I held back a smile as Detective Atwood’s eyebrows drew together in consternation at my request.
Instead of questioning me, he merely said, “Everything is at the station. I can get a report that lists all the items in the case—”
“I need to see the items themselves.” I followed him toward a bridge spanning the Fourth and Fifth Chime. “Sketches won’t be enough. I need to touch the things.”
He looked at me with an inscrutable expression. “I suppose we can go back to the records room, but none of the stuff can leave the room.”
“That’s fine,” I hurried to assure him.
“Hiram!” a little kid leaning against the side of a run-down building yelled excitedly. He scooped up some glass marbles and a few pieces of metal and ran over. “Play Crystal Flight with me!” At his cry, other small heads poked out of dilapidated doorways and alleys, then ran over giggling in excitement.
Soon, a swarm of eager hands and smiling faces mobbed Detective Atwood, bringing a fishy scent with them. They’d probably been playing at the Steele earlier.
“Here you go, you little terrors.” Detective Atwood laughed and pulled a handful of rock candy from his pocket. “I can’t play right now. The lady and I have some work to do.”
“Ooh, Hiram has a lady friend,” teased a young boy with a lanky frame and a worn cap pulled over his mud-crusted face.
“That’s more than you can say, Lucas.” Another kid, who also appeared to be around ten, elbowed the first boy in the side, and the two began wrestling.
Hiram shook his head but smiled. “I’m serious. Off with you now or I’ll have you behind bars for hindering official Iron Watch business.”
A sea of hands shot into the air, followed by the eager cries of “Ooh, arrest me!” and “I want to see where you work!”
I laughed, then stopped as a girl with dirt smudging her cherub cheeks and hair pulled back in a faded kerchief stepped closer. Her gaze darted from my face to the wrapped sandwich in my hand.
“Do you want this?” I knelt down and held out the sandwich.
She snatched it from me and took a huge bite, threw her arms around me in a hug, then scampered away to hide behind an older boy with the same wide eyes and dimpled smile. He must’ve been her older brother because she split the sandwich with him and the two devoured it in seconds.
He wiped his face, then stepped closer. “Thanks for sharin’. My sis and me, we ain’t got much.”
“I’m glad I could help.” I smiled at him, trying to stop the tears pricking at my eyes.
Guilt filled my chest. I’d never been hungry a day in my life, and they’d probably never had a day without it. They looked like too many other kids in the Lower Chimes while the Upper Chimes continued to thrive. The rich grew richer, and the poor grew poorer. Each time I visited the Lower Chimes the disparity hit me again, making it more and more difficult to return to my normal life. If Papá became the Prime Meridian, maybe I could convince him to change things for the better, bigger changes than what Geneve or I were capable of on our own. Maybe something good could come out of his insatiable thirst for power.
The little girl wandered closer and grabbed the back of her brother’s jacket. She tugged on her patched wool coat with pink flowers that was distinctly familiar, then looked between him and me.
His eyes widened. “You’re the one who gave my sis that coat, ain’t ya? I thought I knew ya.” He glanced over his shoulder, then whispered to me, “She loves that coat.”
“I’m glad,” I said to him before turning to her. “You look beautiful in it.”
She gave me a timid smile before hiding behind her brother again.
“I better get going now,” I said, “but it was lovely to meet you.”
They both ducked their heads and scampered off.
I stood to find Detective Atwood watching me. The other children had scattered while I talked with the siblings.
“That was generous,” he said as he walked over.
I wasn’t sure if he’d overheard the conversation about the coat or not, so I went with the food. “You can’t call it generosity when it wasn’t a sacrifice. I didn’t even pay for that meal.”
“It was more than many in your position do,” he murmured cryptically as we crossed the bridge to the Middle Chimes.
“It’s far less than what you do.” And I was starting to see that now. It was clear how trusted and beloved he was by those in the Lower Chimes, which made me feel better about trusting him too.
“I would do more, if I could. The Lower Chimes need help. Badly.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face, bringing back my guilt. The Upper Chimes had so much, but he was right. Most in power did so little.
“So, what do you know about the victim?” I changed the subject and started back toward the Iron Watch, trying to take in everything around me as we entered the Fifth Chime. It had a gritty, utilitarian feel with the brick and steel buildings crammed together. And though the buildings were also crowded together like nosy neighbors who had to be in everyone’s business, they were well-built and clean. Workshops and warehouses offered a variety of goods and services, and above the shops, the owners lived in duplexes or small apartments with exposed pipes running along the outside. Geneve and I didn’t visit the Middle Chimes as often since they didn’t need help as badly, and when Papá and I came, it was always in a steamcab.
Detective Atwood raised his voice to be heard over the hiss of steam and clank of hammers as we passed another workshop. “The second victim’s body was discovered around three a.m. two nights ago here in the Fifth Chime. Like the other victim, most of his valuables were taken, with just a few baubles left in his pocket. We have no way of identifying him.”
I looked around, as if I’d see signs of the murder on the street. “Age?”
“Probably late fifties or early sixties.”
“How was he killed?”
“A stabbing, though he also had a sprained ankle.”
I shuddered. “And that’s why you think it’s related to the other murder?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “On first inspection, a dead young woman who seemed to belong to the Middle Chimes and an older man in the Upper Chimes don’t appear to have any connections, but if I dig hard enough, I’m sure I’ll find one. Two robberies gone wrong is two too many.” He emphasized the word, showing me how little he believed it.
We fell silent for the rest of the walk, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As we passed a dilapidated building with a cracked rectangular window, the jagged shards reflected Hiram’s frown back at us. I sidestepped a puddle of water mixed with oil from a nearby workshop, its surface shimmering like a rainbow. It was like that in the Lowers—beauty when you least expected it and the people making the best of bad situations.
In the distance, the Epoch Clock’s clear chime rang out fifteen times as we made it to the station.
“Follow me.” Detective Atwood pushed open the station’s front door and led the way inside, nodding his head at fellow officers but not stopping to chat with anyone.
I pulled Mamá’s hat lower and kept my head down, avoiding any eye contact. We followed the same path toward the records room. I stayed close to Detective Atwood, whose footfalls fell on the wooden floor with a militarist exactness.
A female officer wearing the same uniform as Detective Atwood but without the badge on her chest walked down another hall that intersected with ours. The two exchanged nods before she dropped her attention back to the paper in her hands. I stared after her as she moved in the opposite direction and climbed a staircase before disappearing from view. I had heard there were female officers but rarely saw them. Then again, I’d hardly had any excuse to interact with Blue Capes growing up.
“Here we are.” Detective Atwood stopped at the room with Records engraved on the door and peered around the empty hallway before ushering me inside.
Once the door shut behind us, he exhaled sharply and pulled a small metal cylinder from his pocket.
“What’s that?” I asked as he held it to the handle and the door unlocked with a soft snick.
“An aether key.” He untwisted the middle, revealing a glowing blue tube inside. “It’s been marked so each key is distinctive to the officer it was entrusted to.”
“So they know who’s been accessing the records,” I guessed.
“Exactly.” Detective Atwood nodded once, something like approval in his eyes, then snapped the key shut.
He pulled the door open, revealing a small, windowless room lined with metal shelves and pipes along a wall. A single naked bulb hung from the ceiling, revealing items littering the shelves in an orderly yet somehow still cluttered manner.
“These are all the items the victim had on him.” He pointed to a section of the shelf labeled Case D.23.
“Great.” I stepped up next to him, scanning the objects. An old, broken pocket watch along with a small, circular, metal device about the size of my palm with designs engraved on it. Next to it sat a metal cog that looked like it could’ve come from another watch, a pair of spectacles, and a single knob.
“So, what now?” Detective Atwood asked.
“I just need a chance to examine everything.”
“All right...”