I didn’t move. I stayed silent. Held my breath. Avoided his eyes. The world slowed to a halt. The evening sun grew much brighter.
An investigator? What did I do? Did I give myself away? Why was someone like him here? Surely he would not introduce himself this way if he was not on duty. He wasn’t here for some catch-up. This was serious.
Folding it up, the man put away his badge and casually pocketed his hand back in his coat, shoulders laxed. “But you can just call me Charlie, if you wish,” he said with a light smile. “Just getting the formalities out of the way.”
There was silence. I still did not speak. Long shadows were cast across the shop, across the walls, along the tables. He was silhouetted, dark and haloed from the sunset-illuminated streets behind him. Without the shop lights, only a few features of his figure stood out; the wrinkles of his coat, the fringes of his lapel, the outline of his throat, where I stared, just below his broad chin, carefully choosing my next words. I remembered the flowers, the items he commented on during our encounter. Was it those? I brought some of the ones the spirit touched, didn’t I? Is there some way to tell them apart that I did not know about?
His neck moved. My gaze hit the cobblestone streets behind him. He had shifted his weight to one side. “Don’t worry, Miss. Just here for an inspection.”
An inspection. Just an inspection. Right. All of a sudden, I felt silly. He was an inspector, not an investigator. I silently bashed myself for getting the two mixed up. Though the clarification eased up my heart, my breath remained tense. I was fully aware of how suspicious I just acted. Quickly, I thought of the perfect excuse.
“Oh, I see… This… has nothing to do with the flying machine, does it?”
“No, no,” he chuckled. “Nothing to do with that. Just inspecting the shop.”
With that, the inspector began to walk around, slow as a customer normally would. I slouched into my chair, bringing my arms together in front of me to lean on them. How fortunate it was for us to have a shared experience already. With a deep breath, I renewed my vigilance. It was not over yet.
“Is something not up to standard?” I did, after all, put in the bare minimum effort to manage and condition my part of the building.
“Mm… Not that. It’s a bit of a bizarre allegation.”
“… Oh?”
I saw him gently thumb one of the flower petals between his fingers. I tensed once more, doing my best to hold still. What was he doing with that flower?
“Something about magical flowers,” he simply said, so casually that one could have mistaken his tone for sarcasm. But his body language told a different story. His eyes glanced up just as he finished, as if they were judging my reaction. I forced myself to remain stone-faced, but deep under, panic rose once more. I put on my best puzzled face.
“Magic?”
The inspector shrugged, dropping his gaze to another set of flowers. “All I was given. The report wasn’t particularly great on the details.” He smiled to himself. “Why it ended up on my desk.”
Though he seemed to be a reasonable man, his dismissal did not reassure me. Especially with all the witch hunting sweeping through town, a vague accusation such as this gave the upper brass broad grounds to confirm a charge, even if he did not. Then, all of a sudden, the hysteria I brushed aside for the longest time would be at my doorsteps. No… with this, it already arrived. It was already here. This was how they would drag me out of my walled garden and into theirs. Call me a threat when there was none. Even if the flowers did no harm, it was glass half full for them. Never did I think something as commonplace as flowers would draw the ire of the superstitious.
I made myself look away as he worked, afraid to draw even more suspicion if I watched him too intently. The door was still open, allowing the clamour of the city to pad the silence a bit. The rattling of automotive engines kept the atmosphere restless. While I waited, I considered what to do if a customer came in. In all likelihood, the inspector should keep to himself as I attend to them, giving me a convenient distraction from the situation. In fact, as time dragged on, I started to wish for someone to stop by. But alas, no one did, and the awkward silence persisted.
Eventually, my gaze wandered to the window, watching dark silhouettes walk through the red-bathed streets. The tall hazy panes obscured their faces. The narrow frames boxed me in. It was as if I were a fly trapped within a jar, or a moth within an extinguished lantern, fluttering towards the light but unable to reach it.
As I mulled over a little more, I had a thought. Why was he sharing this information with me? If he was inspecting for foul play, wouldn’t telling me what to look for allow me to lead him the wrong direction? Did he already determine the allegation was nonsense before he arrived? That was certainly not what an inspector should do, even if it played in my favour. Unless, it was not. Was he laying out a trap? Putting on a face, telling me exactly what he was looking for, and judging how I handled the accusation? Or was he looking for something else entirely? Was this all a ruse?
“By the way,” the inspector finally spoke. My shoulders flinched a little, and I flashed my eyes over to him a little too fast. Thankfully, he was not looking over in my direction. “That plane from earlier today.”
There was a pause, long enough to compel a response. “… The what?”
“That plane?” he repeated, looking up. “Aeroplane? Flying machine?”
“Oh. That.”
“One of my colleagues was dispatched to the site of the crash to give it a look.” The inspector turned to another table of flowers. “Turned out to be a military test. Malfunctioned mid flight.”
“Ah… I see.”
“So nothing to worry about there. Crashed in the river. No one was hurt.” He paused, before adding, “The city isn’t under attack.”
His casual farce drew out a silent laugh. “Well, I assumed as much, given how nothing extraordinary happened soon after.”
The man resumed his silence. I felt a little rude about my response.
“But thanks for letting me know.”
Gently nodding, he reached out to another set of flowers. “They certainly look very pretty. Do you grow these yourself?”