The Stage is Set

The Partyn Museum

Outside

“UNBELIEVABLE,” the chief huffed, arms crossed over her chest. She had been under the overhang at the entrance long enough for her hair to dry. The frizzy strands splayed restlessly around her scalp.

Zosia bowed her head, her good hand nestled in her pocket. Now that the adrenaline had faded, she was wet, cold, and completely exhausted.

“I’m sorry, Chi—” Zosia started, her apology interrupted as she winced. A medic held her other hand tightly as he wrapped the wound on her palm. The bandaging wasn’t as bad as when he had pulled out the shards, but it still hurt. The biggest blow, however, had been to her pride. Zosia had been careless. “I’ll investigate the scene further tomorrow, assuming…”

Assuming

there’s anything left to find .

She didn’t bring up the fact that the officers had completely disregarded her request to avoid the scene and leave any evidence untouched. Anything that hadn’t been wrecked in their stomping and heavy-handed ‘investigating’ would likely end up in the trash. There would no doubt be a rush to tidy the museum before it opened to the public tomorrow, as per the mayor’s orders. He had, after all, a reputation and a promise to uphold to the voters of Partyn.

Chief Ainsley sighed, running a thick hand through her hair. It didn’t do anything to contain the rebellious strands. She stared out from beneath the awning into the courtyard, the wrinkles on her brow as deep as trenches. A few officers were still walking about, wrapping the sun crystals in heavy, light-proof cloth or rewinding the barrier rope. When they looked up and saw the chief staring, they dragged their water-logged boots into a scurry.

The medic tied the bandages on Zosia’s hand. This time she held in the wince of pain.

He gave a small nod of approval at his own work before looking up at the chief. “Well, I have to say I’m impressed that Detective Novak got close enough to encounter the thief at all. Detective Matin never even saw her.”

Zosia ducked her head; she didn’t feel like she deserved the praise.

“Thank you,” she said, nodding towards the bandages.

“Don’t mention it,” the medic said, closing his bag.

The chief only huffed, keeping her opinions to herself. She looked down at where Zosia sat on an overturned spool. “Novak, you’ll need to include those details in the police report later.”

“I will,” Zosia agreed.

“Mhm.” Chief Ainsley leveled her cold gaze on the medic. “You, back to the lobby. Keep an eye on the martial guard and send a messenger when they wake up. Novak, you’re on cleanup.”

The medic, who had begun to gather his things, glanced up at the chief. “I would recommend Detective Novak take it easy with that arm for at least a few days. It would be troublesome if the skin broke open again.”

The chief didn’t reply. She pulled a soggy paper bag from her pocket, taking out a tightly-wrapped roll of leaves and a small box. The box was labeled with a picture of matches—strips of paper dipped in a coating of flame crystal dust.

The medic and Zosia waited as the chief went through two matches before one lit. She held it to her rolled cigarette, which begrudgingly caught on, then tossed the spent match to the ground. She scuffed it in with her boot. “Fine.”

Chief Ainsley dismissed the medic with a curt nod. Zosia watched him go, stepping out from beneath the awning without a hood or umbrella. The rain had eased into a light drizzle. Without the spinning searchlights and yelling officers, the grounds had become almost as quiet as it had been inside the museum.

A few officers remained to dismantle the searchlights and heave the metal contraptions away. Zosia wondered if they’d bring them back to the station, or just leave them here. In line with her previous heists over the past four nights, the thief had only taken one of the gems. The final gem remained in the exhibit. There was no doubt the thief would back tomorrow.

“Go home and get some rest,” the chief said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Zosia stood up, careful to step over the rope spilling out from the overturned spool.

“I really am sorry, Chief,” she said as she ducked her head. Droplets of water slid down the loose strands of her hair, falling gracefully to disappear into the soggy ground. The rain hadn’t fallen beneath the awning, but the footsteps of countless officers had painted a muddy carpet all across the doorstep. The museum workers would have their hands full before the museum opened in a few hours. She hoped it wouldn’t be the same poor staff that had been caught in the sleeping gas.

“I admit I’d been hoping that this was the night we’d catch her,” the chief said with a sigh. She pulled her cigarette from her lips, releasing another cloud of smoke. “It would’ve been great if we could’ve wrapped this one up here and now. But honestly, this thief has outwitted the entire force and my previous detective. It was foolish of me to hope you could put all the pieces together and nab her the day you arrive.”

She pressed the cigarette back to her lips. The embers glowed red and dangerous. “Still. Now you’ve met your match. And you’ve got everything you need, I assume. Do whatever you must. The job is done tomorrow, one way or another.”

Zosia nodded. The smoke felt scratchy in her throat.

“Now get outta here, Novak. I need you fresh and ready for whatever tomorrow brings.”

Zosia snapped her body stiffly to attention. Her bones ached, and her hand was throbbing beneath the bandage.

Still, she saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”