Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Plus now it was actually Wrath the civvies were seeing, and not Rahvyn pretending to be the King.
Things had finally fallen back into place after three decades of being upside down in the worst possible way.
“Allow me,” Tohr said as he got to the second door in.
After he opened things, the King’s solicitor bowed a little and walked through.
“So what have we got?” Tohr closed them in together. “What’s up with that paperwork?”
In contrast with Saxton’s sartorial distinction, the male’s office was strictly utilitarian, with a nothing-special desk that had two laptops set on it, an extra monitor, and papers set in orderly piles at right angles. There was no decoration on the walls, not even an extra chair for a visitor, and the shelving was lined with a complete set of the Old Laws. No photos, no knickknacks, no clutter, no nonsense. Here, it was business and business only, and Tohr had always liked that about the guy.
“This was left in the waiting room at the end of last night.” Saxton held the file out. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”
Tohr took what was offered, opened the folder, and frowned as he got an eyeful of columns of numbers. “What is this?”
“Financial tables, I think. Given that all of them have a decimal point followed by two digits.”
“I see that.” Tohr kept leafing through, in search of a name . . . any kind of identifier. “There are no headers, though. So are these bank account balances? Some kind of financial modeling?”
“I don’t know.” Saxton crossed his arms over his chest. “I haven’t been able to decipher any of it. You’ll note there’s a four-digit number on the upper right of each one?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maybe that’s an ID? Anyway, the lot of them were found in the waiting room at closing.”
“Okay.” Tohr shut the file. “So we can reach out to the civilians who came through, see which of them left it behind, and give it back. No big deal.”
It was hard to understand why the solicitor was being so cagey—
“I already made the inquiries.” Saxton cleared his throat. “Each one of them denied bringing it in. And John Matthew, Qhuinn, and Butch, who were on guard, have never seen it before. I sent them some photos.”
Annnnnnd there it was, Tohr thought grimly. The fly in the ointment.
“So who the hell left it in our waiting room?”
“That’s what I’m concerned about.”
“Have you looked at the monitoring footage?”
“I’m going to ask V for it, but I wanted to check in with you first.” Saxton picked up a business-sized envelope. “This is what the pages came in. There’s nothing on the front, and the flap was sealed.”
Tohr took the envelope, but didn’t give a shit about it. “Did anything happen that was out of the ordinary?”
“No. We had three matings and two young for Wrath to bless. There was a property dispute, but it was only over a television—nothing like the number of zeroes on those figures. And then there was a death to certify, a name to register, and the planning committee for the Winter Festival.”
“Maybe it’s tied to expenses for that?”
“The female and male who came as representatives were the first people I went to. They denied it was theirs.”
Tohr glanced up. “And V hasn’t seen this yet.”
“I’m going to him next. Maybe he can decipher the figures.”
Reopening the folder, Tohr took his time on a second trip through the pages. Twelve entries, with a total at the bottom. Then, broken down, fifty-two entries, with the same sum. Same format for each of the twenty or so pages, but the figures were different, as was the four-digit sequence in the upper right.
“Maybe these are dues,” Tohr said. “Or . . . contributions. To the festival.”
But why wouldn’t the organizers claim the paperwork?
He went to the last page and frowned. “I don’t get this, though. What are all these other numbers here? It’s nearly a solid block.”
Saxton cleared his throat again. And then didn’t speak.
“What,” Tohr demanded, in the brusque tone of voice he used when dealing with new recruits—or when two of his brothers were arguing.
So not the kind of way he ever spoke to Saxton.
The solicitor put his palms forward. “I have no opinion—”
“You’re a lawyer. That’s your job.” More gently, Tohr tacked on, “I’m asking you what you think.”
The reply came out in a rush. “No one comes in here without authorization, and everybody knows we have monitoring cameras all over the place. Why would someone leave these papers and then lie about it? It doesn’t make sense.”
Tohr nodded and tucked the folder under his arm. “I’ll take it from here.”
Saxton glanced at the neat piles on his desk.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tohr said. “This is not on you, and of course I’ll let you know everything I find out.”