Alive At Crepusculum ✓ [TPL Book One]

XIII

Anastasia's heart sank, but not for long. "Your husband, Mary, he used to be a policeman. Wouldn't he still know someone?"

Mary's husband had retired twenty years ago, and it would be a stretch, but soon it was decided to somehow find someone who knew police in Old Quarrie. From there, they would have to find a link to the next person and the next.

"Spasiba!" Anastasia beamed, filled with joy to the brim. It had been such a long time coming for her. "Thank you, so, so much! You are very kind."

"These past weeks, you've become like my granddaughter," Mary said with smile and hugged Anastasia around the waist for she was considerably shorter than the Roktion woman.

"Come to think of it, I think it was Reed."

"Reed?"

"My husband's acquaintance even after leaving the job. But they stopped correspondin' who knows why, oh why men. But I'll get in touch one way or another. You'll find Kostya, Ani."

Anastasia hugged Mary again. "Thank you, Mary. Really," she said.

And that was how Mary Smith, out of the two-hundred-thousand Smiths that lived in United Arcan, would be remembered, and never forgotten.

* * *

A week later, it was found out that indeed Mallord Beagle lived in Old Quarrie State but did not wish to be contacted. Mary waved the telegram from Albert Reed in the air.

"Said refuses to do cases and gave the name of his office, but there's a problem. Mallord Beagle's old office—Hound & Duck – Detective Service, is closed. No directories I have, not even the latest, have the address."

The dead end was gutting. In a room Anastasia and Mary sat on chair and bed. At the sound of tippy-tappy on the ceiling, they both looked up. A mouse ran across the wooden beams and disappeared in the shadows. Anastasia was not going to give up. Not even if she had to walk there herself. But that would be ridiculous when she didn't even know exactly where Mallord was. She only had Albert who knew Mallord. It was achingly close. She chewed on her lip.

Mary sighed. When she was grinning, she looked fifty. But when she frowned, she looked her age, sixty-eight. She had befriended Anastasia first out of curiosity, but now she loved this woman as if she were family. Mary lived in Bayland Cusp. If she had lived slightly south, she would have enslaved Anastasia on the spot. The little bit of land made a huge difference.

"Maybe I should contact him," Anastasia said, thinking out loud. Her thought process was that she could contact Mallord through Albert. She would write to Mallord, but it would send to Albert who would give it Mallord. It was quite smart of her. There was no way for her to know, but Albert Reed did succumb often to favors. Even if it put him in unfavorable positions.

After telling of her plan, Anastasia blushed a little when she realized she would have to write a telegram. "Can you help me craft it? I have never written one before."

"Of course, Ani dear. You should probably meet him somewhere private. Perhaps here. Connie House."

With Mary's help, Anastasia asked the keeper of the inn if it was alright, and the keeper suggested the tenth of June. Sunday, when most everyone was away to church. On those days, a different keeper came in to take care while the owner was away, the inn would be near to empty. It was perfect.

"Spasiba!" Anastasia covered her face as the tears of joy came. Her heart filled with happiness, now one step closer to finding Kostya. Soon, she would be in his arms and hold him tight, never letting go. Never again.