representatives and the occasional Portuguese ship captain to visit with them, something humans couldn’t do on Quitos. The afternoon sun in the courtyard warmed his bare shoulders. The splashing of the central fountain, normally soothing, served only to remind him that time was passing and the trail was already growing cold.
He set his papers aside, rose from the chair he’d occupied for thelast few hours, and swung his arms about before striding quickly to one archway and back to the other. Oriana watched him with sympathetic eyes.
She’d done exceptionally well, for the most part asking the questions he would have. He’d written out everything he wanted followed up, and she or Lieutenant Benites could interview those servants again later. It was frustrating, knowing what he wanted to ask, yet not able to question the women himself. Such a break in custom would signal panic, so he’d complied with the rules and held his tongue.
Lieutenant Benites returned to the courtyard then, her eyes darting between Oriana and him before settling on Oriana. “Madam, that’s the last of them. And Captain Vas Neves has just returned with Lady Monteiro.”
Oriana’s grandmother had taken the captain to talk to some of her neighbors on the beach, hoping to determine whether they’d seen anything unusual. Duilio leaned back against the table he’d been using and crossed his ankles, bangles shifting against each other. He didn’t want to sit again for a time, not now that he no longer had to play secretary.
No one had seen Lieutenant Costa since he left his duty post that morning. They’d searched the house top to bottom looking for the missing journal, but also hunting him. The lieutenant hadn’t slept in his bed, and his bag and remaining clothes were still in his quarters. How Costa was involved in the theft, Duilio was unsure, but logic insisted that the man’s disappearance had to be related. His gift, however, was ambiguous when Duilio asked about Costa’s guilt, as if the man were involved, but unwittingly. For now they’d left all mention of him out of the discussions with the other guards, hoping they could smooth over his absence when they found him. Only Vas Neves and Benites knew for certain that the lieutenant had abandoned his post.
“It seems clear that the child was in the embassy’s luggage,” Duilio said. Someone had rifled through Costa’s bag, removing most of his garments. That last servant they’d questioned had carried it to Costa’s room, but claimed it was very light when she picked it up, despite being a comparatively large bag. Yet the other servant who helped with the unloading—she’d carried the bag from the wagon into the entry hallway of the house—had thought it heavy for its size.
“I agree, sir,” Benites said. “Since no one has found Costa’s missing uniform pieces, it’s unlikely they were removed from the bag in this house.”
“The only time the embassy’s baggage was out of your sight was while you were on the ferry,” Oriana said. “Is that right?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Then couldn’t his baggage have been emptied there?”
Benites stood at ease, her hands folded behind her back. “We were assured by the ferry’s captain that no one was allowed in the hold once the ferry was under way, madam, so I don’t think that’s the case. I also went down into the hold to watch the porters carry up the bags. I didn’t notice any loose uniform pieces lying around.”
Duilio had an idea about that. “I think someone else carried Costa’s clothes away in their luggage.”
Oriana’s brows drew together. “So they went into the hold, took out some of Costa’s clothes, and the child climbed into his luggage? Wouldn’t someone have noticed that if the hold was supposed to be closed?”
“I suspect the child was in another passenger’s luggage to begin with. When the hold was closed he climbed out, picked a piece of embassy baggage—the largest, which was
He set his papers aside, rose from the chair he’d occupied for thelast few hours, and swung his arms about before striding quickly to one archway and back to the other. Oriana watched him with sympathetic eyes.
She’d done exceptionally well, for the most part asking the questions he would have. He’d written out everything he wanted followed up, and she or Lieutenant Benites could interview those servants again later. It was frustrating, knowing what he wanted to ask, yet not able to question the women himself. Such a break in custom would signal panic, so he’d complied with the rules and held his tongue.
Lieutenant Benites returned to the courtyard then, her eyes darting between Oriana and him before settling on Oriana. “Madam, that’s the last of them. And Captain Vas Neves has just returned with Lady Monteiro.”
Oriana’s grandmother had taken the captain to talk to some of her neighbors on the beach, hoping to determine whether they’d seen anything unusual. Duilio leaned back against the table he’d been using and crossed his ankles, bangles shifting against each other. He didn’t want to sit again for a time, not now that he no longer had to play secretary.
No one had seen Lieutenant Costa since he left his duty post that morning. They’d searched the house top to bottom looking for the missing journal, but also hunting him. The lieutenant hadn’t slept in his bed, and his bag and remaining clothes were still in his quarters. How Costa was involved in the theft, Duilio was unsure, but logic insisted that the man’s disappearance had to be related. His gift, however, was ambiguous when Duilio asked about Costa’s guilt, as if the man were involved, but unwittingly. For now they’d left all mention of him out of the discussions with the other guards, hoping they could smooth over his absence when they found him. Only Vas Neves and Benites knew for certain that the lieutenant had abandoned his post.
“It seems clear that the child was in the embassy’s luggage,” Duilio said. Someone had rifled through Costa’s bag, removing most of his garments. That last servant they’d questioned had carried it to Costa’s room, but claimed it was very light when she picked it up, despite being a comparatively large bag. Yet the other servant who helped with the unloading—she’d carried the bag from the wagon into the entry hallway of the house—had thought it heavy for its size.
“I agree, sir,” Benites said. “Since no one has found Costa’s missing uniform pieces, it’s unlikely they were removed from the bag in this house.”
“The only time the embassy’s baggage was out of your sight was while you were on the ferry,” Oriana said. “Is that right?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Then couldn’t his baggage have been emptied there?”
Benites stood at ease, her hands folded behind her back. “We were assured by the ferry’s captain that no one was allowed in the hold once the ferry was under way, madam, so I don’t think that’s the case. I also went down into the hold to watch the porters carry up the bags. I didn’t notice any loose uniform pieces lying around.”
Duilio had an idea about that. “I think someone else carried Costa’s clothes away in their luggage.”
Oriana’s brows drew together. “So they went into the hold, took out some of Costa’s clothes, and the child climbed into his luggage? Wouldn’t someone have noticed that if the hold was supposed to be closed?”
“I suspect the child was in another passenger’s luggage to begin with. When the hold was closed he climbed out, picked a piece of embassy baggage—the largest, which was
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