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It gives us an excellent place to begin on the morrow.”
    “My pleasure.”
    “Good evening,” she said, turning toward the door.
    “Miss Ritsuko.” The words came in a rush, as if he couldn’t believe he was speaking them. “I had heard . . . that you are no longer personally . . . that is to say . . . you might be willing to consider walking out with a new gentleman.”
    She tried to hide her astonishment. Certainly, she had filed the papers notifying the CID that Warren should no longer be considered her emergency contact, if the worst came to pass in the line of duty, but she never imagined that the gossip mill could churn so quickly. For Higgins to have heard already, people must be talking in all corners. To salve her pride, she pretended not to feel enormous chagrin over the notion of people discussing her private business.
    “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,” Higgins went on, looking fairly desperate. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You have my deepest and most profound apologies. I—”
    Bronze gods, does the man mean to grovel all night?
His green eyes glinted with profound remorse, touched by abject embarrassment. There was something sweet about his desire to maintain her good opinion, however. So she said, “I am often busy with work, but . . . I have Sundays free.”
    Her hesitation was, unfortunately, perceptible. It reflected her doubt about his intentions. If he sought to capitalize on her alleged loneliness, then he wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. And it would be very disappointing.
    “At this juncture, you probably aren’t interested in another immediate entanglement,” Higgins said with more acuity than she would’ve given him credit for. “Nor can I afford such with my mother’s health weighing on me. But perhaps it wouldn’t be unwelcome for us to enjoy a more companionable friendship outside of work?”
    He seemed to be warning her that he wasn’t looking for a marital alliance. And that was fine with her; the last thing she wanted was a husband, common law or otherwise. Ritsuko didn’t think she had to worry about Cyril Higgins breaking her heart. He was polite, friendly, and had excellent manners, plus a touching devotion to his mother. She could do worse for a casual companion.
    “I understand. And I agree.”
    Higgins nodded, relieved. “Perhaps we could share luncheon sometime then?”
    “That would be most agreeable.”
    Cyril Higgins seemed to like her, at least, which was more than could be said of Warren, toward the end. She suspected the only reason he had stayed so long was for fear of admitting to failure and showing he was as fallible as anyone else. He had cared for appearances to the exclusion of practically everything else. People probably whispered in these corridors that she was heartbroken, but in fact, she felt nothing but relief.
    “Come visit me again,” he invited, smiling.
    “I’ll certainly do that. Good evening, Mr. Higgins.”
    Most inspectors would have taken the lift directly to the ground floor and gone home at once. But then, they weren’t female, working twice as hard for three-quarters of the same wage. So instead, Ritsuko went back to her desk and filled out a request form, asking for a complete listing of all licensed and operational theaters and performing troupes currently in the city. With a satisfied nod, she dropped the form into the delivery tube, which she then fed to the access slot that led to the pneumatic whoosh of interoffice mail. She had no doubt the document would be tremendous, but with any luck, it would be in her incoming bin by the time she returned to work the next afternoon.
    Sometimes it paid to go the extra mile.

CHAPTER 3

    T HE NEXT AFTERNOON, M IKANI ARRIVED AT HQ EARLY—JUST in time to start the interviews with the rest of the family. He strolled past the queue of cousins and House hangers-on, entering the room with a quizzical smile. Ritsuko was already pouring tea for the