I spoke with the police this morning. Henrietta had run to get them, and of course they wanted to sequester and interrogate everyone within the house. Mr. Hurchur bristled and bellowed, clenching and unclenching his thick, sausage-like fingers as he cursed and ranted about the audacity of being held captive in his own home.

The rest of us had been gathered in the tea room, waiting for our turns to be questioned. Mrs. Hurchur was surprisingly lucid and energetic, asking us all whether we were prepared for the inevitable winter, and how various aspects of our lives had been proceeding. Poor Impossibilia was clearly still leary of the elderly woman, but Mrs. Hurchur seemed to neither notice nor care as she inquisitively went on, asking polite questions about how her reading and writing lessons had been going and whether Henrietta’s tutoring skills were proving suitable for the task. The two of them seemed taken aback by this, as if surprised that the old woman was at all aware of what they had been doing in their spare time.

It was most certainly news to me.

On the whole it was an awkward conversation. We had been instructed not to discuss Mr. Purvis or the events within the house over the past few days. I will admit that it was the first time the phrase “elephant in the room” had ever truly resonated with me.

At some point during this process Davrin Hurchur arrived as well and was escorted back to the tea room with the rest of us. He had almost certainly been planning on as brief a visit as possible and was unhappy to find that his plans had been derailed.

We were called from the room one by one, questioned, and then released to sit elsewhere in the old house. As the conversation dwindled, I pulled out my diary and began to scribble out the events of the day so far, thinking, as I wrote, with amazement about how integral a part of my life this little book had become in just over a month’s time. I withdrew my pen from the paper and turned toward Henrietta, wanting to thank her for having recommended it in the first place… only to realize that she was no longer in the room with us – her turn must have come up while my thoughts had been occupied.

Eventually Mrs. Duvenmeyer was summoned, leaving just Davrin and myself. Poor Mrs. Duvenmeyer – I had never heard her speak an entire sentence out loud. I have no idea how she handled being questioned, but her demeanor afterward did not express that she had been flustered or stressed by the ordeal.

Davrin was sitting opposite of me, his boots propped up on the coffee table. The …TEA table? Odd, to refer to there being a coffee table in a tea room, but I can’t think of any term or phrase to suit it better. “The low table upon which one might set saucered beverages.”

Regardless – the soles of Davrin’s boots faced me and in an instant I recognized the shapes and patterns that had been cut into their tread: tiny curved slivers, shaped like the new moon – but more importantly, shaped like the dried mud that I had seen in the second floor hallway earlier in the week. Was it evidence that Davrin had been the one stealing glimpses at my correspondence? Perhaps I would give my aunt cause to be proud of me yet.

I cleared my throat and then spoke. “I’ll be going on a journey,” I told Davrin as I reached into my pocket and pulled forth a bundle of neatly folded bills, “This should cover my rent for a year. I don’t anticipate being gone for so long, but you know how travel between the islands can be. And…” I paused and smiled in a manner that I had hoped would put him at ease “…I’ve grown rather fond of the atmosphere here.”

Only as the words left my mouth did I realize that it was rather an awkward thing to say considering that the limp and distended corpse of a man had been pulled from the old house not but a few hours previous.

Davrin didn’t seem to notice – he eyed the money in my hand hungrily. “You and your… partner?”

“Jerry?” I asked, “Yes. The guild has found a job for us on North Jacksonville. It’s good to be working again.”

He smirked – almost comically. I did not at first understand what he found to be so funny, but as the conversation progressed Davrin dropped ever heavier hints implying his belief that Jerry Siege and I were in a… romantic relationship. Eventually I found it necessary to clarify that while I was neither offended by nor opposed to the idea of same sex partners, it was not a lifestyle choice that I personally was inclined toward.

“Oh?” he quipped, a smirk still evident at the corners of his lips, “I had never taken you as being one for… the ladies.” I scowled at him, flustered. My social senses had never been particularly quick or well honed. I just wanted the topic of conversation to end! But I couldn’t think of a way forward without addressing his remark. In the back of my mind I prayed that the police would chose that moment to call one or the other of us back, but my prayers went unanswered. Or perhaps they WERE answered, but by a god who was equal parts cruel and sadistic.

“I was in a relationship once,” I stammered, “but it was a long time ago.”

“But you’ve had sex.” He stared at me pointedly, likely basking in his ability to make me uncomfortable. The words had been delivered as a statement, but he clearly expected an answer.

“…No,” I stammered, my face flush with embarrassment. And before I could say more, he interjected:

“I know someone who could fix that for you. A local girl. Her rates are quite reasonable.” He winked at me, “Very discreet.”

…

Davrin Hurchur is an uncaring and insensitive beast of a man. There! I wrote it! And I do not regret putting these words down on paper. He has no sympathy for others and cares only for himself and his own amusement. How a kind woman such as Minerva Hurchur could have given birth to a soulless animal such as him is beyond me. I have half a mind to believe that if one were to cut him open and carve his heart from his chest, he would barely even notice. And in that moment I felt within me rage enough to tell him as much. My temper boiled inside me in a way that it had not done since my encounter in the market with the peach farmer. I opened my mouth, ready to speak my mind, but before I could do so…

The police called Davrin from the room. And I was left alone with my thoughts and anger.