes almost bulging from his head from attempting to see more of Marla through the crack in the wall. To see her in such form fitting clothing! If only he could have had a camera, to capture the scene of her bending and stretching in what was almost black painted nudity.
His breaths came shorter and faster, and he tugged at his culottes.
* * *
“Tell me again what this opera is,” Gustav said as a servant helped him into his coat.
“Well, you remember when we went to see Messiah last winter?” Kristina replied.
“Yes.” Gustav shrugged his shoulders to settle the coat, and the servant started fastening buttons.
“It’s supposed to be like that,” Kristina said, “only louder, longer, and with costumes.”
“Hmm.” Gustav checked the hang of the coat in the mirror, and waved the servant away. “And what is this about?”
Kristina looked to Ulrik. “King Arthur of Britain battles Saxons and Jutes for the safety of his people,” the prince said, abbreviating the story to its barest essence.
“Hah!” Gustav snorted. “The Saxons will lose.” The emperor’s grudge against John Georg of Saxony was apparently still alive and well, even though the Saxon elector had been well and soundly trounced already and was now dead himself.
* * *
Gotthilf wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “What time is it, Byron?”
The up-timer looked at his wristwatch. “Bit after five o’clock.”
“I’m not finding much.”
“Me neither.”
At that moment, Gotthilf opened a desk drawer. Nothing much in the drawer: pens, pins, a pair of scissors; the typical type of stuff that you’d expect to find in a desk drawer. He reached into the back of the drawer to see if there was anything else to be seen. His fingers ran into the back panel of the drawer a lot sooner than he’d expected.
Gotthilf pulled the drawer all the way out and set it on top of the desk. It was much shorter than he expected it to be, given the dimensions of the desk itself.
“Byron.”
“Hmm?” His partner was poking through a storage closet.
“Come look at this.”
Byron stepped over to the desk. “Odd. Where did it come from?”
“Top drawer, right side of the desk.”
Byron looked at it for a minute, then walked around and pulled out the top drawer on the left side. It proved to be over twice as long as the right side drawer.