Frequently Asked Questions

(Continued)

He nods first toward an enormous boar, surrounded by assistants balancing ledgers and financial books.

“Baron Porcellus. Built an empire supplying the finest cuts to every carnivore worth feeding. Never misses a payment. Never forgets a favor. You don’t get that successful without learning which side of the knife to stand on.”

Another slow draw before a puff escapes his lips.

A sleek gazelle emerged from a polished automobile, photographers already gathering.

“Miss Anthea Gazelle. Owns theatres from coast to coast. Motion pictures. Radio serials. Magazines. If you’ve ever laughed, cried, or hummed a tune, there’s a decent chance she sold it to you first.”

He watched as a massive tortoise carefully descended the station steps, carrying an engraved stopwatch on a gold chain.

“Augustus Shellback. Every major racing circuit answers to him eventually. Says patience wins every race.” He shrugged. “Easy thing to say when you’ve owned the finish line for twenty years.”

Finally, his eyes settled upon a silver fox whose immaculate white suit somehow remained spotless amid the bustle. The fox smiled constantly, though never with his eyes.

“Silas Vulpine. Investment banker. Shipping magnate. Owns warehouses, freight companies… and enough quiet little businesses that nobody can quite remember where his fortune began.”

Mr. Hamerton closed his notebook with a soft snap.

“Respectable people, every one of them.”

He let the sentence linger just long enough to become suspicious.

“That’s what makes them interesting.”

When asked whether he believed one of these distinguished passengers might be connected to the odd collection of clues he’d been investigating, the detective merely smiled through another curl of smoke.

“Maybe.”

He adjusted his tie.

“Or maybe the fellow polishing the silverware knows more than the lot of them.”

As another whistle echoed across the platform, most passengers hurried toward the waiting train.

Mr. Hamerton remained where he was, making one final note.

“The thing about first impressions…” he murmured, “…is that they’re usually made for someone else’s benefit.”

Then he tucked away his notebook and disappeared into the crowd, still unnoticed by nearly everyone.